Deadfolk (18 page)

Anyhow, I followed this feller right up to the corner of the park. He gave us another Lassie look then slipped on through a hole in the fence.

I got down on me knees and took a gander through the hole. Looked like your typical garden on the other side. I could hear him padding off up the path and then stopping—at the spot where he’d stowed the box, I hoped. The fence were about six and half feet tall. I jumped up and got my arms over the top. I had me leather on so I weren’t worried about tearing anything. But fucking up my togs were the least of it, as it turned out. I just couldn’t get the rest of my arse over the fence. I kept throwing me leg over but my boot just slid helplessly down the wood. I were puffing and sweating, but there weren’t no turning back now. Specially since Lassie were down there on the other side looking up at us, one ear cocked.

He were willing us over. I fucking knew he were. He were willing us over cos he were on my side. I winked at him, took a lungful, and chucked me leg up one more time.

My foot went over this time. I hauled meself upright. It were bastard uncomfortable, seventeen stone of gravity forcing a strip of wood up between my arse cheeks. But I needed a rest so I stayed like that for a bit. I had a gander down below to take me mind off the pain, seeing where were safest to land. Then the fence collapsed from under us.

Just like a cat will always land on his all fours, I always lands on my arse. Gives you a jolt but all round your arse is better than your swede for landing on. Specially when your swede’s already in bad shape like mine were. Anyhow, I dusted meself off and hauled upright, noting with a shake of the head that the fence had come down all round the garden. Lights was coming on inside the house and Lassie were barking at us. ‘Here, boy,’ I says, holding out my hand as folks does with dogs. He walked up and calmly bit us on the thumb.

Just as I were grabbing for his ear, the back door opened and a feller came out in tartan dressing gown and slippers. He looked familiar. The dog ran up and started jumping up and down in front of him.

‘Wh—? Wha—? Who the blinkin’ flip are you?’ he says. And by his voice I knew for surely he were the feller from the graveyard the other day.

‘Oh,’ I says, trying to recall what I’d said to him back then. But I couldn’t. All I knew were that I’d had to get rid of him fast, before he stumbled on Baz. Fuck knew how I’d done it. ‘Yer posts is up wrong,’ I says. Had to say summat, didn’t I? ‘Thass why the whole lot came down and not just the one panel. Ain’t got em set deep enough.’

He were stepping back and forth like he weren’t sure whether to come out and give us what for or go in and lock the door. It’s that kind of hesitation that a feller can grab hold of and wring dry. ‘This dog here,’ I says, pointing at the mongrel who were now shoving his snout up the feller’s dressing gown. ‘Yours, is it?’

‘Basil? Aye, he’s m…What of it? What you want with Basil the dog?’

‘If you’re his owner then you’re in all kinds o’ shite. See, a dog ain’t responsible for his actions, is he. Far as he’s concerned the world’s his oyster and there ain’t no such a thing as property.’

‘Hang on a sec. Er…’ He stuck his head back inside and says: ‘Stay there, Ma.’ Then he came back out and says: ‘Woss he done now?’

‘Woss he done? Don’t tell us you don’t know. Thass—’

‘How ought I to know? Can’t know all he gets up to, can I? He ain’t, er…ain’t been bitin’ arses again, has he? Partial to folks’ arses, he is.’

‘Well, matter of fact, aye. He bit us. And other stuff besides.’

‘Oh bother,’ he says, looking behind him to make sure his mam couldn’t hear. ‘What can I say, mister? I’m sorry an’ that. He’s the worst flippin’ zample of a dog as feller ever strapped collar on. Fourteen year old, he is. I’d of had him under them roses over there long ago, but fer Ma. Her dog, see. Can’t do no wrong in her eyes, can Basil the dog. Even bit my own arse once an’ she reckoned I’d asked fer it.’

He came a bit closer and whispers: ‘When Pa left this here Earth, she went out and found this puppy who were borned the same day. Same day Pa died, like. Well, cut a long un short, Basil here is Pa. Same name an’ everythin’. Ma’s one o’ them what believes in reincoronation an’ that, see. Reckons folks reaps what they sows.’

‘Well I’ll be buggered,’ I says, glancing at Basil with a new respect. ‘What do you reckon to all that?’

‘Reincoronation? Bollocks, ennit. But sometimes I looks at him and gets a shiver right up me spine. He behaves like Pa, see. Looks like him an’ all. Right down to the…’

‘Oh aye? The ear, was you gonna say?’

