Lee Nelson
Aaron Spendelow
Jo Cotterill
Contains adult language and themes
Chapter 1 – Morning in Marley’s flat
I don’t remember the first time my father hit me. He was a fan of physical punishment. If I was rude, or I didn’t eat my dinner, or I didn’t get out of bed fast enough – WHAP. I used to squeeze into the space under my bed and cry silently, a pillow stuffed into my mouth so he couldn’t hear me – because he couldn’t bear weakness. Any hint that I was upset, he would beat it out of me.
I didn’t tell anyone. Why would I? Back then, parents were in charge. You did what you were told, and if you didn’t like it, you shut up about it.
Dad used to ride off on his Harley, leaving me bruised and battered, and I would open one of his cans of Stella and chug it down in one go. It dulled the pain.
Even now, years later, it still dulls the pain. He’s long gone these days, but it took me years to undo his mindset, years to leave the army where harsh words and physical punishments continued his work. I know I hurt others too. Kindness doesn’t come easy when you haven’t been shown any.
I wake alone and make coffee, taking milk from the fridge that is always stocked with Stella. I drink it standing at the sink, staring out of the window at the slice of sky I can see above the neighbouring apartment block. Maybe this evening I’ll head down to the arcade. I like the buzz and hum of people.
I slam the door behind me, run down the stairs and out into the alley, where I pull on my helmet, climb onto my father’s Harley – mine now – and roar off to my tattoo parlour, where I can spend the day painting other people’s scars into art. When you can’t use words, art is always there.
I can make the outside beautiful. What’s on the inside – well, that’s always harder, isn’t it?
Chapter 2 – Evening at the arcade
The arcade was an acid-trip of sensual insanity, Finn thought. Neon colours in jagged fonts splashed across arcade machines, the whizz and ping of the pinball machine, the underlying thunk and rumble of the bowling alley. And coating the air, the smell of chicken nuggets, fruit slushies and grease.
‘I love it,’ said Quinn, their eyes wide with delight as the four of them stepped through the doors.
Finn beamed down at his adopted child. ‘Good. Happy fifteenth birthday.’
‘Sorry you couldn’t spend it with your friends,’ said John, untangling his long black ponytail from his collar.
‘Didn’t have any anyway.’ Quinn shrugged. ‘I kind of like knowing that everyone who picked on me is a hundred miles away.’
Finn, John and Jakey shared a glance. Finn hadn’t been sure that uprooting Quinn to move south to Luton was the right decision, but this neighbourhood seemed to have a vibe that welcomed the odd ones. His demon senses tingled. He wasn’t the only not-entirely-human here.
‘Put those away,’ John muttered, seeing Finn scratch behind a furry ear with a claw.
‘Sorry.’ Finn retracted his claws.
‘Can I bowl first?’ Quinn asked.
Jakey draped an arm over their shoulder. ‘Course you can. And it’s a birthday tradition to keep drinking milkshakes till you throw up.’
‘That was one time!’
The four of them bickered cheerfully as Finn checked in and they headed to their lane.
*
Over in the retro corner, between the Pac-Man and Space Invaders machines, Juleka the dinosaur watched the customers happily. ‘This is my favourite kind of day,’ she said. Her metal joints creaked as she stretched.
The black and purple walkie talkie hung round her neck crackled with a throaty chuckle. ‘Every day is your favourite kind of day,’ it said.
‘I’ve been practising gratitude,’ Juleka said. ‘You should try it, Damien.’
The walkie-talkie coughed. ‘It’s hard to be grateful when you’re a ghost.’
‘Evan!’ exclaimed Juleka as a teenage boy wearing ear defenders and a hoodie with a star rounded the corner. ‘What are you grateful for today?’
Evan stopped and blinked. ‘Er. I dunno. Bees?’
‘Bees?’
‘Yeah. Cos without them, the planet would die, right?’
‘That boy’s a buzzkill,’ crackled Damien.
Juleka giggled.
‘What did he say this time?’ demanded Evan.
‘Oh – he agrees with you,’ Juleka improvised hastily.
Evan was sceptical. He stepped up to the walkie-talkie and said into it, ‘Look, Damien, you know you can move on any time, right? Just because you died here doesn’t mean you have to stick around.’ Shaking his head, he pushed open the service door and disappeared.
