2013 part 2.

A massive camp had emerged in the park. No one knew how many were in there now, the tents bubbled up in the pink light like alien forms. There were strings of coloured lights, generators, and bonfires burning under the low trees. There must be thousands living in there, you could hear them beginning to wake, babies crying and dogs barking, men carrying containers of water.
In the reservoirs behind Stamford Hill we encountered little knots of frenzied activity, the authorities were working hard to get the water supply safe here. We were on stand pipes already but we knew we were facing a complete cut in supply. There was a strong smell of burning as we approached the block, black smoke churned from the chimney stacks, it was like a scene from old London in the days of the pea soupers.

When I reached the landing Kevin was waiting at his door. The number was gouged in with a Stanley knife. There was a hole at the bottom where someone tried to kick it in. The corridor was dingy, buttercup yellow beneath a grey film of dust and ceramic tiles all smeared with dirt. We went through to a room where a scorched low ceiling was punctured with rips and tears.
There was a heap of chopped wood and detritus everywhere and a small fire burning in the maw where a gas appliance had been ripped out. From his window you could scan out across North London, Tottenham, Walthamstow, Chingford. The block was well secured, protected at night by different groups taking turns. The outside had been barricaded but the estate itself was fracturing, not on racial lines but those who lived here before the crisis and those who had come in after.
I looked across at the rows of tinned up houses and balconies wrapped in black plastic sheets.

Gary appeared. There were bookcases with old newspapers and pamphlets,
Kevin confirmed the news about Mark. I studied the waxy face, the dark hair, the way he twitched and sniffed a bit, always looking somewhere else. I stared at his scuffed trainers, thinking I don’t want you to deliver this news to me in scuffed trainers, I’ll remember them forever, they’ll be imprinted on this moment. I stared at the office furniture, the old three-piece suite grey with masonry dust, the webs hanging from the dislodged rafters.

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