Horse's Arse (8 page)

    Piggy
continued to look thunderstruck. 'Derek? Are you sure?' he managed.

    'Reggie.
Reggie Dawes. Yes, as sure as anyone can be. I clocked at least three faces out
front that I know.'

    'Fucking
hell, Ally, what do you think we should do? Fuck off, d'you think?' Piggy
looked desperately towards the back door and the sound of Doreen's phlegm
sizzling in the pan.

    'Now
we're here we might as well take advantage and have a nose round,' said Ally. 'If
nothing else we can scare the shit out of the slag.'

    At
the sink Dawes could hear the two officers whispering and had to assume they
were talking about him. He wished he'd blanked them when they'd arrived but he
was going to have to brave it out now. The greedy fat bastard wasn't going to
be a problem. He could lay a trail of buns back to their panda car for him, but
that pint-sized Jock was a different proposition. He poured Ally another cup of
tea, minus the long life milk, and walked back to the table with it.

    'Here
you go. Sorry about that,' he said weakly.

    Ally
kept his hands in his pockets and looked darkly at the mug and then at Dawes.
'How the fuck do you keep this dive going? It's a toilet - look at the fucking
state of it. Don't the Health people ever pay you a visit?'

    Dawes
swallowed hard and felt a bead of sweat unconnected with his sweaty trade run
down the back of his neck. He knew this bastard was going to start pushing him.
He would have to be very careful with him.

    'We
got a clean bill of health only three weeks ago,' he said, trying to sound
indignant and failing to mention that it had been achieved with the help of a
bent, top-of-the-range car stereo system. 'Never had a problem with the
council,' he added, and immediately regretted saying it.

    'I'll
bet you fucking haven't. Who you bunging to get the green light here then?'

    'Bunging?
You're having a fucking laugh,' said Dawes, a tad quickly.

    He
was saved, albeit temporarily, by Doreen who shuffled towards them with two
cooked breakfasts which she banged down in front of Piggy and Ally. Piggy
immediately dived into his spiked meal and soon had egg yolk running down his
chin. He didn't appear to draw breath as he shovelled the food into his
constantly opening and closing mouth. Ally still kept his hands in his pockets
and peered closely at the greasy offering.

    'What
the fuck is this?' he shouted, and reached on to his plate to remove a pubic
hair with his thumb and forefinger. He held it high in the air, his face a
picture of disgust.

    'It's
a fucking fuse wire, you dirty bitch,' he bellowed at Doreen, who was now
standing next to her husband bitterly regretting the additions to the meal.
Dawes looked at her with undisguised fury. He knew very well what she'd done to
the meals. She always did when the Old Bill ate there, but he couldn't believe
she hadn't hidden the hair in the fried potatoes. Piggy had stopped eating
mid-mouthful and sat with puffed-out cheeks resembling a bloated hamster,
looking down at his plate, then to the hair in Ally's fingers, and then at
Doreen.

    'You
dirty cow,' continued Ally. 'You've been raking about in your rat's pelt,
haven't you, and dumped your fucking fuse wires in the food. What else is in
here, you fucking slag?'

    Piggy
felt his gills getting chalky and spat what was in his mouth on to the kitchen
floor. He took a swig of his tea to clean his mouth.

    'Careful,
Piggy. Fuck only knows what's in there. Had a piss in that, did you, Dawes?'

    Piggy
spat the tea on to the floor and then threw his mug at Dawes and his wife. 'You
pair of cunts,' he screamed. He could take most things, but messing with his
feeding ritual was too much. He grabbed the end of the table and upended it,
scattering plates, mugs, knives and forks and the filthy plastic tablecloth on
to the floor. The table bounced on its end towards the Daweses who backed away
in terror. Piggy was on a mission. He advanced on them with his fists clenched,
intending to beat them both to a pulp.

    'Well,
would you just have a look at this little lot,' he heard Ally say from behind
him. He stopped, snapped out of his blood lust and turned towards Ally who was
standing with his arms folded, smiling at a pile of boxes that had been
concealed under the table. Piggy looked back at the Daweses, then back to the
boxes. A smile broke out on his face.

    'What's
in the boxes, Derek? No, no, don't tell me, let me guess,' he mocked. 'This is
a cafe, so my money's on tinned potatoes, peas or carrots. What about you,
Ally?'

    'Difficult
one this, Piggy, but unless Panasonic have recently gone into the catering
business I'm going to risk everything and have a little dash at stereos or
video recorders. Who's right, Dawes?'

    Dawes
groaned and said nothing.

    'Where'd
you get the boxes?' Ally continued.

    'I'm
looking after them for a friend.'

    'What's
in them?'

    'No
idea. He just left them with me and I stashed them under the table.'

    'Hid
them away, you mean.'

    'No, just
put them away safe. You can't be too careful these days.'

    'What
d'you thinks in them?'

    'Fuck
knows. He didn't say and I didn't ask.'

    'Not
very clever, that. Got to be bent gear, hasn't it?'

    'Has
it? I know fuck all about that.'

    'What's
this friend's name?'

    'Can't
remember.'

    Ally
bent down to one of the boxes and tore away the packing tape. He opened the
top, peered in and stood up triumphantly.

    'Oh
dear, the fuck-up fairy's been to visit you, Dawes. Stereos,' he announced to
Piggy.

    'You
two are fucking nicked,' shouted Piggy with glee. 'Whilst we're at it, we'll
have a look round. Anything else you're looking after for a friend?'

    Dawes
and his wife remained silent as Piggy and Ally ransacked the cafe but failed to
add to their haul of forty car stereo systems. They sat miserably in the
kitchen as transport was arranged to get the gear back to Horses Arse, before
they were unceremoniously bundled into the back of the panda car.

