Deadfolk (9 page)

No, if they was planning on doing us in they’d take us outside of Mangel town. And that meant more opportunities to escape. That’s what I kept telling meself anyhow.

Lee wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and coughed up some phlegm, then swallowed it loudly. ‘Got some things to discuss, ain’t us, Blake?’

I couldn’t help but feel like a farmer who’d fell in his own slurry pit. ‘Aye,’ I says, letting the slurry swallow us up. There comes a point where all you can see is brown and all you can smell is shite. And when you reaches that point…Well, there ain’t no more struggling. ‘I reckons we has.’

Lee gave us a funny look. One of them looks that you feels rather than sees. ‘You does, does you? Well, all right.’ He shifted in his seat to facing us. I didn’t move. I’d rather be hit on the ear than the face. ‘So what d’yer think? Reckon it’s a goer, or what?’

‘Eh?’ I says.

‘How much homework you done?’

‘What?’

He laughed. ‘Hear that, Jess? Some things never changes, does they. Moon keeps comin’ up, river keeps on flowin’, an’ Blake keeps on playin’ the twat.’

I looked in the mirror. Jess weren’t moving.

Lee went on: ‘All right, Blake. I’ll play. I can see yer angle. You works there, so you gotta play thick, right? Just in case. Well let me get things started so’s you don’ have to. Your boss. Fenton. Poncey little arse bandit. How much you know about him?’

Well that’s interesting, I were thinking. I reckon I’ll go along with this. Long as we’re singing this song we ain’t singing no other one. And there was a nasty little song we could have been singing, if only Lee and Jess knew the tune. ‘Fenton? Well, like you says, he’s me boss. Poncey, aye. Arse bandit? Quite possibly. That hair of his…’

‘Tellin’ us nuthin’ new there, Blake.’

‘All right. So, er…What is it you wanna know? Can’t say as I’ve peered too closely at his affairs, like.’

Lee shifted in his seat. His leather jacket creaked like an old barn door on a quiet night. ‘I’m talkin’ business. You knows what I’m after. When do he bank his cash? Where’s his safe? Any peculiar security arrangements an’ that? Woss his weak spot? Shite like that. Come on. Spill.’

I looked at him. ‘You wanna do the place over?’

‘Eh,’ says Lee, turning to Jess and creaking some more. ‘Did I say this feller were a twat? Do us a favour, Jess. Slap me wrist. Go on, slap the fucker. Slap it hard.’

I could feel my shoulders loosening up. I could almost remember times when I’d had a laugh with these two cunts. ‘All right, lads,’ I says, laughing a bit meself. ‘Knock it off.’

‘Aye, we wanna do the place. And when I says “we”, I means us and you.’

‘Me? Fuck off, mate. Ain’t doing it.’

‘Why.’

‘Why should I? Me fuckin’ job, ennit. I likes me job.’

‘We’ll give you a job,’ he says. ‘Proper job. Legal an’ that.’

‘You? Doin’ what?’

‘Can’t say yet. Secret.’

‘Ain’t interested. Ain’t interested in doin’ over Hoppers neither.’

Lee looked at Jess and shook his head. Then he says: ‘By the way, Blake, seen Baz?’

My shoulders froze up again. ‘Baz?’ I made a clueless face and started shaking my head. Then I remembered what the whole town knew: Baz had given us a hard time only the night before. They’d know about that for surely. ‘Oh, aye, he were round Hoppers last night. Last time I seen him, that were.’

‘Aye, we heared about that one. You’ll have to excuse our young brother. Blows a bit hot and cold like. Once he gets idea into his head, he ain’t liable to shake it. But we admires that trait, don’t us, eh, Jess?’

‘Bit hot and cold like,’ says Jess.

‘But not in this case.’ Lee lit a fag without taking his eyes off us. ‘This time he came close to lettin’ the cat out the fuckin’ bag, I hears. But he didn’t, did he. He just about kept the bastard in there.’

