Chapter 13

‘G’day mate how can I help you?’

For a few seconds Marco had stood paralysed in front of the door before finally plucking up the courage to ring the bell. He knew it was just a barbeque but he always felt the same when it came to meeting new people.

‘Hi I'm Marco’ he said, not sure whether to extend his hand or not. ‘Clare told me to come along?
‘Clare? I'm sorry mate there's no Clare here.’ Marco's heart came up into his mouth and it must have showed on his face.
‘Just kidding buddy, come on in, I'm Sam, welcome to the Hetley. Here give me those beers, I'll put them in the fridge and get you a cold one.’
Marco had been nervous coming down to Brixton. People always seemed to refer to Brixton when they talked about the seedy side of London. It always featured in programs on drug problems, petty street crime and as Marco had neared the top of the escalator at Brixton Station he sucked in his apprehension, passed his ticket through the turnstile and popped up out of the tube and into the street above dreading the worst but not quite sure what it was exactly he was dreading. Street level was chaotic. Not the kind of chaos Marco had feared but rather Saturday afternoon shopping mall chaos. The streams of peoples dragged Marco into the street with them and past the crowds lingering at entrance to the station, perhaps waiting for someone, perhaps just waiting for nothing. Marco forced himself out of the current of commuters and paused for a second to try to get his bearings. The noise was deafening. Above the usual London sound of traffic and construction, Brixton Academy ticket hawkers and evangelists screamed in competition at the disinterested passers by. The high street looked like any other London high street he had seen. Worse than some, better than others, it certainly didn’t scream danger or beware with its Sainsbury’s local and Marks and Spencer. But then London crime and sleaze and filth often lies just below the surface, Marco thought swinging his bag around in front of him and clutching it tightly. London crime is the petty thief who crawls up behind your seat, reaches under and steals your bag while you are unaware, face full of coffee. It is the intimidation in numbers; the mobile snatch; these petty annoyances which affect the vast majority of people. The hardened statistics and crimes are usually reserved for the hardened criminals, dispersed amongst themselves with the occasional wrong place at the wrong time sort of person getting in the way. Marco looked around and, clutching his mobile in his hand inside his pocket wondered if the reason Brixton was so much more dangerous was that the chances of his being in the wrong place at the wrong time were greater. Trying his best not to be a tourist he gazed discreetly down at his tattered copy of Street Map, turning it around a couple of times to try to try to figure out exactly where he should be going. Having decided finally on what appeared to be the way, he joined a procession marching towards Acre Lane, past the outflow from electric avenue and turned into a back street which seemed to lead to the point marked x on his map.

As he entered Hetley Road, Marco could hear a sound system which was presumably coming from the party and which guided him to the front door of a two storied detached building, more house than flat defended at the road front by a small knee high brick fence and a thin strip of very patchy grass. The rest of the street was in very much the same vein. A collection of houses in varying states of disrepair, the occasional home which was being converted or done up by some budding property tycoon determined to rise on the property ladder but likely to end up with the best house on the worst street.

‘This is a great house you have’, Marco said following Sam through the front door and down the corridor which led to the kitchen at the back of the house. Stopping momentarily to open the can of beer Sam had offered him, Marco followed Sam once again through the back door and into a huge garden which was overflowing with bodies, drinks and the smell of cooked meat. Looking around, he hoped he didn’t look as nervous as he was feeling. He had considered stopping for a pint in Brixton to steady his nerves but being alone in Brixton was doing nothing to help his nerves as it was so he had discarded this option. Now he wished he hadn’t. Marco hated these situations. Arriving at a party where there were dozens of people who he didn’t know. He never knew whether he should go around and introduce himself or shout hello or what to do really. And so he did nothing and waited for Sam’s lead which eventually came.
‘Everyone, this is Marco, Marco everyone.’ Various faces looked up momentarily, smiling or waving or offering a brief upward flick of the forehead before returning to their conversations. The garden was rectangular and long and there were already twenty or so people sitting around in various groups and positions, drinking and talking. A few guys were poised in a circle around the barbeque without saying very much, collectively willing on the barbeque and the sizzling meat, each presumably with their own take of when a sausage should be turned.
‘Marco! Clare said creeping up behind him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. ‘You made it! Great. You’ve got a drink? How are you?’
‘Hi Clare. Thanks, yeah Sam got me one when I arrived. This is a great house. It must be so nice to have a garden.’
‘Yeah it’s cool. We have heaps of barbeques and parties out here. What have you got there?’
‘Oh yeah. I bought some sausages; What shall I do with them? Shall I put them in the fridge?
‘Yeah thanks that’s great Marco. Looks like we’ll be eating sausages for the next couple of months.’
‘So who do you live here with?’ Marco said returning as quickly as possible from the kitchen to stay in the conversation. He wasn’t sure what else to say and hated the small talk sound of his question. He took a long sip of his beer hoping he might start to relax and worrying that Clare might regret inviting him.
‘Um, God, like I think there are fourteen of us here at the moment, shall I give you the grand tour?’
‘Fourteen?!’
‘Yeah, not everyone has their own room but it keeps the rent and bills down.’
‘Wow, what’s it like living with so many people?’
‘It’s good actually. I know it sounds like a lot but in reality it’s kind of rare that everyone’s at home at the same time and the good thing is that there’s always something to do here. There’s always someone to talk to or have a drink with especially if you can’t afford to go out very often which is usually the case for most of us.’’

