A short story that was short listed for the ASHAM PRIZE

RED GLOVES WAVING

Baby is climbing up the stairs. One two, one two, Mummy counts.
Baby’s small fist holds Mummy’s one finger tight tight. She can hear Mummy breathing, so close behind her. When Baby steps falter, Mummy say one two, one two, that how it go. Up up, then little fat legs buckle. Nappy bottom fall Braps! on the step. But Mummy right there, belly soft and round, washing powder smell and whiffs of dinner all add up one two one two equal Mummy.

Greta climb up on the wall. Hold my hand Granny, she says.
Double-decker buses rumble pass on the street. Some of the bricks on the wall them loose. Watch out Greta! Granny say. And Greta wobble but she hold on Granny hand tight tight and Granny say how was school and Greta say we had a story but I didn’t eat all my dinner because I don’t like fish fingers.

Greta stayed over again.

Granny cook spaghetti walla walla Caribbean style and chop the onions fine fine just how Greta like it. I like spicy food now Greta says, curling spaghetti round her fork how Granny show her, then pouting when the spaghetti fall off before it reach her mouth.
You want me to cut it up? Granny akse, and Greta nods.
At bedtime they climb up the stairs, one two one two, Granny says, and Up the wooden hill! And Greta giggle and say I can count to a hundred now!

In the spare room, Greta bedroom, Greta pile up the books and can’t make her mind up which story she want till Granny say make your mind up or you won’t get a story and it getting late and I want see Eastenders. Then Greta get snivelly and say Mummy lets me watch Eastenders and Granny shush her and start to read Bedtime for Bear with her funny voices till Greta smile come back and she so like Bear she become Bear and in no time she snuggling right down in the pillow on promises of boiled egg and soldiers for morning.

Morning cold cold and Granny wrap her up warm, lend her her woolly hat and tuck her scarf right into her coat and akse her where are the gloves I bought you? But Greta shrugs and Granny say tell Mummy to put the string through your coat like I tell her, but borrow mine till we get to school. And so she does and so they set off down St Peter’s Road and through the park and Greta find two white feathers and a conker and chatters all the way that Granny must take one feather home and keep it in the special jar on the windowsill. And as they walk she make Granny tell her that story again about the macaw Millie from Guyana where Granny come from who got send to Expo 67 in Canada to represent her country but Millie pick up so many bad words from the workmen on the site they had to send her right back home to Guyana.

And Granny take the gloves off her as she goes into school and stand there at the gate all the time Greta walk down the path turning back and turning back waving and checking to see Granny waving too and Granny know no way she can leave till that little head go right inside the classroom door. So she wave and she wave, knowing Greta can see her through the high mesh fence with the No Dogs No Smoking sign through the bodies of everybody Mummy and Daddy and Carer because Granny gloves is bright bright red just right for a crowd and a winter morning.

Mummies are chattering away and busy busy busy. They rush up the path jangling car keys on massive key rings that look like they can unlock a world. Babies dangle from their hips dressed in Next caps, little titches wearing rabbit ears and pink noses bounce from baby seats padded, chromed and logoed. Some Mummies are in uniform; there are nurses and lollipop ladies and Asda checkout girls and the girl from the chemist in her white overall and the witch from the florist and the one with the three snivelling brats what does childminding.
Four by fours are banked up all along the road, Espace with teeth and bull bar, the Mazda belonging to that bitch who wanted to be school governor parked right across the zigzag lines. But don’t be unfair, there’s a beatup old Escort, look, and that bloke with the long hair with his little girl on the front of his delivery bike. Then there’s the Prams; three wheel, two wheel, one wheel even and handles and toddler punching toddler and yap yap bloody yap...

Didja go to Pilartes last night? they chirrup, and yeah where wuz you? Mind, me bleeding back’s killing me this morning …

CHARLIEC’MERE! And this is the turd couple what’s come round and no-one’s put an offer in yet and it’s hard innit keeping the place tidy all the time … My Mum’s gonna pick ’im up termorra, I better tell ’is teacher, hang on … I don’t know how she’s got the front to send ’er to school like that! Did you see the tights she had on yesterday? …We’re learning French like mad now we’ve got the place, there’s only us and another couple who’s got gites in the village …

Felisha’s been on the phone again. Can you pick Greta up from school today me and Aaron are going up to London. Granny’s heart leaps and then tumbles. Of course she says and thinks I love the child I love the child so but with love comes trouble. If she say no Felisha would get one of her good-for-nothing friends to pick Greta up, all smoking with their cigarette and just go and sit down in pub after school and give Greta crisps just crisps and Coke to upset her lil belly.

