Watching You, Watching Me. Chloe Rayban

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СКАЧАТЬ the road with their blue lights flashing.

      I’ve never been so relieved to see a police car in my whole life.

      After the police had gone the party broke up. I lay there listening as people left. At last, the final stragglers made their way down the road, kicking cans and shouting to each other and eventually singing in a slurred sort of way as they rounded the corner. Gradually the street subsided into silence.

      Number twenty-five was in darkness apart from a single candle flickering in that top room. I wondered whether that was Matt in there and whether he was alone. I wondered whether he was all right. I sat watching the light for a moment. And then it went out.

       Chapter Nine

      I didn’t sleep too well and I was the first up next day. I decided to walk down to the newsagent and get the Sunday paper — do Dad a favour — or maybe it was just an excuse to get a closer look at what the damage opposite had been.

      The whole of the front garden of number twenty-five was trampled flat, and looked as if a herd of wild elephants had dropped by. The wreckage extended into the garden next door. The ground was littered with rubbish: cans and glass from broken bottles, a shoe, a load of flyers, a sweatshirt, and the crushed packaging and scraps from a take-away meal. Then I looked back at our side of the street. The Levingtons’ house had recently been decorated, stark black and white, same as it had been before — really imaginative. I’d heard Mr Levington grumbling across the wall to Dad about how much it had cost. And there — right along the length of their pristine white front wall — someone had spray-painted the word ‘Fascist’, followed by a swastika.

      I bit my lip. I’d never liked Mr Levington, he was a miserable old fogey — he was going to go mental when he saw this. I continued on my way to the shops deep in thought. The whole street would be up in arms when they took stock of the mess.

      I bought a Sunday Independent for Mum and Dad and had a half-hearted browse through the mags. I needed something to cheer myself up.

      Mr Patel leaned over the counter. ‘I hear you had some trouble in your street last night.’

      ‘It was nothing much. Someone had a party that’s all.’

      ‘But the police came.’

      ‘And then everyone left.’

      ‘But they painted signs. I don’t like the look of it.’

      The news had got around. Even Mr Patel had heard about it. The way things were going the whole district was going to gang up on Matt. As I walked back I realised dismally — he was bound to get evicted. He’d probably move to some other squat, miles away — then I’d never get to know him.

      A few doors down from the Levingtons, I noticed the house-martins were making a dreadful din. It wasn’t their usual bright chirping and whistling. They were giving out harsh cries of alarm and making dives at the Levingtons’ house. As I drew level, I saw why. Mr Levington was leaning out of the second floor window with a long broom in his hand, trying to reach up to their nest. Luckily, the ledge over that window prevented him from seeing what he was doing, so he kept missing his aim.

      ‘Don’t! Please don’t!’ I yelled. You mustn’t … They’ve got got baby birds in there.’

      Mr Levington paused and looked down at me. His face was red from the effort and he glared.

      ‘They’re filthy creatures. Messing all over my newly painted window-sills.’

      He stretched up again and took another swipe at the nest. He was getting nearer the mark now.

      ‘Stop it!’ I screamed again. ‘I’ll report you. That’s cruel! You can’t.’

      The birds were getting more and more agitated. It was agonising to hear their cries of distress. I was practically crying myself.

      With each swipe Mr Levington’s broom inched closer to the mark.

      ‘You’re an evil wicked man …’ I shouted, my voice going shrill with emotion.

      And then suddenly another voice joined mine, a male voice.

      ‘Stop it, you bastard. Can’t you see what you’re doing?’

      Mr Levington looked down and nearly lost his balance.

      ‘You!’ he roared. ‘I’m amazed you dare show your face in this street. Don’t move from there. I’m coming down.’

      He was standing beside me dressed in an old T-shirt and jogging shorts. His feet were bare. He looked as if he’d just climbed out of bed.

      ‘Thanks …’ I said, my voice all husky. I jerked back the tears. The last thing I wanted to do was to start blubbing like some baby.

      ‘Good thing you caught him.’

      His hair was all scruffed up the wrong way where he’d been sleeping on it. He didn’t look like a drop-out or a junkie, or the kind of person who got into fights. How could everyone be so horrid about him?

      ‘Have you seen what’s happened to his wall?’ I asked.

      He half-grinned. ‘Pretty accurate description if you ask me.’

      That’s when Mr Levington’s front door flew open and he strode down the front path waving his broom threateningly at Matt.

      ‘As for you … you vagrant! Bringing scum into this street. You get packing — out of there this very day …’

      ‘Look … About last night, I’m sorry it wasn’t … I mean, I didn’t …’

      ‘Sorry! Sorry! Is that all you can say? I’ll give you sorry …’

      ‘I didn’t even know those people …’

      ‘Filth, that’s what they were …’ He took a threatening step forward and stabbed with his broom at some greasy pizza boxes that were littering the pavement.

      ‘I’m going to get you out of there if it’s the last thing I …’ He moved another threatening step forward.

      ‘Look, I’m going to clear up a bit — OK?’ Matt leaned down and snatched up a handful of litter.

      ‘Clear up! You know what you can do — you can clear out …’

      ‘Like them?’ said Matt gesturing towards the martins’ nest. ‘Clean the place up … Is that what you’re going to do? Want to stick your broom through my house? Nice attitude I must say … Do you know how few house-martins there are left?’

      I chimed in, ‘He’s right you know. It’s because of pesticides and drought … Soon there won’t be any at all …’

      Mr Levington scowled. ‘I want you out of there by the end of the day … Do you hear?’

      ‘You know what you are, don’t you?’

      ‘Huh,’ СКАЧАТЬ