‘I’m just popping out,’ I call, and shut the door before Dad can ask me to get him anything from the shop.
I just need to stretch my legs and get some fresh air. I feel like I can’t move in that flat, with Sergei and his mum there, everywhere I look.
I head down towards the canal.
There are crowds of girls outside the Motorpoint Arena. They are clustered around their mobile phones, sharing pictures, speaking excitedly in low voices, and I wonder what boy band is playing tonight.
I walk past the BBC Radio Nottingham building on London Road. There’s probably someone famous in there waiting to be interviewed by the presenters, telling the listeners all about their fabulous life.
I’m nearing the entrance to the canal bank now.
Cars stream by me on the busy road leading to Trent Bridge, past the train station and tower-block hotels. Apartment buildings and offices line up like concrete soldiers on the edge of the pavement, and I try not to breathe in too deeply, as the air is thick with exhaust fumes.
On this side of the road is the water, the cyclists, the joggers. There are ducks and I even spot a couple of swans, serenely gliding away from me.
I take a sharp left and descend the steep steps to the canal side. The hum of the traffic fades down here and as I walk, watching the oily black swell of the water, my jumbled thoughts start to fade a little.
Another five minutes of walking at a good pace and My Fair Lady comes into view. The glossy primary colours I first thought of as gaudy brighten my mood now as I approach. A thin coil of smoke winds up from the wood-burner chimney at the back, and the pots of geraniums and leafy plants quiver slightly in the breeze as if they sense my presence.
I was hoping someone might be out on deck but there is no sign of life; the boat looks all locked up. I walk alongside it and bend down to peer through the window. It’s difficult to see inside, through the lace and the curtains.
Then suddenly Spike’s beaming face appears from inside. He bangs on the glass and waves. Seconds later, the two small wooden doors at the end fly open and Amelia jumps up on to the deck.
‘Calum! Come inside.’
I start to say I haven’t really got time and I was only walking past, but the boat looks cosy through the open doors and Amelia will be disappointed. Plus, I don’t want to go back to the flat yet. So I climb aboard.
Sandy is standing in the galley area.
‘You arrived at the perfect time, Calum.’ She smiles. ‘I’m making hot chocolate, fancy a cup?’
‘Sounds lovely, thanks,’ I say.
‘Come and sit down, Calum,’ Amelia says, and we edge past Sandy and move to the end of the boat to sit near the warmth.
Spike stops bouncing around on the cushions and sits down next to me.
‘Look, Calum, I drew Spiderman.’
He shows me his sketchpad. He’s drawn Spiderman in pencil and it’s not bad at all.
‘That’s brilliant, Spike,’ I say. ‘Wish I could draw.’
‘What are your hobbies?’ he asks.
‘Dunno. Writing,’ I say, surprising myself when I realize I mean it. ‘I’m writing a screenplay that I might enter for a competition.’
I’m stretching the truth a bit because I haven’t actually started writing. But all films start as an idea and I’m mulling one over in my head.
‘Ooh, get you!’ Amelia teases.
‘I dunno though,’ I add quickly. ‘I haven’t decided yet. I don’t know if my idea is going to be good enough.’
‘You should go for it.’ Amelia nudges me. ‘You can thank me when you’re famous.’
‘Yeah, right.’ I snigger.
Spike looks up at me and his face breaks into a wide grin.
‘I know! I can teach you to draw, if you like? My dad was a good drawer.’
‘Great,’ I say. ‘I’d like that.’
Amelia looks at me over Spike’s head and smiles. Not one of her mischievous grins this time; if anything she looks a bit sad. I wonder where her dad is but I don’t ask.
I look around, watching Spike flicking through his sketchpad, Amelia warming her toes in front of the burner, and further up the boat Sandy whisking a jug of hot chocolate up into an impressive froth.
I only just met these people but I feel welcome and relaxed, like I’m one of the family. So much better than being stuck in the flat with those two interlopers.
Sandy brings our drinks over and we sit together in companionable silence for a few minutes.
‘How come you’re down by the canal at this time?’ Amelia says after a while. There’s a faint rim of creamy chocolate milk around her mouth. ‘It’s nearly eight o’clock. I’ve never seen you around here in the evening.’
I shrug. ‘Just fancied getting out of the flat.’
‘Why?’ Spike asks. ‘Don’t you like your flat?’
‘Not really,’ I say honestly. ‘It’s tiny and it’s stuck in the middle of a housing estate.’
‘My Fair Lady is tiny,’ Spike remarks. ‘But we still love living on her, don’t we, Ma?’
‘We do.’ Sandy smiles. ‘But everybody is different, Spike. People like different things; it wouldn’t do for us to all be the same.’
‘Why not?’ Spike frowns.
‘Well, because it would be a boring world to live in if we were all the same, right?’
‘Suppose so.’ Spike shrugs. ‘You could come and live with us on My Fair Lady, Calum.’