How time a change. She own schooldays seem like yesterday, girls was girls and ladies was ladies and everybody who was anybody went to school. She can’t even remember hearing the word socialworker. Lord, back then if anybody see one child straying in the street when they was suppose to be in school .. Lord help them! Some neighbour would grab you quick, twist you ears and is pell mell you hotfoot it right back home or to school. Granny remember clear clear how that policeman take Granny and her friend to the police station that morning just for riding up a one-way street. Frighten!? Lord, you frighten of everybody! Parents, teachers, priest, nuns … those was the days when everybody get Licks.

How the world turn.

Granny don’t like to think of Felisha schooldays, what there was of them. Teenage years full up with welfare this and social work that, teacher at the door and Policeman. So much nasty things falling out Felisha mouth like that child in The Exorcist, a film that keep Granny awake for weeks.

Back home Priestess would jaray Felisha, rub she with herbs, chant she with Prayers, and that devil woulda drive out of she long time. See that kinda thing happening here, is arrest they would arrest she, Granny! You can’t even raise you hand to children now. Granny distress so bad Doctor come, but no way would she take tranquilliser. She just swallow and swallow the shame, swallow the pride, swallow missing Felisha when Felisha decide she want live with her daddy and his new wife. Granny wring and wring her hands wondering what she do wrong. Was it because she was different, was it because she try to guide Felisha footsteps in the way of the Lord, was it because she couldn’t afford those fancy trainers, or because it was her fault Felisha daddy leave them? But that was that.

It would have been more surprising for Felisha not to catch belly. And Granny swallow again when Greta come into the world and when the thrill wear off for Felisha, Granny always say yes, yes mek me look after the child nuh.

I don’t want Mummy to pick me up Greta says, I want you to. Your Mummy is your Mummy, Granny says, trying not to think of the time one of the boyfriends knock at her front door with Greta, her pushchair, her bottle, and two nappies in a carrier bag. Felisha say would you have Greta for the night, the young man said. She din have no credit so she couldn’t phone you like.

And Granny pales with the shock of it, the drink on his breath, and the way her sweet baby Greta just stood there with the dummy in her mouth.

Your daughter should look after her own child, her sister Denise scolds. As if she had any choice.

And trouble come knocking, just like she knew it would.

The pressure of his body was making the front door shake. He kicked it again and again. His voice cut right through the pine.
This ain’t going to f****** keep me out you cow!

Felisha’s back and palms trembled against the wood. Tears blurred her vision, softened the outline of Greta standing by the living-room door. She saw Greta’s mouth open, felt the scream before she heard it.

Open this f****** door you slag! Open it you hear! Or I’ll f****** do you I swear!

Granny bent down to the letter-flap.

Aaron! Aaron! Stop dis foolishness now, yuh hear? Yuh frightening de chile!

His voice spat back through the opening. You tell that c*** I want to see my kid. She can’t stop me seeing my kid! She got no right!
Felisha found her voice, wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. She stood behind her mother, gathering Greta behind her. The child clung onto her jeans pocket.

You got no right coming round here and carrying on like this innit! You got no right disgracing me up the school! You got no right …

Shut up Felisha. Granny stood up and press her mouth to the letter-flap. Aaron, if I open dis door and yuh cause any trouble is me yuh gotta deal with yuh hear?

The pummelling on the door stopped.

What yuh say? Speak up, ah can’t hear yuh.
I say I ain’t looking for no trouble. I just want to see Greta.
Well perhaps we betta ask Greta wha she want eh!

They both turned and looked at the child. Felisha swung her round to face them.
Yuh want see yuh daddy Greta?
The child hung her head, stared at the floor.
Granny gathered her close, wrapping her arms around her.

