Bucket Nut (24 page)

In the end I had to cross the public foyer in front of the box office to use the one the punters use. There were a few latecomers straggling in and they nudged each other and pointed. People are beginning to recognise me. They really are. And it gives me a buzz.

A woman turned away from the ticket counter. I should have recognised her with her back turned – especially with her back turned. Once a copper, always a copper – that's what I always say.

If I'd clocked her right off maybe I wouldn't have monged around trying to be recognised myself. Maybe I'd have nipped straight across the foyer. But I'm a very visible person. It's hard to nip anywhere.

‘Hello,' she said, ‘Your friend turned up yet?'

‘Can't talk now,' I said. And I shot across the hall into the bog on the other side.

The friggin' woman showed up everywhere. Every time I turned round there she was, just like the polizei.

I finished in the bog, went back across the foyer into the backstage side. And, would you believe it, there she was again, in the corridor outside the dressing-rooms.

‘Fuck off!' I said. ‘You don't come in here. Not you.'

She grinned at me, quite friendly-like, but it made my blood boil. Well I was wearing the black, wasn't I? When I'm wearing the black I'm not supposed to be nice, am I?

‘Listen,' she said, ‘listen to me for one short minute. Your friend Eleanor has got herself into very bad company.'

‘Piss off,' I said. ‘Don't you talk to me about bad company.'

‘Not you,' she said. ‘You never did her any harm I know of.'

‘Tell
her
that. You should see what she done to me.'

‘I did,' she said. ‘I told you I was a detective. Didn't I warn you? Well, didn't I?'

She did warn me. I had to admit that.

‘Doesn't matter,' I said. ‘You're still not supposed to be here. And anyway you're wasting your time. She ain't coming. She wouldn't show her face round me no more.'

‘They might make her.'

‘Who?'

‘Don't you understand?' she said. ‘She's bending over backwards to show she's still loyal to that singer and his family and friends. Count Suckle. Remember him? Haven't you had a look at the audience? The troops are gathering.'

‘What troops? What you bunnying on about?'

Just then Harry came down from the door to the arena. He looked like a worried man.

He said, ‘You, Miss Lee.'

‘Hello Mr Richards,' she said.

‘You not supposed to be here,' Harry said. ‘No members of the public allowed back here. You get me into trouble with the boss, Miss Lee.'

‘Okay,' she said. ‘Just tell Eva here who you saw in the audience. And if that golden girl shows up she could get hurt.'

She went back through the door into the foyer.

‘Nosy cow,' I said.

‘She not so bad, Eva,' Harry said. ‘She treat an old man with respect. Not like you, Eva. You got a mouth on you like a bunch of sharp knives.'

‘I'm the villain, Harry.' I suddenly felt very sad. I don't know why.

‘On them boards you the villain,' Harry said. ‘Not outside that ring you ain't. You should learn the difference, Eva. You should listen to your friends.'

‘I'm listening, Harry,' I said. I still felt very sad. Because Harry suddenly looked like an old man and he talked like an old man and he seemed like he was a long way away. Like my nan, when she died.

‘Then you better watch out,' Harry said. ‘There come a big bunch of Chinese folk into that audience. I don't know one from another, Eva,
but you should ask yourself what you done to Mr Cheng. Chinese folk don't come wrestlin', Eva, you know that.'

‘Shit!' I said, because I'd almost forgotten about driving the Astra through the Beijing Garden window. It seemed so long ago. I thought it was an eye for an eye. Account closed.

‘What you do, Eva?'

‘Shit,' I said again. ‘I didn't do shit, Harry. I didn't do nothing the Chengs didn't do first. It isn't my war, Harry. It's between the Chengs and Count Suckle. Why does everyone have to drag me in?'

‘You drag yourself in, Eva. You act tough and you talk mean when you be better off givin' the soft answer.'

‘Don't go on, Harry. I ain't the villain. Where's Mr Cheng and Auntie Lo? Where's Count Suckle?'

Harry gave me a look but he didn't have an answer.

‘And where was Bermuda Smith the night you had bother? He knew there was bother because
you
knew. Else why did you ask me for muscle? Answer me that, Harry. Where are the big boys? It's their war. But they ain't fighting, Harry. Oh, no. They're at home. They're staying alive. It's us gets the shaft. We're the soldiers. The dead soldiers, Harry.'

