Free The Weightless World by Anthony Trevelyan Page B

sitting on the ground, no work, nothing happening. Then I take a look around. And because I know what I’m looking at, I know what I’m seeing. And generally what I’m seeing is two weeks’ work. Achieved intwo, three days.’ He smiles. ‘I just don’t see it happen. They don’t let me. And why should they? Why should they put themselves on the line like that for some fat old loudmouth who shows up waving his cheque-book and saying, “Hey guys, how about we build a school”? If anyone can take credit here, it’s Rajeev. He’s the one making this project work. He they trust. They see what he’s trying to achieve.’
    I look again at Rajeev, talking and laughing with his friends. From where I’m sitting, he doesn’t appear to be trying to achieve very much.
    I say, ‘How does doing a day’s work put anyone on a line?’
    ‘What’s a day’s work?’ Harry laughs. ‘For these guys it’s more than a day’s work. It’s an attempt on the future, an assay on the future. A project like this asks you to believe the world can be a better place in the future than it is now, and a lot of these guys aren’t easy with believing that. They know the hazards of building in this city. They know better than anyone what happens when a thing you put up comes down again. So they’re like “Don’t give me that shit”. You know? They’re like “Don’t give me that hope shit”.’
     
    On the other side of the square Rajeev and his friends climb to their feet and begin passing a football between them. For a while the young men only knock the ball loosely back and forth, then as others join them they form teams and re-engage in sharper tussles, running, tackling, shooting, their feet and the ball lost in an ankle-height cloud of dust.
    It’s only a matter of time before the ball comes my way. I’ve been nervous ever since it appeared, sure at any second it’s going to smash into the back of my head, so I’m relieved when instead it comes trickling to my feet. The men pause to look at me, to see what I’ll do. Their looks are expectant, without hostility. Istand and kick the ball to Rajeev. He lifts the ball onto his head and butts it back to me. I return it with a clap of my forehead and then I’m running, leaving the shade of the tree and sprinting out into the afternoon sunshine, into the figures of the game, accepting a pass, escaping a tackle.
    It helps that I’m a fucking brilliant football player. But Rajeev and his friends are fairly decent too, by which I mean they’re all better than I am. Only Harry is definitely worse than I am. He throws himself about, howls a lot, falls over a lot, soon develops a dangerous scaly redness and has to settle for shouting encouragement from his chair in the shade.
    Rajeev is my team captain; he establishes this by pointing at me then holding his fist to his chest. I nod. Rajeev is my team captain.
    We play for an hour or so. The other team wins, despite Rajeev scoring four goals. I score none, though I have one pretty near miss, a helter-skelter attempt, my shot making the keeper leap, though at the last instant he stabs the ball away with a fingertip. Players on both sides clap. I assume they’re applauding the keeper then hands start beating my back. Grinning, Rajeev nods to me. Panting, grinning, the heat starting to get a grip on my head, I nod back. Rajeev is my captain.
     
    ‘Something weird happened this morning,’ I say to Harry, when we’re both sitting under the tree again. I’m aware that I’m speaking to him as I used to speak to Ess – as if he were the fount of all wisdom. I don’t like it but I can’t seem to help myself.
    ‘Oh yes?’ Harry says.
    ‘There was this cleaner. At the hotel. We talked for a bit then he wouldn’t leave me alone. He just stood there. Then he gave me this look, like…’
    ‘Did he assist you in any way?’
    ‘Well, yeah, he…’
    ‘He was waiting for a tip.’
    ‘It wasn’t anything like that. I was looking