‘Yeah, great idea.’ Amelia grins. ‘Let’s do it.’
‘I think Calum’s family might have something to say about that.’ Sandy winks at me.
A few moments of silence. I realize they’re all looking at me, expecting me to say something.
‘I don’t so much mind our flat, it’s who’s in it that’s putting me off. I’m crawling the walls, stuck in there.’
‘Is it Spiderman?’ Spike’s eyes are wide.
‘Nah, I could cope with Spiderman, Spike.’ I wrinkle my nose. ‘Dad’s moved his new girlfriend and her son in. I’ve got to share my bedroom with him.’
I wait for them to gasp in horror, say they understand how awful it must be for me.
‘We have to share space in here.’ Amelia shrugs. ‘You get used to it and there’s always room for one more.’
‘Don’t you like him, this boy?’ Sandy asks.
‘He’s Polish.’
They all look back at me with blank faces.
‘What’s Polish?’ Spike says.
‘Someone who comes from a country called Poland,’ Sandy tells him. ‘It’s in Europe.’
‘Why is he here and not in Poland then?’ Spike asks.
‘Exactly, Spike,’ I say. ‘Why’s he got to live here in Nottingham, in our flat, and share my bedroom? Supposedly, it got too dangerous for them to live there.’
I roll my eyes and wait for them to tell me it’s awful and they totally understand how difficult it must be for me.
But there is just silence.
I feel a heaviness in my chest and I’m suddenly worried they’ll think badly of me.
‘It’s just that I don’t want to share my bedroom with a stranger,’ I say to Amelia, trying to get her on my side. ‘Our flat is tiny – there’s barely enough room for me and Dad as it is.’
Three pairs of eyes look away from me, down the narrow, cramped interior of My Fair Lady. The tiny boat that has far less space than our flat.
Through the window I can see the light is fading slightly outside. The boat is rosy and glowing inside from the hot stove and a small lamp. The cold, aching feelings I had when I left the flat have faded. I wonder briefly if that’s how Sergei and his mum felt when they came to stay with us. I think about how I’ve just turned up here tonight and been invited inside and made to feel so welcome. How they’ve shared their food, drink and space with me ever since they moored on the canal.
I need something else – something to show them the unfairness of it all.
‘People should live in their own homes, stay in their own places,’ I add. ‘What gives people the right to live on someone else’s patch?’
‘Are you angry we’ve come to live here in Nottingham, too?’ Spike asks me, his eyes wide.
‘Course not!’ I laugh. ‘It’s different. I mean – you’re . . . it’s just different.’
‘Sometimes people come here and bring much-needed skills that contribute to the economy,’ Sandy says softly. ‘Doesn’t that make it a better place for all of us?’
‘There aren’t enough jobs for the people who were born here, though,’ I say, pleased I’ve remembered something Linford is always saying. ‘They can’t just come over here, taking what we have. People can’t just live where they like.’
‘I didn’t have you down as being such a prat, Calum.’ Amelia stiffens in her seat. ‘But now you’re talking just like one.’
They all stare at me as though I just grew another head. I make my excuses, thanking Sandy for the hot chocolate, and leave.
While I’m walking back home I think about life on My Fair Lady. How it would feel if Sandy invited me to live with them, move on to their next place. No more suffering Sergei and his mum, having people around all the time. Just family.
I think about people moving around, finding new homes, visiting new places. Like Sergei and his mum are doing, I suppose.
I don’t know why I think differently about the Zurakowskis. It’s like some unspoken rule says we have the right to live where we want and they don’t. And even I have to admit that sounds pretty stupid.
★
EXT. ON BOARD MY FAIR LADY – DAY
A narrowboat is moored on the canal in Newark. Official-looking MAN approaches boat. BOY, GIRL and YOUNG BOY watch through an open window. SANDY jumps down from the deck to talk to him. Soon she is gesticulating and there are raised voices.
MAN
I told you, you can’t stay here.
WOMAN
(frustrated)
But why? What harm are we doing? I find maintenance work on boats while we’re here. We don’t ask the authorities for anything.
MAN
Madam, I don’t make the rules; I only enforce them. How would it be if we let everyone live on the river, eh? Nobody would be able to move.
WOMAN
But not everyone wants to live on the river. There are hundreds of miles of canals – there’s plenty of room for everybody.
MAN
As I said, I don’t make the rules. You have to move on because your permit has expired.
WOMAN
(frowning)
Since when did you own the water?
MAN
(pompous tone)
There are boundaries that must be observed, laws that must be upheld. The canals are on our land; they belong to the council. You cannot live here. You must go back to where you came from.
WOMAN
(pleading)
We don’t have a set place to live. We travel around, living and working in different places.
MAN
I’m sorry but you cannot stay here. You must leave. You must go somewhere else.
WOMAN
Where do you suggest we go?
MAN
(dismissive)
That, madam, is not my problem.
END SCENE.