Smoking Poppy by Graham Joyce (the read aloud family .txt) 📕

The village was busy with activity. Dusk was falling, and having returned from the fields families sat cross-legged around steaming pans, cooking, whittling bamboo, smoking giant, fat tobacco pipes. I noted with some satisfaction that a few nods and smiles were beginning to come my way.

The generator was important to me. If I could keep the generator running, and if I could get my hands on some more cable to light a few huts, I might be able to win the help we needed. Now I knew Jack and his cronies weren’t actually keeping Charlie here against her will, I needed to ingratiate myself until Mick was fit enough to get moving.

Inside the generator hut I checked the plug cap on the motor, thinking maybe the vibration was working it loose, but this time the fault lay somewhere else. In the end, I didn’t even need to unscrew the cover plate, since it was merely resting loose over the machinery. A quick check revealed that the cable to the piston was shitted up and was breaking the circuit. I don’t know how it got so messy – there were leaves and twigs and all sorts in there – but I cleaned it off and whipped the generator into life again. I heard a small cheer from some of the villagers. The Lord of the Generator rubbed his oily hands together in a purely involuntary gesture.

I got a bit of petrol on my rag and I gave all the visible working parts a thorough clean before I replaced the cover plate. I knew if I had the right tools to strip it down completely I could have got that baby to sing. I was going to have to present Jack with an inventory of things to bring me along with that roll of cable.

When I stepped outside there was a fracas going on next to Nabao’s hut. Jack’s bearded henchman was being roundly scolded by Nabao – I could deduce that much. A few villagers looked on silently. The bearded henchman had a fluorescent tube in his hand, which I quickly realised he’d taken from Nabao’s hut. My length of cable lay discarded like a dead snake in the dust. Nabao must have said something impressive, because the bearded man stepped over to her and threatened her with a backhand slap. She knew this was no idle threat, for she skittered away, retreating into her hut.

Jack turned up, demanding to know what was going on. The bearded man barked a few words and carried away the strip-light. Jack stepped over to me. ‘Why did you give this woman the light?’

‘It was already hers. I just connected the cable.’

‘Don’t interfere with things here. You don’t—’

‘I wasn’t interfering—’

‘Don’t talk while I’m talking! Understand me? You don’t talk while I’m talking, or I’ll take your damned head off!’ His anger was absurdly disproportionate to my offence, and his eyes were like splinters of dirty ice. I nodded. ‘You fix the generator again?’

‘Yes.’

‘Fix it good this time?’

‘Yes.’

‘That generator fucks up again, you’re in big trouble, you hear me? Big trouble.’

‘I need some tools. I haven’t got anything to work with.’

‘Fuck that. Work with your hands. And if you want to wire a hut, you wire my hut. Do it now.’

I pointed at the short length of cable running to Nabao’s hut. ‘That’s all I have, apart from what goes to the radio. It won’t reach your hut.’

Two deep, vertical creases appeared in Jack’s brow. He stepped over to me. He was a head shorter than me, and I could feel his breath on my neck. ‘Look, I’ve got lots of damned shit to deal with right now. Keep away from old ladies and keep that fucking generator going.’ He spun on his heels, leaving me standing under the sullen gaze of the villagers. I saw Nabao peeping at me from inside her hut. Crestfallen, she wouldn’t meet my eyes.

I made my way back to our hut. Inside, Mick, Phil and Charlie wanted to know what the shouting was about. Before I’d finished telling them, I saw Jack’s bullying henchman – the bearded one – heading towards us. ‘Here comes trouble,’ I said.

From the threshold he jabbed a finger in my direction. ‘Jack want you NOW!’ he shrieked. ‘You come quick NOW!’ Then he turned his back and marched away.

Outside a nearby hut two villagers were slaughtering a pig. They seemed to be making an unnecessarily drawn-out job of it. The high-pitched squeals of the pig were distressing and unnerving, occasionally striking a human note.

I drew a deep breath, and followed.

29

Jack was seated before a low-burning fire outside one of the huts, gnawing a chicken bone. His back was illuminated by a strip-and-battery light, so his face was in shadow. One of his other henchmen was cleaning a dismantled bolt-action rifle, and the bearded one who’d summoned me there – old laughing boy – slumped down heavily beside Jack to resume an identical activity.

Jack pointed to the earth across the fire. ‘Sit.’

I did as I was told.

‘So, you’re going to wire up this place for me eh, Danny?’

‘I will if you get me the gear.’

He tossed his chicken bone on the fire and wiped the grease from his hand on his shorts. ‘You want a cigarette? Here.’ He flung a packet of Marlboros at me. ‘Look, Danny, I’ve got no fight with you, eh? I’ve got other stuff on my mind right now. Big stuff. Just don’t make a nuisance of yourself. Your daughter has been in my way for some time. I only let you in here because I thought you might take her from under my feet.’

‘That’s what I’d hoped.’

While the second of Jack’s sidekicks was absorbed in oiling the bolt action of his rifle, I noticed that the bearded one only pretended to be doing the same. He was a bad actor. He was watching me closely. I had a question buzzing around in my brain. I wanted to know