23

The zoo may have been close to empty, but it still demanded a great deal of upkeep. Mrs F stood at the centre of it of course, barking out orders, coming down hard when her standards weren’t met. She may not have Clarence hanging on her wall, but her bark could inflict a pain in Joseph’s ears that felt comparable.

There was the daily mucking out, with which Joseph became intimately acquainted. He had also been put in charge of sourcing food for the animals, which was barely more palatable. He’d become acquainted with every butcher and greengrocer within a three-mile radius, loitering at their doors as they closed, taking whatever offcuts they could spare or had seen fit to dispose of.

The smell from his buckets was often putrid, the handle cutting into his frozen hands as he lugged them through the streets, ignoring the kids who ran from him screaming at the smell. The only positive to the stench was that it temporarily quelled the constant, nagging hunger he felt in his belly. Food was scarce, and rationing did little for his constant, irritated mood.

He often felt like he was becoming some kind of awful local figure, a scarecrow, the boy with the raggedy clothes and alien accent, the boy who brought the smell wherever he went. It didn’t help that he was also regularly tramping through the streets with Stan and Ollie and their dung trolley on the way to the allotments.

Once there, Joseph had become more adept at driving a bargain, determined to return to the zoo with food for the animals that Mrs F hadn’t tasked him with.

‘If you want all this manure, then I’ll need something extra in return today,’ he told the ruddy-faced man there.

‘That a fact?’

‘It is. There’s a lot more demand for the dung this week. So it’ll cost you an extra six pieces of veg.’

‘Will it now?’

‘It will.’

The man glared at him. Joseph stood as tall as he could without resorting to tiptoes.

‘You’ll take three and think yourself lucky you’re not getting a clip round the ear.’

Joseph pondered the offer, then nodded and held out his hand. He’d have settled for two. Plus, he couldn’t wait for Mrs F to see what he’d negotiated. Adonis would be pleased too. Veg was definitely preferable to grass.

It was debatable whether the ponies were warming to Joseph and his unique style of encouragement, though the boy was certainly tuning in to their eccentricities. In fact, he’d become rather astute as to what made them tick.

Ollie was governed by his stomach; Stan, meanwhile, was more subtle. Rotting vegetables held little incentive for him, and neither did a Gryce style of discipline. What Joseph discovered, through trial and error, was that Stan was very partial to a tickle below his chin. It couldn’t be gentle, his hair was too thick and wiry for that, but if Joseph turned his fist into a claw and rubbed vigorously in a strictly clockwise motion, then Stan’s eyes would close blissfully, his head tilting to the side, before ploughing on.

It was a discovery that didn’t go unnoticed on one allotment run. Stan was playing up at the zoo gates, in full view of both Mrs F and Syd, who had the much more pleasant job of sweeping the paths. Mrs F watched the boy struggle with the beast.

‘Shouldn’t we help?’ asked Syd.

‘Give him a minute. He’s not helpless. And I don’t mean Stan.’

Joseph could feel their eyes on him, and tried, unsuccessfully, to use his body as a shield as he set to work tickling.

Mrs F could see what he was doing though and when he got Stan moving, finally, it was impossible not to be impressed. She turned back to her sweeping, happy that she hadn’t had to intervene.

What she didn’t know was that she wasn’t the only one capable of watching subtly, from afar. Joseph had become rather adept at it himself. He might have become more intuitive when it came to the ponies, but Adonis remained in another league. The ape was still aloof and enigmatic, which did little to help Joseph’s confidence. He had no idea what he was doing wrong. Seeing how Adonis reacted so differently to Mrs F didn’t help either, whether she was inside the cage, or out.

He’d watch her approach the bars in the same way she had that first day: the slow, hunched walk, the mimicking of his noises and movements, head down, avoiding eye contact. Her methods never changed, and neither did the results. Adonis would walk calmly and quietly in her direction, then perch across from her, as if sitting before a mirror instead of bars, and pluck whatever offerings she had in her hands. It was a little like watching two friends share a picnic.

‘It’s not difficult,’ she’d tell Joseph, when it was his turn to try. ‘Just do what I do.’

But it always seemed to Joseph that his efforts could never match hers. He felt foolish trying to mimic an ape. And as for going inside the cage to clean him out? He couldn’t see that everhappening.

‘No, no, no,’ she’d tut as he stomped towards the bars. ‘It’s no good getting that close then throwing it away from him. He’s not interested in hunting it down, and besides the poor beggar’s in there all day long on his own, bit of interaction is what he needs. He’ll take it from you if he thinks you’re not a threat.’

‘Me a threat?’ said Joseph. ‘I’m not the one who charged first time we met.’

‘Joseph, that was a one off, and he was scared. You’ve got to make him feel safe. Treat him like he were a friend.’

‘A friend? He’s an animal.’

‘And? He has a heart, doesn’t he? And eyes, and all those things you have.’

‘Yeah but—’

‘And he has feelings too. You should’ve seen him when they took Aphrodite. Tore him in half, it did.’

Joseph couldn’t picture it, but he saw the emotion on Mrs F’s face.

‘So what do I need to do then?’ he asked.

‘Look at him,’ she replied. ‘For the first time, actually look at him. Realise he’s a living, breathing creature that feels the same things you do, wants the same things we all do. He wants to feel safe, Joseph. And you can help him with that.’

Joseph pursed his lips and said nothing. It would be folly to do anything else.

‘Try it. Here, take this.’ She handed him half a carrot. ‘Now walk, slowly towards the bars.’

He did half of what he was told.

‘I said slowly,’ she half hissed, half whispered.

