BooksBarbecue
Back Grow Save as PDF
Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. About the Author
  4. Title Page
  5. Intoroduction
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EITHT
  14. NINE
  15. TEN
  16. ELEVEN
  17. TWELVE
  18. THIRTEEN
  19. FOURTEEN
  20. FIFTEEN
  21. SIXTEEN
  22. SEVENTEEN
  23. EIGHTEEN
  24. NINETEEN
  25. TWENTY
  26. TWENTY-ONE
  27. TWENTY-TWO
  28. TWENTY-THREE
  29. TWENTY-FOUR
  30. TWENTY-FIVE
  31. TWENTY-SIX
  32. TWENTY-SEVEN
  33. TWENTY-EIGHT
  34. TWENTY-NINE
  35. THIRTY
  36. THIRTY-ONE
  37. THIRTY-TWO
  38. THIRTY-THREE
  39. THIRTY-FOUR
  40. THIRTY-FIVE
  41. THIRTY-SIX
  42. THIRTY-SEVEN
  43. THIRTY-EIGHT
  44. THIRTY-NINE
  45. FORTY
  46. FORTY-ONE
  47. FORTY-TWO
  48. FORTY-THREE
  49. FORTY-FOUR
  50. FORTY-FIVE
  51. FORTY-SIX
  52. FORTY-SEVEN
  53. FORTY-EIGHT
  54. FORTY-NINE
  55. FIFTY
  56. FIFTY-ONE
  57. FIFTY-TWO
  58. FIFTY-THREE
  59. FIFTY-FOUR
  60. FIFTY-FIVE
  61. FIFTY-SIX
  62. FIFTY-SEVEN
  63. FIFTY-EIGHT
  64. FIFTY-NINE
  65. SIXTY
  66. SIXTY-ONE
  67. SIXTY-TWO
  68. SIXTY-THREE
  69. SIXTY-FOUR
  70. SIXTY-FIVE
  71. SIXTY-SIX
  72. SIXTY-SEVEN
  73. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  74. CLIMATE EMERGENCY
  75. Copyright

And I look up then; I look straight into Mum’s tear-brimmed eyes that are staring straight back at me and into me and through me.

And it all comes tumbling out.

I tell her about the websites, and the videos, and the drinking, and the pictures of the bombed train and about looking for Dad, and about Ahmed and how I behaved, and about the fight with Jamie and how I broke his leg. And I tell her that I want to stop, and that I want to go back to normal and to un-see all those things and to be me again. I tell her all of it.

Or nearly all of it.

I don’t tell her about the hammer.

And I don’t tell her about Carl.

And I don’t tell her about the plan.

Because there’s only so much shame I can live with.

FIFTY

FIFTY

‘How long have you been up there?’ When she recognises that it’s me and not someone else, Dana puts down the garden fork that she’s wielding. Her voice is as sharp as the prongs.

‘Not long. Sorry. Can I …?’

‘You know where the door is.’ She goes back to turning the soil.

‘There’s a special list for people like you,’ she says when I’ve shut the door behind me. ‘People who hide in bushes and look at girls.’ Her eyes are still on the earth.

‘Sorry. I wanted to see if you were here.’

‘Knock on the door then,’ her blunt answer. She switches the fork for a small spade, which also looks very sharp.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Tidying up. Term’s over, it’s almost Christmas already and this place is still a mess. Might as well fix what we can, eh?’

I know exactly what she means. Although I know what I need to do about Carl’s plan, I’m still not sure on how to do it.

‘Carl told me what you did, by the way. He made me watch the video.’

I flush red. The story made the local paper – a colour photograph of the smashed window, the old lady from the shop standing outside looking straight down the lens. Luckily she hadn’t been hurt, just shaken up. There was an inset picture of the hammer exactly as it has fallen, a few blood-stains on the handle.

‘Did you hurt yourself?’ Dana makes it sounds like I should have, like I deserve to have been hurt.

I take off my thick glove and show her the bandage, explain where the stitches are.

‘Good. Now the Poster-boy’s got some war wounds of his own,’ observes Dana. I’d thought right.

‘Grab that fork. Make yourself useful.’

Even though my hand hurts intensely, I bend to the labour, turning the soil, trying to avoid the slick pink coils of earthworms as I lever the sod into itself.