afternoon and force the police to move the perverts out, though there was considerable irritation that Portisfield hadn't had to do anything so dramatic ... or energetic. It highlighted the difference between the way the two estates were perceived the one modern and upwardly mobile, the other a dilapidated ghetto for the underclass. The upwardly mobile complained. The underclass marched.
Naturally no one in Bassindale bothered to inform the police of their plan. The idea was to shock the pigs into removing the nonces, not give them a chance to order the march banned and arrest anyone who tried to go through with it. In any case, so many of the Acid Row youngsters were serving weekend community sentences that, if the rozzers got a sniff of trouble, half the foot soldiers would be lost because they'd be banged up in secure detention till the trouble passed. It was a protest of numbers. The more there were, the more powerful the message .. . and the less likely it was to be ignored.
With some justification, Gaynor and Melanie prided themselves on being the leaders. It was they who had brought the perverts to the community's attention. Their resolution that had fired a reciprocal commitment from their neighbours. Their efforts that had translated ideas into action. Also their motivation was entirely unselfish. They believed the council was endangering children by introducing paedophiles into the estate. It was an open-and-shut case. Force the authorities to get rid of the perverts and the kids would be safe.
What they lacked was imagination, for it never occurred to them that their leadership would be secretly hijacked nor that a protest march could lead to war. Certainly not in broad daylight on one of the hottest days of the year.
But, as the police could have told them, riots only happen when heat frays tempers.
This Saturday, on the bench outside the Co-op, Melanie was bringing her mother up to speed on where and when the protesters were meeting that afternoon. “It's mostly women and kids,” she said, 'but I reckon there's going to be about a hundred and that's enough to make the rozzers sit up and think. Jimmy'll be there too, and, as long as you and me get there first to keep a bit of order, it ought to work well."
She could see that Gaynor was listening with only half an ear. "This is important, Mum,“ she said severely. ”If you and me aren't outside the school in time to organize the sodding thing, then it'll fizzle out. You know what they're like round here. They'll vanish off to the pub if there's no one to tell 'em what to do."
“Yeah, yeah. I'll be there, darling'.” She sighed. "The trouble is I'm worried about our Colin. That Wesley Barber's been hanging around again and Col knows I can't stand him."
"Jimmy hates him, too .. . calls him a retard .. . says he gives niggers a bad name 'cos he's stoned all the time on crystal meth. You wanna put your foot down, Ma. Jimmy reckons he's dropping acid as well, and if Col gets into that, he's gonna be real fucked up."
“Oh, God!” Gaynor ran a worried hand through her hair. "What am I supposed to do, darling'? He was out till three this morning with that little tyke Kevin Charteris. They're up to something and I don't know what it is."
“What they usually do on a Friday night,” said Melanie. "Go clubbing and get smashed. Kev's not as bad as Wesley."
Gaynor shook her head. "Col was dead cold sober. I was that mad I waited up for him he knows he'll get detention if he's caught thieving again but he wouldn't say where he'd been .. . just fired off and said I was a nagging bitch."
Melanie thought of her fourteen-year-old brother. "Maybe he was getting laid,“ she said with a giggle. ”That's not something a bloke'd share with his mum."
But there was no answering laughter from Gaynor. "I reckon it's joyriding,“ she said unhappily. ”He smelt of petrol, so he must've been in a car. I gave him a right tongue-bashing .. . told him he'd kill his self
Naturally no one in Bassindale bothered to inform the police of their plan. The idea was to shock the pigs into removing the nonces, not give them a chance to order the march banned and arrest anyone who tried to go through with it. In any case, so many of the Acid Row youngsters were serving weekend community sentences that, if the rozzers got a sniff of trouble, half the foot soldiers would be lost because they'd be banged up in secure detention till the trouble passed. It was a protest of numbers. The more there were, the more powerful the message .. . and the less likely it was to be ignored.
With some justification, Gaynor and Melanie prided themselves on being the leaders. It was they who had brought the perverts to the community's attention. Their resolution that had fired a reciprocal commitment from their neighbours. Their efforts that had translated ideas into action. Also their motivation was entirely unselfish. They believed the council was endangering children by introducing paedophiles into the estate. It was an open-and-shut case. Force the authorities to get rid of the perverts and the kids would be safe.
What they lacked was imagination, for it never occurred to them that their leadership would be secretly hijacked nor that a protest march could lead to war. Certainly not in broad daylight on one of the hottest days of the year.
But, as the police could have told them, riots only happen when heat frays tempers.
This Saturday, on the bench outside the Co-op, Melanie was bringing her mother up to speed on where and when the protesters were meeting that afternoon. “It's mostly women and kids,” she said, 'but I reckon there's going to be about a hundred and that's enough to make the rozzers sit up and think. Jimmy'll be there too, and, as long as you and me get there first to keep a bit of order, it ought to work well."
She could see that Gaynor was listening with only half an ear. "This is important, Mum,“ she said severely. ”If you and me aren't outside the school in time to organize the sodding thing, then it'll fizzle out. You know what they're like round here. They'll vanish off to the pub if there's no one to tell 'em what to do."
“Yeah, yeah. I'll be there, darling'.” She sighed. "The trouble is I'm worried about our Colin. That Wesley Barber's been hanging around again and Col knows I can't stand him."
"Jimmy hates him, too .. . calls him a retard .. . says he gives niggers a bad name 'cos he's stoned all the time on crystal meth. You wanna put your foot down, Ma. Jimmy reckons he's dropping acid as well, and if Col gets into that, he's gonna be real fucked up."
“Oh, God!” Gaynor ran a worried hand through her hair. "What am I supposed to do, darling'? He was out till three this morning with that little tyke Kevin Charteris. They're up to something and I don't know what it is."
“What they usually do on a Friday night,” said Melanie. "Go clubbing and get smashed. Kev's not as bad as Wesley."
Gaynor shook her head. "Col was dead cold sober. I was that mad I waited up for him he knows he'll get detention if he's caught thieving again but he wouldn't say where he'd been .. . just fired off and said I was a nagging bitch."
Melanie thought of her fourteen-year-old brother. "Maybe he was getting laid,“ she said with a giggle. ”That's not something a bloke'd share with his mum."
But there was no answering laughter from Gaynor. "I reckon it's joyriding,“ she said unhappily. ”He smelt of petrol, so he must've been in a car. I gave him a right tongue-bashing .. . told him he'd kill his self
Similar Books
