Louder Than Words Page 15

  She grabbed my arm and pulled me towards her. I realised what she was going to do only a fraction of a second before her lips met mine. And in that fraction of a second, I thought I’d explode from the anticipation, nerves, desperation . . .

  . . . and then she was kissing me to the stench of burning petrol and the sound of breaking glass.

  CHAPTER 34

  Back home at dinner time, I lounged on the sofa with a bowl of pasta, watching the news. It was mostly about the protest in London: another riot, shops smashed up, crazies dressed in black hurling things at the police. One idiot hurled a metal gate at the riot officers. I winced as I saw a policeman – no, a woman – knocked to the floor and kicked.

  What was the point of this?

  Morons. How did hurting the police help to stop big companies making money off the poor?

  The footage rolled back to show the march at the start . . . peaceful, loads of people all coming together to make a point.

  And then this.

  You could see the moment it started. Masked people suddenly started to burst out from the anonymity of the crowd and . . . and yes, this looked co-ordinated. They said that on the TV, that it was well planned. And that the police would be seeking to find out who was behind this and make arrests.

  Mum came in with a glass of wine and sat down on the sofa beside me. ‘Sometimes, Rafaela, you look at me as if you think I’ve let you down.’

  I looked up at her, shocked.

  ‘And sometimes, Rafaela, I think perhaps I have.’

  OK, this was very uncomfortable. Why couldn’t Silas be here if she was going to be like this? He could have headed her off.

  ‘I am aware that we are not only not on the same page, but not even in the same library, yet . . .’

  She glugged the rest of the glass down and I so wished I could speak so I could say I had to go to the toilet or something.

  ‘. . . I am still your mother.’

  I could feel her eyes on me as I stared at my feet. Feel the tension stiffen my spine. Feel that hated tight sensation grab me by the throat.

  ‘When you were tiny, I fed you and carried you. I held you up for your first steps.’ My mother’s voice shook. ‘Your first word was Mama, did you know that? And now you won’t even say my name, let alone speak to me. Do you have any idea, Rafaela, how that feels? My own daughter will not speak to me.’

  Do you know how it feels not to be able to do that?

  ‘I know you think it’s my fault. I can see it in your eyes. What I don’t understand is why. All of those so-called experts I took you to see, they all told me how terribly unusual it was for you not to speak to me. Normally, they said, a child of that age would talk to her mother if no one else. But not you, Rafaela, not you.’ Her face changed, contorted. ‘Why? WHY? What did I do? Why won’t you TELL me?’

  I began to shake. I wanted to cry. I wanted her to stop. To leave me alone. To stop judging me. To . . . to . . . love me for who I was.

  But that was impossible. Like wanting the moon.

  I wanted to shout out what was inside, but it was stuck there, useless, like it always was.

  Well, I might not be able to tell her, but I could show her! For the first time in my life I would not give in and be invisible. I threw my bowl to the floor so hard that it smashed even on the thick carpet, then I got up and stamped out, crashed up the stairs and slammed my bedroom door behind me.

  I made noise. And it felt good.

  Revolution requires extensive and widespread destruction . . . since in this way and only in this way are new worlds born.

  (Mikhail Bakunin)

  CHAPTER 35

  There’s more, Dad.

  I suppose I should tell you all of it. Even the parts that don’t make us look too good. Shades of grey though, right? Nothing is ever black and white.

  The fires had taken over at least two of the shops. The police helicopter circled constantly overhead. We found ourselves increasingly surrounded, but by now it didn’t matter, Katrin said. Our objectives had been achieved. All that remained was to cause as much disruption for as long as possible and then escape before we were closed down any further. As night fell, the mood of the other demonstrators turned darker too. Police reinforcements backed up the thin lines of the original officers and there were now pitched battles raging between the protesters and the police as each group tried to force the other back.