You see what he do? Frighten the child! She don’t want see him.
Aaron! Aaron! You petrify the child! Why you don’t go away and leave us alone?

I’m the child’s father! I have a right to see her. You can’t stop me!
Felisha found her mouth again: You not her father when she need school shoes! You not her father when the rent need paying! You not her father when is me alone bathing and feeding her … Mum! What you doin?

Pulling back the safety catch.
Y’all want the whole street to know yuh business? Y’all got fuh sort dis out reasonable.

She opened the door a crack. Quick to see his chance, Aaron’s hand came round the door-frame. His shoulders followed.
She felt Greta recoil, pressing her small body back into hers. Aaron’s eyes went past the two women, rested on the child.

Greta, Greta, is Daddy. Daddy ain’t gonna hurt you baby. You’s my Princess, Daddy’s little Princess yeah? He pushed the door open wider, his voice softening. Daddy don’t mean to frighten you Princess. Mummy just get Daddy mad, that’s all.

They kiss and make up, kiss and break up. After Aaron was Gary, then Paul then Aaron again. Sweetness and light then thunder. Felisha come and go with bruises. No police! She scream at her mother, no police, or he’ll kill me.

Greta can read Granny stories now, at school she’s on yellow books then blue then green. I can read best out of everybody in the whole class, she say. And I wrote a poem about you today, called My Granny. Mrs Peach put it on the wall.

Granny heart swell. You’re the best girl in the whole world, she say.
I don’t like my daddy, Greta says, can I come and live with you?

Felisha on the phone saying f****** to her mother. Her mother can’t stand that word at all. How f****** dare you put Greta off her fadda?

Granny waiting at the school gate. All the children come out, even the stragglers. Her heart has toppled right down in her shoes and nearly trips her up as she walks over to the gate monitor, who has started to lock the gate. My grand-daughter hasn’t come out yet, she says. The monitor shakes her head but lets her in to see for herself. The classroom is empty, except for Greta’s teacher who’s tidying up her desk. I’m afraid I’m not allowed to tell you if Greta was at school today, she says. Not allowed? I am Greta’s grandmother! I pick her up every Monday and Tuesday. My name is on the list of people who can pick her up, how can you stand there and tell me you are not allowed to tell me if my own grandchild didn’t come to school today?! The young woman sighs, then relents. No, she says, nor Friday either.

She takes the bus to the flat and even as she walks up the road she senses it is empty. She peers through the half-pulled curtains and sees the carpet littered with odd items of furniture toppled over and a shoe and carrier bags and Greta’s Bear. Oh my God, she mouths aloud.

She rings the hospital who reassure her that no-one with those names have been admitted over the weekend. She rings the Police who run through a list of questions as long as winter then tell her that her daughter is an adult who can go where she chooses. But the child, she argues, don’t you care if a child is at risk? We were called out to the flat on Friday, they tell her at last, but no charges were made. Ring Socialservices if you’re worried, they might be able to liase with the school. She rings Socialservices who apart from taking her details to pass on to the Schoolwelfareofficer are unable to say yes or no if Felisha and Greta have been rehomed.

She walks out into the street. Double-decker buses whizz round her. People are rushing and pushing and laughing in couples or in family groups with pushchairs or their arms leaning out of cars and loud music by the traffic lights and kids smoking cigarettes with their school shirts hanging out their skirts. There’s a brown girl in the ring fa lalalala trills out of a car window, a reggae version with drums. Granny is transported back and back and back where she’s in a circle playing a ring game, all hands locked together and they’re all singing brown girl in the ring. Outside the ring she can see her own mummy clapping her hands and singing and her smile is as wide and white as the sun and she says to herself, mummy, mummy.

The children come out blinking in the autumn sunshine. They swinging their lunchboxes and book bags and party invitations and letters are slipping through their fingers.

Some fat old cow is waiting by the school gate. She’s got one of them small snappy dogs you want to kick all dressed up in something that used to be a dog coat. Red tartan. The old cow’s wearing red too. Red hat, red gloves. Anybody would think it was cold. She smells of pee. Mummies keep their distance. She has a space all to herself like someone had drawn an invisible circle around her. When the children come out she waves.
And waves.

This story was short listed for the ASHAM PRIZE