‘I don't like it,' Harry said. ‘Too many soldiers in that crowd I don't like.'

He went away, flip-flopping on his big flat feet.

‘Tell the guys out front, Harry,' I called after him.

‘I tell them,' he called back. ‘That's what we here for – crowd control. You better watch out too, Eva.'

I wasn't happy any more. I had let myself get cold, and my teeth hurt.

But the crowd sounded happy. There was a lot of screaming and yelling. It sounded like the Julios and the Wolverines were working them up nicely. Which meant that the Wolverines were beating the crap out of Flying Phil. Flying Phil was the young pretty lad who got scurfed by two older bullies while his father looked on helpless. The Julios were blue-eyes who played by the rules. The Wolverines would keep Flying Phil in the middle of the ring where he couldn't tag Danny and they'd work him over till the crowd went epileptic. Then he'd make one of his miraculous escapes so that Danny could chase them around a bit, and so on.

Another time I would have gone to have a look but my teeth hurt and I was cold so I went back to the dressing-room.

Lineker was asleep under the bench, but Ramses was sitting just where I'd left him, watching the door with his angry yellow eyes. He was an inspiration to me, that dog. I patted his head and he made a lunge for my hand.

‘That's my boy!' I said, feeling better. It was a good thing he still had his muzzle on.

I warmed up all over again. Time dragged. It's always like that. Maybe I should get to a gig late and not be ready so soon. But I can't keep away. It's too exciting. I want to keep every minute in a little box for late at night when I'm all alone. I want to bottle the sound and the smell and the feeling of having a bubble in my chest, because, later, when you're all alone at night there's nothing. Just nothing. This is something. This is what makes your heart bang against your ribs. And I want it.

They wanted to take it away from me. I could feel them out there – the Chengs, the Suckles, the polizei. All the Mr Deeds, the old men, the Mas and Nans – all of them. They do nothing but take things away. Maybe they had their chances once. Maybe they blew them. Who cares? But they are never going to nick this one off me. Never. It's real. Nothing else is real.

The interval came and went.

Then it was Harsh's turn.

After Harsh it would be me. And Rockin' Sherry-Lee Lewis. Us two. Out there. On the canvas which shone like a moon in the night.

I went out to watch Harsh.

Harsh is lovely to watch. He's like a song. He is all balance and rhythm. I can't understand why the crowd keeps on chatting and drinking while he's fighting. Well, yes, I can. They don't understand the finer points. That's why. They're idiots. Morons.

‘Oh, yes,' they say, ‘that's
real
wrestling,' and they go and get another pint from the bar, another packet of crisps for the kiddies.

I felt a movement behind me. It was Sherry-Lee Lewis.

‘Who's that?' she asked.

‘That's Harsh,' I said. I was proud of him. ‘He's my mate. He taught me.'

‘Yeah?' she said. She watched with narrowed eyes. Then she gathered her satin gown round her shoulders and turned away.

‘Well, flower,' she said over her shoulder, ‘he's leaving us with an awful lot of work to do.'

And she walked off. Her mam loomed out of the darkness and followed her.

Stupid mare. Well, not really. I knew what she meant, but she shouldn't have said it.

I let her go. I'd tell her how I felt about Harsh later. Where it counted.

I bounced on the balls of my toes. I couldn't keep still. There were tickly little worms running under my skin and that bubble in my chest.

I went back to the dressing-room. There was only a couple of minutes left.

From the end of the corridor I heard Mr Deeds' voice. At first he sounded pleased.

He said, ‘At last.'

And then, ‘You're late.'

And then, ‘Oi! You can't bring them in here.'

I folded my arms across my chest and I stood outside my dressing-room door. That brazen bitch! She'd come.

Well, let her come, I thought. She didn't mean squat to me.

The first thing I saw was Mr Deeds. He looked as if he was running backwards.

Then I saw three black guys pushing him.

Then I saw Goldie.

Goldie saw me.

She pointed a finger over Mr Deeds' shoulder. She said, ‘That's her!'

Everyone stopped in their tracks. I stared at Goldie, but she wouldn't look at me. Her eyes were dull. Dead animal eyes, I thought, dead animal.

