Van

Van.

I sensed that the ferry had stopped moving. I heard the sound of
hawsers straining and then felt a gentle bump. My hands were on the
steering-wheel. Clenched tightly. I needed a cigarette. I needed a fag.
Nicotine. Something between my fingers. I looked at my fingers on the
wheel. They were dirty. Like the lads in the chocolate egg factory
where I worked. They put their fingers up their arses. Their form of
revenge. Against whatever, society, all that shit. I was here. Despite
everything I had triumphed. Nearly. No more shit.

I was tired, more than tired, but my body was buzzing with adrenaline.
Time ticking away. Playing games with time. Concentrate.

It was dark in the hold. The large metal doors up ahead were still
sealed and the ferry workers were standing around with their hands in
their pockets, steam coming from their mouths. They were waiting. I bet
they wanted a fag too. I didn't envy them, that's what I thought. They
had cold mornings like this all winter. Hot mornings in Summer. On and
on.

There was a movement and a shout. An echo. Dull. And then. Little by
little the doors opened and land appeared, a sliver gradually widening.
England. What we had been waiting for. There was another shout and as
one the engines of the cars and trucks started, belching out fumes. Up
front they began to move. I put the van in gear, checked uselessly in
the mirrors and eased out into the morning, up the arse of the car in
front. Two little kids on the back seat turned and waved at me. I waved
back. They waved back. I waved back. Wave. Wave. A life on the ocean
waves.

A fine drizzle was falling. Again the sound of the gulls overhead. I
could see them, swooping and reeling, white bodies tarred with dirt.
The cliffs were white. Upright. Solid. More men in luminous vests with
walkie-talkies slung on their hips were standing about, bare forearms
folded, tendons flexing. They had caps pulled down and stubble on their
cheeks. They were an image of suppressed sex in the morning light. I
imagined them fucking their wives. The walkie-talkie on the floor on
top of discarded trousers. The wife's head back on the pillow. The
mouth open. The head twisting from side to side. Good day at work
love.

This way.

The cars fanned out. The kids in front waved harder and then they were
off on the left. I waved a last time. One of the men with the caps
pulled down yawned and pointed right. I went right and I was in a
queue. It wasn't moving. Anyway, I was near the front. There were only
a few cars ahead of me. One. Two. Three. Four. Then customs. A brown
oblong structure like a Japanese gate, the horizontal longer than the
verticals. Something from a kung fu movie. I was from a kung fu movie.
I was that good.

Green was for nothing to declare. Red was for....

I remembered mum and dad that time we'd been abroad. The car was full
of booze. I was sitting on a crate of something in the back. It was
cold and it made me want to go to the toilet. I was crying. Mum and dad
had a fight. Dad said go for green. Nothing to declare. Mum said that
would be the first time in his life he had nothing to declare and my
dad hit her. A punch to the face. Just like that.

I chose green.

Three cars in front.

I had nothing to declare. I pulled my cigarettes out of my pocket and
lit one. I inhaled and felt dizzy. I hadn't eaten since Frankfurt.
Frankfurter in Frankfurt. I laughed out loud and the sound was loud in
the van. Like a fart in a church. Customs man was leaning into the car
ahead. He stood up with a passport in his hand. The pages were blown in
the wind and he had to turn back to the photograph. Customs man looked
at it and passed it back.

We moved forward. That car was through to the other side. Customs
man's skin was pale but reddened by the wind. He coughed into his hand
and hitched up his trousers. The next car moved forward and customs man
bent forward. I wound down my window in anticipation. The air was cold.
The sky was grey. A loud long klaxon sounded behind somewhere. The air
was cold. The sky was grey. The cliffs were so large I thought if I
wanted I could reach out and touch them. Almost. I ran a hand over my
cheek. I needed a shave. My tongue was dry. My palms were sweating. I
wiped them on the front of my jeans, both together, up and down my
thighs.

"Good morning sir."

Customs man's face appeared at the window. His eyes were blue and his
face was red. He didn't need a shave.

"Morning."

"Lovely day for it."

I laughed.

"Passport."

I handed it over.

"Lovely day for it."

"Yes."

He opened the passport. "Far to go?" He didn't look at the
passport.

The words stuck in my throat.

"Sorry?"

He was looking at me. "Far to go?"

