Eve Newstead 

Extract from All the Hundred Things That Hurt

‘…Past healing, seem to drop behind.’

-Wilfrid Wilson Gibson – The Kittiwake

Zach

BBC TYNE

Your Views

James B.
I've just done my dissertation on the Wall. I think the architecture and aesthetics are top notch. The problems are all social, such as: Vandelism and unemployment. If it wern't for the people I'd want to live there.

p
Its absoulutly terrible the living conditions are horrible. I really dont know why it recieved an award!

Mick G
Call it Legoland and you could charge entry!

zormad
that wall wants pulling down

1

The rain stopped just in time for school to kick out for summer. A mucky seagull had flown into the city through the brightening sky and was now perched on the green iron spikes of the school gates, watching the kids surge through them into six weeks of freedom. Zach followed across the yard over the chalk markings, but paused midway to watch the bird, wanting to catch the moment it took flight. Eventually it heaved itself clumsily into the air, and Zach was left standing entirely alone in the yard. Holding the straps of his backpack tight, he started walking again through the buzz of his classmates, which still lingered strong in the air. This buzz would have been enough to carry Zach into summer too, if it wasn’t for the heavy feeling that in that moment everyone in the world was happy, apart from his sister.

He wasn’t exaggerating – the rain had literally stopped dead on half three, as though Mrs Carmichael in the school office had two buttons, one for the bell and another for the clouds. Thank you universe. Zach could not, repeat not, get wrong off Mam again for showing up wearing a sopping uniform. Fat bulging drops had been coming down for a week now and it was starting to be proper annoying. Then click, no more. One second lashing it, the next less than a gob-full of spit. He'd sat at his desk praying to all the gods he’d learnt about in RE for it to stop. Einstein, Julius Caesar and Isaac Newton too. One of them must have been listening. It was sort of a big day because in September he would start high school. So he took off from the gates for what would be the final time in his whole entire life, leaving just as the bird had: without hurry but without looking back.

He was supposed to walk straight home after school but in those days he never did. Since his sister moved back from university, there were more rules than ever but, at the same time, no one noticed if he followed the rules anymore. So if Zach thought about it really, then there were no rules at all. Most days he took the longest route home. In fact, it wasn’t an actual route at all. Not a to b anyway. More like a to h to d to x to m to b. Mam and Dad had made Isla come home and she was angry at them. There were lots of closed doors and crying, plus arguments using both whispers and shouts. Zach was always being told to go to another room and entertain himself. Dad told him that Isla had stopped eating but that’s all. She didn’t look any different, but just five minutes with her and he knew his old sister was gone. Her body had come home without her.

So usually after school Zach would cut about all over, humming and finding sticks to snap and smack off things. That day the air was moist from the rain, fresh like cool breath after brushing your teeth. He had his rucksack slung over both shoulders and a gold bar in his pocket left over from lunch. Some days it was better to save your chocolate bar, even if you really wanted it straight after your sarnie. It was a nice surprise later when you found it in your pocket even though you knew it was there all along. Unless some other boy had seen it before then and twocked it.

He crossed into the wall estate where everything was always so still he could float; give his thoughts space to drift out and untangle, some floating away completely. The estate was a big concrete maze. It was easy to get lost. He wasn’t really supposed to go in there. There were rows and rows of houses painted blue, red, or green, as well as short blocks of flats, all broken up with grassy or concrete courtyards, shadowing tree lines and overspilling bins. The entire estate smelled like his back lane and there was rubbish everywhere, like no one had a bin in their house. The main thing he used for a sense of direction, was the outer perimeter block of flats which you could see from everywhere; a humongous brown wall which curved around the rest of the estate like cupped hands holding a captured spider. It was cut with coloured lines of cobalt blue balconies.

 He took his coat off and sat on the edge of a metal table. It was painted fireball jawbreaker red. A woman wearing bag-arse jeans pushing a buggy went by, and three kids who were running; two matched in pace and one behind, breathless with panic at being left the loser. Then a man with a face the colour of bone slumped past with his thumb out, areet lad, he said. Zach said hello back inside his head, close enough to the surface so the man knew he was actually saying it and not just being rude. After that there was no one for ages.

He sat with his hands either side of his legs, gripping the red metal edge and smacking the heel of his plimmy off the table post. He was away with the fairies. That’s something Mam always said. Not bad like, just away. So he didn’t notice five lads from the high school approach until they were shadowing over him. Lewy, he was the leader, grabbed hold of Zach’s jumper. To stop himself being dragged, Zach stood up. It was easier to look at their stupid trainers than in any of their stupid eyes, so he just tilted his head downwards and started counting backwards from five hundred.

Four-hundred-and-twenty-two. They were saying nasty things that he was trying not to let properly inside his brain. Three-hundred-and-ninety-six. They were rifling through his rucksack. He could hear his school notes being scrumpled.

He got to three-hundred-and-fifteen when the woman shouted. He heard her before he saw her. The downpour had dredged up muck from the streets and it lingered in the air. Her voice came screeching through the stench.