  Somehow the noise seemed louder in the night; my head was aching now. Me and Lara sat in a quieter pocket of the street, warmed by the flames from a burning clothes store. The smell made me feel sick and I wondered if these people would ever get tired of the yelling and fighting. The ActionX people mostly had their masks off now. They were well back from police lines and it was too dark for the camera on the helicopter to pick their faces out. Mostly they were just sitting about like us. It was the others battling the police, the ones I’d seen earlier sitting around drinking.

  Lara leaned against my shoulder. Her near frenzy earlier had had burnt itself out. Her eyes looked heavy and drowsy, as mine felt. I just wanted to go home now. To get some food, to sleep. But I didn’t want to leave her.

  My nausea grew stronger. I didn’t know if it was the smoke from the burning shops or that I was so hungry. I hadn’t eaten since the train.

  A pair of black trainers appeared in front of me.

  Katrin.

  ‘We’re ready to get out of here,’ she said. ‘It’s about to get heavy and Dillon doesn’t want any more losses.’ She nodded down the street to where – and I wanted to retch as I saw it – some of the animal mask lot had breached police defences and were raining petrol bombs and street debris down on injured officers on the ground. I saw one man kick a wounded policeman in the head and had to look away before I really was sick.

  Lara sprang to her feet, suddenly alert again. I dragged myself up slowly, aching in places I didn’t know could ache.

  ‘You know where to go?’ Katrin asked, the others already beginning to melt off out of sight into the darkness.

  Lara grinned. ‘See you back at HQ.’

  I looked around. I didn’t have a clue how we were going to get out. It seemed as if we were surrounded on all sides.

  Lara tugged my arm. ‘Let’s go.’

  I nodded gratefully, but a moment later my relief was shattered. She slipped off away from the crowd with me following . . . straight towards one of the burning shops. ‘There’s a back exit,’ she said.

  ‘Are you completely insane? We are not going in there. We could be killed!’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘We won’t be killed. It’s fine. It’s all planned.’

  ‘Planned? Walking through a burning building is planned? No! Absolutely no way. I’d rather be arrested than dead.’

  Lara put her hand on my arm and, despite everything, my skin felt a thrill at the pressure of her fingers through my sleeve. ‘Me too, but we won’t be dead or arrested. It’ll be OK. Katrin had this whole thing sorted from the start.’

  ‘Oh really, and Katrin is an expert on fire safety, is she? Works for the fire brigade?’

  Lara sighed. ‘Look, Katrin plans everything to the last letter. If she has this down as a safe exit route, it is. Now I’m going. You can come . . . or not.’

  And with that she walked past the front doors of the shop, where flames licked out, taunting me as I watched, and she hopped over a low ledge into the shop through a smashed window.

  What could I do? I couldn’t let her go alone. I ran in pursuit.

  Inside the shop the smoke masked us from the outside. I coughed, peering around to find Lara, my eyes smarting. And then she was in front of me, face masked, her hand pulling my own mask up over my face. I realised I could breathe better then. She took my hand and led me through the smoke.

  We wove in and out of counters full of expensive handbags and perfume, stepping over burning debris on the floor, but I realised that although the smoke was eye-stingingly thick and I could only see a couple of me
tres in front of me, we were nowhere near the flames. The fire was concentrated at the front of the store where the clothing racks blazed. Over here to the side of the shop the sprinkler system had doused everything enough to stop the fire spreading to us . . . for now. I also realised just how narrow our window of escape was. It wouldn’t take long before the whole place was burning.

  Our silent walk through the store seemed to go on forever, though it could only have taken five minutes. Lara route-marched me along until suddenly the smoke cleared and miraculously I was out in the cold, fresh air. I pulled my mask away and breathed in great gulps of it.

  Lara didn’t let me linger there long. She broke into a jog and I forced aching, exhausted muscles to follow her. There were no police back here in the tangle of narrow streets she led me through. ‘Katrin knew they’d never think anyone would come this way.’

  ‘Why wasn’t the back door locked after they evacuated the shops?’