As it happened a dirty old tomcat were mooching around just then in the one corner of the car park where my eyes was focused. Dirt had spilled over from surrounding borders, which was filled with more pop cans, fag packets, and used johnnies than flowers and shrubs and what have you. The cat circled four times, then arched up and laid a big one. ‘What bastard?’ I says, wishing I were a cat.

‘The bastard about you toppin’ yer wife.’

I looked at Lee. Then Jess. Then Lee again. ‘What?’

‘Bastards,’ says Lee. ‘We’ll talk about bastards a bit more, shall us? See, this is your bastard, Blakey. You fathered it when you sent Beth down Hoppers that night to burn. And now the bastard’s comin’ home to claim kin. Now’s time to face up to yer fatherly responsibilities an’ that. What you reckon, Jess? Blake oughta do the right thing by his bastard or what?’

‘Aye. Fuckin’ bastard.’

‘What about you, Blake? Gonna be a good father?’

The cat strolled off up the car park. He didn’t even kick any dirt over his business. There’s summat wrong with cats these days. None of em bothers to cover up their muck. ‘Who told you all this?’ I says.

‘So you admits it?’

‘No. Just wanna know who’s been spreadin’ muck.’

‘Don’t matter who spreads it. Muck’s there. Stinks.’

‘Ain’t true.’

‘Stinks though.’

I stared Lee right in the eye. ‘It fuckin’ ain’t true.’

‘So you’d be happy if I pops in to the copper shop to spread it a bit further? Tell em what I heared, like? Won’t mind if they hauls you in and takes a close look at you? Sure you didn’t send Beth to her death, Blakey boy?’

The cat stopped when it got to my Capri. It nosed the air a bit and had a good gander through the windows. Then it made up its mind about us and hared off. I closed my eyes and saw Baz’s dead body propped up in the corner of my cellar. ‘Woss yer problem, Lee?’ I says as calmly as I could. ‘Why give us this shite?’

Lee gave us the eye for a few seconds. ‘Less juss say this: you’re in a position to repay your debt to us.’

‘What fuckin’ debt?’

‘The one you rung up when you turned a little accidental fire into a murder inquiry, which had the coppers snoopin’ a bit closer than normal and callin’ it arson. The debt you got into when the insurance cunts refused to pay out.’ He grabbed me collar and twisted, putting his screwed-up face up against mine. ‘You fucked us, you fuckin’ bastard.’

‘Shall I kill him, Lee?’

‘Leave it, Jess. We does it my way.’

‘I’ll kill him.’

‘You fuckin’ will not,’ he barked at the back seat. It were nice to have his face out of mine. ‘Every man deserves a chance to repay his debts. Even cunts like him.’

‘But it weren’t me,’ I says. ‘I didn’t kill her. I dunno what she were doin’ in there, an’ it weren’t…’

‘Weren’t what?’

‘You know. She were inside and…I were…’

‘Ah, save it. You’re gonna help us out and you knows it. Come on, Jess.’

They got out and stomped over to the Meat Wagon, Jess walking to the right of and a bit behind Lee. When all three brothers was together, Baz’d be on the other side, slightly lagging. They wouldn’t be doing that no more, and I felt quietly proud to see their little V-shape spoilt so. Before he reached the van, Lee turned and shouted: ‘That exhaust of yours needs fixin’ by the sounds of her. Get down the Munton Motors why don’t you. Baz’ll get it done while he’s doin’ yer tyres. He’ll be back on the morrer, like as not.’

They got in and slammed the doors. Lee swung the van out with the recklessness of one who wants every fucker in town to know how good at reversing he is. Then they bombed into the road.

I sat where I were for a while, tapping me fingers on the wheel. I lit two fags, one after the other, and smoked em. When I were nearing the end of the second one, the cat jumped on the bonnet and glared at us. It settled down, legs tucked under, never losing eye contact. I turned the key and gave the throttle a good dose. The cat jumped in the air, did a bit of a somersault, then pegged it back into the bushes. I went home.

