Balls

by Tommy Dakar

  Dr. Flynch had not yet met Ken, and Ken thought he had never seen Dr. Flynch before, though in reality he had seen him a long time ago in a documentary about serial killers. But he had seen so many TV programmes in his life that his memory banks had become very selective about what they retained. So they paid no heed to each other as taxi and roofing van sat side by side at the traffic lights on Vine Street. Ken was thinking ahead to the afternoon and the brothers’ reunion. He had to stop this madness once and for all, for everyone’s sake, but especially for Jill’s. She was so, so ‘different’ now. She had time for nothing else, not for him, not for the kids. And Paul was to blame. Dr. Flynch was checking the addresses he had been given, and getting his bearings. He would begin with the hotel receptionist, then get out to the brothers’ neighbourhoods and start snooping.

  On his way to the Café and Crème teahouse (the drinking would have to be done under cover from now on) Mr. Swan snuck by the Town Hall where Ron too was planning his afternoon visit to Paul’s headquarters. Success was imperative, but how to proceed? Should he be brotherly or authoritarian? Should he appeal to Paul’s better nature or use threat? Would Ken help or hinder? Either way Paul had to be silenced. He made a list of the main points.

  The snowball had begun to roll.

  Paul had set up his Centre of Spiritual Atonement in Rani’s ground floor flat. It was the bottom part of a large town house now divided into several flats and studios, with a tiny front ‘garden’ which was not much use for anything but parking space for a bike and a place to keep the dustbin. Three well worn steps lead up to the mauve and white front door. The hall stank of damp and dogs and looked as if it was tired of living. The landlord was clearly neither a handyman nor an interior decorator, unless of course he had specifically designed the place to give off a certain ‘shabby’ air. In which case he was a genius.

  Paul knew what was to come. The elder brothers would apply pressure, nicely at first, nastily if necessary. They would ask him to stay out of the spotlight, be more discreet, keep up the family name, not encourage the press, lie low and stop being a nuisance. He would try hard to find some common ground, be Ghandi-like, be like the white-haired Hollywood priests, be patient and tolerant and extremely well mannered, but it wouldn’t be easy. Ronald knew how to make him feel small and Ken’s aggressiveness would make him nervous. It was funny; he was quite happy to face the mass media, to take on the role of the longed for prophet, to be the catalyst for a whole new religion, but to be cornered by his two angry bothers…… The idea terrified him. He would strive not to let it show.

  Just past four o’clock. Diamond had prepared herbal tea. Rani had lit some Indian incense sticks. Paul had washed and shaved and brushed his hair back in a hair band. The room was as tidy as it would ever be. They sat in meditative silence and waited.

  The roofing van crawled along the road looking for a Rover. There was no way Ken was going to be first, and as there was no sign of Ron’s car, he decided to go round the block again. Paul saw it go past three times before it came to a halt right in front of the house, just behind a Rover. Ronald had finally arrived, slightly late due to irritating roadworks. He struggled out of his car and straightened his clothes. All his clothes; tie, shirt, jacket, trousers, even his socks. He greeted Ken stiffly, brushed himself down once more, and led the way up the steps like a bailiff. Ken followed gloomily.

  Ron rapped on the door like a policeman. He bounced up on his soles a little, tugged at his jacket, puffed out his chest, readjusted his shoulders. He wante Paul to see that he was determined, vigorous, single-minded and more than capable of getting to the bottom of it all today, this very afternoon, once and for all. So he was a little disappointed when a solemn, dreary Rani opened the door and stood blocking his way. Rani said nothing. Ron glanced back at Ken, unsure how to proceed. A few seconds passed, then Paul’s voice called ‘come in’, and Rani backed off. The brothers walked in cautiously.

  ‘Who’s he, your bodyguard?’

  joked Ken, but nobody appreciated the humour. Rani glared at him from his chair in the corner.

  Paul didn’t get up. He sat in a half lotus in the middle of the room, Diamond behind him on the sofa, her legs tucked under her in a seemingly relaxed pose, but so obviously ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.

  Ken couldn’t care less if Paul greeted him with a handshake, a hug, or a dismissive gesture – he was English and more than accustomed to idiosyncratic behaviour. But Ron had never quite come to grips with this selfish, egocentric, downright rude attitude he had to deal with everyday. No bloody manners, that’s what it was. If Mum could see him now she’d….. People don’t stand up to greet you nowadays, or shake your hand, or introduce themselves. They loll around with their feet on the furniture and grunt at you. You say, ‘hello, I’m Ronald’, and they shrug. It was one of his and Daphne’s pet hates, one of their hopeless crusades against the tide of modern mannerisms.

