Artis-Ann , Features Writer

Forareian: Avenue Cars By Chris Speck

‘Forareian’. Anyone recognise it? It’s the only way I can think of to spell it – as it is spoken - since I’ve never seen it written down. My mother-in-law was a southerner and one of the first people to let me know I had a northern accent (despite my being subjected to elocution lessons as a child). She could not understand what I meant when I said, ‘It was forareian.’ I was saying something or other was ‘for our Ian’ but it was indistinguishable to her, a foreign language, and I’ve never forgotten the conversation. The blurb of this book is clear but makes reference to ‘Our Dave’ and it attracted my attention. Hull is somewhat south of my native north-east but we obviously understand each other; the turn of phrase is familiar, endearing and friendly, like Dave, who is the type of chap you can depend on. He’ll do anything for you - as long as you don’t cross him!

Our Dave is well-known to all the locals around the docklands of Hull. Rough and ready people who have their own code and look out for each other. Our Dave runs Avenue Cars, a taxi firm which is not as big a concern as it once was. He only has three drivers now, all women, and they rely on the council contract, transporting kids to school; kids, that is, who don’t go to the local comp but who need a different kind of education for all sorts of reasons.

A dodgy copper, an arrogant swank and the Mancs, boys from Manchester, all get their comeuppance. Our Dave has done things in his past of which he is ashamed; he feels remorse and has tried to put that life behind him but he knows he would do the same again if he had to. Chanterlands Avenue, where the taxi firm is based, is like so many streets in so many towns: full of life and brimming with characters, with an overriding sense of normality as they go about their daily life. His three drivers all have history and each has their own problems to deal with. Bev is a tough nut with a criminal record who has needed to defend herself from violent men, more than once. Liz lives with her disabled son; let down by the boy’s father, she struggles to make ends meet and needs this job as much to escape the house as for the money. Dilva lives with her extended family and memories of what she has seen and done as a Kurdish soldier, memories which she often finds all-consuming. There’s not much to laugh at but there is something genuine about each of them and the reader sympathises with them as they evolve, revealing their strengths and vulnerabilities along with their true identities. More importantly, they end up caring for each other. One or two of their passengers have an unwitting part to play in the narrative but there is somewhat less sympathy for them even though they too become victims of circumstance.

By the end of Chapter One, Our Dave has ‘to see a man about a dog’ – another saying which I well remember from my childhood even though we never did get a dog! It appears Avenue Cars might not be his only business, not that he advertises much of what he does. Those who need to, know. A run-down taxi firm could not support his lifestyle nor pay his staff, but no one asks questions of this understated chap. People rely on Our Dave even if they don’t necessarily realise it. He makes money for what he can do for others, to support his family and his community; there’s nothing Scrooge-like about Our Dave.

...the sense of justice as the ends are tied up is satisfying.Events take a turn when Avenue Cars is threatened: a takeover bid from an anonymous source needs to be repelled and Our Dave needs his wits about him especially when he discovers it’s a two-pronged attack and those responsible don’t seem to learn that Dave is far more resourceful than they are. He doesn’t underestimate his opponents whereas their naivety and misplaced arrogance leaves them vulnerable. The attacks come in waves and each of his drivers feels the pain, but they are loyal and each knows Dave has their back. A dodgy copper, an arrogant swank and the Mancs, boys from Manchester, all get their comeuppance. As for Leatherhead, she really should have heeded her own advice: don’t underestimate Our Dave. Robbo Doyle is wise enough to reach a gentleman’s agreement with Our Dave in the end, as they express a grudging respect for each other and go their separate ways. Two survivors in a dark world.

There is authenticity in the naturalistic style of this novel even if I know nothing of Hull’s gangland (or if Hull even has a gangland); the sense of justice as the ends are tied up is satisfying. Community is important and a community is made up of people. Friendship is important in a world which can be tough. Love and respect, in all their forms, are vital to survival.


Avenue Cars is published by Flat City Press