Dave Trellis and the Allotments of Doom (11 page)

‘You’re
learning. You know it’s strange; all of our visitors have politics
in spades, but not one of them has religion.’

‘So you’re
against that too are you Dave?’

‘No. Oh no lad.
I think anyone can believe in what they want; As long as they don’t
expect it to change the way I live my life.’

‘Personally I
think religion should be banned,’ said Fergus, ‘that and
substantial wealth.’

‘Well, they
tried that didn’t they and look how it turned out. Anyways,
religion and politics are poor subjects for a morning such as this.
Don’t you want to know where we’re going?’

‘Of course, but
you weren’t going to tell me till it suited you and I wasn’t going
to give you the satisfaction of making me wait.’

‘Brentford,’
said Dave and smiled

‘Really?
Brentford is the secret location of the Dark Library?’

‘Aye lad and a
cracking town it was, before it got swallowed by the sprawl. Would
you like to know what the Dark Library is?’

‘Of course
Dave, but again I wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction by
asking.’

‘It’s a bit
like the British Library, but whereas the British Library has a
copy of the Guttenberg Bible, the Dark Library has all the bits
they missed out and the notes they made when deciding what to put
in. It’s a repository of information that the powers that be feel
should be quietly forgotten.’

‘So who runs
it? The government?’

‘No, I suspect
an off-world influence; to be honest lad I don’t know. They don’t
run it for our benefit either. It’s a bit like someone, somewhere
wants to keep tabs on what really goes on down here. Anyway it’s a
marvellous resource when you want to find the truth; all the dark
secrets of history are there.’

‘Who killed
JFK?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Are there
really aliens?’

‘Hmm, I think
that one is already answered.’

‘Yeah, sorry, I
meant UFOs, but it’s a pointless question.’

‘No lad, it is
a good question. There are UFOs, but consider this; as all the
visitors come via Huddersfield, who is running around in those
little shiny ships?’

Fergus looked
at Dave and raised his eyebrows.

‘No lad, I
won’t tell you. Look it up in the library. It’s a bit of a laugh
and I won’t spoil the joke.’

‘You know, I
think I am going to enjoy this visit to the library,’ said
Fergus.

‘Not as much as
the mutt.’

Fergus raised
his eyebrows again.

‘You wait and
see,’ said Dave.

Dave and Fergus
stood on a stone wharf, the rowing boat moored behind. The dog
yowled at Dave.

‘I promised
didn’t I? Come on lad, we have to find a pet shop. Casanova here
needs a bit of fettle.’

Some while
later, Fergus knelt on the pavement brushing ‘Coat finisher’ on to
the dog, while Dave struggled with the nail clippers.

‘Just bloody
stand still will you,’ said Dave and yowled something.

The dog
stiffened, but stayed still, as Dave finished clipping.

‘Right, there
you go,’ said Dave and stood up.

Fergus had to
admit the dog looked fantastic. Its coat gleamed; it stood head up
and proud, daring the world to judge it.

‘You look
lovely, but smell a bit of a ponce,’ said Dave.

The dog’s
hackles rose and it barked and yowled at Dave.

‘Alright, keep
your hair on. I’m not the one who’s supposed to appreciate it.’

The dog stomped
off down the road.

‘Oh bugger,’
said Dave, ‘it’s in a right huff now. Never mind, just follow the
mutt, it’s not far.’

The dog led
them through a car park at the back of a block of council flats,
right past a large gang of rough looking men.

‘Oi granddad,
you got that money you owe me?’ one of them shouted; it was hard to
tell them apart, as the hoods and scarves were up.

The gang flowed
around Fergus and Dave like magic and the dog sat down ten yards
away and watched.

‘Are you deaf
old man? Give us the money – now.’

‘If I don’t
give you money are you going to give me a slap?’ asked Dave.

‘Too fuckin’
right old man, cough up.’

‘I am
accompanied by a large dog you know,’ said Dave.

Dave looked
over at the dog. It stared at him and then looked away.

‘Ah. I see,
like that is it.’ Dave coughed twice and hummed a note.

‘Can you give
me a C?’ asked Dave, ‘I don’t have perfect pitch.’

‘Are you takin’
the piss?’ said the man and thrust his head forward.