There was a moment’s silence, and Damien said quietly, ‘Maybe I like sticking around.’
‘Hey,’ said Juleka softly, ‘I like you sticking around too. Let’s go and play Whack-A-Mole.’
*
The birthday party was in full swing and Finn was coming out with his favourite German phrases every time one of the others got a strike. ‘Eindrucksvoll! Verrückt! Scheiße, ja!’
‘Language!’ said John.
‘Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte!’ said Finn, sticking out his tongue.
Quinn laughed. ‘Black Forest gateau,’ they told John.
Jakey was glancing across the lanes at two young men who had just started bowling. ‘Look at those two sweethearts. Aren’t they cute together? They must be on a date.’
*
They were not on a date.
At least, that’s what Carl kept telling himself. They were work colleagues, out on a work outing. Just the two of them. Porphyria was meant to come too but had cried off with a headache. He was beginning to suspect they’d done it on purpose. Every time he watched Nile’s strong hands pick up a bowling ball, it did weird things to his insides. Sometimes he thought he might puke.
‘You all right?’ Nile had noticed, of course. He was sensitive, damn him.
‘Yeah, fine.’ He ducked his gaze, picked up a ball and swung it straight into the gutter. ‘Shit.’
‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ Nile came closer – too close – and put a hand on his shoulder. Carl thought he might faint. ‘You look kind of anxious. Or ill. Do you want to go home?’
‘No!’ Carl burst out. Nile jolted backwards, his hand falling from Carl’s shoulder. Put it back, Carl begged silently. ‘Sorry.’ He took a deep breath; mustered a smile from somewhere. ‘I’m fine. I want to stay.’ So much. Can we stay here forever, just you and me? Or anywhere else? Just you and me?
Nile shook his head, amused. ‘You’re mad, you are. I never know what you’re going to say or do.’ He picked up another ball and passed it to Carl. ‘Go on, take your second shot. I’m sure you can do better.’
He didn’t. The second ball followed the path of the first, straight into the gutter and down into the no-points zone. Like my love life, thought Carl bitterly. There was no point torturing himself. The two of them had worked side by side for months, and he’d never picked up even a hint from Nile that the other man might like him that way. He should just be grateful for this – a whole hour just the two of them. Why did he always have to mess things up? You couldn’t make someone love you. He should try to accept that things were never going to change; that Nile would only ever be a friend.
Nile bowled a clean strike and celebrated by high-fiving Carl.
Carl vowed never to wash his hand again.
Chapter 3 – Death strikes
‘It’s good to see Quinn happy for once,’ John murmured to Finn as they both watched Quinn and Jakey mess about at the end of the lane.
‘It’s been a long time,’ agreed Finn in a low voice. ‘Poor kid. No one should go through what they did.’
‘You never told me the full story,’ John said.
‘I never will. But Quinn was a basket case when I took them in. Mood swings faster than a firing neuron. Concentration span of a goldfish. Could barely read or write and was hellbent on self-destruction. That’s what childhood abuse does to you.’
‘Their dad?’
‘Yeah. Some people should never be parents. I think he was in the army. Used to come home and take his anger out on Quinn. People hate the authorities but they did the right thing taking Quinn away from him. It’s been years of therapy, meds, hospitals, assessments…’ He smiled as he saw Quinn whoop in delight at knocking down all the pins. ‘And then those bastard kids at school – god, why are kids so cruel?’
‘A new start here,’ said John, reaching out to stroke Finn’s arm. ‘A clean slate.’
‘Yeah. I think this is a good place, you know? I have a good feeling about it.’
*
Marley was half-pissed at the bar already, flirting with the barmaid who had orange and pink hair and a purple lipstick smile. ‘What time d’you get off tonight?’ he was asking her.
She threw a sexy glance over her shoulder. ‘Eleven, why?’
‘I’ll make sure you get home all right,’ he told her.
‘Whose home?’ she bantered.
She turned to serve another customer and Marley sipped the rest of his beer and watched her appreciatively. He had a one hundred percent hit rate with women; they always said yes. It was hard getting rid when he tired of them, but eventually they would drift away broken-hearted and then he was free to move on to the next one. It wasn’t good to get attached. He’d learned that lesson the hard way. No one would tie him down again.
