‘We’re here to barter for produce,’ Luc tells the guard.
‘You’ll have to leave the vehicle here, Sir.’
‘Can I leave it inside the walls?’
‘No.’
‘We’ll only be about an hour,’ says Luc, passing him another couple of bits.
‘Wait here.’ He goes back inside and one of the gates creaks open. Another guard signals to us to park within the compound in a parking space off to the left.
Although we’re now inside the gates, we’re still outside the main walls. We’ve stopped in what appears to be a vast entrance area, a car park. I assume the other large set of gates opens up to the main town. Luc locks the AV and we look around to see where we should go.
‘What’s that gross smell?’ I ask.
‘Shh. Most places outside our Perimeter smell like this. It’s how people live. In squalor mainly.’
I get that feeling of inadequacy again. There are so many things about this trip I’m ill-prepared for. I half-wish I hadn’t suggested coming in here now. The smell of the place makes me think I’ve seen enough and the rows and rows of vehicles are a strange sight, making me feel dizzy. But I can’t change my mind after making such a fuss to come here in the first place.
We don’t see either of the guards, so we thread our way through the cars towards the other set of gates. Most of the parked vehicles are little more than rusted heaps that don’t look as if they’ll be going anywhere ever again.
Luc holds out his hand and I take it, feeling self-conscious. It feels cool and firm. There are several small entrances up ahead with more uniformed guards stationed at each one, but all I can think about is the feel of my hand in Luc’s.
‘I think this is going to be an expensive visit,’ he says, drawing half-a- dozen silver bits from his pocket to grease some more palms.
Finally we’re in.
Chapter Eleven
Once inside, the stench triples in awfulness and the place looks like nothing I’ve ever seen. The Compound’s inner entrance doors open up on to a long street, lined with busy shops and eateries. Above these, precarious looking flats jut out, all higgledy piggledy in various styles. No cars clog the roads, just pedestrians, horses and an imaginative array of non-motorised vehicles: push bikes with home-made trailers, wooden carts, covered wagons and people-powered rickshaws.
In front of the cosmopolitan shop facades, a vibrant street market is in full flow, packed with stall holders and shoppers. I don’t think I can recall ever seeing so much activity and so many people together in one place. I feel overwhelmed, and have to stop to take several deep breaths.
‘You okay?’ Luc asks, as I tug on his hand for him to stop.
‘I just need a few seconds.’
‘Here, sit down and put your head between your knees for a minute.’ He guides me over to the side of the road, behind a cake stall and squats down, patting the ground next to him. I comply gratefully and take a few swigs of water. After a minute or two, I feel slightly less giddy.
I realise Luc has his arm around my shoulders. It feels good. A blush of embarrassment reddens my face, followed by a blush of desire spreading across my throat and collar bones. I’m glad I’ve got my head bowed so he can’t see. Eventually, I compose myself and recover enough to stand up again. Luc’s so kind and patient. He doesn’t make me feel stupid or troublesome at all.
‘Take your time.’ He rubs my arm and smiles into my eyes. ‘You look a bit better. You’ve got some colour in your face. You were white as a ghost before.’
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘It’s just the shock. The noise and heat; the smells. There are so many people. It’s amazing, but a bit frightening.’
‘Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. I should have warned you what to expect. I didn’t even think. I’ve been visiting compounds for years so I’m used to it.’
‘You kind of just assume it will be the same as home. Our Perimeter is so peaceful and calm. This is exciting but it’s a bit intimidating, seeing all these people in the one place.’
Enthusiastic vendors shout at the top of their voices and buyers haggle over produce with pretended indifference. There are fruit and vegetables in varying stages of freshness, great mountains of autumn-coloured grain, unappetising fly-covered meat, sweets, cakes, biscuits, home-made and second-hand clothing, skittish livestock, toys and crockery. Fire-eaters, jugglers, dancers and fortune tellers jostle for space. Now I’m getting more used to my surroundings, I’m hypnotised by it all.
‘Is it like this all the time?’ I ask Luc.
‘Every Saturday, darlin’,’ an elderly street vendor standing next to me replies. ‘Where you from then?’
‘Just visiting,’ says Luc, grabbing my elbow and propelling me forward into the throng.
‘I’ll mind me own business then shall I?’ He goes back to crying his wares.
The main Charminster Road has many smaller roads leading off it, which appear to be residential with a mixture of run-down houses and slightly larger apartment blocks. Some of the roads have been converted into small strips of farmland, with narrow paths running in front of the houses to allow access. There are penned animals, garden produce and crops, all patch-worked along into the distance.
Most plots have someone on guard, but it’s quite a laid-back affair. A man lounges on a garden chair, chatting to his neighbour, a rifle lying at his feet. The crop-carpeted roads give the overall impression of a quaint rural village and, from what I can see, most of the residents seem to be very cheerful and friendly. I could spend hours wandering the streets, sightseeing. It’s a huge and fascinating settlement, but the vastness of the place is going to make finding Chambers’ accommodation very difficult.
‘We’ll have to ask someone where he lived.’ I state the obvious.
‘I know. I’m just trying to work out how we should phrase it and who we should ask.’
I get a sudden surge of bravery. ‘Excuse me.’ I turn to a girl my age who strolls past, biting into a toffee apple. ‘Sorry, do you know where I might find Ron Chambers’ place?’
‘The electrician?’
‘Yes,’ I reply, not believing she actually knows who I’m talking about.
‘Haven’t you heard? He’s not here anymore. I think he was arrested. Not sure though. He used to live with the other trades people on Porchester Road, D’you know it?’
I shake my head.
‘It’s down there. Northumberland Mansions is the block of flats. They’ll definitely have reallocated his apartment by now though.’ She points back down the road, from where we’ve just come.
‘Thanks very much.’ I smile.
‘You’re welcome.’ She gives us a curious look before turning off down a side street and disappearing.
‘Cool, Riley.’ Luc punches my arm.
Northumberland Mansions is a large ugly brown block, reserved purely for skilled trades people and their families. It sits on a wide tree-lined road and is probably quite a prestigious place to live. Close enough to the main road and the main gates, but far enough away not to be disturbed by the excessive noise of the street market. Litter covers the pavement though and there’s dog shit everywhere.
Luc says I should speak on the intercom, as a girl’s voice is less intimidating. We stand in a urine and cabbage-smelling foyer and buzz a few numbers until someone answers. The woman on the other end confirms Chambers has left the compound, but that he used to live in apartment 26B. I duly press the bell for 26B and a man’s voice answers.
‘Hello,’ he says.
‘Hi, my name’s Riley. Can I speak to you for a few minutes?’