What on earth do yous think yous are doing? she said.

Zach’s back was to her, his face crushed into a wall. All five lads were at his back even though he had shown no signs of running on absolute purpose. The two giving their hands a rest from nose-picking and crotch sniffing by pinning him to the wall, loosened their grip when she shouted. If he’d only ever have heard her, he never would have forgotten her. Her voice was cracked and sore. He shook them off and turned around. Between the backs of their heads, he could see a tiny dot of a woman. She barely reached any of their shoulders. As little as she was, she wasn’t frail. Not fat either, but as firm to the ground as an elephant’s leg. Her hair was bleached teenager blonde and it hung flat round her creased grandma face. You could have slotted pennies between the wrinkles in her lips.

Give him that back, she said, giving them a hacky.

Give what back? Lewy replied. He held open his hands, the big smirky shit, and Zach’s rucksack thudded to the floor.

Yous know what, she said to Lewy. Ye’ve taken someit. Give him it. Noo.

Zach tried to sneak through them to his bag. Dean saw and blocked his way.

Mind ya own business ya old cunt, Dean said.

Dean was nasty all the way through and he was ugly and grimy to match. He was an actual dog poo.

Makes ya’a big man, hm, the woman said.

They were actually like his dad’s height. Way bigger than her.

Big tough lad stealing things that aren’t yours, she said. I kna why yous dee it. Yara bunch a knackers who bunk off school to gob on the floor and nick cans from Morrison’s just tryna pretend yous are something more. By bullying little lads.

She said the last bit slowly, like every word was underlined. Especially little, which Zach was a bit gutted she’d said in front of them because he was taller than her.

I’ll tell you someit, the woman said with the same steam. Lads like yous end up in prison phoning their mams once a week crying their eyes out ‘cause they met some proper men and they’re too scared to sleep at night.

You know that cocky look, where the mouth just opens and the chin juts forward, well they were all wearing it, unbothered by this seething little nana. Zach wanted to run away and just die on the sofa at home hugging his dog. He hung his head and did circles around the school logo on his jumper with his eyes.

Fuck off man, one of them said.

Joel Higgins, isn’t it? she said.

Zach peeked up again at her voice. The nana had turned to face the one with the tab behind his ear. She pointed at his chin with her solid nail, it looked like she’d painted it with a highlighter and was about to slap his face pink.

I recognise you ‘cause your brothers one of them, she said. Crying to ya mam ‘cause some big man’s decided to use him as a punching bag in Durrem.

The smirk had gone, his face was now blank except for a barely noticeable quiver in his lips. Either because his brother was in prison, or because his brother was crying to their mammy all the time. Zach couldn’t tell which but wondered what the brother had done. It must have been something embarrassing by the wriggling of Joel’s face. The woman turned to Lewy again, close enough to lick him.

I’ll find out who al of ya mams are from Joel’s, she said. Now give him it back ya rotten little shit.

She was half his height, but just by calling him small he shrivelled down into barely nothing. That’s what it was like at the time anyway, but when Zach thought about it later it was probably because people were watching them at this point. A couple smoking at their blue glazed door and two older lads wearing ties were making themselves known. Lewy’s chest was like a popped balloon. All five of them stood flashing their eyes side to side like fidgety pigeons. Zach was staring at the chunk slashed from Lewy’s eyebrow. They all had that bald bit. It said I’m hard, I’ve been scrapping in the street like, with a terrifying gang that steals body hair. In that moment his eyebrow looked so ridiculous Zach wanted to jump up and down and scream with laughter. He lunged forward and snaffled his bag up dead quick.

Wuv took nowt, Lewy said.

What have they taken son?

Zach was giddy. He was soaring through the sky yelling ha-she-made-you-shit-yourselves-I-am-almighty-champion-of-everything down on the city. Then he realised she was talking to him, and the thrill fell straight out his arse.

Nothing, he said, speaking like a pathetic baby. He squidged through to stand beside them. Er, miss.

Miss, Dean said, smirking. They were all creasing again.

Why had he called her miss? She wasn’t a teacher. Getting away from the wall made Zach feel braver though. Which was weird because he had only moved a few steps. He looked up at the side of them and he thought, look at all of your big stupid heads and he felt his skin start sparkling.

They wanted me dinner money, he said at first, just to test them out. It felt mint, for them to listen to him; he’d spent weeks being told to be quiet. And then he was smiling, like a proper cheeky smile on purpose when he said, but it’s after school so obviously I’ve eaten me dinner, haven’t I? And anyways, I get packed lunches.

She laughed and the screech of it was hilarious. He didn’t know why he expected anything different given her voice. Her face crinkled up like a dirty sock.

Eee mastermind criminals the lot of yous, she said. Ha ha, cannit even plan a dinna money mugging properly. It’s four o’clock man. Ha haa.

The pigeons scuffled off. Dean knocked her shoulder but she never even flinched.