He drained the rest of the glass and slid off the stool. The trouble with beer was that it went right through you. He threaded his way through the arcade, between the coin slots, the levers, the bright plastic buttons. The kids, the women, the men – he automatically straightened when he passed the men, but he knew he could take any of them in a fight.
The route to the toilets took him past the bowling lanes. He gaze slid over the players, lip curling as he spotted the inevitable gay couple, passing over the kid with the huge mop of pink hair and black flared sleeves who stared back at him, eyes wide. What did they think they looked like, dressed like that? Parents had no control over their kids these days, thought Marley. The country was going to the dogs.
*
Quinn froze in the act of picking up a ball.
Him.
It couldn’t be. And yet it was, they were sure.
Ten years were suddenly wiped away as the memories came crashing back. The crack of the belt, the whistle of the air as they were flung against a wall, the impact knocking all the breath out of them. The smell of the cleaning products under the stairs where they were locked for hours on end. The constant threat of injury. The certainty of knowing that at some point, it would be death.
Quinn’s body seemed to lose all its strength. Their blood chilled and their legs gave way just as the milkshake made its escape, the pink vomit matching their bright mop of hair.
‘Oh, Christ,’ they heard someone at the next lane say in disgust as they vomited on the shiny wooden floor.
‘Quinn!’ Finn was at their side instantly. Gentle hands reached for them, but Quinn’s body reacted instinctively.
‘Don’t touch me!’
Finn jolted back, a long scratch vivid on his cheek which healed almost as soon as it appeared. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’
Quinn’s eyes were searching for him again, to no avail. They staggered to their feet, oblivious to the mess around them. ‘Where is he? Where’s he gone?’
‘Who? God, Quinn, you look awful.’ John and Jakey had moved forward to help. ‘Let’s get you outside.’
‘No, I…I saw him. He’s here. There. I saw him, looking at me. He went.’ Quinn’s words were a babble.
‘Who?’ Finn was at his side again. ‘Who, Quinn?’
Quinn wiped their mouth. ‘Him. My…my father.’
‘What?’ Now Finn was looking around wildly, though he had no idea what Quinn’s father looked like. The adoption company had never shown him a photo. ‘Are you sure?’
‘He looks exactly the same,’ whispered Quinn. ‘Same green camo like he always used to wear in the army. He hasn’t even changed his hair.’
Finn turned to John. ‘Get Quinn out of here. I’ll handle all of this.’
Evan Price was heading towards them, carrying a mop and bucket and looking distinctly queasy at the sight.
‘Sorry,’ said Finn to Evan, plucking a twenty from his wallet and holding it out. ‘Too much milkshake.’
Evan took the note and swallowed. ‘Is he OK?’
‘They’ll be fine. Sorry.’
Finn left the mess and stalked along the lanes, head turning this way and that. He had never known such anger. It sat in his stomach like a ball of lava, burning its way through his demonic insides. Demons were very familiar with anger, but this was something new. Cat ears and tail sprouted as he lost control of his corporeal form.
*
Marley exited the bathroom in a good mood, thoughts of the barmaid uppermost in his mind. He was brought up short by a figure blocking his way. His eyes blurred as he fought to keep focus. Were those cat ears on the man’s head? And why were his nostrils suddenly filled with the smell of burning?
‘You had a kid,’ said the figure, though whether the words passed through the air before landing in his ears, Marley couldn’t be sure. ‘You had a child.’
‘What’s it’s to you?’ Marley wanted to say, but found his head nodding in agreement. ‘Years ago.’ He bit his tongue.
‘Fifteen years today.’
‘Today? Is it?’ He’d forgotten the date. Forgotten the kid most of the time, to be honest. It was ten years since he’d seen them. ‘What’s it to you?’
‘Everything,’ said the figure. ‘Everything.’
Marley stared. For a moment, the air darkened around him. Colours drained from the flashing machines, sounds warped and became waterlogged. The players’ movements slowed and became sluggish. Somewhere in the dark, a child screamed.
And then, it cleared. The figure was gone.
Marley shook his head, blinked, and shrugged. You got all kinds of weird folk in this town these days. He started to make his way back to the bar.
Behind him, Finn picked up a bowling ball.