  ‘No , don’t get up,’

  he said ironically, and sat down in an armchair, into which he sank more than he’d expected.

  Ken remained standing by the door, not sure which brother to bop on the nose. He took a long look at Paul. Bloody weirdo. Now he thinks he’s some kind of Guru, with his hair done up like a girl, and these two dozy idiots hanging around him like flies round a pile of shit. Who does he think he is? Jesus bloody Christ? Jesus in a bedsit!! What a clown. And Ron? The immaculate, cuff-linked Ronald, so prim and ordered, with that ridiculous goatee beard and his society manners. What a pair! He felt like grabbing them both by the neck and ripping off their respective disguises. But of course they were no longer disguises – they had played their roles for so long that they had now become what they had proposed.

  There was an awkward silence, not really very long, a couple of seconds maybe, but more than long enough to make everyone feel uncomfortable. They had not got off to a good start.

  ‘Sit down, Ken, would you like some tea?’

  offered Paul. Diamond recognised her cue and waddled off to the kitchen, thus making space for Ken on the sofa. Rani continued to lurk in the corner like a shadow.

  Ron tried to gesture to Paul that the three should be left alone, but Paul did nothing about it.

  ‘Do you mind?’

  invited Ron to Rani, to no effect.

  Ken decided to take the bull by the horns.

  ‘We have some private things to talk about, if that’s ok with you.’

  Rani checked with his master. Paul nodded, and he slunk off to the kitchen.

  Over to big brother.

  ‘Well it’s no good beating about the bush’

  he started, then, quickly, as an afterthought,

  ‘Feeling better?’

  He took Paul’s smile as a ‘yes’ and ploughed on.

  ‘Look, we have to talk about all this’

  he waved his arm around the room,

  ‘as it’s starting to affect us all. I can understand your point of view,’

  he added insincerely,

  ‘but, well’

  he shot a quick look at Ken,

  ‘well, we need to play things down a bit for a while, let it all blow over. Look, I’ve made a list of the things I think are…..’

  ‘It’s driving us all mad.’

  interrupted Ken.

  ‘Just leave it to me, alright? Look, I think if we can iron out the main points….’

  ‘It’s all over the place, wherever you go, in the pub, at work, on the TV, in the bloody papers. It’s driving me mad. And Jill’s just about had enough too.’

  By which he meant that she should be spared any more contact with the whole sordid affair or she’d go too far.

  Paul listened and moved his sight from one brother to the other like the crowd at a tennis match. He was not too sure what they had in mind. Ron was edgy, and clearly keen to get the list dealt with as soon as possible. He was uncomfortable and dying to get out of there at the first opportunity. Ken looked more distraugh
t, more emotional and less in control. It was not going to be easy to appease them whilst remaining true to his spiritual mission.

  Diamond came in with the tea, and the three waited in silence as she plonked the tray down on the coffee table. She took advantage of this short re-entry to ask with her eyes if everything was still alright. Paul let her know with his eyebrows that it was all calm on the home front for now, but best be on guard just in case. Paul did the honours, pouring the herbal tea into three different and slightly chipped mugs. There was no sugar because sugar is bad for you. Ken took a sip, sighed heavily, and put the beverage back on the tray – he had expected ‘real’ tea. Ron, who had spotted the stuff from the start, didn’t even bother to try it.

  Back to the list.

  ‘You have to stop giving interviews. You have to stop all types of media coverage. You have to go underground and not mention other members of the family. You have to actively avoid talking about what you did and why.’

  Ron suddenly noticed that Paul had nothing on his feet, and for some reason he thought that just about summed it up.

  ‘And you have to stop that ridiculous hunting game. Daphne and I have suffered enough, and quite frankly I don’t think we deserve this treatment, especially after we’ve tried so hard to help.’

  ‘By sending him to a loony bin?’

  Ron just shook his head – it was beneath him to rise to the bait.

  ‘Well? Say something. What do you think? Ah, and you’d be better off changing address, too. Everyone knows where to find you.’

  Paul took a long breath. He was going to try. He was going to respond as best he could, without getting flustered, without jibing or deliberately annoying anyone if possible. It would have been easier with strangers, with casual acquaintances, but with his two elder brothers..... They would try to unmask him, to browbeat him, to implore, to bully, to have their say and their way no matter what. But he had to try, try to convince, to get through to them, to communicate, to overcome their reticence, to overcome.

