"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 Three
Knife
By Anna Hughes
(edited by Anna Stacey)
‘Following an incident at a protest in Sharnford yesterday, in which two men were stabbed, one man remains in hospital. Police are appealing for any witness to come forward.’ The newscaster compelled Keisha to stop checking her phone and look at the TV.
‘I’m starting the dinner, spaghetti ok?’ Brandon yelled across from the kitchen. Spaghetti bolognaise was the extent of his culinary skill, and on the rare occasions when he did cook, it was something they both really liked.
‘Yeah, fine’, she replied, mustering the power to put thoughts into words. ‘Actually, don’t worry. I’m going out for a bit, need some air. I’ll get something when I come in.’ She found herself grabbing her denim jacket and heading out the door before he could reply.
The hospital was relatively quiet in the evening light. She found Kwame on Newton Ward. His right arm and shoulder were bandaged, and his face was bruised. His eye brightened to see her.
‘Great to see you Keisha. How did you know I was here? Hope you got no trouble from Brandon.’ She stood stony-faced and could have slapped him. She felt a lone tear stream down her face.
‘I’ve been worried. I thought you were following me when I ducked into the car park, and out of the protest. It was turning ugly. Then you didn’t answer your phone. I thought, well, I don’t know what I thought. Maybe it had been stolen, broken, or you were in trouble, or you thought I was a wuss for leaving.’ She always rambled when she was nervous, and was conscious that the effort to hide it was not going well.
‘Shhh. It’s all okay. I’m cool! They say they’ll let me out tomorrow. Thanks for checking on me. Like the bandana, looks good on you – detracts from the zits! Only joking about the zits by the way. Very Che Guevara.’ She nodded her thanks. She had passed some disapproving looks on the way in, before remembering that the bandana she was wearing was made with the red and black colours of Equality Now.
‘Don’t joke. You could have been killed, Kwame, the police are onto it. They didn’t name Unity Crusade on the news though.’
‘The police won’t do a thing, waste of time, they’ll just blame lack of hard evidence, again. They don’t need to mention the Unity gangs. Everyone knows what happens. They turn up and get all heavy with us. I saw Jamal going after one. They grabbed some girl’s placard and pushed her over, and I saw Jamal was heading straight over there to get involved. I had to go after him. Believe me Keisha, I had to, you know what he’s like. Next thing, we were taking on four of them. One of them pulled a knife, a damn knife. Only there for one reason. You know what I’m saying. Jade tried to help too, but a policeman pulled her off. I remember hearing her yelling at them as they escorted her away. Then I wound up here, Jamal too. Though he wasn’t having any of it, once they’d bandaged him up, he did a runner. Turned my phone off because I didn’t want you involved, and I didn’t want everyone asking about it. Can’t deal with everyone fussing or having an opinion.’
‘Jeez, Kwame. Your arm, was that a knife then?’
‘Yes,’ Kwame said whilst grasping his collar and biting his lips. Through the ensuing silence a siren blared outside.
‘Have you talked to the police?’
‘No choice. They came here to see Jamal and me, but he’d already legged it by then. Told them just what I told you. They said they will look at security camera footage. They asked if I knew where they could contact Jamal. Then they asked ME if I had taken a knife with me to the protest, and whether I was a member of Equality Now. I weren’t about to tell them any of that, was I.’ Kwame looked down towards his bandaged arm and poured himself some water. She couldn’t really disagree with that; the police often targeted them, and nobody ever did much to help people like herself and Kwame. They’d both been called every cuss word known to man at one time or another.
‘Did you then? Did you take a knife Kwame? Tell me, honestly.’
‘What do you think?’ Kwame looked toward the door and took a deep breathe.
‘Can I get you anything?’ Keisha asked, not wanting to argue.
‘No. I just wanna get out of here. Good of you to come. They only let us have one visitor.’
‘It’s okay. Want me to get you some food in, and tidy up the stuff left over from the other night?’
‘Thanks. That would be great. The keys are in the pocket of my jacket, the opposite pocket to my phone.’ Kwame pointed toward the plastic chair next to his hospital bed. Keisha reached for the keys and kept them cupped in her hands. A whiff of Kwame’s aftershave reached her.
‘Well, I’d better go now. See you tomorrow then, let me know when you’re home safe.’ Keisha wanted to end the visit now. She couldn’t face the image of Kwame confronting the Unity Crusade gang with a knife any longer. There was Brandon to get back to, whom she felt guilty to have almost forgotten.
When she arrived home, there was stillness about the place. It was empty. Her heart began to pound. She went through all the rooms. On the kitchen worktop was a near-empty plate of spaghetti bolognaise, dirty pans in the sink, and a note. ‘Keisha, I’ve gone to stay with Andrew, will be in touch. Please don’t call me, I need time to think. I can’t do this anymore. Brandon.’ She took the dinner plate and threw it at the wall. To the resounding noise of broken crockery, and streaks of tomato and pasta slipping down the wall, she started to cry openly for the first time in ages.
Writers Biography: Anna Hughes
Anna Hughes grew up in Slough and attended Herschel Grammar School before studying both Psychology and Creative Writing with the Open University. She currently works part-time for Slough Library Services as a Libraries and Culture Customer Assistant, combining it with another role in the NHS. As a member of Chiltern Writer’s Group, she enjoys writing workshops and is currently working on her debut novel. Her other hobby is drama, which has seen her treading the boards with local drama groups. This included performing her own flash fiction, ‘Waverley Woods’, at a Halloween production entitled ‘Behind the Curtain’. She has also directed her short Christmas play for children at a special needs school. Her favourite reads are found in the historical fiction, biography, and popular fiction genres.Chapter Four to be published 25th August 2020
Disclaimer: This chapter is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, and places are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
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