He peered over his shoulder and moved closer. ‘He were only a puppy still. One day I come home and finds him like this, bandage wrapped round his conk. What do you reckon? Hardly fell off, did it? Same side as Pa’s an’ all.’

‘How’d Pa lose his?’

‘Same way as this un.’ We both looked at the house, where you could see the old bird squinting at us out the kitchen window. Both shivered and all. I did anyhow.

‘Listen, pal,’ I says. ‘I won’t give you no trouble if you helps us out with the other thing he done.’

‘What other thing?’

‘He robbed us.
Mugged
us. From behind. Came from nowhere he did as I were walkin’ along. Run up and bit us on the arse. I lets out a cry, in agony, like. An’ I drops the package I were carryin’. A box it were. Well, Basil here gets it an’ hares off with it before I knows what’s what. Been lookin’ for him ever since. Thass what led us here.’

‘Box, you says?’

‘Aye.’

‘Sorta box?’

‘Well, it were…squarish, like. And little enough so’s a dog’s jaws can haul it. But not too little. Oh, and a bit heavy. Heavy enough so’s you’d hurt yer foot if you kicks it. Why, know where it is does you?’

He crossed his arms and had a quick gander over his shoulder. When he turned back he were chewing his lip and looking at the grass. ‘Well…valuable, is it?’

‘Woss it to you?’

‘Er…thing is, er…we had it, like.’

‘Aye? And where is it?’

‘Well, we…’ He took a step backward. ‘Look, mister, you’d of done same. How was we to know? He were—’

‘Who? What?’

‘Easy, mister,’ he says, putting his hands up. ‘Feller came by fer it earlier, didn’t he. About half nine, ten. Says a dog run off with his box an’ he’d follered it here. Seemed a decent sorta feller, like. So I gives it to him. What else could I do, eh? You’d of done same.’

But I weren’t listening to him now. I couldn’t even see him. All I could see were meself up at the bar in Hoppers, smart suited and cigar smoking, nodding at the fellers and fondling every lass that came within armshot. Only it were fading. The scene were fading.

‘What were in it, eh? Little bottle o’ whisky or summat? Eh? Maybe a Bible? Summat valuable? Can’t think what else. Gonna tell us or what?’

‘Woss this feller look like, then?’

‘Well,’ he smiled, thinking he were off the hook. And he were, truth be told. Doing him over wouldn’t get the doofer back, would it? I ain’t thick, you know. ‘He were about so high, with hair on his head. And long trousers on.’

‘Long…? What colour hair?’

‘Ain’t sure. It were dark.’

‘How tall?’

He put his hand up again, about a foot different from the last time.

We stood like that for a bit, me thinking up questions and him shivering in his dressing gown. But that weren’t getting us nowhere. ‘Soz about yer fence,’ I says.

‘Ah, the fence,’ he says. ‘Ah, sod it. Nut’n much you can do fer that. You’re right, though. Posts wasn’t deep enough.’ But I were already on my way.

I stopped just before a fallen panel, hearing summat else from him. ‘You what?’

‘Regals,’ he shouts again. Lights was coming on upstairs in the neighbouring houses. ‘He were smoking Regals.’

‘For surely?’

‘Aye. Sure as I puts deadfolk underfoot for a livin’.’

I could see from across the road that Finney’s car were empty. I had a gander around the park to see if he were pissing or shitting behind a bush or summat. But he weren’t. Back on the street not a thing moved. Not even a cat. Or a one-eared dog. I tried the driver’s door.

To Finney, your Allegro were the most desirable motor a feller could get behind the wheel of. He reckoned the sight of an Allegro would bring out the crook in a clergyman, forcing him to try the handle as he strolled by. I can’t say as I agreed with him. Ain’t many folks who’d argue against your Capri 2.8i being the premier motor on the road. But locking up is a good idea anyhow, even if you drives a Hillman Imp. And Finney knew that. Which had us scratching my head when the door opened.

There were nothing to be found inside. Only Finney’s fags and lighter on the dash and the keys still in the slot. I got in and locked the door. He’d be back in a bit. Seen Basil the dog and run after him like as not. Be chasing for hours if he kept the dog in his sights, would Fin.

Aye, that’s what’d happened.

The smell were getting to us again. I lit one up and rolled down the window a mite. I looked at the keys and thought for a bit about going after Fin. It were dark and quiet and a pleasant night all in all. Up yonder the moon were gibbous and yellow. My head were starting to feel numb rather than battered. And it felt right good when I shut me eyes for just a moment.