Chapter 4 – The morning after at the barbershop
‘His head cracked like an egg, they say.’ Felix Foxer stared at their reflection in the barbershop mirror. ‘Wish I’d been there; I could have offered the police my help.’ He glanced up at Porphyria, who looked puzzled. ‘I used to be a detective.’
‘You did? How many jobs have you had, Felix?’
Felix laughed, showing sharp white teeth. ‘Too many to remember. When you’re over a hundred, time blurs together.’
Porphyria smiled. ‘And still going strong, right?’
He looked at them fondly. ‘When you have good people around you, it’s easier.’
Porphyria rested a hand on Felix’s shoulder and paused for a moment. A steam train rushes into the night – a doctor grins, holding a large syringe – snap – metal bars of a cage – someone screams – warmth and kindness – soft fur in the dark – a galaxy of stars set to music. Porphyria sighed and removed their hand, the vision fading. ‘I’m glad the sadness is in the past now.’
‘Most of it. Today’s news doesn’t help though. Poor Marley. I mean, he could be grumpy, but he was a decent sort.’
‘I’m certainly going to miss his artistry,’ Porphyria commented, pulling aside their long blue hair and admiring the detailed tattoo that snaked its way across their shoulder. ‘Who’s going to ink me now?’
‘I was going to get a new tattoo next month,’ Nile commented as he passed, holding a large bottle of green dye.
‘You were?’ Carl looked up from the customer whose beard he was trimming. ‘You never said.’
‘I don’t tell you everything.’ Nile stuck out his tongue and went through to the store room.
Porphyria raised their eyebrows at Carl. ‘Soooo?’ they said meaningfully. ‘How did it go?’
Carl looked embarrassed. ‘How did what go?’
‘The date. Last night.’
‘What’s this?’ Felix’s foxy ears twitched. They looked between Carl and Porphyria, excited.
‘Nothing happened,’ said Carl.
‘You mean I invented a headache for nothing?’ Porphyria rolled their eyes.
‘I knew it!’ exclaimed Carl. ‘I knew you were lying!’
‘You two are made for each other,’ Porphyria told him.
‘Yeah, well, Nile doesn’t see it that way. And then the accident happened, so that killed any romantic idea anyway.’ He shuddered. ‘I’m never going to get Marley’s face out of my mind. It was the weirdest thing. He just – I dunno, he stumbled. And then he bent down, like he was doing up his shoelace. And this guy was coming past carrying a bowling ball, and somehow he tripped over Marley and dropped the ball – right on his head.’
‘God.’
‘Marley didn’t stand a chance. He just crumpled to the floor. His head – it just kept bleeding and bleeding, and people were screaming, and Marley’s eyes…you could tell he was dead. It was horrible.’
‘What happened to the guy who dropped the ball?’ asked Porphyria.
‘I don’t know. No one knows. No one got a good look at him; no one could agree what he looked like. I thought he was tall with black hair, but Nile said he thought he was short with red hair. Everyone had seen something different.’
The door jangled as two more customers came into the shop, one of them wearing a white cat like a stole around his shoulders.
Porphyria looked over. ‘Welcome. Do you have a booking?’
‘No,’ said the one wearing the cat. ‘We’re walk-ins. I finally persuaded John to get his ponytail trimmed.’
John, handsome with black ponytail and beard, grinned. ‘It got caught in the toaster this morning and short-circuited the house.’ He held out the end of the offending ponytail which was looking decidedly crinkled from heat.
‘Well, as luck would have it, we have a space,’ Porphyria said. ‘Though I have to say, we’re all a bit gloomy this morning. We lost a good friend last night.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Finn. The cat purred.
*
While Nile washed John’s hair and exclaimed over the damage from the toaster, Finn wandered the barber shop. He had never seen one like it. Bare light bulbs hung from the ceiling mixed with Moroccan lanterns and silver ornaments. Entwining it all was a mass of dark green ivy which he assumed was plastic until he discovered the source of it emerging from a corner of the shop.
‘It’s real,’ Carl commented, observing him. ‘Porphyria likes it that way. We keep telling them it’ll pull down the whole building one day but they won’t get rid of it. They say it was here first. They’re psychic, see, get all kinds of readings from places and people – and plants. You can’t argue with them.’
