Ivory Pijin
We live with Baby in the healthiest square mile in London. On Fridays, we like to go to our friend, Mari’s, who did a course with a former chef at Noma, and now runs a supper club on Mare Street. It’s four fermented foods, and BYOB. There’s also a zine. On Saturdays, we like to go to Broadway Market and get coffee from Climpson’s, then play Spikeball with a couple of mates, later we go to The Dove for a Guinness. On Sundays, we go to Columbia Road Flower Market then run to the sauna in Hackney Wick.
We do a cold plunge, sometimes I have a cigarette, then we run home after.
Because every Sunday night we both have a great time with Baby.
We’re normal people.
This is what we told the police, in this order, when they came to the flat. The officer said she would need a photograph. Though she was gentle, I noticed she didn’t write any of what we said down. Cass was hugging her favourite mug, the one we made in Stoke Newington when we were 24. I was still in my PJs. I couldn’t believe the time. Another officer waved a flashlight behind our sofa. The glass table, our glass table we bought from The Flea, hadn’t survived. And we didn’t have any printer ink.
Of course, we have many photographs of Baby. We have a folder on the shared drive called Baby (1) to distinguish it from the folder called Baby, which contains screenshots of an ongoing argument we’ve been having since March. And Claude’s replies.
We found Baby, but sometimes, we also like to think Baby found us. That’s what we told people but we bought her on Gumtree. This we had to tell the police. The second part.
She’s 2 years old and a small cat for her age. She’s black and has green eyes.
Cass thought people might find her scary but we also knew that was the point. Baby is scary.
‘So do you remember the last time you saw Baby?’
Fuck you dumbass, I nearly said.
But instead I smile and say it was last night, we were just watching TV, she was right here. I point at the middle part of the carpet that was scratched and threading. The officer made a note, then circled the room, avoiding the glass shards. All the furniture in our flat had been turned. There were papers everywhere, postcards and birthday cards, all our souvenirs from Positano smashed, and they had managed to do up the kitchen too and break our pepper grinder. Morning was slowly coming outside. The room was turning green under the sunset lamp. It kept feeling like I was going to sneeze but I didn’t. They didn’t take anything else.
Cass got up, and threw her mug at the wall, we both caught each other in the mirror as she disappeared from the room.
The officer, bewildered, looked at me, and I asked, ‘Can I see the ransom letter again?’
From the staircase, I listened to Luke as he continued to entertain the officers. Parading the room and asking questions. I knew I wouldn’t hear the end of it about me smashing our mug, but I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t have a bloody choice! Didn’t he know it was no fucking use?
In an hour, we’d have been waking up. So I put on my running shoes, and I did a 5k.
I’m stretching by Bonner Gate. I’m listening to Wham! I’m thinking of Baby.
A million miles away, in a converted warehouse unit, our two criminals, Bea and Kai were having their first beer of the day. It was a nervous silent beer on the terrace, sharing one roll-up that had mallow in it. The cage arrived this morning and now, the sun was hanging overhead. Sweat rolled off their breasts onto their stomachs, and nakedly, Canary Wharf left an imprint on them, and a Bluetooth speaker with too much bass was playing Daft Punk.
‘It’s too bloody hot’, someone said somewhere. But there it was just right.
It was the perfect temperature to feel evil, just for one day.
‘Give me a drag’ I say.
Bea rolled over on her belly and stretched her fingers to me and I kissed them softly. Their fingers graced my lips and the smell of last night was still there. A night of moonlight humping by The Chinese Pagoda in Victoria Park.
Bea and Kai first met online during the pandemic. Actually, we met on an alternative dating app. We thought we were poly, but also maybe at one point, we both thought we were ace.
The night they met, they both had thoughts about the future. We always were thinking where to move to next and what to do with our lives. Would we have a kid? Would we have a house? Would we have a marriage? What about a dog?
They baked bread and made Asian-style coffees. And we went to nudist forest raves in the Marshes.
The dogging part was much different. That was new. Yes, quite new. We didn’t know it ourselves but for a few moons, we fought endlessly. Where’s my fucking pasta, Bea? Why didn’t you clean the dishes? Who’s going to pay for dinner? Why didn’t you call me back? What are we doing here?
We need to talk. We need to talk. We need to talk.
Let’s go to counselling, or speak to this guy. My friend says. Yeah, that stuff didn’t really work for us.
It was a really spontaneous and niche summer night in Victoria Park. Bea was coming down. Kai was coming up. We had done ten laps already, dotting between London Fields and here, making comments about the runners, feeding ducks, bumping into people we really didn’t want to bump into. Sun coming down over the canals by Haggerston and by the crux of the park, we dragged our heavy feet, sunbeaten bodies, to the Pagoda. Day was eagerly on its way out and we began our moon salutations.