He tempered his pace but not enough, Adonis sending a bark of disapproval.

‘Look,’ she said. ‘Watch me again.’ She plucked a large leaf from the bucket and began her own slow, respectful approach.

Joseph watched reluctantly. It wasn’t just about the pace she moved at: it was the way she held herself: her shoulders rounded and thrown forward, meaning her head fell the same way too. There was little in the way of eye contact, either, Mrs F looking up through her eyebrows to ensure she wasn’t distressing the ape. As she neared the bars the noises started: first from Adonis, a softer, lower noise, not a purr – never a purr – but a more sympathetic rumble. Mrs F followed, mimicking him, both noises and movements, but at no point did she relax or take anything for granted, certainly not when she found herself a mere foot away from him.

Joseph took in the difference in their frames. Adonis could break her in a second, could probably find a way of dragging her through the bars if he pleased, but if Mrs F was worried by this, she didn’t show it. Instead, she slowly lifted her arm, until the cabbage leaf moved within Adonis’s range.

The ape’s head moved first, leaning forward to sniff. There was something snooty about it to Joseph’s mind, like a dandy taking in the aroma of a pocket flower, but the image didn’t last long, Adonis whipping the cabbage from her grip and falling back on his haunches.

Satisfied, Mrs F moved away from the bars, her movements as slow as before, never turning her back on the beast, not even for a second.

‘There,’ she said. ‘Now your turn.’

‘You’re all right.’

‘No, come on,’ she cajoled. ‘You can do it. But only if you try.’

So he jammed his hand into the bucket and took a bit of carrot.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘Now, start to walk slowly. Head down, small steps, nothing sudden.’

He did as instructed.

‘That’s it,’ she said. ‘That’s the way.’ Joseph hoped she was telling the truth.

‘Now, keep your arm at your side until you get closer. That’s it, that’s it...’

He was ten feet from the bars now, and Adonis didn’t seem to have moved. Was it working? He daren’t look up to find out, though he did hear a shuffling and a short, sharp grunt.

‘Hear that?’ Mrs F whispered excitedly. ‘He’s seen the carrot now. He’s telling you he wants it. Whatever noise you hear, make the same noise back. Make him think you’re just like him, that you’re no threat.’

Joseph turned his ear to the cage, tuning in.

Another grunt followed, then a second and a third. Could he do it? Would he allow himself to grunt without fear of laughter from behind him?

‘Come on, Joseph,’ she whispered. ‘You can do it.’

So he did. Hesitantly at first, barely audible, before allowing his chest to rumble and mimic the same tone.

‘That’s it! That’s it!’ came the whisper behind him, and Joseph gave the most furtive of glances at Adonis, head cocked, wide fat finger scratching at his chest. Instinctively, he remembered the other order. It wasn’t just noises he had to impersonate, but movements too. So bravely, patiently, he stopped and sat back on his haunches, pawing at his chest in the same way, wondering how long he should do it before moving again.

Mrs F, of course, filled in the gaps. ‘Don’t wait too long now. You’ve got it. He trusts you, but he wants that food.’ Joseph made to stand, only to be told to slow down.

He started again, slower tentative steps, occasionally scratching and grunting in case it helped. His heart thumped wildly in his chest, only increasing as he edged closer, until he could reach the bars.

Again, he fell into a squat, and fighting the urge to look Adonis in the eye, he slowly raised his arm until it, and the carrot, sat at a perfect right angle from his body.

He waited, blood pumping in his ears. Would it work or was Adonis playing with him?

But just as he felt his arm begin to cramp, he caught a movement from the other side of the bars, and saw, from the corner of his eye, Adonis’s arm mirroring his own, snaking upwards and out through the bars. It was working. It was working.

Through squinted eyes, Joseph marvelled at the size of the ape’s hand, one finger the width of three of his own. He was scared, of course he was. No matter what Mrs F said, the ape was unpredictable, but fear wasn’t the overriding emotion and he allowed excitement to fizz through him.

‘Hold steady, hold steady!’ whispered Mrs F, her own giddiness tangible in her voice.

It was happening, it really was, their fingers mere inches away from each other. Joseph relaxed his grip on the carrot in anticipation. But as he felt it being levered away from him, there came a commotion from behind, a clattering of something against corrugated iron, which broke the moment and drew reactions from all three of them.

Mrs F spun on her heels, eyes searching for the source. Joseph felt his balance tip forwards, towards the bars, but it was Adonis’s reaction that was the most pronounced.

Whether it was anger at having his meal interrupted, or fear of another air raid, it sent him spiralling, throwing himself against the cage, head back as he blasted out warning after warning.

Joseph was terrified and scuttled spider-like away from the bars, gravel biting at his palms.

‘What was that?’ he yelled, but Mrs F had something else on her mind.

‘You must never EVER turn your back on Adonis as you walk away. His arms are long, longer than you realise. He could’ve grabbed you at any moment, especially with such a racket going on. Then what would you have done?!’

Gone was her warmth, and Joseph felt it cut him. Why was she so cross with him? He hadn’t caused the racket or asked for it. All he’d done was react instinctively to make himself safe. It felt unfair, especially when he’d come so close to something so great.

‘Well, I wouldn’t have expected you to help, that’s for sure,’ he spat.

‘What do you mean by that?’ she said in reply, before another clang distracted her. ‘Look, we’ll talk about this later. I need to see what’s going on over there. Don’t be trying to approach the bars again unless I’m around, do you hear me?’

He said nothing, just stared at her. And as she moved away, he couldn’t help but wonder how a moment so close to perfect had crumbled so quickly.