‘Psychic?’ Finn’s eyes narrowed. Demons didn’t hold with psychics. They thought they knew what was on the Other Side but they only ever got part of the picture. He stroked Mily Rily the cat thoughtfully. It might be best if they didn’t make this their regular barber shop. Porphyria might be a danger.
*
‘I’ve just realised I recognise you,’ John said to Nile. ‘From last night, at the bowling alley.’
‘Oh, were you there? Wasn’t it awful? I still can’t believe it.’
John frowned. ‘What happened?’
‘Marley – the guy next door. He’s lived here years – amazing tattoo artist. He died in an accident there last night – how did you miss it?’
‘Someone in my group was sick…’ said John, feeling a chill sweep over him.
‘Oh, that was your group! Yeah, I saw that, poor kid.’
‘So what happened?’
‘You must have just gone,’ said Nile. ‘A bowling ball…I still feel dizzy thinking about it. It fell right on his head.’
‘On this Marley guy?’
‘He owned the shop next door – that’s why it’s closed. Poor man, such a sad life. So much violence. I think he had a kid once – had to be adopted. He’d turned his life around since, though. Not an easy person to get to know, but…’
John paled as his gaze met Finn’s black eyes in the mirror. What did you do? he asked silently.
What I had to, came the answer.
Porphyria reached out a hand to move Finn slightly to one side, and froze at the contact. Visions flooded them. John saw their eyes widen, their jaw slacken, their cheeks hollow. His stomach dropped through the floor. He had seen this before.
They were in trouble. Big, big trouble.
*
Porphyria staggered, reaching out to the wall to steady themself and breaking the contact. Somehow they made it to the back room. So much darkness – so much love. So much guilt. And the biggest flash of black anger – Marley’s eyes looking up at him from under a bowling ball. Porphyria was used to human anger. But this – this was different. This man wasn’t entirely human…
‘Hey.’ It was the ponytail man, towel still draped around his shoulders. ‘You ok? I got you a glass of water.’
Porphyria reached for the glass. ‘Thanks.’ They didn’t even look at it before drinking it down.
*
Later, after the paramedics had called time of death and taken away the body, and the police had gone, they put the CLOSED sign in the window. Carl and Nile stood in the silence of the empty shop and stared at each other. ‘I don’t understand,’ Carl said, tears streaming down his face.
‘They were upset about Marley,’ said Nile uncertainly.
‘They didn’t do it on purpose, Nile!’ Carl blazed. ‘They wouldn’t! No one would drink hydrogen peroxide on purpose – you saw what it did to them!’
‘It can’t have been an accident – unless they just didn’t notice. Maybe they weren’t concentrating. Maybe they were ill. They did have a headache last night –’
‘That was a total lie, you dimwit! They invented a headache so it would be just you and me.’
Nile stared at him. ‘What? Why?’
‘Because I’ve been in love with you forever and you haven’t noticed, and Porphyria was trying to get us together!’ Carl yelled, his chest heaving.
Nile stood as though turned to stone. ‘You’re in love with me?’
‘Forget it,’ Carl said, grabbing his jacket and flinging open the shop door. ‘Forget it, it’s pointless. Everything’s pointless now.’
The door slammed, and one of the light bulbs fell from the ceiling and smashed on the floor.
Chapter 5 – Love after grief
ONE MONTH LATER
‘You gotta drag the front foot forward as you lift,’ Evan said, watching Quinn try the skateboard trick again. ‘Otherwise the board won’t get off the ground.’
Quinn brushed their pink hair out of their face. It was a hot day in the park. ‘I’m doing that.’
‘You’re not though. Let me show you again.’
‘No, I got it,’ Quinn said, irritated. ‘Just wait.’
Evan sat back down on the concrete cross-legged. It made him kind of itchy to sit and watch someone else have a go on his skateboard. Quinn didn’t know how privileged they were. No one had ever been allowed a go on Evan’s board. Evan wasn’t even sure why he’d offered, to be honest. The kid was clearly bored while the three adults they were with sat around and chatted. Quinn had seemed relieved when Evan had waved them over. ‘You want a go?’ he’d asked.
‘You sure?’
‘Yeah.’
Evan had shown them how to place their feet on the board, how to lean to change direction – and then demonstrated an ollie. ‘I saw you at the arcade,’ he commented now, watching them try to kick the board into the air.
‘Oh? I didn’t see you.’