    'Christ,
I'm fucking starving,' announced Piggy as they drove away, leaving the cafe
unsupervised and at the mercy of the remaining patrons who were unlikely to
look a gift horse in the mouth.

    The
Brothers had been parked up with the engine running for about ten minutes without
speaking. They watched the wipers clearing the windscreen, listened to the
sporadic radio transmissions and occasionally glanced out of the windows, but
they kept their thoughts to themselves. H closed his eyes and settled lower
into his seat. He was exhausted and it showed in his pale, lined face and the
dark rings under his eyes. He sighed deeply and Jim glanced at him.

    'You
look like shit, H. Why don't you have a kip for a while? I'll watch things; you
get your head down.'

    H
smiled and without opening his eyes said, 'I'm fine, Jim. I just need to rest
my eyes for a while.'

    'Bollocks.
What you need is some decent sleep. How long is it since you slept properly?'

    H
didn't reply. Jim sighed, shook his head and looked out of his window. He was
right. H desperately needed to sleep, but he couldn't - he daren't. If he went
to sleep he knew 'the Dream' would come and crucify him as it had done for the
last three months, every time he fell asleep, every day since he had taken that
call on his own when Jim had a day's leave.

    During
his eight years' service, H had seen most things - murder victims, horrific
traffic accidents, bizarre suicides, industrial accidents. He had taken them
all in his stride, considering himself to be immune to the horror and grief.
Until he took that call.

    Three
months earlier, on a Sunday Early Turn, he had arrived in the muster room to be
told that Jim had been granted a day's leave overnight to deal with a domestic
matter (his father-in- law's death, as it transpired). H had declined to let
Pizza crew Bravo Two Yankee One with him, and took the area car out on his own.
Early Turn Sunday morning was the time for officers to catch up on paperwork,
and H was parked up on the Park Royal estate writing up a speeding offence
process book when the job was passed to him. A 999 call had been received from
a hysterical woman who couldn't be understood by the operator. The call had
been traced to an address in Abbots Grove, and, as the area car, H was assigned
to an abandoned 999 call, nature of call unknown. In such cases, the crews had
absolutely no idea what would confront them. It all added to the dubious fun of
it.

    H had
responded quickly, and as he arrived outside the house shortly after 6.30 a.m.
he could hear a woman screaming from inside. As he ran up the garden path
towards the front door, he automatically and subconsciously noted things that
were significant to him. The grass was neatly cut. The windows were freshly
painted and the panes clean. The front door had new, bright brass fixtures and
the doorbell worked as he pushed hard on it. From within the house he heard
footsteps flying down the stairs and the door was flung open by a man wearing
only a pair of underpants. His skin was the colour of parchment and H saw stark
horror in his staring eyes. The screaming from upstairs was deafening. He
thought she was screaming 'No' but the sound was so drawn out and distorted he
couldn't be sure. The man said nothing but indicated upstairs with his eyes. As
H ran up the stairs he mentally recorded the decent carpets, carefully hung
wallpaper, pictures on the walls and fresh flowers in a vase on the landing.
The screaming was coming from a bedroom at the back of the house and H barged
through the door and into a nursery. Again the mental tape recorder noted care
and order. The room smelt strongly of eucalyptus. Pink teddy bear wallpaper,
mobiles hanging from the ceiling and an expensive cot in the corner of the
room. His heart jumped into his throat, choking him, and his senses slowed. He
knew what he was going to see. He seemed to go into slow motion and his hearing
shut down. A woman knelt at the end of the cot, tearing at the wooden bars as
if at the bars of a cell. Her hair was dishevelled, her face desperate and tear-
streaked, and she turned and screamed at H but no sounds came to him. He saw
her mouth open and close but heard nothing and began to walk like a man on the
moon towards the cot. His head hummed and he could hear his racing heart
beating. It was deafening. Already numbed, he approached the cot and saw
something that utterly stunned him and rendered him unable to function for
several moments. Lying on her back, quite serene, was a baby girl, her skin
marble white with a blue tinge. Her eyes were closed and she was obviously
dead. Her bedding and pink Paddington Bear sleep suit were rumpled, probably by
her mother's frenzied efforts to rouse her, but otherwise she looked like a
much-loved, well-nourished and healthy child, fast asleep. H stared at her for
several minutes as the seeds for his coming nightmare were sown.

    The
child was about six months old, probably the same age as his own adored
daughter. It was more than possible that this child and his had been on the
same ward together in Handstead Maternity Hospital. Perhaps their mothers had
nursed them in adjacent beds. His throat was tightening to the extent that he
thought he was going to suffocate and he stepped back from the cot and rubbed
his Adam's apple hard. The slow motion world suddenly disappeared and he was
back with harsh reality and the screaming woman. The man who had let H into the
house was standing at the nursery door, shaking like a leaf, with tears
streaming down his face, intermittently giving a loud, heartrending sob.

    'What's
your name?' croaked H.

    The
man looked at him and tried to respond, but he was unable to form any words and
gave up, looking down at the carpet with his tears falling one by one on to the
deep pile.

    'Listen,
mate, I need you to help me. Can you get your missus out of here and calm her
down a bit?. I've got to speak to you both. Can you do that for me?'

    The
man didn't look up but continued to sob quietly.

    'Help
me,' shouted H.

    The
man raised his head and looked at H with red, watery, haunted eyes. 'OK,' he
said softly, and went to the screaming woman. He knelt down beside her, put his
arms round her heaving shoulders and forced her head into the crook of his
neck. He began to talk quietly into her ear and gradually she quietened until
she was completely still, the silence only occasionally broken by an
involuntary sob. Feeling totally redundant, H walked to the couple, also knelt
down and placed a hand on their shoulders. He spoke quietly and with a feeling
he didn't recognise.