"Not far."

He handed the passport back. I held it in my hand. I had the other
hand on the steering-wheel.

He laughed. "Lovely day for it. Thank you sir."

"Thank you."

"This way, sir."

"This way?"

"That's right sir."

"Thank you."

Piece of piss.

England. Southern and largest political division of the U.K.; bounded
by Wales on the west by Scotland on the north and separated from the
continent of Europe by the English Channel.... very varied geology and
topography produce contrasts in landscape, matched by climatic
variability; increasingly attractive as a tourist area although urban
and agrarian pressures on the rural countryside cause concern in such a
densely populated country. Capital London. Area, 130,368 km.

I was home. England was my home and I was home. It was early in the
morning and the road was empty. I was driving past houses. Behind the
doorways of the houses people got ready for work and the unemployed
slept the sleep of the idle. Not me. I headed out of Dover towards
Folkestone. I was hungry. I was tired. But I was happy. I'd done it.
I'd done it.

Tonight I'd be home in Derby. Or early tomorrow. I'd see Mia first and
then I'd ring William. We would go out together for a celebration meal.
We'd drink wine. We'd get drunk in a smoky bar and Mia and I would
spend a lazy night making love. We'd wake up in the morning in each
others arms, our bodies sticky with night sweat and saliva and seminal
fluids. We'd stand under the shower together and Mia would rinse out my
blue underpants in the sink or we'd get kinky and she'd lend me some of
hers.

Shit! Fuck!

The van had swerved. The tyres had crunched gravel and I'd swung the
steering-wheel right. Now we were back on the road. I'd nearly fallen
asleep. Luckily there were no cars behind, in front. How long was it
since I had been asleep? Half an hour on the ferry didn't count. A day,
more than a day. I couldn't remember.

I concentrated on the road, wound down the windows, tried to sing a
song but all I could think of was that cliffs of Dover line. I drummed
my fingers on the steering-wheel. I was on the outskirts of Folkestone
now. Trees gave way to houses to trees again. I pulled William's piece
of paper out of my pocket. I had one eye on the road and one eye on the
paper. I read it through. What was the time? I was wide awake now. I
wouldn't fall asleep again.

I turned left at the service station. Then left again. The trees were
closer on each side. They almost touched overhead. The road was narrow.
If another car came I would have to squeeze over, nudge aside the
branches. I was nearly there. No other cars came.

If my father could see me now there was no way he would say I was the
weakest link. No way. No fucking way. I banged the steering-wheel and
the horn sounded. I laughed out loud. I was going to be a hero.

****

The gravel siding would have been easy to spot even if it hadn't
already had a van parked on it. The van was like mine, exactly the
same. Two guys were leaning against it, smoking fags. One of the guys
was older but trying to look young. He was in khaki combat trousers and
a shirt with a button-down collar. He had his hair pulled back in a
ponytail. He was tall, wide, built to last. The other guy was younger
but looked like the boss. He was dressed sharply, his hair smooth. He
was wearing the trousers and jacket of a suit and a white T-shirt. They
weren't what I'd expected.

I pulled the van to a stop on the gravel. I put the handbrake on and
got out. It was almost dark here beneath the trees. I walked towards
the two guys. They pushed themselves away from the side of their van,
dropping their fags on the ground.

"You...." I said then stopped.

"Harry?" said the one with the ponytail.

"Hello Harry," said the smooth one. He smiled.

Smoothy held out his hand and we shook.

"You know William?" I said.

Ponytail nodded and Smoothy grinned. The road was quiet. It was a
chilly early morning. Ponytail walked up to my van. He banged the side
of it with the palm of his hand. "You got the goods then?"

I said: "All safe and sound. One hundred percent."

"Are they?" said Smoothy.

"Let's have a look," said Ponytail. "Let's open her up."

Ponytail had started walking towards the back of the van and Smoothy
was following. I followed them both. Smoothy had leather shoes and
Ponytail had trainers like mine but not as knackered. The sound of our
footsteps was like footsteps on a pebble beach.

Once at the back I could see our faces reflected in the mirrored
windows, Ponytail on one side, Smoothy on the other, me in the middle.
I looked like shit. There were bags under my eyes, my skin was puffy. I
banged my arms against my sides.

"Cold, isn't it?" I said.

