No Place For a Man by Judy Astley Read Free Book Online Page A

go for a job? References?’
    ‘I live round the corner, up the road. By the allotments,’ Tom told her, ignoring Natasha. He gave Jess a lazy, catlike smile, his large dark eyes narrowing. ‘Natasha told me her grandad’s got an allotment. They’re neat, up there, like all the owners really care.’
    ‘They do,’ Jess told him. ‘My father has had his for forty years. The council keep threatening to sell the land off for housing but these old gardeners are tough opposition. Dad’s declared his patch the People’s Republic of SW14 and run a flag up on his shed.’
    Tom laughed. ‘The shed that’s bright red? That’s one cool shed. What’s the flag?’
    ‘Good old-fashioned hammer and sickle. Dad never quite got over the break-up of Soviet Russia. It depressed him no end. He’s away in Cuba just now, having a look at the last bastion of true Communism while Fidel Castro’s still in charge.’
    ‘Tom doesn’t want to know …’ Natasha hissed the words at her.
    ‘Oh I do!’ he told her. ‘People’s families are interesting. Specially if you don’t have one.’
    ‘Don’t you?’ Jess sat down and looked at him. No wonder he looked so neglected. If he was a dog, Battersea would need to tidy him up a fair bit before he was put up for rehoming. Natasha was glaring at her, but Jess wasn’t going to be sent away, not just yet.
    ‘Oh, I’ve got foster people. Nice ones. It’s OK.’ Tom shrugged. Jess could see his face closing down as ifhe’d said too much. She could sense pain somewhere and hoped Natasha would be kind to him. Not too kind though. The girl was still only fifteen.
    ‘Right, well I’ll get back to work.’ Jess took her tea and a couple of biscuits and left the two of them alone. She had the feeling that Natasha didn’t really know this boy too well – she’d noticed that Tom had been swift to tell her his name himself as if Natasha didn’t actually know it. She wondered where they’d have met. Girls from her school tended to team up with the St Dominic’s lot, being socially and academically equivalent. Parents of children from both schools were comfortable with that. It was as if the schools had been paired off by a dating agency matching similar incomes, class and interests. If there was trouble to be got into everyone played by the same rules: parents could afford private abortions in case of sexual accidents. These teenage boys weren’t about to have their path to the essential law degree hampered by an expensive scuffle over child maintenance. If schoolwork fell apart there was a good selection of nearby Kensington crammers for extra holiday courses and if it was a matter of drugs, well, most of the parents still went in for a spot of after-dinner dope themselves. For serious sorting out there was even the Priory nearby for some outpatient counselling or long-stay readjustment. Jess’s father, George, felt that private education led to a form of social apartheid, reinforcing the separation of rich and poor. Sometimes, as when she noticed the gradual loss of contact between Mel and Natasha, she knew he had a point. He’d much approve of Natasha’s new friend, Jess thought wryly. Probably invite him to look over his collection of Karl Marx memorabilia.
    *  *  *
    Zoe knew about this sort of thing. Her mum wrote about it all the time. She’d know what to do, which was obviously why she was the one Emily had chosen to tell. She only wished that, right now, she knew the right thing to say to Emily.
    ‘You mustn’t tell anyone. Promise, really promise,’ Emily sobbed.
    ‘Course I won’t tell,’ Zoe said, reassuring for the fifth time. The two girls sat on the allotment bench watching a woman in a big flouncy velvet skirt and purple boots hoeing between rows of vegetables. Zoe wondered what they were. Could be leeks, she thought, or they could be onions. Grandad would know and he probably grew better ones. He’d been way ahead of his time, growing everything