Nothing but Meat: A dark, heart-stopping British crime thriller (13 page)

To overcome an addiction one must first learn to control it.
Nathan West understood this and had control of his demons but in times of
intense pressure or stress they reared up and he succumbed to the weakness that
had plagued his life for as long as he could remember. The scars on his hands
bore the evidence of his addiction - starting fires and watching things burn
was the vice that gripped him more than anything else ever could. It was his
first infatuation; his first slutty girlfriend – it was nothing less than
his own favourite shot of filthy, yet glorious heroin.

It started with the fireplace at his grandparent’s house
where as a child he would sit and watch the flames for as long as he was
allowed. He would feed the fire with anything that would burn and watch with
quiet fascination as the edges curled black and then like magic, the material
burst into life and floated, reduced to ash, into the chimney, like a soft grey
spectre.

He soon graduated to matches but was too young to buy them and
so he would steel them whenever he saw them lying around or reluctantly use his
pocket money to pay older kids to go into the nearby newsagent and get as many
boxes as he could afford. He went to the woods alone and built campfires in
secluded spots but was always careful not to let the flames spread or get out
of control. He made a perimeter of damp earth to cage the flames and kept a
pile of dirt close by in case he had to smother them. The precautions he took
went against the deep seated urge he felt to burn the woods to the ground but
even at such a young age he could see beyond mindless destruction and
suppressed it, knowing that if he did something so extreme and got caught, not
only would the punishment be severe he would be exposed and shamed.

After matches came
fireworks – not the big impersonal displays that people cooed over at the
beginning of November, but explosives of his own invention. As Bonfire Night
drew near he would spend every penny he had on fireworks, take them home and
dismantle them in his bedroom so he could make his own explosives by packing
the gunpowder, the fuses and the chemicals into cans and bottles and sealing
them with Duct tape.

Once built, he could only
hope that the explosives would actually work and when the fuse was lit there
was nothing he could do about it but wait for it to go off and see what happened.

Although hungry for
destruction Nathan was content to set his fireworks off in a controlled and
safe way, happy to watch the outcome of his labour at a safe distance but
Martin encouraged him to put his inventions into increasingly dangerous places.
They put them into hedges and bins, and under cars too, and then once, most
dangerously of all, through the letterbox of a school rival.

He built the bomb in his
bedroom with his usual degree of care and precision but he didn’t commit the
crime. He didn’t light the fuse and shove it into the letterbox of a family
home - Nathan West was too restrained, too sensible for that. It was Martin
Stewart who snatched it from his hand and lit it as he ran up the driveway and
shoved it through the front door.

As soon as he did it
Nathan ran. He heard the firework pop inside the house and then later the
shrill sound of sirens as the fire brigade tore through the village.

Nathan was as furious
with himself for allowing such a reckless thing to happen as he was with Martin
for actually doing it, but they were lucky, they were never caught and heard
through the school grapevine that the firework didn’t really go off, and after
its initial pop only managed to fizzle and smoulder on the doormat.

As teenagers Nathan West and Martin Stewart spent a lot of
time together but they weren’t really friends and they didn’t really get along
but there was a common factor that meant they had to tolerate one another when
they spent time in each other’s company. Thanks to Martin’s twin sister, Laura,
Martin and Nathan had a mutual friend.

Simone Connelly.

The four of them got together most evenings after school.
They hung-out on their bikes, drank cider and smoked, scrawled graffiti on
walls and howled like lunatics until they had to go home.

It was difficult to find entertainment in a small village in
the middle of nowhere but better things awaited them and it would only be a
matter of time before at least one of them began driving lessons, passed their
test, and got a car. Nathan was a couple of months older than the others and
soon the pressure would be on him to pass his test and get their ticket into
town. But he no longer knew them when the time came.

Martin was trying to be funny, he was showing off in front of
Simone and Nathan knew it. He only hoped that Simone knew it too and wouldn’t
fall for his bullshit. They were walking through the fields of wheat that
spread out from their village in an undulating sea of yellow and green and
every time Simone laughed at one of Martin’s stupid, obvious jokes a small
piece of Nathan died inside.

Nathan was supposed to be with Martin’s sister – that
was how the group dynamic should have been: Nathan and Laura, Martin and
Simone. But Nathan didn’t want to be with Laura. Not because she wasn’t attractive,
she most definitely was; she had a great figure and long strawberry-blonde hair
that looked as equally good when it was tied up as it did when she let it fall
past her shoulders and frame her delicate face. She also had a slightly wonky
right eye, which instead of spoiling her looks, somehow added to them by giving
her more sex appeal. Laura was easy too, and while a girl as easy as she was
beautiful was every teenage boy’s fantasy she just didn’t do it for Nathan. He
only had eyes for one girl but he wasn’t sure Simone felt the same way. It
churned him up inside but he just didn’t know how to tell her how he felt.

They arrived at the farm on the far side of the field and
ducked down so they wouldn’t be seen. It was early Sunday evening and the sun
was still beating down but the farm was quiet. They scooted into one of the hay
barns and threw themselves down. They had no plans to go there and they didn’t
intend to cause trouble, the farm was just somewhere they ended up. It was
somewhere different, a change from the playing fields, the bus shelter, or the breaker’s
yard where they fired catapult shots into the windows of scrapped cars and
stole VW badges to sell at school to the
Beastie
Boys
fans too shit scared to steal one for themselves.

They sat in the hay and it felt good to get out of the sun,
they had been smoking and drinking whiskey for the best part of the afternoon
but their alcoholic buzz had begun to wear off. The farmhouse was a long way up
a dusty track and they were in more danger of being seen than heard but they
still tried to keep their voices down as much as they could.

