Watching You, Watching Me

That’s when Mr Levington’s front door flew open and he strode down the front path waving his broom threateningly at Matt.

‘As for you … you vagrant! Bringing scum into this street. You get packing — out of there this very day …’

‘Look … About last night, I’m sorry it wasn’t … I mean, I didn’t …’

‘Sorry! Sorry! Is that all you can say? I’ll give you sorry …’

‘I didn’t even know those people …’

‘Filth, that’s what they were …’ He took a threatening step forward and stabbed with his broom at some greasy pizza boxes that were littering the pavement.

‘I’m going to get you out of there if it’s the last thing I …’ He moved another threatening step forward.

‘Look, I’m going to clear up a bit — OK?’ Matt leaned down and snatched up a handful of litter.

‘Clear up! You know what you can do — you can clear out …’

‘Like them?’ said Matt gesturing towards the martins’ nest. ‘Clean the place up … Is that what you’re going to do? Want to stick your broom through my house? Nice attitude I must say … Do you know how few house-martins there are left?’

I chimed in, ‘He’s right you know. It’s because of pesticides and drought … Soon there won’t be any at all …’

Mr Levington scowled. ‘I want you out of there by the end of the day … Do you hear?’

‘You know what you are, don’t you?’

‘Huh,’ said Mr Levington, turning back towards the house.

That was the point at which he caught sight of the graffiti on his front wall.

He rocked on his feet for a moment while the vision before him sank in. Then his face seemed to grow even redder if that was possible. He looked as if he was about to have a heart attack. ‘Fascist!’ he gasped.

‘You said it, not me,’ said Matt and he turned on his heel and started to walk back across the road.

Then he paused and turned back. ‘Come on,’ he said to me. ‘I think we’ve made our point.’

‘We.’ It was the way he said ‘we’ like that. It made my heart turn over with a thump.

It wasn’t how I’d planned to meet up. Ideally, I’d have liked to have decent clothes on and some make-up maybe. I knew I was looking an absolute mess but that didn’t seem to matter right now.

I followed him into the back garden of number twenty-five. He paused outside the back door.

‘I’d ask you in, but the place is not exactly fit for entertaining at present,’ he said.

He didn’t seem arrogant at all. In fact, the way he was looking at me, with the sun catching in his eyes like that (those gorgeous eyes, flecked with hazel — the eyes that had met mine that cringe-making morning in Sainsbury’s) — he seemed almost shy. I glanced through the open door. Poor guy. The place was totally trashed. It stank of sour spilled beer and cigarette smoke. It would take him forever to clean up.

‘You had quite a party last night,’ I said.

‘Yeah well, you should’ve come over.’

‘You should’ve asked me.’

‘I would have,’ he said. ‘But I didn’t think it would be quite your scene.’

There it was. He’d practically spelt it out. He thought I was just a kid and nowhere near old or cool enough to party with his friends. It wasn’t surprising — he’d only seen me in school uniform. Or going to see a kids’ film — it was so unfair. But I’d show him. Just give me time.

‘Look, I’d better be going,’ I said.

But he didn’t seem to want me to go. He was being really friendly for some reason.

‘Don’t go for a minute. You live at number twenty-two don’t you?’

I nodded.

‘Name’s Matt,’ he said, holding out a hand.

We stood in that totally trashed garden and shook hands really formally. Like some funny old-fashioned couple. I liked the feel of his hand, liked it too much. I mean, he had a girlfriend for God’s sake — I’d seen them getting off together.

I mumbled my name and then there was a ghastly pause. I stood there feeling awkward.

‘Who is it who that plays a … clarinet, is it?’

‘Oboe.’ I felt myself flush scarlet. He must have heard me practising. This was just so galling. Now he thought I was a nerd as well.

At that moment I heard Dad’s voice calling me. ‘Natasha!’

‘I’ve got to get back, for breakfast …’ I said.

‘Don’t go yet.’

‘Look, I’ve got to.’

‘Think the old bastard will leave those birds alone now?’

I shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Tasha? Did you hear me?’ Dad was standing at the side gate of number twenty-five — frowning.

‘Looks like you really had better go,’ said Matt.

‘Yeah, OK. Bye.’

I made my way back across the road as fast as I could.

I stormed through the front door with Dad hot on my heels.

‘I just can’t believe you did that …’

Dad looked unrepentant. ‘Did what?’