When I got there I went to bed.

Phone woke us next morning about ten. I picked it up and says: ‘What time of the bastard night does you call this?’

‘Ain’t night. Mornin’, ennit.’

‘All right, Finney.’

‘All right, Blake. Out for a drink the night?’

‘Nah.’

‘Come on, feller’s gotta keep his strength up.’

‘Nah, mate. Workin’, ain’t I.’

‘Ah, right. The morrer, then?’

‘Er…dunno about that.’

‘Woss matter? You always comes out drinkin’.’

‘Workin’, ain’t I.’

‘No you ain’t. Never works on that day.’

‘Oh, I dunno. Don’t reckon I’ll fancy it.’

‘Fuck off, Blake. You always comes out drinkin’ with me an’ Legs an’ thass what you’re doin’ the morrer.’

It were too much effort to argue. Specially with sleep still dragging us down and umpteen different worries lurking behind it. ‘Ah, all right, you cunt. I’ll be there.’

‘Thass the spirit, Blakey.’

‘Bye.’

‘Hang about.’

‘What, for fuck?’

‘I ain’t said where yet.’

‘But we always drinks in the Paul Pry.’

‘Thass right, Blake. We
always
drinks in the Paul Pry.’

I laid back on the pillow. But I knew sleep were beyond us now. Finney were a cunt. I knew he meant no harm, but he were always doing just the thing you didn’t want him to. It’d taken us all night to get to sleep. I’d finally dropped off at eight near as not. And sleep hadn’t gave us what I’d wanted of it. I wanted some time away from me woes. I got another bastard dream instead. Same shite as last time—me at the kitchen table with Beth slagging us off nearby. Only the row had moved one a mite. ‘How could you do it, Royston?’ she were yelling. ‘How could you do such a thing to yer own wife? Not that you ever treated us like a proper wife. All I ever done were try an’ make you happy. And this is what I gets. Tell you what, Royston, I deserves better’n the likes of you. I married the wrong feller, is what I gone and done.’ And it went on like that.

So all in all I were knackered.

I got up, had a shower, shaved, and trimmed me tash. A tash does no good when it hangs too low. All it’ll do for you is tickle your top lip and soak up beer. But a well-kept one is the mark of a proud man, a man who knows what he is and why he’s it. Then I put on me track suit and went down the stair.

I took a long time over breakfast, even though I were only having a few bits of toast and some bangers. I were planning on going training see, and there’s nothing worse than exercise on a full belly. I rounded it off with a few cups of tea and three raw eggs. Then I went to the cellar door.

I were doing me best, see. I were trying to sort everything out and keep atop the steaming dung heap that my life were getting to be. A man who were liable to pull wool over his eyes wouldn’t have even got as far as the cellar door. He’d have made himself forget all about the corpse in the cellar and josh himself that life were all right and no one had carked it. I’d seen it before. We’d done a house over up in Muckfield when we was younguns. Finney, Legs, and meself. A spot of opportunism you might say. Legs spotted an old bird locking up and staggering off down the shops with her walking stick. So we went in for a gander. Looked same as any other codger’s house on the surface. Shite old furniture in every room and nothing worth robbing. Then we opened a door upstairs.

The stink fair bowled us over. Once our eyes stopped watering we saw where it were coming from. The old feller were lying there on the bed, all mouldy and blackened. Flesh looked like it were melting off him, like he’d been left in front of the fire too long. And the bed were all dark and wet beneath him where his fluids had leaked out. It weren’t quite was we was after, all in all. But it learned us summat.

Folks don’t want to face up to facts.

Anyhow, that were then and this were now. I opened the cellar door and looked into darkness. Then I shut it again. I weren’t ready.

I weren’t avoiding nothing. Honest I weren’t. I just couldn’t face it yet. I’d be all right soon. I just had to…

I got in me car and went down the gym.