‘Fergus?’ asked
Dave.

‘Errm, Dave,
perhaps we ought to give these gentlemen some cash and get back to
civilisation, like right now.’

The dog whined,
it was a perfect middle C.

‘Ah thank you,
hmmm, hmmm. Got it,’ said Dave, ‘Now listen carefully. I do have
money in abundance; I came by it through hard work and careful
saving. I am not going to cough up like a broken cash dispenser
just because some lary bloke growls in my face. You have exactly
one bar to bugger off, before I administer a brief, yet painful
lesson in the art of negotiation.’

‘You stupid old
fuck. You had yer chance, now cop for – ‘

Dave
jack-knifed forward. His forehead struck the man’s face with brutal
force.

‘Trailers for
sale or rent,’ sang Dave in a clear, pleasant tenor and pivoted
with blinding speed on his heel. His left leg rose with precision
and his heavy boot smacked into the side of a gang member’s
head.

‘Rooms to let
fifty cents,’ sang Dave as his fists flashed, in short jabs,
striking stomach and chin.

Dave dropped
and pivoted, sweeping the legs from another gang member. Dave’s
gnarled fist, cracked upwards into the man’s jaw as he fell.

‘No phone, no
pool, no pets.’

Dave bounced
up, grabbed another by the lapel, and smashed his forehead into the
surprised face.

‘I ain’t got no
cigarettes.’

Dave cocked his
left elbow, striking one throat on the back swing and shot his fist
forward, flattening a nose.

‘Ah, but.’

Dave launched a
right hook and knocked another straight off his feet.

‘Two hours of
pushing broom. Gets a eight by twelve, four bit room.’

The remaining
three stepped back and Dave threw his arms wide and belted out the
last line.

‘I am a man of
means, by no means… king of the road.’

The last three
legged it, Dave looked over to the dog and nodded.

The dog
charged. A blue-black blur leapt and landed on the back of the
first fleeing man, who staggered under the weight. Then the dog
kicked off with its back paws, sending the villain flying into a
wall. It flew through the air like a furry torpedo and crashed into
the side of the next man, flooring him as deftly as Dave’s boot.
With a scamper of claws, it ran straight through the last fleeing
man, upending him like a skittle. His head hit the concrete with a
hollow thud, and then there were none.

‘That was
incredible,’ said Fergus.

‘Well, I am a
Shedi Warrior,’ said Dave.

‘A what?’

‘The Way of the
Whippet, lad; Yorkshire’s secret martial art.’

‘And the
singing?’

‘Oh, just a
conceit, my personal style, I fight in time to shower songs.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Song sung by
men in the shower. You know, like ‘Please Release Me’ and
‘Delilah’’

The battered
men started recovering and a few made it to their feet. Dave
started singing loudly.

‘I saw the
light on the night that I passed by her window

I saw the
flickering shadows of love on her blind

She was my
woman

As she deceived
me I watched and went out of my mind’

He flexed his
shoulders and performed a few practise punches. The car park
emptied, though some had to be carried, and calm returned.

‘Come on,’ said
Dave ‘The library is almost open.’

‘That’s it?’
said Fergus, ‘That little bookshop is the mysterious Dark
Library?’

‘As in so many
things lad, looks are deceptive,’ said Dave and marched into the
shop.

Fergus took a
second look at the faded ‘Atrum Library’ sign and grubby paintwork
before following Dave.

The interior
was more like a gentleman’s club than a bookshop with leather
armchairs and sofas. The walls were oak panelled and there was not
a bookshelf in sight. At the end of the room was an archway that
led to a staircase. To the right of the arch was a large mahogany
counter. Behind it stood a tall, black-haired man in a dark
Victorian suit that reminded Fergus of an undertaker or possibly
President Lincoln.

‘Delighted to
see you again Mr Trellis,’ said the man at the counter and gave a
slow bow.

‘And you
Librarian,’ said Dave, ‘the mutt is paying, being as he has
information to trade.’

The Librarian
leaned forward and looked down over the edge of the counter. He
gave a couple of short barks and a long yowl.

The dog barked
and nodded.

‘Indeed, I will
call our Visitor Liaison Officer down to the front desk.’

He waved his
hand in the air and a small blue square appeared. He pressed it
once and it vanished.

