precious rendez-vous? The indignity of having to joust with that ned in the gift shop? Was it all about that dirty envelope? What does anthrax look like? Maybe I was a goner already, just by touching the paper. What was that film where they did that?
I got my phone out and rang Darren. I needed him in the game with me. Graven and his crew were the only ones who knew I was back in town and I didn’t like it that way. You need an ally in your corner, someone to notice when you go missing. Plus I wanted to run this “QUITS” bollocks past him. Darren could always see the angles where I had a blind-spot.
But he wasn’t answering just now.
I went to pocket the phone but it went off in my hand. I answered, thinking it was Darren on the ring-back. I should have looked who the caller was. I could have prepared myself.
‘Darren?’ I said, trying to light a fag with my spare hand. ‘Look, I got a bit of a situ—’
‘Where is she?’
‘What? Who’s—?’
‘Who d’you think it is? It’s Jane, OK? Where is she?’
Jane being my ex, of course. I dropped my unlit fag.
‘ Where’s Kelly? ’ she shouted.
‘I dunno! How should I know? Injunction says I can’t come within fifty metres of her, remember?’
‘Oh shut up! I know you see her! You think I’m stupid? You think I dunno you meet in that nasty pub on Wednesdays after school?’
‘Thursdays.’
‘What? Oh yeah, that’s what I meant.’
‘And it’s not a nasty pub, that’s the whole point.’
‘What are you doing going there, then?’
‘What’s that supposed to—?’
‘Where is she?’
‘Look, I never met her today. I had to—’
‘You know where she is or not?’
‘No! I swear I—’
‘Don’t bother swearing. If you want to help, just go and look for Kerry.’
‘Alright, but she’s... It’s Kelly, by the way.’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘Was it? Oh... Look, she’s probably gone to her friend’s house or something.’
‘Whatever. And you owe me some mon—’
I hung up. I’d heard all I needed to hear.
I remembered that film now:
The Name of the Rose .
3.
I expect you’ll be wondering who the hell I am.
Leon was what they knew me as at school. My mum hated my dad so she wouldn’t let me use his surname. She hated her dad as well so I couldn’t use hers either. So I ended up just having LEON on all my name tags, written in marker because she couldn’t sew. And she must have put that down on the forms and stuff when I started going there, because all the teachers called me Leon as well, even the ones who called you by your last name. You’d think a parent wouldn’t get away with that. But then you didn’t know my mum.
I used to hate having only one name. It made me the odd one out, even more than my colour did. It put me at a disadvantage compared to everyone else, with their surnames and middle names. I missed the middle name most. A middle name is like a secret identity you can use whenever you want. Or you can ditch the first name if you don’t like it and just use the middle one. That’s what my ex did, the mother of my only daughter. But she was advertising a weakness there, showing the world how they could get under her skin and hurt her.
Took me a long time but eventually I got used to having just one name. I felt like Pelé, or Eusébio. Except I wasn’t as good as them at footy. I looked a bit like them as well, especially Eusébio. Maybe that was why people didn’t make such a fuss about me having one name. They’d never have tolerated it if I was a white kid, but a little black boy... that’s alright. ‘It’s part of their culture,’ they’d say. ‘They do things different over there.’
I never did find out where “over there” was, but I found out I had a surname. All you have to do is look at your birth certificate. Sounds easy now, but it took until I was eighteen and mum was dead before I realised I even had such a thing. She’d kept it stashed under her bed, in a flat
I got my phone out and rang Darren. I needed him in the game with me. Graven and his crew were the only ones who knew I was back in town and I didn’t like it that way. You need an ally in your corner, someone to notice when you go missing. Plus I wanted to run this “QUITS” bollocks past him. Darren could always see the angles where I had a blind-spot.
But he wasn’t answering just now.
I went to pocket the phone but it went off in my hand. I answered, thinking it was Darren on the ring-back. I should have looked who the caller was. I could have prepared myself.
‘Darren?’ I said, trying to light a fag with my spare hand. ‘Look, I got a bit of a situ—’
‘Where is she?’
‘What? Who’s—?’
‘Who d’you think it is? It’s Jane, OK? Where is she?’
Jane being my ex, of course. I dropped my unlit fag.
‘ Where’s Kelly? ’ she shouted.
‘I dunno! How should I know? Injunction says I can’t come within fifty metres of her, remember?’
‘Oh shut up! I know you see her! You think I’m stupid? You think I dunno you meet in that nasty pub on Wednesdays after school?’
‘Thursdays.’
‘What? Oh yeah, that’s what I meant.’
‘And it’s not a nasty pub, that’s the whole point.’
‘What are you doing going there, then?’
‘What’s that supposed to—?’
‘Where is she?’
‘Look, I never met her today. I had to—’
‘You know where she is or not?’
‘No! I swear I—’
‘Don’t bother swearing. If you want to help, just go and look for Kerry.’
‘Alright, but she’s... It’s Kelly, by the way.’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘Was it? Oh... Look, she’s probably gone to her friend’s house or something.’
‘Whatever. And you owe me some mon—’
I hung up. I’d heard all I needed to hear.
I remembered that film now:
The Name of the Rose .
3.
I expect you’ll be wondering who the hell I am.
Leon was what they knew me as at school. My mum hated my dad so she wouldn’t let me use his surname. She hated her dad as well so I couldn’t use hers either. So I ended up just having LEON on all my name tags, written in marker because she couldn’t sew. And she must have put that down on the forms and stuff when I started going there, because all the teachers called me Leon as well, even the ones who called you by your last name. You’d think a parent wouldn’t get away with that. But then you didn’t know my mum.
I used to hate having only one name. It made me the odd one out, even more than my colour did. It put me at a disadvantage compared to everyone else, with their surnames and middle names. I missed the middle name most. A middle name is like a secret identity you can use whenever you want. Or you can ditch the first name if you don’t like it and just use the middle one. That’s what my ex did, the mother of my only daughter. But she was advertising a weakness there, showing the world how they could get under her skin and hurt her.
Took me a long time but eventually I got used to having just one name. I felt like Pelé, or Eusébio. Except I wasn’t as good as them at footy. I looked a bit like them as well, especially Eusébio. Maybe that was why people didn’t make such a fuss about me having one name. They’d never have tolerated it if I was a white kid, but a little black boy... that’s alright. ‘It’s part of their culture,’ they’d say. ‘They do things different over there.’
I never did find out where “over there” was, but I found out I had a surname. All you have to do is look at your birth certificate. Sounds easy now, but it took until I was eighteen and mum was dead before I realised I even had such a thing. She’d kept it stashed under her bed, in a flat
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