"Like a witch's tit," said Ponytail.

"Let's open her up," said Smoothy. "Come on. We haven't got all day.
Come on."

I thought he was talking to me but Ponytail reached into his pocket
and took out a key. It was on a coloured fob. Ponytail took a step
towards the van and put the key in the lock. He turned it and pulled
down the handle. He pulled open the door.

"Shit!" said Ponytail. He jumped back.

"Fucking hell!" said Smoothy.

I put my hands up to my mouth, my nose. There was a smell of shit, old
shit left to dry on the metal floor of a van and new shit left to run
on top of it. The smell rolled out of the van.

"Christ!" said Ponytail.

"Bloody hell!" said Smoothy.

"It's shit," said Ponytail.

"I know that," said Smoothy. "I can smell it, can't I?" And then he
said, "Will you look at that? Will you look at that?"

Inside the doors was a wall of cardboard boxes. The boxes had the word
"Andrex" printed on them in large black letters.

"Bog-roll," said Ponytail.

"You gotta laugh," said Smoothy. "You gotta laugh." He shook his head.
He had his hand up to his mouth and so did Ponytail. They didn't
laugh.

We all stood there at the back of the van looking at the wall of
boxes, not laughing.

Then Smoothy took a step forward. "Come on," he said. "Give us a hand.
Try to breathe through your mouth. Shit."

In the distance there was the sound of a car. It was distant but not
coming closer. This road was deserted.

Ponytail shook his head. "Shit!"

"Try not to think about it," said Smoothy. "Come on. We've got to move
these boxes."

Ponytail was still shaking his head.

"Come on," said Smoothy. He put his hands on his hips. "For fuck's
sake. I don't believe this. Bog-rolls."

Smoothy put his hands out and gripped one of the boxes. He got his
fingers under the bottom edge. He pulled and there was strain on his
face. The box was heavy. He got the box halfway out then stopped and
turned to Ponytail. "Come on. For fuck's sake." He looked at me.
"Harry, isn't it?"

I nodded my head. "Yes, that's right. Harry."

"Give us a hand, Harry. We'll have this lot out in a jiffy. It'll be
easier with three and then we'll be finished."

I still had one hand over my mouth. Not that it made much difference.
I took the hand away. I grabbed the box that Smoothy had started on.
Smoothy came next to me. We heaved together and the box fell out on to
the ground. It landed on its side. It was heavy and I don't think it
had toilet rolls in it.

Smoothy was breathing heavily. "Five more to go. Only five more to
go."

"Do you think they're all right in there?" I said. "The passengers I
mean."

Smoothy looked over my shoulder at Ponytail. "Give us a hand. You
won't notice it so much if you're busy."

Ponytail, obviously having decided that he was going to have to shift
the boxes at some point, stepped forward. "Look at you two. You're a
right pair of poofters. I'll show you how it's done. Harry, you grab
that end. On three."

We worked as a team, moving the boxes one by one. We lifted them out
and put them down on the gravel. We formed a new wall by the side of
the van. Five boxes. Like the six boxes that had been in the van except
for the one that had fallen over and was lying on its side.

Ponytail wiped his hands on his jeans, his left hand and his right. He
breathed out heavily. "Good job."

"Do you think they'll be all right?" I said. "I'm not so sure
now."

"We've not finished yet," said Smoothy.

Behind where the wall had been there was a blanket fixed across the
back of the van. It was hooked over two nails, one on the left and one
on the right. The blanket was brown. Smoothy grabbed a handful of
material in his left hand and pulled. There was a ripping sound as the
blanket came off the nails. Smoothy tossed the blanket onto the
ground.

Then we looked into the van. The three of us.

I had expected the shit because of the smell. It was everywhere. It
was smeared up the sides, brown streaks that weren't rust. It was on
the floor. The ceiling even. What I hadn't expected was the looks on
their faces. There were four faces at the back. It was dark but I could
see them. Two had long hair and two short. I guessed two girls and two
boys. Two women, two men. They had big eyes in brown faces. They were
staring out at us, backs pressed against the back of the van wall. They
were sitting on their haunches arms around each other, holding each
other tight. I could see them shaking. They looked like animals.
Frightened dogs.

Smoothy leant slightly into the back. "Come on then. Chop-chop. Let's
be having you."