It were me and Baz and Beth at the kitchen table. My old man were sitting somewhere behind us and all, but I couldn’t turn my head to see him. You could hear him, mind, that heavy breathing he always done and which I hated. We was playing cards. The feller I’d killed on the riverbank came through the back door sopping wet and dripping all over. He had a barbel in each hand, both bigger than the two Finney had robbed off him. In fact they was so big they trailed along the floor, leaving big wide stripes of red on the lino. Beth glared at him and put a
Mangel Informer
on the floor for him to stand on. Then she got a mop out and started on the fish blood. ‘Mind if I joins in?’ says the feller.

‘Aye,’ says Baz, not looking up from his hand. ‘I does mind. You looks like a cunt to me. Smells like one an’ all. Now fuck off.’

Beth got up and dumped the cleaning-up kit on the table, but Baz didn’t seem to notice. It were hard to tell what game we was playing. Seemed like I had too many cards in my hand, about two hundred by the looks of it. And all of em were the king of hearts. Only it weren’t a king, it were Nathan the Barman. Beth took the two barbel off the feller and wrapped em in pastry with some taters and onions and plonked it in the oven. The door were only open a second or two but I saw a few other pies in there already. Then she went back to the wet feller and started stroking his face and licking his neck. It were no sort of behaviour for a wife to be displaying, I can tell you. But this were a dream and there were nothing I could do. Beth took her top off. She were wearing no bra. She took the feller’s hands and put em on her tits. The nipples was like acorns, which were not how I recalled em to be. I swallowed and blinked, and when I looked again the two of em was bare and feeling each other up, he rubbing her tits and she yanking his tadger, which looked a bit like a young barbel. Then he picked her up and plonked her on the counter and got going on her.

I looked at Baz. I didn’t want to but it were a dream, and what you wants don’t count for shite in dreams. He were looking back at us, waggling his eyebrows and sighing and tapping his fingers on the table. It were my go, I reckoned. ‘Well,’ says Baz. ‘What you gonna do about it eh?’ I looked at me cards. They was all jokers now. Beth and the feller was moaning and groaning and humping on the counter. My old man were somewhere behind us, breathing…

I knew it were a dream straight off. So there weren’t none of your waking up and thanking fuck that life weren’t really like that. Besides, there were summat worse going on that made us yearn for that kitchen table and everything that went with it. There were an awful screeching racket taking place not six inches from my right ear hole.

I clapped hands over ears while I worked out that I were in Finney’s Allegro, it were light outside, and someone were shouting at us through the window. Maybe it were still a dream, I were thinking as I clambered over the gearshift into the passenger seat. A fucking nightmare by the sounds of it. But if I just got this door open, I could have a go at turning it into one of them running dreams. I hit the pavement and started walking up the road, me pins being too cramped up for running.

Last thing I wanted were a rumble with a resident of Norbert Green, Munton or no. Maybe if I walked on and kept my head down I could just slip away from whoever it were. But soon I heard footsteps pitter-pattering after us. Some cunt were running up to deliver us five knuckles on a hairy pole. I couldn’t take no more head damage, what with the bump from Jess and the smash from Mandy and the trip on the stair and the various attentions from Baz. Anything more than a haircut and blow-dry and I’d be turning vegetable. So I turned and stuck out my arm.

‘Bla—’ she says, walking into me fist.

‘Oh fuck…’ I says. ‘Soz about that, Mand. You all right?’

After a minute she could stand up, still covering her nose with her hand. ‘Got a hanky?’ she says.

I gave her an old tissue I found in me pocket. ‘Hold yer head back. Be stoppin’ soon enough.’

I were lying, course. I’d broken plenty of noses in my time—mostly with my head, but a large number by hand—and I knew what a snapped bridge felt like. She did her best to mop some of the blood off her face and then pressed the wet mess to her nose.

‘Thought you was a feller,’ I says, noticing that my legs felt all right now and I’d be able to run. I had stuff to do. It were all coming back now. Basil the dog. The gravedigger in the tartan dressing gown. The box. Embassy Regal. I patted Mandy on the arm and says: ‘You’ll be all right now, eh?’

She glared at us, and I could see she were crying a bit. Funny that, how some birds cries silently. Most bawls like you’ve cut their arms off. But the odd one just lets the tears pump out like her eyes was born to do it. I also noticed her arm were in a sling. ‘Who done that?’ I says, prodding it.

‘Ow, get off, clumsy twat,’ she says, sounding like she had a heavy cold. ‘Your mate done it, in the graveyard. Skinny feller with one eyebrow going right across his head. Wossname. Finley, ennit?’

