Four

You kind of get used to living with blackouts. On our street, in our house, we sure did. They were kind of more frequent than a rarity. Sometimes caused by a neighborhood power cut, a storm, a fallen tree or electric post, but most often like in this case our credit had ran out and someone had forgot to top-up the electric key. 

“Who’s turn was it to charge the key and didn’t?” Elsa shouts from the kitchen. “Aaron we’re looking at you,” Mum adds. 

“How do you know it was me? Who charged it last?” I ask. 

“Mum did, which means the next person in line would be? You guessed it. YOU soo…” dang, my sister could be so annoying sometimes even if she kind of was right.

“Must have slipped my mind, sorry, I’ll go do it now.”

“Seems like a lot of things are slipping your mind lately Aaron,” Scarlett with the jokes again sending everyone in the frenzy of laughs in the powerless house.

The electric key charged the electric meter which would in turn power electricity through the house. The electric meter was located in the basement. No one liked going to the basement. It was cold, dark, dingy, and full of old dust-covered boxes, and giant cobwebs that made you feel like you would never escape if you ever got caught in them. The basement was narrow and half the length of the house. It perfectly fits the description of the one you would see in any horror movie, where not one person would come out alive. I’d often wonder if something had ever happened down there, and if someone had the time, money, and enough sage to put into it, it sure could be something. That was a luxury we couldn’t afford.

The basement was a great reminder that even though the house wasn’t perfect, at least none of us had to sleep in it. We had lived in some equally unpleasant places before, and Mum had spent many years in places she says would; “make the basement look like a palace” and that we should, “…count your blessings, especially the small ones.”

When the government makes funding cuts across London, that would help improve services in communities and people’s quality of life, we’d often hear politicians on the news and radio say stuff like ‘the cuts are fair based on a formula.’ And that; “…changes in the funding system meant that the poorest boroughs in London were not as severely affected as they otherwise would be,” the communities secretary recently said.

When cuts happen, we would somehow always face some of the biggest of all the London boroughs and the rich kid boroughs like Kensington and Chelsea would face almost half of that. Five percent to our nine percent, they could probably afford to do up their basements every now and then. A nine percent cut to a community like ours was huge enough to changes your life.

“We’ll go charge the key mum,” says Ivan as the others pull themselves from their seats.

“Elsa I’m going to the shop with them to pick up some snacks and drinks for later. Want to come along?” Scarlett asks.

“Nah, I’ll stay here with mum so she’s not alone in the dark.”

“I’m perfectly fine in the dark with my candle, thank you.” Replied mum. 

“Just go, pick me up some snacks and I’ll see you guys in a bit,” whispers Elsa.

The corner shop we needed was on Romford road and no more than a few minutes’ walk away. In a blackout, those few minutes could easily become what felt like a lifetime sometimes especially if the police were involved. You could never predict what could happen around here, anything from car crashes, theft, fights, fires, police brutality, public sex shows, addicts injecting and getting high, whatever. Anything that could happen would happen, you just wouldn’t see a million pounds cash fall from the sky here.

“GET THE FUCK OUT AND DON’T COME BACK,” a female voice shouts from a house down the street. A flying object followed close behind towards a male figure standing a few feet from the doorway entrance. He narrowly dodges it. We knew the guy, it was Ricky and should have guessed it would be him and his girlfriend arguing at this hour once again.

“I DON’T KNOW WHERE YOU THINK I’M GOING TO GO, YOU’RE THE ONE THAT’S BEEN SLEEPING ABOUT,” shouts Ricky. 

The cries of a young child could also be heard from inside the house.

“Yo Rick, what’s going on bro? She kicked you out again?” Ivan asked as we approached.

I’d known Ricky since secondary school or high school as some would call it. We were a year apart but shared some mutual friends though never really spoke. I left that school to join another and a few years later Ricky and his family moved onto our street and before long Ricky, Damo and Ivan grew close.

“We’re going shop, come along and cool down and I’m sure things will be better when you’re back. It will only be a couple of minutes,” Ivan suggested. 

Ricky declines, “Nah, I ain’t done nothing, I want to get back into my yard and talk, end of!”  

Decisions like that around here often lead to more trouble than good and the papers would have a field day the next day, ‘BLACK TEEN KILLS WHITE GIRLFRIEND’ the headlines would surely read though Ricky was an even mix of both races.

At that moment a patrolling police car turns into our street and slowly cruises towards us. We were familiar with this car and unfortunately knew the officer. Officer Rankin. Dealing with the police was a regular thing here. Police statistics will tell you themselves that black people in general in London were nine times more likely to be stopped by police than white people. In Newham, that number climbs to as high as twenty-five times more likely and it goes up every year. With Officer Rankin though, it felt like those numbers climb even higher. 

Rankin pulls up beside us. “What’s the issue here boys,” he asks.

“Nothing, no issue here officer,” I reply.

He pauses, scans the house behind us before focusing on Ricky who was still breathing heavily, trying to calm himself down. 

“So why are you all just standing outside here in the middle of the night. Don’t you have homes to go to.”

He full well knew we all had homes to go to, he’d been at each of our houses at least a dozen times before and knew most of us lived on this street.

“Powercut. We were just heading to the shop to charge the key and that’s it, Rankin.” Ivan replied.

“Too dark to be walking these streets alone as you know officer,” Scarlett adds.

“Alright… Be gone then,” says Rankin.

Reluctantly, Ricky decides to come with us. Officer Rankin keeps his eyes on us until we disappear from his view as we turn a corner.

“I swear Rankin is the T1000 from Terminator 2 but just had a few more beers,” says Damo. Ricky laughs, he’d finally cooled down. “I could do with a beer myself,” he says.

We get to the shop. Top up the key, grab the drinks and snacks we need and head out without spending a second longer than we needed to. Corner shops in London were a gift at this hour. Almost everything was either past date, a cheap knock off or half melt, but the trick with corner shops, was to only buy what was essential and if you must grab food and snacks stick to what you know well.  Alcohol wasn’t much of a problem just make sure the seal hasn’t been broken. The best thing though was that they’d stay open all hours of the night when everything else was closed and they made for pretty decent hiding places too if you timed it well, but it had to be perfect.

‘Imagine if we could light up our futures like we do those electric keys.”  Scarlett says as we leave the shop. I think the late-night air was getting to her head.

I brave the basement with a torch and charge the meter when we got back. The sounds of lights popping back on, reset appliances, and the chatter from the kitchen stereo confirm power was again finally running through the house. Ricky and his girlfriend were able to calmly talk and eventually he was let back into the house.

“Els,” the name Scarlett sometimes called my sister. “I forgot about Trisha’s birthday party, do you still want to go?” She asked.

“Starlett, it’s late and I’m so tired,” Elsa replied in a baby voice dragging out the ‘so’ as they both fall into an embrace.

“Me too but I promised her I’ll go,” Scarlett with her baby voice now too. “I’ll just swing by for a bit and say hi on my way home.”

“Ok. Be careful it’s late. Text me when you get home.” 

We were actually surprised Elsa decided not to go. This was definitely one of those rare occasions. Scarlett going to an event without Elsa. Unheard of. Ivan and Damo with shocked facial expressions.

“You guys need to relax. Bye Auntie, see you guys tomorrow.”

Scarlett leaves, Damo and Ivan lounge watching music videos while the rest of us prepare to call it a night.

The phone rings early the next morning.