I hadn’t been training in weeks. Months, come to think on it. There’d been a time, when I were doorman at Hoppers first time round, when I were the biggest feller in Mangel near as not. And that’s saying summat, bearing in mind folks round here is bred for the fields. Ah, them was the days. Eighteen stone and half of pure beef I were back then. Barely a bird could walk past us without squeezing a bicep and giving us that special look.

But then Hoppers burned and Beth died.

I were seventeen stone now. And most of that were maintained by eating and drinking alone. Besides a spot of bouncing I barely used me muscles at all. Couldn’t see the point in training no more, since Beth. Lifting’s about building yourself up to whatever you reckon you ought to be. You reckons you’re a mountain, that’s what you’ll build towards. Truth were, since Beth died I didn’t reckon I amounted to much. Seventeen stone of dormant muscle had seemed about right for us. But now I were starting to think again about that.

I were thinking eighteen and half stone again.

My back were still tender from the shoeing Baz had gave us, so I got to work on the bench press. I slapped on the sort of load I used to start with in me big days. All right all right, don’t get at us about it. A feller who’s out of condition ought to start light and build his way back up. I knew that, all right? But I wanted to see if I still had it in us. It ain’t about physical strength, see. It’s about what you’re prepared to do. It’s about how far you can push yourself. I wanted to see if I could be a mountain again.

‘Gonna lift that, mate?’ some bastard says behind us, ruining my concentration. ‘Only you’ve been lyin’ on the bench like that for five minutes. Other fellers wants a pop an’ all.’

I sat up. It’s hard to get yourself from under a bar when your fists is all bunched up tight and ready for aggro. But my hands relaxed when I saw who it were. ‘Oh, all right, Legs.’

‘All right, Blake. Uh, soz about that, mate. Didn’t…er…didn’t reck’nise you, like.’

I looked at him, wondering if I ought to say summat about…about lots of things really.

‘You all right there, mate?’ he says, noting the look on my face.

Whether I ought to or not, here in the gym weren’t the place to tell him about Baz. I’d go and see him later, perhaps.

‘Aye, I’m all right. Didn’t expect to see you down here is all.’

‘Oh aye, trains a lot these days, I does. Can’t you tell?’ He flexed a bicep that were a lot more ripped than mine but weren’t that much bigger. ‘You ain’t seen us cos you ain’t been comin’ yerself. Gettin soft, mate.’ He patted my shoulder.

I went back under the bar and tried to lift it. Too heavy. ‘Bollocks.’

‘Take a bit off, shall I?’ he says.

It gave us just the spur I needed. I closed me eyes and pictured his face smirking at us, suggesting that I were an arse bandit. Soon I were seeing nothing but red. Then I pushed the bar. It went up this time. Only five reps, mind. I used to open up with eight. ‘Woss you been up to then, eh?’ I says when I’d done em.

‘Me?’ He got under the bar himself without changing the load, and did ten reps straight off. ‘Oh, this an’ that. You knows how it is.’

‘Heared about Finney?’ I says, swinging back my arms to loosen the pecs.

‘What?’

It were my turn again. I added another couple of plates and got under. ‘Gettin’ yer number nine shirt an’ that.’ Soon as I were under the bar I knew I couldn’t do it. I needed summat to fire us up and I couldn’t use Legs again. Weren’t fair on him, even if he were getting on me tits a bit just now.

‘Got summat to say, have you?’ he says. And there were an edge to his voice that I didn’t much care for.

I pictured him and me having a fight. It were in the street outside Hoppers, half of Mangel standing around watching us. Legs had tried to get through the door but I’d handed him off and told him to leave it cos he were banned. That were what the fight were about. I had my arm round his neck, fist pumping again and again into his face.

Nine reps.

‘No offence, mate,’ I says.

‘Oh, don’t pay us no mind,’ he says, getting on the bench. He did ten reps, then says: ‘Some bastard has to wear number nine. Least while I’m banned.’ Then he did another five.

