31

‘How many times do I have to tell you?’ the old woman yelled at Joseph. ‘The answer is no. Do you honestly think I can spare you any veg?’

But Joseph would not stand down. ‘Please, Missus. It’s not even for me, or my family. It’s for my gorilla.’

That was enough to turn the woman’s brush into a deadly weapon, and she shooed both Joseph and Syd away from the front door of her shop.

‘How many is that now, who’ve said no?’ Syd asked as they slumped away.

‘Too many.’

‘I think you’ll find the answer is everybody. Every shop in walking distance, anyway. Can we please go home now?’

‘No!’ he replied.

‘Well if you’re going to insist on keeping me out here against my will, then the least you can do is practise your reading as you walk.’ She pulled Joseph’s book from her coat, though he had no idea how it got there. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘From the beginning, go!’

He did as he was told, though it was unusual for Syd to threaten to quit anything, and besides, Joseph had one more idea. He knew Syd wouldn’t like or approve of it, though, so he told her very little until they arrived at the allotments. Until recently these had been a football pitch. The goals still stood, rusting, between rows of furrowed mud.

‘Why are we here?’ Syd asked.

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘Well, yes, but you’re not going to get anything out of the owners today, are you? You’ve nothing to barter with.’

But Joseph wasn’t interested in such a technicality. He was already swinging his leg over the wall.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, pulling at his coat.

‘It’s all right, there’s no one here, is there? It’s bloomin’ freezing. No one’s gardening today.’

‘That’s not the point, Joseph. You can’t go over there, stealing people’s food.’

‘But this is public land, isn’t it? The footie pitch there, anyone could play on it, right?’

Syd nodded hesitantly.

‘So, whatever grows on it belongs to all of us, really. All I’m going to do is take my share. For Adonis.’

Syd didn’t know what to do with her face. But she did know there was no way she was going to change Joseph’s mind.

‘Do it quickly, then,’ she whispered theatrically, keeping watch for any hardy gardeners who weren’t already in front of their fires. At least the light was fading, she thought to herself. It would offer Joseph a bit of cover, as long as he was quick.

But he wasn’t. In fact, he seemed to be in there for ages, only returning after a good five minutes, the front of his jumper so swollen it looked like he was going to give birth to a marrow.

‘What on earth have you got in there?’ she gasped.

‘Anything I could find,’ he replied. ‘Hardly growing season, is it? Couldn’t find any carrots at all that were worth him eating.’

‘Do you not think people will miss all that?’

‘Nah, I trod all the mud back down, didn’t I? And don’t worry, I didn’t leave any footprints, Detective.’

‘You don’t have to be a detective to know you’ve been stealing. Look at you.’

‘Best help me, then,’ he replied, emptying half of his jumper into every pocket she owned. There were cauliflowers and broccoli heads, leeks and swede, some in better states than others.

‘Do you think he’ll eat any of this?’ she sighed, feeling more guilty than she ever had in her life.

‘God knows. Got to be better than grass, hasn’t it?’

There was no answer to that, so they scampered away furtively from the allotments, to the relative warmth of their homes.

Mrs F looked at the veg with a quizzical expression.

‘Are you really telling me a grocer gave you all of this for free?’ she asked.

Joseph nodded, wanting to keep his lies to a minimum.

‘Then they could do with you in government,’ she said. ‘Mr Churchill needs negotiators from what I hear.’

Whether Mrs F actually believed him was a matter for debate, but she didn’t quiz him any further. ‘The lad in that cage will think it’s Christmas,’ she said, before leaving Joseph to it.

He no longer needed prompting to feed Adonis. He made it his priority, though he never took it for granted or got lax in his approach. The sight of Bert pinned against the bars was seared into his brain.

He walked slowly to the bars, but now he didn’t feel nervous. All he could hear was his own, slow breathing, mirrored by Adonis’s, as the ape waited for his arrival at the bars.

They grunted and scratched, impersonating each other, all the rituals repeated almost identically. Joseph’s favourite moment was always the same one: when the food passed from him to Adonis. There had never been physical contact between them, though, as usually the ape would impatiently rip the vegetables from Joseph’s hand.

Today was different, for as Joseph crouched on his haunches facing Adonis, he felt the ape’s fingers brush his. Joseph swallowed a gasp as a jolt of electricity ripped through him. It was thrilling. He couldn’t believe it had happened, that the gap between them had disappeared entirely, even if only for a second.

Immediately Joseph wanted to feel it again, that trust, and he reached into the bucket for something fresh, choosing a head of broccoli. Would it work? He hoped desperately that it would.

Nervous again, heart pounding, Joseph dropped his head as he offered his arm slowly to the bars. There was a beat, a moment when he thought Adonis might not be interested, but it was merely that, a second, as the ape’s hand moved as slowly as the boy’s. Joseph held his breath in his lungs, not daring to let it out, but as Adonis’s fingers met his a second time, he thought he might explode with joy. For, this time, it was more than a brush of the fingertips.

Joseph watched with eyes widening, not daring to blink as Adonis’s open hand enveloped not only the broccoli, but Joseph’s entire fist, squeezing gently. Adonis’s palm was warm, the pads of his fingers both soft and calloused in places. The force slowly increased. Forgetting the script, Joseph lifted his head and looked Adonis squarely in the eye, the ape meeting him with the same intensity. And there they sat for seconds that lasted on into minutes, until the ape pulled away, sliding the broccoli from Joseph’s grasp, leaving his fingers cold once more.

Joseph remained on his haunches, head raised high, and watched as Adonis feasted on his prize.

Rain started to fall, a storm from nowhere, plastering the hair to their skins, but still, neither of them moved, until both the bucket, and the clouds, were empty.