‘Oh, aye. Finney. The dirty cunt…Wait till I sees him. Hurtin’ a little girl such as yerself.’

‘Done it for you he did, mind. Don’t wanna go punishin’ yer friends, does you?’

‘Oh, aye. He did, didn’t he. So…’ As if to remind us of where my priorities ought to be, a bolt of lighting passed through the back of me swede. That’s what it felt like anyhow. Suddenly I weren’t feeling so bad about breaking Mandy’s nose. ‘What the fuck you brain us for anyhow, Mand?’

She telled us we couldn’t talk here, it being getting on for seven and folks liable to wake up any minute. So we walked off down the road and turned into Blickett Lane, me stretching my legs and her holding the rag to her hooter. Halfway up there were an alley that came out by some lock-ups. Most of em was abandoned. Always had been, far as I recalled. They found a feller’s feet in one of em years back, ankles down, boots still on. Never did find the rest of him. Coppers never found the bastard who done it neither, this being Norbert Green. But it didn’t take folks long to chalk it up as another Munton story.

Mandy tugged at one of the up-and-over doors. It were rusted to fuck and wouldn’t budge more than an inch or two. I gave it a good yank and got it open enough for us to crawl inside. The garage were empty but for a big old engine plonked on the floor. Looked like it were from an old Rover. We sat on the dusty floor in the corner. With her good arm she got a pair of knickers and some fags out of her rucksack. I hadn’t noticed her rucksack before that. It didn’t look that heavy. Heavy enough so’s a bird with one good arm could lug it. She put the knickers to her bloody nose and chucked us the fags. I lit two and passed her one. The knickers were pink with black dots and lacy bits round the edges. Just looking at em set off a stirring between me legs. But it levelled off when they started soaking up the blood.

‘So,’ she says, like we was sitting down for afternoon tea and crumpets.

‘So what?’

‘You was askin’ us why I brained you yesterday.’

‘Aye.’ I were still half akip, to be honest. I rubbed my face to wake meself up a bit. ‘An’ while you’re at it tell us why you scared the shite out of us back there in me car.’

‘Ain’t your car. You drives a Capri.’

‘Thass true. Finney’s, it is.’ I hadn’t thought about Finney. He ain’t the kind you spends much time actually thinking on. Not even when he confesses that he murdered your wife and mentions in passing that she were carrying on with another feller. All right, it bothered us. But I couldn’t ponder too much on it right now. I had other shite to sort out. And what’s past is passed, and that. But where were he?

‘An’ all I were doin’ were wakin’ you up,’ she says. ‘I were sittin’ across the road in the park, juss thinkin’. About us. About me brothers. About me. I were walkin’ past early, see, before me brothers is up. Before anyone’s up round here. I were…’ She looked at the rucksack slumped on the concrete beside her. ‘I were leavin’, Blake.’

‘Leavin’? Where to?’ I says, noting a strange pang of summat or other in my heart. It were only a pang, mind. And pangs ain’t too hard to ignore.

‘Anywhere. Out of Mangel. Far away from here as me legs’ll carry us. Other side of the world, if they ain’t lyin’ about it bein’ round and not flat.’ She gave us a look. No, that ain’t true. She weren’t trying to tell us summat with her eyes, which is what giving someone a look is. She looked at us, rather. To see what I were thinking.

I gave her a look that said sorry, I ain’t thinking nothing.

She closed her eyes and went on. ‘Anyhow, I sees you fast akip in the car and tries to wake you up, is all. Norbert Green ain’t a place where folks kips in cars. Speshly not folks like you who’s in shite with locals.’

We went silent again for a bit. A black tomcat came up to the half-open door, sniffed at us, then turned tail and strolled off, showing us his little white arse.

Mandy’s nose had stopped bleeding, though it didn’t look right. She tossed the knickers and started wiping it up with a hanky. ‘I were gonna tell you why I brained you yesterday in the graveyard, weren’t I.’

‘Oh aye. T’aint right to hit a feller from behind, you knows.’

‘Don’t count. I’m a girl, ain’t I?’

‘Do count. We can’t hit birds so they shouldn’t hit us.’

‘Anyhow, I didn’t wanna do it. Honest I didn’t, Blake. An’ I tried to do it gentle. But you was beatin’ our Jess. You was killin’ him. If I hadn’t of thought that, I w—’

‘He fuckin’ jumped us. What about that, eh? An’ what were he doin’ there? Set us up like a good un, you did.’

