“Anything to add, Sophie?”
I looked blankly into the faces around the table. “Sorry?”
“East Veil, any update on how we’re handling the graffiti epidemic?”
“A one pissing man epidemic,” Eric muttered. “Hope they lock the animal back up, save what’s left of our pissing budget.”
“Still a work in progress,” I said. “I’m on it.”
“And, what avenues are you considering?” Christine was so bastard snooty. I felt my hackles rise. “Surely the police are working with you on this? They do have a history with Callum Jackson, after all, a lengthy history. What’s their take on the situation?”
My mouth turned clammy, but I pasted on my professional face. “Actually, I’m only going to utilise the law as a last resort. I’m planning on tackling this using education and opportunity, rather than enforcement.” A wave of scathing amusement rippled through the room, and I felt my temperature rising, tongue itching to run riot. I let it fly. “Graffiti, or street art, is an attempt to express oneself creatively. East Veil has no youth program, no effective outlet for artistic expression. It’s a boiling pot of frustration and apathy, and the crime rate is symptomatic of this, as is the lack of community cohesion. The graffiti is merely one face of a much larger problem. I’m planning on tackling that problem, not singling out one individual and treading him down. Others will merely spring up in his place, it’s firefighting, not a solution.”
Eric slammed his notepad on the table. “It’s not pissing art, it’s an eyesore. Locking him up’s the answer. Not this embracing hippy bullshit.”
“It’s not hippy bullshit,” I said. “Look up anything you like on youth crime. The statistics speak for themselves.”
“What you planning on doing, then?” he scoffed. “Taking some felt tip pens down the old youth club and have them all do some bleeding colouring-in for half an hour every bastard Friday? I could tell you how well that’s going to work, don’t need no bloody statistics.”
“That isn’t quite how I’d choose to frame it,” I hissed. “But yes. An outlet is needed.”
“I’ve heard it all now,” Eric snapped. “No wonder this place is going to the dogs.”
“I think we’re done for today,” Christine concluded. “Keep us informed, Miss Harding, everyone here is keen to see the situation resolved. It’s why you were brought in, after all. Your expertise spoke volumes when you were assigned this patch.”
Spoke, past tense.
I shifted in my chair, meeting her eyes with a confidence I wasn’t feeling. “I’ll let you know when I have an update.”
Don’t hold your fucking breath.
***
Rebecca buzzed me again as I was on the way out of the office, and I answered with a sigh.
“Finally!” she exclaimed. “Thought you’d bloody emigrated.”
“Work shit,” I groaned. “What’s up?”
“We need to get Cal off the street. Kid’s way too good to be wasting his talent on garage blocks and subways round that shithole.”
My stomach lurched in agreement. “Getting a shitload of heat from the office, they want me to bring in the police, get him locked up again.”
I waited for it. “Your colleagues are asshole fucking idiots, Sophie, idiots. Kid’s a bloody star. His skill, baby, holy mother of God, his skill.”
“They don’t see that, Bex. They think he’s a nuisance, nothing more.”
“We’ll see about that when Callum’s on the front of Urban Life magazine. Narrow-minded cunts.”
I smiled. “I’d love to see their faces.”
“Oh, you will do, if I have anything to do with it.”
“I don’t know what I can do, Bex, my hands are tied and the heat is on. I can’t get him a property through allocations, he’s not even on the waiting list. I checked.”
“We need another solution, then. What about your place?”
I groaned. “As if. Parents would go bloody spare if they caught wind of it. Had the dog there this weekend and even that raised eyebrows. All that art stuff would be a serious no-no.”
“Maybe it’s time you jumped out of their pockets. Bit long in the tooth to be leaping through Daddy’s hoops, don’t you think, baby?”
“Don’t start,” I sighed. “Not today.”
“Sorry,” she said. “Just feeling the frustration.”
“You and me both.” I pondered awhile. “No room at yours? I know your fondness for taking in waifs and strays.”