"Collaboration" Background Summary
Inspired by a Portuguese initiative featuring 45 authors and numerous editors
(https://escapegoat.world/ ) Slough Libraries & Culture have formed a group of Slough writers to create a collaborative novel that explores the very pertinent themes of oppression, prejudice, kinship and love similarly addressed in Noughts and Crosses (one of the BBC’s ‘Novels that shaped our world’). Writers and editors aged 18 and over of all levels of experience are welcome to get involved, for further details email Volunteer & Development Officer Joseph Sammon at joseph.sammon@slough.gov.uk
Each chapter will be written by a different writer and edited by members of the group and will be released on Tuesdays and Fridays each week on this website. Chapters will be accompanied by a short biography on each writer.
"Collaboration"
Chapter Five
Good Intentions
By Lorraine Forrest-Turner
Brandon downed the last of his pint, stood up and stuck his phone in his jeans pocket. “Cheers, mate. Gotta go.”
Andrew looked disappointed. “Something to tell Keisha? That sounds ominous. You’re not pregnant, are you?” Andrew laughed. He always laughed at his own jokes. Just as well, thought Brandon, since no-one else did. “Let me know how it goes.”
Brandon didn’t answer. His mind was racing as he walked out of the pub and almost straight into a jock who’d clearly just finished a workout. Even with his poor sense of smell, Brandon had to pull back from the stench of high-testosterone post-gym odour. Why can’t these guys shower and change before they leave, Brandon thought, as he eyed the unforgiving Lycra shorts and underarm sweat patches.
“Brandon!” the jock yelled, almost knocking Brandon over with his enthusiastic slap to the shoulder. “Just the guy I’m looking for!”
It took Brandon a moment or two to recognise the jock as Phil. He’d been wearing regular clothes and didn’t smell like an armpit the last time they’d met with Andrew.
“Phil. Hi. Sorry, mate. I’ve gotta go. Maybe next time.” Brandon tried to pass Phil but he was a big bruiser and nearly filled the doorway.
“Might not be a next time, mate. Might not be one. I’m fucking off out of this shithole in a month or two – somewhere people speak the Queen’s English.”
Brandon had made a promise to Keisha – and himself – that he’d call out any form of racism. But he suspected this wouldn’t be an easy conversation with Phil and he really needed to get home and speak to Keisha. Feeling ashamed, he chose to let it go, made a few pleasantries and attempted to walk out of the Three Horseshoes as a middle-aged couple tried to make their way in. Brandon stepped back politely and Phil took the signal to ease him towards the bar.
“Five minutes, mate,” Phil said. “I think you’re gonna want to hear this.”
Later, Brandon would punch his fist into the side window of his BMW 630i for allowing himself to be led by Phil. But now, as he watched Andrew walking towards them, grinning like the kid who’d been told he could stay up for another 10 minutes, he found himself agreeing to a quick Coke.
“Hey, darling! What’s a bloke gotta do to get a drink around here?” Phil held up a £20 note rolled lengthways between his thumb and third finger.
Not be an arrogant prick, Brandon thought as the young woman behind the bar said she’d be with him once she’d served the middle-aged couple who’d come in just ahead of them.
“That’s fine by me, darling,” barked Phil. “Gives me a chance to admire that hot little body of yours.”
Brandon opened his mouth to tell Phil he was well out of order when Andrew piped in with a nervous laugh and a weak apology. Phil laughed it off and put his arm back round Brandon’s shoulders.
“Sorry,” Brandon said, shaking Phil off. “I need to go. I want to go.”
“But I haven’t told you why I want to see you.” Phil’s grip tightened and Brandon felt the bile rise in his stomach. Friend of Andrew or no friend of Andrew, Phil was an utter wanker and Brandon wasn’t going to put up with this shit much longer. “We could be a big help to each other, you and me. Know what I mean?” Phil lowered his voice and tapped the side of his nose. The man was a walking cliché. “I looked you up, you know, after that last time. Thought I recognised you. Did a bit of Googling on the old tablet. Brandon fucking Williams, no less. Respect, man. Respect.”
Andrew’s laugh took on a new level of anxiety. Brandon’s face froze. The blood from his legs plummeted, his mouth lost every millilitre of liquid and his urge to smash his fist into Phil’s face tore into his brain. But nothing happened. He was totally motionless.
“So, I’m thinking,” Phil went on, leaning in conspiratorially, “you might want to join me and the gang next time those liberal lefties try to tear down Great Granddaddy’s statue. Know what I mean?”
Brandon didn’t hear what Phil said next or what Andrew attempted to say in Brandon’s defence – something about legacies and bursaries – all he could hear was his own blood pounding in his ears, his heart banging so hard against his chest he was terrified it would break free. All he could think of was Keisha. If this knob-end could trace Brandon’s origins with a couple of clicks on Google, something new must have been posted, something linking him to his family’s slave trade background. And if this arsehole could find it, so could Keisha. Maybe she had already done so? Maybe that’s why she went to see Kwame? Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Sorry to keep you sir,” the bartender said. “What can I get you, gentleman?”
“Did you hear that, Brandon?” Phil bellowed, whacking him bro-like on the back. “Now that’s what I call proper respect.”
Wtiters Bio: Lorraine Forrest-Turner
Lorraine Forrest-Turner has been writing professionally for over 30 years. She has published numerous short stories and articles and has worked as a copywriter in PR and advertising. She has also written over 20 stage plays, two of which are published by Samuel French (Seven Stages of an Affair and To Have and to Hold) and three by Lazy Bee Scripts (Dear Lily, Three’s Company and Bank Holiday Mondays and Other Ways to Kill a Marriage).
Lorraine teaches copywriting and other personal communication skills. She is a member of the Chartered Institute of Public Relations, the Public Relations and Communications Association, the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading, and ProCopywriters.