‘Stop that right now, Royston Blake. You knows I wouldn’t do such a thing. Not to you anyhow. It surprised me as much as you, him turnin’ up like that. Telled us after that he were just passin’ by an’ spotted you. Dunno how else it could be. He surely didn’t foller us. But there’s summat you should understand about me and my brothers. We…’

Fucks each other. Aye, I knows that.

‘We has a special relationship. We…we’re close. Always has been.’

Aye, ever since they found a hole in you.

‘Iss funny, an’ I can’t expect you to understand. But thass the reason for me leavin’ town like I am. I’ve had enough of it. An’ you knows what, Blake? Seein’ you yesterday made me mind up for us. Ain’t sure why. Lookin’ in your eyes juss gave us a different view on things, made us wanna get out there an’ do things for meself.’

I nodded and got another couple of fags out.

‘So?’ she says.

I passes her a fag and says: ‘So what?’

‘Comin’ with us or not?’

I sucked on the fag and looked at her, holding the smoke in me lungs. She had a bust nose, bust arm, messy hair, and dried blood across her face. But right then I’d still have had her above any other bird I knew or ever had known. Maybe she were made like me. Maybe she were made
for
me, and I for her. There’s one out there for everyone, they says. If you can find em. Well, I’d bet me eyebrows that this un here were mine.

Drying blood were gathered thick and dark under her nostrils and round her mouth. She didn’t seem bothered. I pulled the dark hair back off her face and kissed her cheek, which were mostly clean. Then I says: ‘Sweetheart, there’s summat you oughta know.’

She looked at us with her big dark glistening eyes. It broke my heart to say what I were about to. But I had to. If I didn’t tell her, she’d go and find out for herself and get herself into all kinds of bother into the bargain. Still, it shouldn’t ought to be me doing the telling here. If her brothers’d let her out more she’d have found it out for herself. She’d have learned it from an early age like other Mangel folk.

‘You can’t leave Mangel,’ I says gently. I took her hand and stroked it. Anything to soften the blow. ‘No one can. See, we’re all leaves on the same tree. And when a leaf drops off the tree it withers and dies. We can’t live without the tree, and it can’t get by without us, like. Understand us, does you?’

She were looking at us still. Them eyes of hers was stuck to mine like a couple of lampreys. It were a lot for her to take in, I knows. And I felt sorry for her. The truth hurts. But it’s there, like it or not.

‘Course, folks from outside can get in if they wants. There’s Fenton, who bought Hoppers from yer bothers. An’ Finney, believe it or not. They says Fin’s grandpa were a mad gyppo strayed through the gates lookin’ for dogs and cats to eat.’

I went on like that, laying it all out for her and trying not to miss anything. And she seemed to take it well. She sat nice and quiet and listened, appreciating the effort I were putting into it, I reckoned. And then I stopped, and it were her turn. Her turn to tell us how fucking surprising it all were and she couldn’t take it all in and thank you so much Blake for setting us straight, that is. But that weren’t what happened.

You know what she said?

She says: ‘Oh…right.’ And she smiled a bit and all. A thin smile that never touched her eyes. But that were down to me, like as not. I’d messed up a bit, hadn’t I. Dumped too much on her brain in one go. ‘So you’re not comin’ then?’

I smiled and shook me swede. She were catching on.

She looked at the engine in front of us for a bit. The sun were creeping into the garage, touching up the dark greasy metal with a few drops of white gold. It made you squint to look at it. Then she had another one-handed rummage in her rucksack. ‘Here,’ she says, turning to us, face set like a mask. She held out a pistol. ‘If you stays in Mangel you’ll need this.’

I took it and turned it over and over in me hands. Looked like a new un. Not that I’d seen many old uns. Nor new uns neither. Guns is seldom seen in Mangel, less you’re a farmer or a member of the Munton clan. Just ain’t much call for em. Plenty of aggro takes place, but folks is happier using fists and heads. And blades. And coshes.

No, can’t say as I’d ever coveted a firearm. Never liked the idea of em. Takes all the fun out of things, don’t it. But now I had one in my hands, well…‘Fuckin’ smart,’ I says. ‘Loaded, is it?’

‘Aye. Here…’ She showed us how to flick the safety and get to the chamber. Then she got a little box of bullets out of her bag. Or shells as she called em. There couldn’t have been much left in that rucksack of hers. ‘Hold it like this, see. An’ use both hands. Till you gets used to it anyhow.’