Shakespeare 2012 - Part II Read online

  Chapter 24

  “Gotta go. I’ll call you back.”

  Rob Emerald hung up the phone call he had been making when John Venison entered his office and closed the door. He didn’t feel he had to hang it up, but it was better to explain himself to his caller than keep Venison waiting. Emerald wasn’t afraid of Venison as the other staff were, he’d known Venison too long and been too useful for that. Furthermore, Venison didn’t bully Emerald, and this marked Emerald out as being special, as close to being a friend as Venison would allow. Emerald respected his boss, and during occasional moments on Sundays when he had to defend Venison to friends over long lunches in gastro pubs, Emerald could feel a stirring of fondness for him. Emerald had learned to recognize Venison’s moods, and had strategically picked moments to advance his own schemes. He wondered if Venison ever suspected he was being played by Emerald. If Venison did suspect, perhaps he allowed it because he appreciated the mutual advantages to be gained from allowing Emerald to become his de facto lieutenant.

  “This merger between Nateast Bank and the Royal Bank of Wales,” Venison said. “I’ve been tracking the figures. Something isn’t right.”

  “Think it could be ripe for plucking?”

  “The grapes look heavy, the vine looks weak.”

  “Ok, I’ll comb their figures,” Emerald replied, smugly enjoying his and Venison’s private use of clever metaphor.

  “Comb every hair on them – especially the stubby curly ones.”

  “Where barbers fear to tread.”

  Venison nodded and left the office.

  Chapter 25

  Next morning, Leon was packing his bag for college. He peeked around the lounge door and saw that Will was watching a video on YouTube. Two teenagers were competing in a freestyle hip hop battle, competing to demonstrate their superior ability to create clever cusses about their rival. Will was comically trying to emulate the rappers’ rhythmic head and hand movements, and occasionally repeated what he heard the youths say. An empty bowl dusted with the crumbs of Doritos was beside the laptop with a jar of salsa dip that looked like it had been practically licked clean. Three open cans of lager were next to the bowl.

  “Learning some of the local slang are we?” Leon called across the room

  Will maintained his attention on YouTube and responded with a complicated, expansive arm movement towards Leon.

  “Nice moves mate! I’m going to the library to print this essay for Rumpold and do a few other jobs. Meet me at Hackney Central at noon, yeah? You can find it can’t ya?”

  Will didn’t turn his focus from the computer screen. “Certainly can, my bad man! Now I know what the tube is. And what YouTube is!” He took a deep glug from one of the cans of lager.

  “We can explore London some more after I drop off my world exclusive Shakespeare coursework. This one should get me a distinction. You’ll be ok for a few hours?”

  Will turned to face Leon. Smudges of salsa sauce smeared his lips. “I shall endeavour not to cause any more disturbances in the space-time continuum.”

  “Oooh, been learning some quantum physics as well as hip hop eh?”

  Will gestured dismissively towards the laptop screen. “The strange and erratic behaviour of really small things is not a new science.”

  “True, true. I’m sure kids are just the same these days. Ok, catch ya later amigo!”

  “Take it easy out in the hood my homeboy!”

  Leon grabbed his bag and left the flat. Will clicked ‘Replay’, took another swig of beer, and nodded along to the beat.

  Chapter 26

  Brandon’s Blackberry vibrated just as he closed the door after leaving the flat. It was a message from Joel: “wer all bunkin 2day c u @ corna”. Skipping school appealed to Brandon as Fridays were his most boring day: double maths, history, French, religious studies. His little crew of mates picked occasional days every few weeks to bunk and hang out at the old Bevan estate. They’d completed their end-of-year exams, and the teachers didn’t bother chasing up student absences towards the end of the summer term. It was more hassle than it was worth to set detentions and then chase those up when the students bunked them as well.

