Free Black Bread White Beer by Niven Govinden

it.
    â€˜See! I told you this is what would happen if you drank that manky coffee!’

    â€˜Right, I thought, I’m not standing for this. So I went to the printers in the marketplace, the French chap, you know, where we did your wedding invites, and got five thousand of my own printed up.’
    â€˜Fighting fire with fire? You’re a braver man than I am, Sam.’
    â€˜Protect Lewes, it says. End the bureaucratic madness now! Cost an arm and a leg because we went with a heavier card to stand out more, but it’s worth it. Here, see?’
    â€˜â€œLet’s nip it in the bud.” Very catchy.’
    â€˜Mention red tape round here and it’s like a rallying cry.’
    â€˜So I see. “Red or white, let’s unite and fight.” Sounds like you’re recruiting for the Spanish Civil war, or something. Never had you down as the communist type.’
    â€˜People won’t put up with the nonsense you seehappening in other towns. Look what’s happened to Ashford, and Dover. Can’t take a piss without government bodies having their say.’
    â€˜Sounds like a lot of effort for something that’s still a proposal. They haven’t even held the public consultation yet, have they?’
    â€˜You have to catch them on the hop, Amal. Be prepared before they are. Why would you want to put an asylum tribunal centre into the Cedars? Ruin a perfectly good house when they could easily use an unused tower block in the city. We’re in the middle of the country. We have nothing for them here, these people.’
    â€˜They probably need something close to the coast, I suppose. Scouring round for something local.’
    â€˜Then set up in Dover! Don’t ruin our lovely town! They should be hunting in busier places like Hastings or Brighton. If you have a train, you take it to the train station, not the motorway. This kind of rubbish is a drain on our local facilities.’
    â€˜You’ve written that over sixty per cent of those who make it through the tunnel from France illegally end up in a spiral of crime and prostitution. Where are you getting these figures from?’
    â€˜It’s an estimate. Just to give people a rough idea.’
    â€˜Nothing like scaremongering to get them going, eh?’
    â€˜Sod ’em. I don’t have to explain myself to anybody. I’m a private citizen having his own say.’
    â€˜Just be careful you’re not misleading people, Sam. You could get pulled up for stuff like this.’
    â€˜Let them try. Do you read the papers where you are? They’re at war all along the South coast, and I don’t want it brought here. I have my grandchild to think about. I don’t want little Claud or baby Amal not being able to walk to the park because there’s drug dealers and brothels at every corner.’
    â€˜So the grandchild’s to blame, is it?’
    â€˜I’m thinking about the future. It’s what you do when you get to my age. Pass us that coaster, will you? Liz’ll have me strung up by the balls if I get a wet mark on the new sofa. We haven’t scotch-guarded yet.’
    Things are done the old-fashioned way in Lewes. Mother and daughter commandeer the kitchen whilst Amal is left to attend his father-in-law in the lounge. Male company, even the watered-down type that Amal offers, is welcome, but what Sam wants most of all is for his daughter to be with him. His notices how his father-in-law’s eyes betray that sentiment every time he speaks, flickering towards the door expectantly. Every time he hugs her – hello and goodbye – he clamps onto her like he is wielding a vice. His prized girl, missing for seven days and now back. Amal too is hugged, but the outpouring of love on the drive is reserved only for her. Liz by contrast is breezy and peckish with her kisses, almost embarrassed by Sam’s display, uncomfortably long and silent, oblivious to all