Laura climbed to the top of the stack and skinned up while
Martin paced around and pretended to be bored – he wasn’t getting as much
attention from Simone as he would have liked.

‘Let’s do something,’ he said.

Nathan sipped from what was left of the whiskey and passed it
to Simone. He began to skin up his own joint and told Martin to relax and sit
down but Martin ignored him.

‘Come on you boring fuckers,’ he said. ‘Let’s do something.’

Simone said, ‘What do you want to do?’ and Nathan wondered if
she knew she was encouraging him. He hoped she was just humouring him, but
Martin would do anything she asked, and if she had told him to sit down, he
would have.

‘I’m going to look round.’

‘Don’t get seen,’ said Laura from the haystack with a voice
croaky from lungs full of smoke and pot.

‘Anyone coming with me?’ said Martin, throwing an open hint
to Simone even to Nathan, hoping that if one of them said yes the others would
follow and he may be able to manipulate a scenario that found him on his own
with Simone while Laura took care of Nathan. No one spoke, Simone just reached
up and took the joint from Laura and lay back into the hay. She was sitting
next to Nathan, and Martin didn’t like it, he had tried to get them away from
each other but now he was stuck, he would look a fool if he just sat back down;
he had no choice other than to leave them alone together and go for a look
around the farm on his own.

He left the cool shade of the barn and squinted into the sun
as he checked the house for signs of life - still nothing. He kicked dust as he
walked. If only his fucking sister would try harder with Nathan, he was always
dropping hints to her in an attempt to get her to pull him but she wasn’t
having any of it. He knew what she was like, he had heard the stories about
her; she screwed everyone else at school why the hell wouldn’t she screw Nathan?

He imagined Simone and Nathan whispering to each other while
his stoner sister sat on her own and stared at the roof. There wasn’t jack shit
to do in this farmyard and he knew it. Lots of big hay barns and bugger all
else. He climbed into the driving seat of a tractor and considered starting it
up but then he spotted something by one of the barns that would be more than
enough to take Nathan’s attention from Simone.

When he went back to the barn it looked like they were
kissing – they were close and broke away quickly when he entered.

He’s pulled her!
He thought.
That fucking hippy bastard!

Nathan cleared his throat and asked Martin if he’d found
anything as he tilted his head to relight his joint with his Zippo. Martin noticed
a glance and a coy smile pass between the two of them and tried to read it; was
it guilt, embarrassment, the need to employ new found discretion so they didn’t
get caught by him again?

What a cunt he is!
He thought.
He’s pulled her, just then while I was
outside. That’s pissed me right off. Right fucking off!
His mind whirled
with rage and he was chewed up inside but what could he do about it? Fuck all.
He pretended not to notice. ‘What?’ he said.

‘Did you find anything?’ said Nathan.

‘Something you might like.’

‘Really?’

Martin could tell Nathan wanted to be alone with her again
but Simone spoiled his plans; she stood up and said, ‘What is it?’

She was proving herself to be a right little tart, he
thought. What was she up to; was she trying to play them off against each
other? It didn’t matter, she could play all the games she liked; he’d get Nathan
away from her eventually. ‘Come on I’ll show you,’ he said and made sure she
was following him before he left the barn again. Nathan followed too like a
good little doggy and Martin was sure he saw him lick his lips when he showed
them what he’d found: Nathan’s drug of choice on a plate.

Ah yes, the sparks were going to fly.

By the side of one of the barn walls sat a large metal drip
tray. It had been empty when Martin first found it but he’d filled it with fuel
from a jerry can he found near the tractor.

It was liquid heroin to Nathan, and Martin knew it. It was
mostly petrol but traces of mixed fuel and rainwater had created rainbow swirls
on the surface. It shone attractively in the sun and they could smell the fumes
in the air.

Martin said, ‘Light it,’ and he could tell Nathan wanted to.

‘No,’ said Nathan, he wasn’t a fool; he knew it was too risky
and they could be easily caught.

Simone turned to leave. ‘C’mon you two. Let’s just leave it
alone and go,’ she said, hoping they would listen to her so she could get
Nathan clear from temptation.

‘Fuck that,’ said Martin. ‘Let’s light it up.’

Laura had left the barn and now stood next to Simone. ‘What’s
going on?’ she said.

‘They want to light that tray of petrol.’

‘Cool.’

‘It’s not cool,’ she said loudly. ‘Let’s just go.’

‘Go on Nathan light it,’ said Laura and giggled.

‘Stop it Laura don’t encourage them to be idiots.’

‘I want to see it go up.’

‘You’re on your own then,’ she said. ‘All of you.’

Martin saw Simone turn away and said to Nathan, ‘Give me your
lighter. I’ll light the fucker if you won’t.’ Martin could sense how badly Nathan
wanted to be the one to light it and to feel the flames lick his face. He just needed
that extra push and now Saint Simone had gone, Martin was sure he would be able
to talk him into doing it.

Nathan handed over his brass Zippo; it was a special edition
engraved with the
Marlboro
logo and
one that he had ordered from the States after saving up and sending off what
seemed like a hundred Marlboro packs. Martin flicked it open and lit it. He held
the dancing flame in front of Nathan. ‘Go on,’ he said, ‘you know you want to be
the one who does it. We can easily smother it; there’s dirt everywhere.’

Martin didn’t really think Nathan would cross the line but he
underestimated the hunger that consumed him. Simone was out of sight when
Nathan took the lighter, he hesitated, mesmerised by the flame just long enough
for Martin to consider knocking it out of his hand and into the fuel when Nathan
let go of it.

They watched it tumble towards the fumes; brass and twisting
flame flashed in the sun. There was an enormous WHUMP and they threw themselves
back to avoid the flash of searing heat that instantly kissed them.