  The blocks of council flats on the Bevan estate were due to be demolished for a new development of swish apartments for young graduate hipsters. All but two of the council flats were empty. The windows and doors of the empty flats had been removed and breeze blocks had been built into the gaps to prevent squatters moving in. The estate was down a dead-end side road which led nowhere and which nobody used. It was the perfect place for a group of teens to hang out undisturbed from prejudicial, prying adult eyes. The space felt like theirs, and safe. The gang didn’t do anything too bad anyway, Brandon thought, apart from smoke some spliff and graffiti the walls of the doomed buildings.

  Brandon met Joel and the rest of the lads at the corner with high fives and fist bumps. They had worked out an intricate route to the estate through alleys and back streets where none of their family members would spot them and query what they were up to. When they thought they were safe, they all removed their school shirts and ties, and put on football jerseys or T-shirts or hoodies, and then their baseball caps or beanies.

  There were ten lads in the group, from eight different classes in the same year group at the same school. Brandon liked how they were a perfect example of multicultural teenage rebellion. Six of the group were black, two were white, there was one British Pakistani youth, and one Turkish kid. Brandon guessed they must look intimidating to adults, especially with their hoodies up, and the lads played on that notion when they were confronted; but he thought they were fairly innocuous in reality, especially compared to some of the other crews in the area he knew.

  They passed most of the morning smoking, kicking a football against the wall, and trying to get the girls they knew at school into trouble by calling them during lessons. Before noon, Barry and Josh, the two white kids, had volunteered to go to the nearest shop to buy more Rizlas. The others had given Barry some money with their orders for sweets and drinks. Whilst they waited for Barry and Josh’s return, they sprawled themselves across the steps of the block.

  “Hey, listen to this youse lot,” Brandon said, taking his phone out. He switched it to speaker mode and played a new hip hop tune he had downloaded. He was pleased when the others expressed their appreciation of the tune.

  “Play it again,” Joel said when it had finished. Brandon replayed the tune. Joel quickly picked up the words, and started rapping along. When the tune finished, he continued rapping, freestyling his own rhymes. He stood up and started gesticulating and bopping. The rest of the lads egged him on, whooping, stomping their feet, or adding their own lines in the offbeat as Joel continued spitting his flow. Surrounded by his mates, bunking school, sun shining, slightly stoned, Brandon was loving watching Joel in full flow. It felt like the summer holidays had arrived.

  “Yo, stop,” Jason suddenly announced, “Oldie alert.” He gestured with a nod of his head. Joel stopped rapping. Brandon looked in the direction where Jason had indicated.

  An overweight old white bloke with a skinhead and a goatee was standing just ten metres away, staring at them. He was wearing a faded Back to the Future T-shirt. He continued to stare at them even when they all turned to stare back at the man. Brandon felt the mood of the gang switch from relaxed to defensive. Who was this ol codger? Why was he staring at them? Despite his rough appearance, he didn’t look like a cop, nor BNP. He continued staring like he’d never seen a group of teenagers before. Brandon thought the man’s staring was starting to become threatening, and the feeling seemed to pass through the others too. Jason stood up beside Joel, their shoulders were pressed back, tensed for action. Yet the man continued to stare. Then he hocked and spat on the ground in front of him. Brandon swallowed, he could sense conflict in the air.

  After a minute of the man’s unbroken staring, Joel said, “Fuck this, I’m gonna find out what he wants.” He sauntered
over to the man with an exaggerated swagger until he stood almost toe-to-toe with him. Joel towered over the bloke by almost one foot. He leaned down into the man’s face, eyeballing him. Brandon stood up to watch, wondering if he would need to rush in to help Joel. Despite Joel being right in his face, the bloke didn’t flinch. If anything, Brandon thought, the bloke was staring even more intensely at Joel, although he looked more confused than intimidated.

  Tilting his head to one side, hunching his shoulders up and back, lifting his arms out to the side of his body, gesticulating aggressively, Joel whispered menacingly into the man’s face, “Yo bruv, can I help you with suttin?”

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  END OF PART II

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  Cathal