Idiots, ha, she said. The lot of them.

They were face to face now. Well eye to nose, and he was eleven and still growing and she was old and probably shrinking. He got a proper look into the woman’s eyes and they took him by surprise. They were full of the stars, the kind he’d only seen away from the city when he went camping. No one laughed in his house anymore. Not since his sister came home. His parents made the sound of laughing but their eyes were empty. They were really just thinking about Isla. The only time they were acting honestly was when they were shouting or if he caught them crying. But this woman’s laughter was right there in her eyes, like properly, no pretending.

Clever lad you mind, she said. Made them look a right bunch of tits.

It was magic again. Zach had never heard a grandma say tits before. Swear words like bugger and bloody and stuff yeah, but not tits, t-i-t-s, round ones with nipples in the centre he had seen on Kieran’s phone once. She stopped laughing and he was thinking about tits; only the word though, not the things themselves, so it wasn’t that weird. She had a scuffed leather handbag rammed onto her shoulder; the straps held tight in her fist. The couple in the doorway were watching them. It probably just looked like she was his nana. She set off walking and, because she was still talking, he followed.

The old woman never shut up. Not once. Zach pictured her brain going round and round like one of those Catherine wheel fireworks that sometimes fling loose and burn back fences down. The last dregs of rain were easing out the air and the sky was a shade of calm. He followed her through a passage and entered another courtyard, where the surrounding buildings cast a checkerboard of light and shade that meant Zach kept having to squint then focus as they walked towards the exit. People coming back from work or the shops passed them, their faces sagging beneath the day’s weight. She said hello to some of them, breaking off from her sentence and carrying on again from the exact same spot the way you press pause on a song.

My Luke used to get bullied, she said. I wanted to wring the lot of them. Cannit though, can ya? Ya have to make them feel stupid with words, just like ye did. Yee’ve got the knack of it already see son. My Luke used to just hit them, but he was tiny see, so he always came out looking worse. He wasn’t clever though, bless him. A good lad but not clever like…

She talked until they reached the main road. Behind them the wall strained up towards the sun, a heavy slash of brick in the sky.

One lass in school, she said. Michaela Ashbridge tried it with me. Probably ‘cause of me size. I says to her, I says,

He was watching her feet, wearing flimsy black pumps she could probably feel every crumb through. She was flat footed and walked with no rhythm – step, step, small step, toe wiggle – like she was secretly playing don’t step on the cracks.

Afta al that, she said. The blokey next door came to us and he says, I’ll show wor Luke how to defend himsel’, and Luke’s dad wasn’t having none of it, says he.

The road was busy, and the woman had to raise her voice above the traffic. She was saying loads of random things, taken from her life and thrown into one huge speech about how much she hated bullying. Zach wasn’t being bullied, but there wasn’t a pause in her breath where he could tell her that. He’d seen bullying. Proper bullying, like Daniel at the start of Karate Kid before he meets Mr Miyagi. Isla did karate for like one month – during her phase of starting lots of new hobbies and quitting once Mam had bought the outfit – and they all watched the film as a family and Isla had cried so much at the bullying part. But those tears of hers back then had been funny because it wasn’t actually real. She even laughed at herself for crying.

The traffic was fast. Cars tearing past could catch glimpses of the estate through the Lego windows. The woman pointed towards one of the top flats.

I live there, she said, with the best view going.

He glanced behind at the block which, in his mind, would form the left cupped hand and marked her flat to sit right on the thumb knuckle. Although, from the outside of the estate, the perimeter wall lost all the safety of cupped hands, instead it was frightening like the outside of an old prison he had seen on history shows.

The woman stopped when they got to the crossing and finished her racing speech. Now son, get home safe won’t ya, she said.

It was sudden, like hitting flat after flying down a steep hill on his scooter.

An urge rose from down in Zach somewhere, until his cheeks burned with desire and shame and he felt like everyone who lived in the wall was watching. He wanted to hug her. No. He wanted her to hug him. The image of them, hugging the way he wanted to, was all he could think of. The two of them standing by the road there, him bending down with his arms dangling limply while she drew him in, her wrinkled fingers and highlighter nails resting on his school jumper. It was all a bit confusing. He was in a giant bubble of water and the picture of them was reflected in its woozy sides. He was surrounded by the wobbling picture of her hugging him and it looked like he really, really needed that hug. The sound of traffic went far away. The path and the railings, even his own hands and feet… his actual heartbeat was miles away.

Go on son, she said and the bubble popped. It was like she knew exactly where they needed to part ways.

She was giving him a strange look. He was soaked with embarrassment. It looked like she felt sorry for him. He was having lots of thoughts. Too many to speak. Maybe she could hear them. About him wanting to hug her and that. He managed to squeak bye and ran jelly-legged across the road. When he got to the island in the middle he stopped and turned around, just wanting to check. She was standing in the same spot, by the traffic lights button, watching him go with a closed smile. Behind her the windows dotted about the wall glared down on him like suspicious eyes.