We believe in the Moon. And what it told us. And on that night, three moons ago, we vowed to come back. I knew it was destiny for us to be there at that very time. How blessed am I to live in this current moment with you. Between moons, we found each other at this very place.
The wind galloped around us. There’s a saxophone playing. I don’t care if anyone sees us. I hear something. I don’t care if anyone finds us. No seriously, I hear something.
A cool breeze enveloped us for a moment. And I thought of work in the morning at the cafe in Islington, running between the machine and the till. And my stomach grumbled. I thought of last month’s rent. I thought about the boiler that needed to be fixed. We had been taking cold showers. But it’d be cold again soon. The Turkey trip was looming. And in that heat, Baby appeared to us in the moonlight.
Present day, present time. Luke and I decided to call in sick today.
‘Why didn’t you get colour prints?’
Luke had printed 100 missing posters, and they were all black and white. We had swept up all the broken glass in the living room, and opened up all the windows. I lit sage. It felt heavy in the air.
Without looking up at me, he said, ‘She’s black.’
‘And so?’ I asked.
He snapped back, ‘She’s a black cat, what difference does it make?’.
The room went silent. Maybe I’m being unreasonable but since it was coming, it had to go anyway.
‘The difference is you can’t tell what colour eyes she’s got’
He got up, threw all the papers in the air then left the room. I heard the doors slam, then the gate. The A4 sheets covered the rug.
I sat down on the couch, grabbed a Vogue slim from my bag and lit it. It was a long drawling inhale. I’d been thinking of our last few months. Preparing for The Hackney Half. The trip to Berlin. My parents came over. And they stayed over. Mortgage talks. More talks about the procedure. Was it invasive. Another puff. The weekend in Hastings. Our car breaking down in the middle of the road. Forgetting Mother’s pearls at the Airbnb. The bee sting. Another inhale. Picking strawberries. Getting caught in the rain after that awful house party in Chiswick. How we walked 2 hours then broke into a sprint when we could see Shoreditch Church. Luke waiting on a promotion. My promotion.
The cigarette’s out.
I opened another window, and heard the doorbell ring. On the doorstep, there was a letter.
‘Hi Dad, it’s me, Luke’
I’m in the smoking area of a new wine bar on Broadway Market. For a Tuesday evening, it’s cramped. My Dad’s voice on the phone is hushed and drowsy. I didn’t think I’d get him so late his time.
‘Your mom’s on the line. How was The Hackney Half?’
‘Oh it was great,’ I say ‘Cass and I came in sub 3. I was going to tell you something that’s happ-’
He yawned. ‘Oh great, sub 3, that’s very good, right?’
‘Yes, Dad, it’s a good score, we’re very happy’
‘That’s good, it’s good you’re happy’ he says.
‘Are you going to come home soon?’ It’s Mum, speaking from the other side of the bed.
‘Yeah, I don’t know, I’m thinking about it’
‘Don’t think too long about it, son.’
‘Yes, Dad, it’s just I’ve got a lot of stuff going on’
‘Like what?’
‘Like my job. I mean I’m trying to get a promotion, why can’t you guys just come here?’
‘Maybe, we’re thinking about it’
‘Alright.’
There’s a moment of silence, and the waitress is coming to me with a glass of verde. She said it was good. I’m still in my shorts and slippers. I haven’t shaved. I needed to cut my hair for about two weeks now. I cut the phone and text my parents I have low signal. Then, I take a sip of the wine. It really does taste like a white. And I go on #ascension TikTok for a bit and eat the bar cashews.
A million miles away, in Haringey, Bea and Kai were encountering a problem. Yes, it was a serious problem and we were feeling the pressure. So our weekend started at 2AM on Wednesday. We were both off work from the restaurant.
We had been doing our research. How do you cook cat? Bearing in mind, Kai’s vegan, or flexitarian. But we were both ready to descend.
Maybe the cheque would come for Turkey before then. I thought of the stitches across my chest, real stitches, blood and covering my chest with sand and dust, jumping into The Black Sea. Something had to give.
We drank what we needed. We watched videos on YouTube. We got a VPN. It was a long 24 hours.
When we finished, we climbed back on the terrace and when we turned on the lights, our screams were so loud that we had disturbed the WhatsApp neighbour gc. The entire terrace was covered in dead birds. 33 to be exact. All their necks had been wrung, and wings were broken. The smell was metallic. And I grew nauseous almost immediately. Bea ran down in shock and I already knew before the cage was checked. Baby was gone and she did this.
At home in London Fields, Luke and I decided to go on a walk. He had written me a letter. It seems like he’s had enough of everything. The D word was looming large over us.
We went to our favourite restaurant. Korean food. The waiter was nice. We were drinking plum wine. He doesn’t know either. The D word. I cried.
The doorbell rang, and we both turned back.
Baby was on the doorstep.
I picked her up and looked at her eyes.
Luke said, ‘Is that her?’
We went inside and I put the kettle on.