I put on some more plates and went down. I closed my eyes. It were clear now how to fire meself up. And Legs wouldn’t mind long as he didn’t know. We was outside Hoppers again. He’d got out of my armlock and had us on the deck, knees pinning my arms down, slapping my face like a bitch. ‘Blake ain’t got no bottle. Blake ain’t got no…’ he were singing over and over. The crowd was singing and all. It were up to me. I could lie there and take it. Or I could do these six reps and…

‘How’s it going with them Muntons?’ he says.

What strength I had suddenly drained away. My arms felt like a pair of bamboo sticks holding up a steamroller. I huffed and puffed for a bit, then got off the bench. ‘What about em?’

‘Do what I said, did you?’ He crouched down to pull another couple of plates off the rack.

‘Nah.’

He slid em on the bar and sat down. ‘Why not?’

‘Ain’t seen him.’

‘Ain’t seen him? You don’t wanna wait for him to come to you. Go out and find the fucker. Go to him. Corner him when you wants him and then do him.’

Well, as a matter of fact, Legsy, that’s what I did do. I cornered the fucker on his home turf and done him good. Only it weren’t the way you planned it, you mouthy cunt. I done it my way, didn’t I? I fucking topped him.

But them was just thoughts. What I says were: ‘Well, we’ll see, eh?’ Then I turned my back and did some stretching. My pecs was burning. Felt like a couple of hot irons strapped to me chest. Maybe I’d just sit on an exercise bike for half an hour.

‘I heared Baz went missin’,’ he says, barely puffing after his ten reps.

I wanted to get to the bike and pretend I’d not heard him. But that wouldn’t be right. ‘Oh aye?’

‘Aye. Know what folks is sayin’, do you?’

I shrugged and closed my eyes. But it weren’t darkness I found under the lids. It were my cellar at home, Baz propped up there in the corner with his face done in.

‘Folks is sayin’—heh heh heh, pardon us for takin’ it lightly—but folks is sayin’ you knocked him off.’

‘You what? Who?’ I scanned the gym for snoopers. Most was grunting and lifting. Others was jabbering or wearing headphones. I turned back to Legs, wondering where my answer were. But he were giving it another ten reps. When he’d done em I whispers: ‘Who the fuck is sayin’ that?’

‘Ah, fuckin’ joke, ennit. Don’t get yer knackers in a twangle over it.’

‘Woss funny about it?’

‘Come on, Blake. You and him outside Hoppers the other night. Everyone seen it.’

I wanted to kill him. I know it weren’t his fault, but I didn’t like what he were telling us. Plus he were the one got us into all this. So aye, I wouldn’t have minded killing him right then.

‘Look, don’t get us wrong, Blake. I’m yer mate, ain’t I? Only passin’ on what I’ve heared. Thought you’d best know. And like I says, iss a fuckin’ joke. Folks knows you wouldn’t really knock him off.’

That were all right then. Until you thought about it. ‘Who says I wouldn’t?’

‘Come on. You says it yerself t’other night, about losin’ yer bottle. Well, I didn’t wanna rub it in at the time, but it ain’t zackly a secret, is it? Ever since that trouble with Beth you ain’t been same. I’m sorry an’ that, but thass what they says.
I
ain’t sayin’ it, mind. They is. You knows I know you ain’t lost yer bottle.’

‘Wankers,’ I says, kicking a pile of plates. The pain shot through my toes and up me leg. But I held it in.

‘Fuck em,’ says Legs, curling his fingers around the bar. ‘Least it ain’t true. You’d be under Hurk Wood if you had of killed Baz. Right?’

I reckon I’d pulled a muscle or summat in me shoulder. All the way home I kept getting shooting pains across me chest and down my arm. And that as well as the bruising all over me back. Course, didn’t help that your Ford Capri is an awkward animal to steer, more so when the power steering is knacked. But that were your Capri for you. She had her ways and you put up with em. I told you that earlier. Ain’t you listening?