Mr Deeds said, ‘C'mon fellers. We can sort this out later. Complimentary tickets all round. Wha'dya say?'

One of the guys said, ‘Stuff your tickets, man. It's her we want.'

Mr Deeds said, ‘Okay, okay. She's yours. But after. Right? She's going on in a minute.'

I was looking at Goldie. But she couldn't look at me.

‘This what you want?' I said.

She said nothing.

‘This what you want?'

‘Don't shout at me,' she said. ‘You always shout at me.'

She looked at me then. It was all so wrong.

She was beautiful. Her eyes were full of tears which spilled down those thick dark eyelashes. And she had a nasty great bruise on her cheekbone.

‘What they done to you, kid?' I asked.

‘Nothing,' she said. ‘Nothing, nothing, nothing. I'm paying your debts.'

Mr Deeds said, ‘Look fellers, gimme a break, will you. Come back later and we'll sort all this out. Eva's fighting in a minute.'

‘Yeah,' one of the guys said. ‘She's fighting. Us. Outside.'

Then Harsh came down the steps from the arena. He was with his opponent, Harry and another of the trainers.

They stopped.

Harry said, ‘Oh my Lord. Suckle's soldiers, Eva. Din't I tell you?'

Harsh said, ‘What's happening?'

‘It's Eva,' Mr Deeds said. ‘There's some mistake. These gentlemen don't want her to go on.'

‘That's right,' the guy said. ‘She's finished. She comes with us. No fuss. No mess.'

That was when Sherry-Lee Lewis, Star of the East, appeared. She floated in her red, white and blue satin robe, up to the crowd outside my door. She was a big woman. I told you that, didn't I? Bigger than Harsh, bigger than Harry, bigger than two of the guys Goldie brought.

Then I heard my music. Did I tell you about my music? It's ‘Satisfaction' with a lot of steel and brass but without the words.

That was it.

I said, ‘I'm on.'

The black guy said, ‘No you're not.'

And he took an open razor out of his pocket.

Bastard.

It's like I said. They all want to pinch it off me.

Sherry-Lee Lewis said, ‘Want any help, pet?'

‘Fuck off all of you,' I said.

I backed into my dressing-room and slammed the door. I untied Ramses and Lineker. I grabbed my bag.

I had Ramses' and Lineker's chains in one hand and my bag in the other.

The door flew open.

The three guys came shoving in. The bastard with the razor was first. Suckle's soldiers. Fucking squaddies.

Ramses leaped. He nearly pulled me arse over teatime. The bastard with the razor jumped back.

Everyone fell over themselves getting out the way. Suckle's wimps.

‘Yeah!' I shouted.

Out we went – Ramses, Lineker and me. I swung the bag with the tins of stew and the bolas in it. I didn't give a toss who I hit. Anyone stupid enough to get in my way got what they deserved.

‘Come on, boys,' I yelled to the dogs.

‘Come on!' I yelled to Harry. ‘Let's go!'

And we went. Up the stairs. Through the door. Out into the aisle.

Far below was the ring.

They were playing my music.

I could feel it all – down to the tips of my toes. The dogs, pulling my arm off. The heat. The dark. The crowd turning. Everyone straining their necks to watch me come down.

‘This is mine,' I said. ‘Nobody's going to take it off me. Nobody.'

‘The London Lassassin!'
yelled the MC in the ring.

The crowd started baying and booing like they always do.

‘Shut yer face,' I yelled back. ‘Who d'you think you are?'

‘Yak-yak-yak,' went Lineker.

‘Ro-ro-ro,' went Ramses.

And as we passed the crowd went bat-shit.

‘Look at the dogs!' they shouted.

‘She brought dogs!'

‘The bitch brought her dogs! Ha-ha-ha.'

‘Shut yer freakin' mouth,' I shouted. ‘Yer all morons.'

‘Freak,' they yelled back. ‘Slag. Cow. Slut.'

‘Ro-ro-ro,' went Ramses.

It was a good entrance, if I do say it myself. The best I'd ever pulled. I wanted to drag it out, slow it down. Even then, there was part of my brain saying, ‘Remember this. This is the night you fought Sherry-Lee Lewis at the old Ladywell Baths.'

But the dogs were yanking my arms out of my sockets, and, too soon, I was down at the ringside with Harry panting and flip-flapping behind me.