  ‘They almost never do that because looters do more damage breaking in. But Jez, Katrin’s guy, was responsible for making sure all the escape routes were clear so if it had been locked, he would have busted it open. Jez is bombproof on jobs like this.’

  Lara took us out on to a wide street. I didn’t recognise it, but we were well clear of the riot now. When I turned back, I could see the red light in the sky from the fires and hear the din from the clash of rioters and police.

  When I looked at Lara, her eyes were bright and clear and a grin spread across her face. She laughed. ‘London’s burning!’

  She took me to a road of terraced houses. ‘This is HQ,’ Lara said, opening the front door of one of them.

  I followed her on and off a series of Tube trains, until I had no idea where we were, except it was somewhere on the outskirts of London. The rows of houses didn’t look like much, certainly not as if one of them hid the headquarters of what at that moment I was beginning to suspect was a terrorist cell. And if they hadn’t quite got that far yet, I didn’t think they had miles to go.

  I said as much to Lara. Obviously she wouldn’t agree, but I wanted to see her reaction, even if it did make her hate me. There was something about what I’d seen tonight that made me feel dirty.

  She shrugged. ‘What’s the saying? “One man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter.” So, yeah, whatever.’

  I was too tired to argue.

  The kitchen and what would normally have been the sitting room of the house were packed with activists like us, freshly returned from the riot. The sitting room didn’t have sofas. In fact it was empty apart from piles of sleeping bags that people were sitting on, some of them starting to curl up and bed down in the corners. Most of the ones who were awake nodded to Lara as we passed through to a room at the back, where we found Dillon and Katrin and the others. Jez and Tyler she called two of them, but the rest I didn’t pay too much attention to for, like me, they looked exhausted and ready to drop. Katrin was still buzzing like Lara, discharging invisible sparks of energy as she came down from her battle high. The one Lara called Jez was calm and relaxed, leaning against the wall as his girlfriend filled Dillon in on the details with waving hands and flashing eyes. Tyler watched a lot, but didn’t say much. Mostly he watched Lara. Was he jealous?

  Lara didn’t say much herself, except to respond, ‘Yeah, fine, no issues,’ to Katrin’s question about whether we got out of there without incident.

  There was an empty sofa in this room. Lara led me over to it and pulled me down to join her. She tucked her feet up under herself and curled into my side, her head resting on my shoulder. Her hair was cool against my cheek and I could smell the smoke lingering in it. Her soft skin caressed my neck as her cheek snuggled against me. I wanted to coil round her, envelop her within me so she could never leave.

  My skin never wanted to be without her again.

  Katrin was staring at me, hard and hostile. Tyler was still watching me with that odd look too. Jez’s expression was completely blank and the others looked carefully away. I didn’t know what was going on. Did they think they owned her or something? Did they not trust me – was that it?

  Only Dillon seemed normal, sitting down on a chair opposite us. ‘All right, Lara? Cool. So you’re Silas, right? How did your first time go? Enjoy it?’

  I felt a pressure I’ve never felt before – to agree, to fit in.

  No, not even for her would I do that.

  ‘Yes and no.’

  Dillon nodded. ‘Tell me.’

  Lara didn’t flinch or stiffen. In fact, she felt utterly relaxed, no hint that she might be embarrassed by my reaction.

  ‘At first it was great,’ I said, looking Dillon straight in the eye. ‘I felt good. We were marching and I felt like I was doing something worthwhile for possibly the first time in my life. I understood why you guys do it.’

  ‘But?’ Dillon prompted.

  ‘But then it changed – and I could live with the destruction even. I could see why. But then there was the violence. I didn’t like the violence.’

  Dillon’s face split into a wide grin. ‘Me neither,’ he said. He reached out and shook my hand. ‘Welcome to ActionX, brother.’

  By my side, Lara looked up at me with a soft, sleepy smile that made my insides molten.

  Dillon nodded seriously. ‘I want to find another way. That’s what I’ve been working on. No violence. But hit right where it gets only the people at the top, the ones who deserve it. Absolutely no collateral damage and no bloodshed.’ He pinned me with that intense gaze he’d used on his audience from the podium. ‘You interested in that?’