‘I cleaned up your puke,’ Evan said, instantly regretting it. Why tell them something so embarrassing?!
Quinn’s face flushed and they stared down at the ground. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s OK. It’s my job. Well, that and other stuff.’
‘I thought I saw my dad.’ Quinn paused for a moment, one foot on the board. ‘It was so weird. I haven’t seen him for, like, ten years. But it can’t have been him. I must have imagined it.’ They shrugged, and tried the trick again. ‘Hey! I did it!’
‘Hey!’ Evan’s face lit up and his antennae, tucked under his hair, glowed gold. ‘Nice job!’
Quinn grinned at him. ‘Told you I could do it. Teach me another one.’
*
‘It’s lovely to be out in the sun,’ said Juleka, stretching up her neck to the sky and closing her eyes. ‘It’s been such a gloomy time.’
‘I’m tired of hearing about death,’ crackled Damien through the walkie talkie. ‘That’s all anyone’s talked about in the arcade for weeks. First that tattoo man, then the hairdresser. Horrible. It’s bad enough dealing with my own death – I don’t want to know about other people’s.’
‘It’s nice to see people happy now though,’ mused Juleka, watching three men stretched out on a park bench. Just ahead of them, a boy wearing a star hoodie was trying to teach a kid with a mop of pink hair how to skateboard. There was a lot of laughter.
‘Stay invisible,’ Damien reminded her.
‘I know.’ They were on their way to a concert in town. The summer evening threw long shadows across the path as Juleka padded quietly along. Soon the huge archway of the Dallow Stadium loomed into view. ‘PURPLE TOAST MAGIC PLAYS HERE TONIGHT!’ was splashed across the LED screen in multicolours.
Damien scoffed. ‘Band names are getting sillier.’
‘They’re not,’ said Juleka. ‘I heard the other day of an old band called “The The”.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘Nope.’
They passed under the archway, but the crowds were increasing. ‘I’d better wait to one side,’ said Juleka. ‘People keep bumping into me and looking confused.’ She squirmed into a gap behind the archway.
Not far away, biting his nails, was Nile. He scanned the excited punters as they flooded into the grounds. This might not work, he thought. He was probably about to make the biggest fool of himself. But if you wanted something, you had to try, right?
Through the crowds, he spotted Carl, and his stomach flipped. His courage nearly failed him, but then he stepped forward, right into Carl’s path.
Carl saw him and stopped, startled. ‘Nile. Um…hey.’
‘Look, I know we haven’t seen each other since…’ Nile had practised this speech, but now it dried on his tongue. He tried again. ‘You haven’t been replying to my messages.’
‘No.’ Carl looked at the ground.
‘I’m sorry,’ Nile said. ‘I really am. About everything. I didn’t know how you felt. I didn’t know how I felt. I think I – what you said – it made me realise…’
Carl looked up and their eyes met. ‘I wasn’t going to come to the concert,’ he said. ‘We bought the tickets so long ago – you, me and Porphyria.’
Nile swallowed. ‘I miss them.’
‘Me too.’
‘I’ve missed you, Carl. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you said…what you said.’ He reached for Carl’s hand. ‘You know I’m no good at this stuff. But life’s too short. And I read this thing that said, “Through grief you find love” and I just –’
But he didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence because Carl kissed him, stopping the words, stopping the thoughts, starting a fire deep inside him. How had he been so oblivious to this magical person for so long?
Invisible in the shadows, Juleka watched. ‘Awww,’ she said softly. ‘Look at that. Through grief you find love, that’s what he said. I like it.’
‘You big softie,’ said Damien.
‘D’you think I’ll ever find someone who loves me like that?’ wondered Juleka wistfully.
There was a pause. Then Damien said, ‘What if you already have?’
‘Nah, I’d have noticed. Come on, let’s go in.’
The sudden metal clanking from the invisible dinosaur jolted Carl and Nile apart. ‘What the hell was that?’ Carl looked around but could see nothing out of the ordinary.
‘Don’t care,’ said Nile. ‘You’re so beautiful.’
‘What?’
‘Come here.’
‘What about the concert?’
‘What concert?’
‘Never mind…’
The End
Luton Literature’s Storytelling Project was made possible thanks to our funders, Arts Council England and Luton Rising through Bedfordshire and Luton Communities Fund.