Inside there was no movement. One of the women was moving her lips. I
could see her lips moving.

Smoothy tried again. He raised his voice. He spoke as if they were
naughty children. "Now now. Come on. Out. We haven't got all
day."

Still no movement. Smoothy stepped back and looked at me. "Do you know
the lingo?"

I shook my head.

Smoothy turned away from me. He clapped his hands. "Out. Out."

"You're scaring them," I said.

"I'm their fucking saviour," said Smoothy.

Ponytail laughed.

"They're just scared," I said. "If we could explain that they're
safe...."

Someone inside started whimpering. The three of us were standing
outside the van at the back. The trees nearly met overhead and the road
was deserted. We stood by our wall of boxes.

Smoothy turned to Ponytail. "You'll have to go in and get them."

"No fucking way," said Ponytail. "It's like the karsey of Bombay in
there."

"It's a bit of shit," said Smoothy.

"That's what I mean," said Ponytail. He folded his massive arms. "You
go in."

Smoothy looked at me. "Any ideas?"

"We could tempt them out," said Ponytail.

"Go and buy a fucking McDonalds," said Smoothy.

"I think you're right," I said to Smoothy. "One of us has to go
in."

The four faces were still looking out. I could see their big eyes
staring at us.

Smoothy put his hands on his hips. He kicked one of the boxes. "Didn't
you think of stopping for a toilet break?"

I shook my head. "I was told just to drive."

"We had the key," said Ponytail.

Smoothy looked into the van. "We haven't got all fuckin' day. They
have to be in Birmingham by lunch-time."

"Is that where you're taking them?" I said.

Ponytail shook his head. "We can't take them looking like that. What
about the smell?"

"We'll stop off at Derek's," said Smoothy. "Derek'll hose them down.
He's got a hose in his back garden. He won't mind doing it. He owes us
one. Besides, he's always in that garden, watering things."

"Where are you taking them?" I asked.

"You'll have to go in," said Smoothy.

Ponytail shook his head. "It's a shit-hole. You don't pay me enough
for this. You're smaller than me."

Smoothy looked at me. "Any ideas?"

"I wouldn't even fit in there," said Ponytail. "It would be a
squeeze,"

"I think you should go in," I said to Smoothy. "They're scared."

Smoothy pushed up the sleeves of his sharp suit. "Cunts!" He looked up
at he trees. He looked down at the boxes. "I won't forget this," he
said to Ponytail.

"I don't even think I'd fit in there," said Ponytail. "I'm too
tall."

"Right," said Smoothy. He picked at a bit of fluff on his shirt. "I
won't forget this, you know?"

"Are you going in?" said Ponytail.

"They're just scared," I said. "They'll be all right once they know
they're safe."

Smoothy shook his head. "Right, I'm going in."

Ponytail and I stood at the back of the van. We watched Smoothy. First
he lifted his left foot on to the rear bumper. He looked back over his
shoulder.

"Give us a hand. I'm not touching the walls. Jeez! It stinks to high
heaven."

"It's shit," said Ponytail.

Smoothy shook his head like he knew exactly what it was. "Give us a
hand then."

Ponytail took a step forward and placed a hand on the small of
Smoothy's back. Ponytail's hand was white and Smoothy's jacket was
black. Ponytail pushed and Smoothy was in the van. He had to duck his
head because even though he wasn't tall he was taller than the
van.

"I'm coming to get you," he said. "I'm coming to get you."

Somehow, that didn't sound like the right thing to say. He sounded
like that man from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang who always scared me when I
was little. He was called the kid-catcher.

Ponytail looked at me. "Don't worry he'll get them. Once he's on a job
he always sees it through."

"Where are you taking them?" I said.

"Look," said Ponytail.

Inside the van Smoothy took a step forward. He was looking down at the
floor to avoid the shit and looking forward at the four brown faces at
the back. He was crouching down as he walked. The low whimpering that I
had heard before seemed to increase in pitch. The four at the back were
still crouching down. They were still shaking. Smoothy was nearing the
back. He had his arms spread like he was herding sheep. I could still
smell the shit.

"Come on then," he said.

They didn't understand. I didn't understand. They couldn't come on
because now Smoothy was blocking their way.

"He'll get them out," said Ponytail. "Don't you worry."