‘So what do you do?’ Marco said following Clare back across the garden and into the kitchen once again, the first leg of the tour.

‘I’m a nanny. I look after a couple of kids in Putney.’
‘Really, that must be nice?’
‘It’s alright. The thing, I love the kids which I guess is the main thing. They’re one and three so they’re really sweet but their mother is just this rich bitch who’s not much older than me and she has no idea. I think she sees the kids more as accessories than little people and it just bugs me sometimes that she has everything laid out for her and has no idea.’

‘Oh well it sounds better that washing dishes.’
‘Don’t worry about that, I wash plenty of dishes in this flat. So where do you work then?’
‘I work in a bistro near the Plaza in Covent Garden.’
‘Oh yeah? Which one?’
You probably wouldn’t have heard of it. It’s very touristic but it’s not too bad. I get on well with most of the people there. The boss is a bit of a wanker and the money is really bad and the worst thing is that if I leave my job I will lose my apartment.’
‘Really? How does that work?’
‘When I moved to London it was through an agency. They got me a room in their apartment building and a job. If I leave the apartment I lose the job if I leave the job I lose the apartment. So I don’t have much choice right now.
‘You need a place like this mate. Actually I think one of the guys from the living room is moving back home in a month or so. He only pays five quid a night so if you’re interested and you reckon you might be able to get another job then you’d probably be welcome to move in. Obviously it’s not the whole room to yourself, there are another couple of people in there, but you get used to sharing with other people pretty quickly.’

‘I’m paying more than that right now and I share my room.’ Marco followed Clare down the hall and into the front living room closest to the road which had three beds squeezed into it, one of which had been partitioned off with a hanging curtain.
Here this is what I was talking about. One of the guys in here, James, a Kiwi bloke is moving back home next month so if you wanted to move in this would be where you’d live. What do you reckon?’

Marco decided not to ask what a Kiwi was. Instead he took a moment to gaze around the room. It was three beds rather than two but that hardly mattered. The room had been stripped bare of furniture apart from the three mattresses and a couple of wardrobes and a bookshelf on the brink of collapse. The walls were a Smokey off white and were dissected three quarters of the way up the wall by wooden panelling which seemed to shrink the room a little. The three mattresses lay seemingly randomly strewn around the room but more likely than not positioned so as to provide as much individual space as possible though in reality none of them were further than a meter or so from each other. It was a mess and completely run down but it was also half the price of his room and for that he would get a whole house, a garden, he would meet thirteen new people and if Clare was anything to go by his nights of sitting home alone on a Saturday would be behind him.

‘It looks great to me’ Marco said, again trying to avoid sounding too keen. He wanted to say I’ll take it there and then but at the same time he didn’t want to get his hopes up. And he had no idea what he was going to do for a job. Perhaps Matt could think of something. Things had been a little funny at work for a couple of weeks after the incident with Abi, but once he had calmed down he had realised that all Matt had been trying to do was protect him. His anger had been at the situation. At Abi. At himself for being so stupid and not at Matt. He had taken Matt out for a beer and had explained what had actually happened between him and Abi. He apologised which Matt said he didn’t need or expect. Since then things had returned to normal. About once a week they would go out for a beer or two after work. Just the two of them. Matt still insisted on paying and Marco promised himself he would pay Matt back once he had some more money.

