help?’
‘Yeah.’
‘We’ll talk tomorrow then,’ I said. ‘It’s important we talk more. You can see that.’
‘Maybe talk about a holiday.’ She was shrewd to see some personal advantage amid all this concern.
‘Maybe.’
So, no resolution, no epiphany that would ensure understanding between us, just father and daughter getting through the winter as best we can, and lucky enough to have each other. Meetings and partings, dreams and memories, love and loss: hold on tight, that’s all you can do in life. Viv would have understood that.
HEAD BUTTING
My job at Foleys market. Vegetables mostly. The trucks come up the side alley and unload. Wally and me take the bloody heavy wooden trays in through the metal sliding door. Sometimes its Shaun. They lock it nights with a fucken lock big as a handbag. You wouldnt believe veges would be so heavy. Drumhead cabbages and leeks. Pumpkins of course, but they look heavy bastards. The buck tooth driver gives me stick. ‘Hey, cretin, dont you drop nothing.’ Some day Ill have a licence of my own. Keep the truck cleaner too. I could head butt him I reckon. ‘Jesus,’ he says to Wally. ‘Thick as pig shit.’
‘Aw, leave him alone,’ says Wally.
So after that we take the stuff into the vegetable shed with a plastic screen thing to the shop. Wally does the vegetable aisles and tells me what needs topping up. ‘No, not topping up,’ Wally says, ‘Remember the new stuff goes underneath, or behind old stuff. Kinda like underpants,’ he says. ‘You dont want old stuff left there forever.’
They mark our clothes at the Home. Everything has TV on it. Toby Vinney. Not that funny I reckon. Things not marked get pinched. Saa wears some of my stretchy things anyway. Hes too big for my coats and trousers. He has the other bed in my room. A big bastard, but okay mostly. Even his dick is brown. Eva asked me when he first came. She wouldve found out when they started rooting anyway. They go out and do it in the van, in the shed. I dont say. I dont mind him. In the first week he took me on at head butting. ‘Jesus, Toby, youre a fearless prick though, eh,’ he says. ‘Youll kill yourself, or someone, you mad fucker.’ Ive always been best at head butting. No one takes me on twice. Saa could beat the shit out of me with his fists if it came to it, but he wont take me on at butting. We dont mind each other. Hes okay. He doesnt hurt Eva the way some do.
They keep the temperature down in the vegetable shed. At closing time I bring green leaf stuff back from the aisles and cage it in big tubs of ice water. That way it looks just as good next day. You can eat stuff when they cant sell it. You go off most of it after a bit though. Mrs Graingers dead keen of course. ‘You ask, Toby,’ she says. ‘The more you bring home the better. They throw away bucket loads I bet.’ They dont. Theres a pig man comes once a week. Its a crap truck, but theres this hoist on the back for the drums. He lets me work it if hes not hurrying.
‘A couple of years and youll have the hang of it, Toby boy,’ he says.
Anyway, Mr Simmonds says to take a good deal back on Fridays. ‘Its a contribution to that Home of yours,’ he says. ‘I dont care what you say, but those churches do a good job for people like you. Take those soft, spotted pears and the outer lettuce leaves pile,’ he says. I do.
‘It all helps, Toby, see,’ says Mrs Grainger.
The Homes okay when Mrs Grainger or William Kaaras there. But Coombes is a bastard. When he has a night stint he gets into the two Mongol girls who take chocolate for it. I can hear it in the next room. Saa just laughs. ‘You just keep your bloody mouth shut, Toby,’ Coombes says, ‘or maybe Ill shut it for you.’ I could maybe head butt the bastard, but hes a nasty bastard, eh. I dont want to be sent back to any foster. ‘You keep your stuttering to yourself, cretin,’ he says. I should head butt the bastard.
William Kaara got me the vegetable
‘Yeah.’
‘We’ll talk tomorrow then,’ I said. ‘It’s important we talk more. You can see that.’
‘Maybe talk about a holiday.’ She was shrewd to see some personal advantage amid all this concern.
‘Maybe.’
So, no resolution, no epiphany that would ensure understanding between us, just father and daughter getting through the winter as best we can, and lucky enough to have each other. Meetings and partings, dreams and memories, love and loss: hold on tight, that’s all you can do in life. Viv would have understood that.
HEAD BUTTING
My job at Foleys market. Vegetables mostly. The trucks come up the side alley and unload. Wally and me take the bloody heavy wooden trays in through the metal sliding door. Sometimes its Shaun. They lock it nights with a fucken lock big as a handbag. You wouldnt believe veges would be so heavy. Drumhead cabbages and leeks. Pumpkins of course, but they look heavy bastards. The buck tooth driver gives me stick. ‘Hey, cretin, dont you drop nothing.’ Some day Ill have a licence of my own. Keep the truck cleaner too. I could head butt him I reckon. ‘Jesus,’ he says to Wally. ‘Thick as pig shit.’
‘Aw, leave him alone,’ says Wally.
So after that we take the stuff into the vegetable shed with a plastic screen thing to the shop. Wally does the vegetable aisles and tells me what needs topping up. ‘No, not topping up,’ Wally says, ‘Remember the new stuff goes underneath, or behind old stuff. Kinda like underpants,’ he says. ‘You dont want old stuff left there forever.’
They mark our clothes at the Home. Everything has TV on it. Toby Vinney. Not that funny I reckon. Things not marked get pinched. Saa wears some of my stretchy things anyway. Hes too big for my coats and trousers. He has the other bed in my room. A big bastard, but okay mostly. Even his dick is brown. Eva asked me when he first came. She wouldve found out when they started rooting anyway. They go out and do it in the van, in the shed. I dont say. I dont mind him. In the first week he took me on at head butting. ‘Jesus, Toby, youre a fearless prick though, eh,’ he says. ‘Youll kill yourself, or someone, you mad fucker.’ Ive always been best at head butting. No one takes me on twice. Saa could beat the shit out of me with his fists if it came to it, but he wont take me on at butting. We dont mind each other. Hes okay. He doesnt hurt Eva the way some do.
They keep the temperature down in the vegetable shed. At closing time I bring green leaf stuff back from the aisles and cage it in big tubs of ice water. That way it looks just as good next day. You can eat stuff when they cant sell it. You go off most of it after a bit though. Mrs Graingers dead keen of course. ‘You ask, Toby,’ she says. ‘The more you bring home the better. They throw away bucket loads I bet.’ They dont. Theres a pig man comes once a week. Its a crap truck, but theres this hoist on the back for the drums. He lets me work it if hes not hurrying.
‘A couple of years and youll have the hang of it, Toby boy,’ he says.
Anyway, Mr Simmonds says to take a good deal back on Fridays. ‘Its a contribution to that Home of yours,’ he says. ‘I dont care what you say, but those churches do a good job for people like you. Take those soft, spotted pears and the outer lettuce leaves pile,’ he says. I do.
‘It all helps, Toby, see,’ says Mrs Grainger.
The Homes okay when Mrs Grainger or William Kaaras there. But Coombes is a bastard. When he has a night stint he gets into the two Mongol girls who take chocolate for it. I can hear it in the next room. Saa just laughs. ‘You just keep your bloody mouth shut, Toby,’ Coombes says, ‘or maybe Ill shut it for you.’ I could maybe head butt the bastard, but hes a nasty bastard, eh. I dont want to be sent back to any foster. ‘You keep your stuttering to yourself, cretin,’ he says. I should head butt the bastard.
William Kaara got me the vegetable
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