Smoothy inched closer and he put a hand out to grab the arm of the man
on the left. The whimpering became a wail. The man on the left was
little and skinny. He wasn't more than a boy really. He was wearing
cotton clothes, a cotton shirt and cotton trousers. He was wearing some
kind of sandals. Smoothy grabbed his arm and the boy pushed. The boy
wasn't very big but Smoothy was already off balance. He was crouching
down and he had his legs spread. There was shit all over the floor.
Smoothy fell and landed with a splat on his back. A new streak of shit
went up the side of the van.

"Fuckin' hell!" screamed Smoothy.

The boy who had pushed Smoothy was now coming out of the van. He
wasn't as tall as the van and he could stand up. Except he seemed to
having a problem with his legs. He was wobbly on his legs. He fell off
the back of the van. He landed on the fallen box. He had brown skin and
big eyes. He had shit in his hair, on his face. His clothes were
stained.

In the van Smoothy tried to get up but his foot slipped and he fell
back down on his back. One of the women was still wailing. The boy on
the box pushed himself up and looked at me and Ponytail.

"It all right," I said. I put my hands out, palms up.

"Fucking hell!" screamed Smoothy.

The boy stood up and started to run. He was running away from the two
vans. Smoothy was on his hands and knees. He saw the boy running.

"Get him! Get him!" he screamed.

Ponytail looked at Smoothy and then looked at the boy running. The boy
wasn't running very well. There was something wrong with his legs. They
were giving way beneath him at each stride and his whole body was going
up and down.

"Fuck," said Smoothy. "After him!"

Ponytail started to run. He was tall and powerful and there was
nothing wrong with his legs. He caught the boy in about four strides.
He grabbed the boy around the waist with one arm. He lifted him off the
ground and started to walk back towards the vans. The boys arms and
legs were still moving as if he was still running. But he wasn't. The
road was deserted and the trees nearly met overhead. The boy was
screaming now and in the back of the van someone was wailing.

"They're just scared," I said. "Honestly, once they realise they're
safe, they'll be fine. Everything will be great."

"Shall I put him in our van?" said Ponytail.

Smoothy was standing again now but crouching because he was still in
the back of my van. "Do you want to carry him to Birmingham like that?"
Smoothy looked down at himself, at his clothes. "Fuck. Of course put
him in the back of the van."

Ponytail looked at me. "Do us a favour will you? Open the back for
me."

The brown faced boy was still screaming. He was kicking uselessly with
his legs. I looked at him and then I looked at Ponytail.

"Will he be all right?"

Ponytail shrugged. "I can't hold him forever. What do you want me to
do?"

I walked over to Ponytail and Smoothy's van. It was just like mine.
The door was unlocked and I pulled it open. Inside it was like my van
as well, but clean. It smelt of petrol. Ponytail put the boy down and
the boy scrabbled to the back on all fours. He sat with his back
against the back, staring out at us with his big eyes. He didn't say
anything.

"Where are you taking them?" I asked.

"Still three to go," said Ponytail. "We'd better help or they'll be
trouble. If he gets a bee in his bonnet then my life won't be worth
living."

We turned and Smoothy appeared out of the back of my van. He was
holding both of the women by the arm. His fingers fitted easily around
their biceps. One of the women was wailing and the other was quiet.
They both had the same clothes, like the boy. Cotton shirt and cotton
trousers and the same sandals.

"You take these two," Smoothy said to Ponytail, "and I'll get the
other. The bastards really stink." He shook his head.

Ponytail took the two women and Smoothy disappeared back into the back
of my van. Ponytail held the women around the arm as well. They looked
even smaller next to him. Ponytail put the two women in his van and
then Smoothy came out of my van. Smoothy seemed to have forgotten about
his clothes. He had the boy under an arm. Smoothy wasn't as tall as
Ponytail so the boy's legs were trailing along the floor. The boy
didn't resist as he was put with the others. He scrabbled to the back
and joined his friends. The four of them were all sitting on their
haunches again with their arms around each other. The girl had stopped
whimpering. Ponytail slammed the door shut. It shut with a bang.

"What happens now?" I said. "Will they be OK?"

Smoothy wiped his palms on his black trousers. "I'm covered in
shit."

Ponytail shook his head. "Me too. Look." He held up his arms.