Marco followed Clare up the dangerously vertical stair case and past four more rooms with at the very least two double beds in each.’

‘So does everyone get on well?’

‘Most of the time. Sometimes there are problems but we have such a range of people here doing all sorts of different jobs so that it’s rare that everyone is home at once. And the other thing is that people tend to live here because they want to; you know they know that they are living with lots of people and that they have to try to be more patient and try to compromise. It’s a great way to meet people though mate. I’ve made dozens of friends living here. Give it some thought. Let me know if you think you’d be keen and I can have a chat to the other guys. Now lets go and get something to eat. I’m starving.

In the garden once again, Marco approached the Barbeque as nervous as ever and unsure how to break into a conversation which didn’t seem to be happening. Instead he followed suit, sliding into the disjointed circle and stared at the flames flickering below the meat, the heat and smoke lapping against him.

‘Hello Mate’ said the guy nearest to where Marco had joined the group who was currently in charge of the Barbeque tonges. I’m Dan, this is Erwin, Scott and James.’
‘Hi guys, I’m Marco. I’m a friend of Clare’s. We met at a club a few weeks ago and she invited me to the barbeque. Do you guys all live here?’
‘We sure do’, Dan said moving a couple of sausages to the edge of the barbeque and sending smoke spuming from the dripping fat. ‘James is heading home at the end of the month though aren’t you you poor bastard.’
‘Yep time to go home. Bloody visa. Never mind.’
‘What happened to your Visa?’ Marco said after a brief silence that he was keen to fill.
‘Ah well that’s a long story mate. We’re not like you lucky European buggers. We’re only allowed to work and live in the UK for two years and then we’re out. It’s bloody ridiculous when you think of the millions of bloody people who live here illegally and contribute nothing to the economy but there’s nothing that can be done.’
‘Really, only two years?’ Marco had heard of this before but didn’t want to break up the conversation which was beginning to flow smoothly.
‘Yeah. And you’re only supposed to work for one of those years. The most ridiculous thing is that our ancestors fought in two bloody world wars to help England and this is the way they treat us.’
‘You didn’t fight in the bloody war you lazy prick’ Erwin said with a grin, taking the tongs out of Dan’s hands to extract a fallen sausage from the barbeque coals. ‘You can barely get out of bed before twelve.’
Everyone laughed at this including Marco who was finally beginning to relax.
‘You know what I mean’ Dan said, opening another can of fosters from the pile at his feet and offering one to Marco. ‘There are millions of useless bastards in this country doing bugger all. All we want to do is live and work here and pay taxes and they throw us out like common criminals.’
‘And when exactly was the last time you paid taxes Dan?’ Erwin said, again laughing loudly.’
‘That’s not the point. Now turn that steak over you prick before it burns.’
‘So are you the Kiwi’, Marco said recalling the name from the conversation with Clare a few moments earlier.
‘That’s right, how could you tell. Was it the iccent?’ Dan said smiling.
‘No, Clare was showing me the house before and she mentioned that the Kiwi was leaving soon and said that there might be a bed coming up soon. I don’t even know what a Kiwi is.’
‘A Kiwi is an idiot my friend’, James said laughing and looking across at Dan with a grin.
‘Don’t listen to that South African prick mate. We’re called Kiwis because one of our native animals which is a bird which can’t fly is called a Kiwi. Either that or because we export a lot of Kiwi fruit. I’m never sure. The point is you call people from New Zealand Kiwis.’
‘A bird that doesn’t fly?’ Marco said, turning towards James and Erwin who took his lead and started laughing once again.
‘Don’t get me started on that. They don’t fly because they never needed to fly. They didn’t have any natural predators and so they just used to forage around on the ground for food.’
‘Christ mate, James said rolling his eyes and flipping the steak once again. ‘He just asked a simple bloody question. He doesn’t want a bloody history lesson.’

Marco finished his beer and accepted another from Dan.
‘So do you think you might move in then Marco, Dan said sitting down on the brick boxing which bordered the edge of the garden. Marco followed suit, backing away from the fire and perching on the edge next to James.
‘Maybe. Clare only told me about it before but it sounds pretty good to me. The only problem for me is the money.
‘I wouldn’t worry about that mate; it’s only five quid a night for my bed.’
‘I know, Clare told me. That’s not the problem. I’m actually paying almost twice that much at the moment. The problem is that if I leave my apartment I will lose my job. When I moved over here I got a flat through an agency which got me my job in the restaurant I am working in now. If I leave the flat I lose the job and if I leave the job I lose the flat.’

