Cleaning Up Read Free

repercussions had heightened and coloured the already considerable erotic charge between them. He was pretty sure that Jamal had been aware of it and probably Sohail, the other son, too. But, a little surprisingly, they’d kept their counsel, which was probably due to the force of personality of both their older sister and their father.
    Before they’d found the resolve to make a serious commitment, he’d made his choice to leave his home town. They hadn’t stayed in touch. There had not even been the pretence of it - she was pissed off and hurt by his decision and had made no bones about what she wanted and by the time he’d got back she’d gone. She was now living in Newcastle with her done-well Asian solicitor husband and everything that they once had now belonged up stream in the past.
    On his return to the Centre he went straight to the meeting room. Even though he was a little early most of the staff were already in there. Pauline, the Centre manger, was up on her feet, busy circling the tables, divvying up the minutes and what looked like a pleasingly short agenda. She was emitting her usual vibe, an egalitarian good cheer offset by a barely hidden, tight-eyed worry. Tommy knew that her tension was aproduct of her ongoing struggle to ensure the financial health and viability of the Centre and, a consequence of her unyielding, unconditional love and practical support of a son who battled with a combination of mental health problems and an unhelpful fondness for Class A drugs. Tommy was staggered at her stamina and her tolerance of the foibles of both her son and of humanity in general. In his opinion, Pauline Hughes was a minor-league urban saint.
    Sonny the youth team street worker had popped in for this particular staff meeting as he sometimes did. Sonny, who had become a bona fide mate, was well…sunny. An always welcome source of respite from the meetings’ frequent bursts of ponderous worthiness.
    Sonny took the empty seat next to his. His missus was expecting their first born and they chatted briefly about that and then they moved on quickly to a spate of muggings that had flared up on the Barrington Estate. The Barrington was a colossal shithole, a peripherally located mini town with the ambience and crumbling infrastructure of a dystopian, sweat-soaked nightmare.
    Pauline called the meeting to order as Geoff, the Centre’s coach driver ambled into the room mumbling slightly red-faced apologies for his tardiness. Nobody was that mithered, the Centre had yet to embrace anything within sniffing distance of the ‘corporate’ model and thank fucking Christ for that.
    They did the round the table thing and the talkers took the opportunity to talk and the rest did a quick, cursory pass the parcel. Tommy spoke a little about the literacy group and the need for some new sports equipment which brought a slight frown of worry from Pauline so he didn’t press on it. Hethought about mentioning next week’s ‘safe rave’ at the Centre but he didn’t want to open that particular can of worms either. Too many people were prepared to share their opinion on it and in this instance he was soliciting brevity not a talk-a- thon.
    His mind drifted as the staff continued round the table. He’d get down to the Crown later on. Catch up with the old man for a couple then maybe pop into Piccolos to round the night off. He corralled Sonny after the meeting to see if he was up for it but Sonny declined the invitation
    ‘Like to bro, but, you know, Estelle. She likes having me home, now it’s getting close.’
    Tommy had been back for well over a year and he was still struggling to find regular playmates. Years spent away had seen all the old gang inevitably paired up and settled down. A couple of them had moved away though nobody had gone as far as he had. Twenty years was a long, long time.
    These, he knew, had been predictable drifts in a place that was still a rough facsimile of what he had gladly left behind. Now here