‘This here is
Mr Fergus Loaf, an associate.’ said Dave, ‘He needs a library card,
and I have references.’

Dave handed
over an envelope. The librarian took it and looked Fergus up and
down, his face solemn. He opened the envelope and scanned the
contents.

‘As you know Mr
Trellis our membership is very exclusive and extremely restricted.
There is a long waiting list of candidates of the first water.

However due to
your honoured position and long association with this establishment
I will consider Mr Loaf’s application with care. I am sure we can
find a gap towards the middle of the waiting list,’ said the
librarian and smiled.

Dave took
Fergus aside, guiding him by the shoulder.

‘Look lad, I
was hoping to get you a library card, what with the mutt paying
from an unlimited account. They cost a 100 grand. However, it
appears I over-estimated the weight I carry in the scheme of
things. Looks like you’ll have to hang around here and wait for
me.’

Behind them,
the dog stood up, paws on the counter, muttering and growling to
the librarian.

‘You should
have told them I was from MI6 or something,’ said Fergus.

‘They would
have flung you out on your ear, lad. They don’t allow any of those
government types in here. If the President of the United States of
America asked for a library card, they would inform him politely
that he needs to apply through the proper channels.’

Fergus looked
disappointed.

‘Never mind
lad, here have some walking around money,’ said Dave, reached into
his jacket and handed Fergus a simple black wallet.

Fergus opened
it to find a thick wad of twenty pound notes.

‘And remember
what I said about keeping a low profile.’

‘Excuse me Mr
Trellis, Mr Loaf?’ said the librarian.

Dave and Fergus
returned to the counter. The librarian beamed at them, he looked
happy and excited.

‘Mr Loaf, I am
so pleased to meet you,’ said the librarian and held out his hand.
Fergus shook it and looked bemused.

‘This is quite
an occasion and I must say a great honour for us all.’

‘What are you
blathering on about librarian?’ said Dave.

‘The dog has
given a verbal reference for Mr Loaf. A bona fido you might say,’
said the librarian and tittered.

‘I fail to see
the point,’ said Dave, ‘but if this means the lad gets a library
card, then that’s grand.’

‘Mr Trellis,
the dogs never offer references, never. And to give one for a
human, well it’s unprecedented, a signal honour indeed. A great day
Mr Trellis, a great day.’

‘Hang on a
minute,’ said Dave, ‘You mean to say they refused to give me a
reference?’

‘Mr Trellis,
you know our policy. I can neither confirm nor deny any details
about your references,’ said the librarian, serious all of a
sudden.

Dave looked
down at the dog.

‘We will talk
about this later.’ said Dave, ‘Any road, so the lad gets a library
card then?’

‘Oh yes, Mr
Trellis indubitably yes.’

‘Well then
Fergus, you better thank the mutt. Shake hands.’

Fergus started
to reach out his hand.

‘No, not like
that you idiot, want to lose a finger? Get down on all fours.’

Fergus got down
on his hands and knees and the dog lunged forward and banged its
head into Fergus’s forehead. It hurt, but Fergus had the foresight
not make a sound. The dog gave a short, happy bark.

‘Indeed, all
square, debt paid,’ said Dave.

‘But there is
more Mr Trellis. This arrived at the library yesterday.’

The librarian
waved his hand and a small screen appeared, he pressed something
and foot high, bright blue letters appeared.

INSTRUCTION –
GIVE FERGUS LOAF ACCESS TO THE LIBRARY.

‘It is not so
unusual for the Murgatroyd to give a reference, but it means that
every representative group of off-world visitors has given Mr Loaf
a reference. This means that I am empowered to offer Mr Loaf a full
library card.

The first human
to be so honoured since Mortimore the Great. ‘Blessed be the sofa’’
said the librarian and beamed at Fergus.

‘Erm, thank
you,’ said Fergus, who didn’t quite see why such a fuss; after all
it was just a library card.

‘Hang on a
minute,’ said Dave, ‘I thought I had a full library card?’

‘Indeed Mr
Trellis, it is a full library card for this branch. But it’s what
we librarians refer to as a local card. A full library card gives
full access to any branch anywhere. Mr Loaf could even visit … The
Head Branch.’ There was awe in his voice.