An Unexpected Intrusion

An oppressive humid day and the butter was melting on the IKEA garden table. Mum and dad busily scurried to and fro and the potato salad, greek salad, chicken, crisps, cous-cous, salted peanuts and drinks had all our mouths salivating like so many Pavlovian dogs. My young cousin was visiting from Bristol for the weekend and us children had been anticipating this event for months. Her private school education, perfect manners and pronunciation contrasted sharply with the 'Sarf-East Landan' accents of my sisters. Still, this took the attention off my posh voice for a while so no worries there.

Her name was Sarah, 10 years old, tall for her age and a bright kid. She had been born fifteen weeks early, put in an incubator with slim chances of survival but somehow pulled through. Funnily enough, her birthday coincided with mine and my religious family were of the opinion that the peculiar circumstances of her birth were signs of a miracle from God. She loved reading and had already acquired a taste for Jane Austen and Elizabeth Gaskell at the age of 7. Her parents wouldn't allow her to watch TV and I'd sometimes heard my parents lament that if we'd been brought up the same way we wouldn't be such a rag-tag bunch of tearaways. Today she was wearing a florid dress of light purple and her perfectly straight and short blonde hair was put up in a pretty little bow, the image of childhood innocence. My sisters wore skimpy crop-tops and Adidas tracksuits with way too much hairspray and said "innit" a lot. My dad stuck Fleetwood Mac's 'Rumours' on his crusty old record player to howls of protest from my sisters who wanted the Spice Girl's legendary debut to play in all it's demonic glory. This just sent my dad into one of his familiar rants against the state of modern pop music and how modern musicians don't play their own instruments. Obviously hadn't heard of Radiohead.

"So Sarah, any plans for Secondary School?" my mum inquired. "Oh yes, my mum wants me to go to this Catholic school called Christ Church but I'm more comfortable with The Castle School where my friend Amy is going." "Is that a mixed school?" "Yes, I wouldn't want to be with just girls." My older sister Jane chipped in. "Thinking about the boys already? You're growing up fast innit though? And you're like, soooo tall." Sarah smiled sweetly. "Well I don't fancy boys yet but my teacher says I will soon. We're doing sex education. I like boys though and I like my friend Tom. I always play Playstation with him." We continued to make general chitchat through the afternoon with me getting the occasional reprimand for mouthing off at my sisters and then watched crappy soaps on TV in the evening before we were told to hit the hay so mum and dad could watch their adult shows. With all the excitement it was midnight before we finally knackered ourselves out.



The next day was cloudier and I was due to take her on a trip to the cinema. My sisters had been due to go but had been grounded for smashing a precious vase during an indoor game of dodgeball. My older sister was working and my parents had Church duties to attend to, leaving me the candidate to be my cousin's sole source of entertainment. So off we went, chatting excitably about other movies we'd seen and our lives in general. Batman Forever was my favourite movie at this point in my life and hers was Black Beauty. We hopped on the 122 bus.

Quick as a flash, my life changed in an instant. Without warning, a black man dressed in Black Panther militant uniform leaped on to the bus and grabbed my cousin who was dragged kicking and screaming on to the pavement. I tried to stop him but he gave me a sharp kick to the ankles sending me hurtling to the floor, smashing my face on the bottom step of the stairway to the top deck. The passengers didn't move but just looked on in horror and bemusement, no-one daring to do anything. I tried to jump out to save her but was restrained by one of the passengers. I cried uncontrollably, seeing my cousin being sat down on a bench with her hands clasped tightly between her legs. The man picked her up and carried her up Adelaide Avenue.



The police returned her safe and intact, but with her lovely dress ruined and in a state of shock. We were all relieved but I was not able to shake off the guilt, no matter how many times my parents were trying to console me. Sarah was the sole source of concern. She was broken. I shall never forget the look on her face as long as I live.