A Place To Belong To

By J C Pereira

Set in the late 1970's England this story follows a disillusioned, educated and introspective young man of mixed heritage as he strives to find acceptance and meaning in his life. He submerges himself into the affairs of a marginalized people who are engaged in a daily struggle to cope with the crime-ridden sub-society in which they are trapped; victims and prey alike. He is befriended and tolerated by most, especially by Errol and Golem, even though it is quite obvious that he doesn't belong in their world. Events finally pull him within the ambitious clutches of the youthful and psychopathic crime lord, Angel, a man devoid of scruples and human regard. He is awakened from his pretensions and has to make choices.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J C Pereira
• Release date: Nov 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463184554

J C Pereira

With a long journey of years and distance behind him, the author decided to follow his heart. He turned his hand again to what he loved most and brought him solace and joy in his youth – books. With his son grown and a new family around him, he graduated from reading into writing – an unimaginable step. His first attempt was ‘A Place to Belong To’. He has just completed and published number nine, ‘Dying Under an Empty Blue Sky’, a dystopian novel about the last remnants of humanity hanging on after the fall due to the Climate Crisis. Have we learnt anything from our misguided priorities? Will we survive or fade away from a world that has already dismissed us? We live through the stories we create. Let’s hope we can learn from them. The future remains unwritten.

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A Place To Belong To

J C Pereira

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J C Pereira on Smashwords

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Copyright 2018 J C Pereira

All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

This ebook is licenced for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or was not purchased for your use only, please return to Smashwords.com. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

DEDICATION

I dedicate this short novel to my daughter, who was born with three different nations' heritage.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks to my partner in life, Ornella, who gave me the courage to put the thoughts and observations of a young man of yesteryear into words. Also, to my son, Nathan, whose computer, technical support was invaluable.

Cover design by Ornella Petrone

PROLOGUE

‘Beverly, Bev-er-ly,’ he called, unconsciously watching her rounded bottom packaged tightly between a pair of cheap, blue, denim jeans, as she sat perched on her bicycle, smoothly keeping ahead of him. He felt as if a thin rope held them together; she wanted to get away, but either didn’t know how to go about it or didn’t want to. Not just yet, at least.

‘Beverley.’

She stopped, placing one shapely leg down onto the damp concrete without answering or even looking back to prevent herself and her bike from falling over. It was at that moment that he felt closer to her than at any other time before. She seemed not only to be listening but also wanting to listen to him. This discovery made the situation even more unsettling, for he knew that she had already decided not to let him into her so-called private life. What was that phrase she had used before? ‘An ‘outside hassle’; yes, that was it. Well damn-it, he was beginning to feel used, for he now began to suspect that she was enjoying his confessions of love and desire. Yet she wanted no part of it, and they said that men were the ones who wanted their egos fed.

Drawing level with her, he gripped tightly onto her fluffy-pink jacket with his thumb and forefinger, exerting just enough pressure so that she would be aware of what he was doing. She made no objections but still wouldn’t look at him or speak.

‘What’s wrong with me, then?’

‘Nothing. It’s me; I’m just not ready yet.’

He tried to force her by will alone, to look at him, but it didn’t work.

‘Don’t I have any effect on you at all?’

‘No, to me, you’re just like my mates at work, only I respect you more.’

That last bit felt like a slap in the face, having the effect of a bucket of icy, cold water dashed over him. Thanks an awful bunch, slap your face and spit in your eye. He felt himself getting angry as the futileness of his position weighed down on him. For an instant, he almost felt a surge of hatred, but he quickly controlled and suppressed it.

Standing there as if rooted to the spot, he stared down at her cute, elfin, little face, framed by blond, boyishly cut, wispy hair. Gladly he welcomed the deafening, vibrating rumble of a train as it passed overhead the dimly lit underpass where they had paused. It gave him some time to think, to formulate a balanced reply.

‘Let’s go,’ was all he could manage.

Once again, they continued on their way in silence, she riding very slowly but still keeping just ahead of him. He striding along, head bowed, face grim, and mind deep in thought. This situation was not an altogether novel experience for him. He had come up against it before in several of its different manifestations. However, its identity was easily recognizable ‘the social straight-jacket,’ ‘cultural preservation,’ ‘tribal identity,’ call it whatever one must, is a barrier that no longer belongs to this world.

We all too quickly become comfortable and fond of familiar and accessible images. These images embrace the physical characteristics of our parents, our siblings, aunts, uncles, ourselves, and our fellow countrymen. If features are too diverse a criteria, then we latch onto similar backgrounds or interests. Everything must be comfortable and predictable. On today’s ever-shrinking globe, many of our preconceived images are confronted and shattered by the advent of equally proud, new citizens - citizens with a not so homogenous phenotype, who refuse to stand ignored in society’s corner. Real maturity is learning to unite our fantasy, ideal dream-world with immediate reality, no matter its wrappings, accepting all the pleasures, sadness, and pain that it brings. Unfortunately, many of us are still unable to do this and doggedly refuse, in turn, to give up that fantasy image, condemning all that is not familiar to a comfortable caricature, a parody of what we secretly know to be true.

He was Beverley’s reality, and she was his. The difference was that he had accepted her, looked beyond her prematurely wrinkled eyes, her too fat ‘arse,’ and her endemic insecurity, to mention a few, and loved her. His broad nose, full lips, and brown skin were not to her image. Yet, she sought out his company time and time again. Why? You just can’t want and not want. It did not make any sense. Yes, he was sure that his reasoning was correct. He had ‘sussed’ her out. The question remaining was, ‘what to do now?’ Should he play the agonising game of patience, or should he tell her to ‘go fuck herself?’ ‘Got to keep those bitches in their place,’ was what a past acquaintance once said to him. No, bitter as he was, that was not his way.

Climbing the ramp leading to the street above, they halted, each instinctively knowing that this was the parting of the ways, but both still reluctant to do so.

He was fed up, tired of these comfortable, blind, dream-chasers, wrapped up in their own little, cotton-wool worlds, unable and unwilling to cope with anything novel. It was time to turn his back on them, to seek out the people who had their feet firmly planted in reality. People who knew that dreams were only things you sometimes got at night when you found time to sleep. He precisely knew how he would carry-out this new decision as well. That likeable fellow he had met in the pub only two nights ago had invited him for a drink in a part of the city where he had never before ventured into after 6.00 pm. He would take him up on his offer.

‘Well, I’ll see you around sometime, okay?’ he said, already dismissing the girl from his thoughts as his mind raced ahead to his plans for the future.

Beverley seemed taken aback by his abrupt statement. She glanced nervously at him, then leaned forward and gripped her handlebars, but still did not move off. She appeared to be a little unsure of what he was about to do. When she realized that he was turning away from her, she called out in her sweet hesitant voice:

‘Bye, Sammy.’

He did not acknowledge her. He was already striding into his tomorrow. What lay behind him was a concern half-forgotten.

CHAPTER I

‘People are so quick to judge. I just can’t understand it.’

‘What’s eating you now?’

The young man with the sharp, haggard face, and sad, old eyes glanced at his companion, then returned his stare to the mud puddle at his feet.

‘Yesterday I had an interview for a job. The second, would you believe it, in six months of searching. I did all the right things, dressed in my best suit, or rather, my only suit, adopted a relaxed air, exuded confidence and poise; you know, all the hypocritical strappings that are supposed to reveal the true self.’

‘Yeah, go on,’ was the dry response.

‘Well, this lady interviewer…erh…there were two of them, one old, hmm, middle age,