"I'm worse," said Smoothy, "I'm covered in it. Head to toe."

"Shit," said Ponytail.

"Derek'll have to sort us out," said Smoothy. "This is a bit out of
the ordinary. If we're quick maybe we can have a shower, borrow some
clothes. We can't go to Birmingham looking like this. It's not
right."

"It's all right for you," said Ponytail. "Derek's your size. What will
I borrow? I'll look an idiot."

"I told you not to worry," said Smoothy. "Derek'll have something.
Fucking hell. It's even in my hair."

"I thought you said not to worry," said Ponytail.

Smoothy shook his head. "But shit in your hair. It's not what you
expect, is it?" Smoothy looked at me. "Right then we'll be off. Thanks
for that. You've been paid, haven't you?"

I nodded my head.

"So we'll be off then," said Smoothy. "Job done." He wiped his hands
on his trousers.

"Where are you taking them?" I said.

Ponytail smiled. "Be glad to see the back of them. You don't get this
hassle with coke."

"Birmingham," said Smoothy. "We've got to be in Birmingham by
lunch-time."

"It's their new life, isn't it?" said Ponytail. He was still
smiling.

"Jesus Christ," said Smoothy, "that stink's getting worse."

"Are they always so scared?" I asked.

Smoothy shook his head. "Not getting a conscience, are you? They'll be
all right."

"What do you mean?"

Smoothy looked at Ponytail and then back at me. "Nothing. I don't mean
nothing. We'll be off then."

"See you mate," said Ponytail. "Thanks for that." He looked at
Smoothy. "Do you think Derek'll have anything in my size?"

"He's not fucking Marks and Spencers," said Smoothy. "We'll have to
make do."

Ponytail and Smoothy started to walk towards their van. The sound of
their shoes was loud on the gravel. Inside their van it was quiet. The
wall of boxes was still there outside the back of my van.

I spoke loudly: "What will they do in Birmingham?"

Ponytail and Smoothy stopped and turned.

Smoothy said: "You keep asking that question."

Ponytail smiled. "They'll be doctors and nurses."

I looked at Smoothy. "What will they do?"

Smoothy shrugged. "You really don't know?"

I shook my head.

"If they're good-looking they'll go on the game. If they're ugly
they'll work in a factory. Depends what God has given them. We've got
to clean them up first. It's difficult to tell when they're covered in
shit. Hopefully they'll go on the game. That's where the money is. Ten
times up the arse a night. It soon adds up I can tell you."

I shook my head.

"You didn't know?" said Smoothy.

"He's just the driver," said Ponytail, "they don't tell you anything.
Nobody told me about all this shit."

Smoothy was still looking at me. "You really didn't know?"

I shook my head again.

"Do you think all this is free?" said Smoothy.

"Leave it," said Ponytail. "He's just the driver. I know how he feels.
People tell us fuck all."

"I don't like the way he's looking at me," said Smoothy. "I don't need
to be judged."

Ponytail looked like he was going to put a hand on Smoothy. He didn't.
Smoothy was covered head to toe in shit. Ponytail said: "We haven't got
time for this. I want that shower."

"Do you think freedom is free?" said Smoothy. "It's expensive all
this. The vans. The petrol. The risks we take."

Ponytail looked at me. "Don't get him started. He's a regular
philosopher when he gets started."

"You come to England and work and you pay your debts," said Smoothy.
"That's how it works. They knew that. They made a deal. Ask your friend
William."

Ponytail shook his head. "I still want that shower. We've got to be in
Birmingham by lunch-time."

"That's life," said Smoothy. "Que sera sera. C'est la vie. Everybody
has to pay their debts. If you want freedom, you've got to pay."

"A real philosopher," said Ponytail and he laughed. "Let's go. We've
really got to go."

Smoothy gave me a final look and then he and Ponytail headed back to
their van. They got in and slammed the door. I watched as they pulled
away and then I looked at my own van. I looked at the wall of boxes and
the streaks of shit that were splattered all over the inside. I sat
down on one of the boxes and put my head in my hands. I thought of
William and the things he had promised me. I thought of Mia and our
holiday to Indonesia. I thought of running through the trees and
swimming in the sea. We would swim until we were tired and then we
would sleep. We would sleep and we would dream. Yes, that's what we
would do.