  I grinned. ‘Oh yeah! I’m interested in that.’

  . . . And that’s it, Dad. All of it. I know you’ll never get this email, but I’d like you to understand why I did it. It is about Lara of course. But it’s more. I felt something out there. Something that matters. The world won’t ever change if we all sit safe inside our own houses and don’t try, will it? I hope you’d be proud of me for trying.

  Love, Silas

  CHAPTER 36

  Even though Silas closed the front door extra quietly, it woke me up. I glanced at the alarm clock. It was four in the morning. I got up and padded out with bare feet on to the landing. Silas was walking up the stairs as if every bone and muscle hurt. He had deep dark circles under his eyes that I could see even in the moonlight shining in from the window.

  I grabbed his arm. Where have you been?

  He shook his head at me. ‘Not now, Rafi. Too tired.’ He opened the door of his bedroom. ‘I need to sleep.’

  I sniffed. He smelt funny. I couldn’t put my finger on it for a second.

  He went inside the bedroom and closed the door.

  As I climbed slowly back into bed, I realised what the smell was. It was smoke.

  In the morning, I texted Josie. It was time. I didn’t know why now, I just knew it was.

  She texted back a few minutes later.

 

  It was easier to do this away from my family. Too much of it was about them for me to feel comfortable exposing this to view in my own house.

  I walked round to Josie’s. It was still sunny even though the afternoon was almost over. I could smell the smoke from a barbecue wafting through from a back garden and with it the scent of something spicy cooking . . . Mmm, chilli and lime maybe. As I got closer to Josie’s house I discovered the cooking smell was coming from her place. I headed round the back to find her dad standing over the barbecue with a bottle of beer in his hand. Josie was flopped in a garden chair, one leg dangling over the arm.

  ‘Rafi,’ he said in that rich, deep, safe voice, ‘yeah! Good you came over. Food’s nearly ready and I cooked too much again.’

  Josie laughed. ‘Dad always gets carried away with a barbecue and cooks too much. We end up eating leftovers the next day every single time.’

  I sniffed the air. Was that coconut with the lime? He had some chicken skewers on the b
arbecue. I could see from the colour they’d been marinated in something. Whatever it was it smelt delicious and my mouth was watering.

  Josie’s dad tapped the side of his nose when he saw me sniffing. ‘Old Caribbean recipe,’ he said. ‘My mother taught it to me.’

  Josie nodded. ‘Grandma cooks like a dream. Whenever she comes to stay I end up putting a ton of weight on.’ She patted the chair beside her. Come and sit down.’ As I did, she whispered, ‘We’ll go up to the gazebo after this and you can show me whatever it is.’ She pointed up the garden to a large painted gazebo carefully positioned to catch the last of the evening sun.

  Her dad motioned to her to pass him a plate and he put one of the chicken skewers on it for me. ‘You try that and see what you think. But watch it – it’ll be hot.’ He chuckled and I guessed he meant more than it had just come off the barbecue.

  I blew on the skewer vigorously as Josie helped her dad serve the food on to three plates. There was a table and chairs further up the garden, but nobody could be bothered to walk up there so we lounged on our chairs with cold drinks by our feet. I bit into the chicken and an explosion of flavours hit my tongue and I gasped. It was so rare for me to make any kind of noise that Josie jumped. Her dad clapped his hands together and punched the air. I grinned. He was right, it was fantastic. Lime and coconut and a massive chilli kick that was just the right side of mouth-burning. The chicken was juicy and tender and almost melted off the skewer on to my tongue. It was too good to wolf down, but far too good to nibble. I compromised by eating it in large bites with my eyes shut to savour the flavour while Josie’s dad laughed at my face.

  ‘Have another,’ he said, topping my plate up. ‘Josie doesn’t bring so many friends round these days so I’ve lost my appreciative audience!’