‘Jesus that’s a bit rough isn’t it. So if you move in here you’ll lose your job. Got you. So how attached to this job are you then?’
‘Not very. I like some of the people but I don’t like the boss and I get paid very badly.’

‘Hmm.’ Dan said, pausing for a second and looking at Marco and then taking another sip from his beer.

‘Can you keep a secret Marco.’
‘Of course.’
‘Well it’s related to something that might help you.’
‘Sorry, I don’t really understand.’

‘Well I may have a way I can help you to make some money if you did decide to take the bed.’

‘Really?’ Marco said intrigued.

‘Before I start you need to promise me that no matter what you decide to do mate, you won’t mention what I am going to tell you to anyone else ok.’ ‘Of course, don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.’
‘Good. You know, I was a lot like you when I first came to London. I worked in some shit jobs, mostly in Pubs and the odd club and I know what it’s like. The hours are terrible and the money is shit and at the end of the month you’re more broke than when you started. After about a year of that I decided there had to be a better way to make money. I was living here and we used to have heaps of parties and we always called this one dealer one of the guys who came to the parties knew and he would come round and sell us all pills. Are you with me so far mate?’
‘Yeah I think so.’ As usual there were words and phrases in these conversations which Marco missed or didn’t understand but he had learned to piece conversations together and he only tended to ask when he was completely lost. Most of the time he got enough to get the general flow of the conversation which was the case now.
‘Good. The thing is, between us we were paying this guy a fortune every week. All he would do is turn up for ten minutes and leave with a pocket full of money. So I decided that I would try to do what he was doing myself. I managed to get hold of some pills from a guy I know and that weekend I sold them to the people at one of our parties. I sold them for less than the other guy was selling them for because they were to my mates but I still made lots of money. I made more in a weekend than in a week at the pub and it didn’t take me long to hand in my notice.’
‘Ok’ Marco said, still not entirely sure where he fitted in to all of this and looking as confused as he felt.

‘With a flat like this Marco there are always dozens of people hanging around and we’re always having parties or going to other people’s house parties which are great fun. All I do is sell pills to people at these parties, you know to mates. It’s no big deal and I don’t see any harm in it because I know the people I’m selling to, I don’t rip them off, I make sure that they’re not taking crap and we’re all having a good time so nobody gets hurt. Hey while I think of it take this for later Mate.’

Marco closed his hand around the small pill, sliding it Safffely into his back pocket and reached into his other pocket for one of the two ten pound notes he had taken from the cash machine earlier.
‘Put that away mate, this one’s on me. I usually end up going to about two house parties a week and usually make about three hundred quid a week which is more than enough to pay for the room and live with.

‘Three hundred quid a week for two night’s work?’ Marco said, this time unable to hide his surprise. He worked all week for less than that.

‘Yeah. Not bad is it. It can be a little tiring going out both nights of the weekend but you get used to that. I used to party both nights myself but I got over that pretty quickly In a way I’m relieved to be going home. I feel like I need a bit of a break or a change or something but that said, I’ve had a wicked couple of years you know. It’s easy money and keeps life fairly interesting, you meet plenty of people. I’ll tell you what mate, have a think about it. I’m not moving out for a month and it doesn’t normally take longer than a couple of weeks to find someone for the room so if you are interested I’m happy to wait a couple of weeks before advertising the room. The offer for the work is the same thing. If you decide you’re keen I can introduce you to my supplier before I go and then I’ll take you to a couple of parties so that people know who you are.’

Marco didn’t know what to say. He knew what he should say. That he was keen on the room and loved the idea of the flat but wasn’t interested in becoming a dealer. But then again where was the harm if it was just helping out your mates as Dan had said. These were house parties which were Safffe and it would solve his money problems. He could do it for a little while and cover the rent while he looked for a real job.

‘It sounds pretty good to me Dan. But you’re right. I would like to give it some thought if that’s ok. I will let you know in the next week or so. I can definitely see myself living here though.’
‘Good one. Ok, let’s go and get one of those sausages before they’re all gone.’