  ‘Brothers,’

  he began.

  They couldn't believe he had said that. Like a bloody priest! Should they laugh or take offence? They gritted their teeth and let him continue.

  ‘believe me, I had no intention, no intention whatsoever, of, of mixing you all up in….this. You know that. I did what I did. I had my reasons. Maybe now, in hindsight….’

  He trailed off, as he had arrived at this phrase without really thinking it through first, borne on the waves of clichés.

  ‘Well, it’s too late now. What’s done is done.’

  ‘Get on with it.’

  Ken was getting sick of it all.

  ‘What I mean is that no way did I mean this to splash you.’

  He turned to Ron.

  ‘You were very kind to me when I left the hospital, and I appreciate that, I know you only did what you did because you thought it best. Best for me. Both of you. Thanks. Really.’

  Ron felt better already. Those were truly soothing words. Who knows, maybe his kid brother wasn’t so bad after all.

  ‘And you and Jill, too, looking after me in the hospital, always concerned about me. I shall never forget that. And I really am sorry that the press had to, well, drag you both into this, because it is nothing to do with you and they should leave you alone. In fact, more than one has promised me that, but then they go and do what they want.’

  ‘Vultures’

  proclaimed Ron.

  ‘Bunch of sick bastards, they don’t care tuppence for anyone, they don’t care who they hurt, poking their noses in other people’s dirt…..’

  Ken was about to go on a rant. He sat upright and stiff on the sofa, his hands rubbing his thighs energetically. His brothers recognised the symptoms and cut him short.

  ‘Be that as it may.’

  Ron’s attempt.

  ‘Well maybe you’re right, maybe you’re right, but it was something I, I hadn’t intended. Sorry.’

  “Sorry” is a revered word, so they remained in silence for a few seconds yet again. The eloquence of silence. Until Ron snapped them out of it. If he had apologised, then he admitted he was wrong, right? So now maybe we can move on and get down to the nitty gritty?

  ‘We need some guidelines, some basic rules.’

  He flipped open his notebook once more. The other brothers shifted uneasily. Ron was about to lay down the law.

  ‘Rule number one. You have to….’

  ‘Do we need to have it all spelt out for us, we’re not in a bleeding court room?’

  interrupted Ken. He hated his brother’s little Hitler approach.

  ‘Anyway, you‘ve already said all this,’

  he turned to Paul,

  ‘hasn’t he?’

  who nodded.

  Great! Now they were ganging up on him. Had anything been concluded? Had anyone suggested anything better? Had anything changed AT ALL? This was going to be….bloody ridiculous!

  ‘All right, all right, so what do you suggest?’

  And he closed his notebook the way he imagined a Headmaster would – calmly but firmly.

  Ken had had enough. He didn’t want to spend all afternoon arguing, he wanted it all over and done with. Now.

  He stood up. Suddenly Paul looked so small, squatting on the floor like a hippy at a festival, that for an instant he felt like crushing him underfoot. He looked down at his long, fleshy face, the perpetual adolescent, that hint of a smile always hanging around his weak girlish mouth, and he hated him. Cut off your own balls? Then play Jesus? Then screw up everybody’s lives for some nutty quasi religious nonsense? He deserved a kick up the arse at least.

  ‘No fucking lists. No fucking about. Just stop, and I mean stop, blabbing off to all and sundry about…. whatever it is you blab off about. You’re screwing up my marriage, you’re screwing up his life,’

  he jerked his head towards Ron,

  ‘and you’re making a prat of yourself into the bargain. Move out, sit still, and above all keep your fucking mouth shut!’

  He was shouting by now, and the raised voice had lured Rani back into the room. He asked Paul if everything was ok. Paul struggled to his feet – he had to pacify!

  ‘Everything’s fine, everything’s fine.’

  He tried to ease the situation with hand gestures, like a conductor saying piano, piano.

  ‘So much for the diplomatic approach,’

  gloated Ron.

  ‘Oh fuck off!’

  was Ken’s rhetoric retort.

  ‘Ken!’

  Paul had seen all this before, and Ken would either now go mad and start a fight, or go sullen and stomp out. He preferred the latter. Meanwhile Ron would do his best to stir it all up, for some reason gleaning great joy from these family squabbles.

  ‘You want to watch your mouth!’

  That was Rani, his arm outstretched and pointing directly at Ken, his eyes raging and challenging.

  ‘You talking to me?’

  An unnecessary question, but part of the cock-fighting ritual.

  ‘Rani’

  ‘No, just leave it!’

  ‘Winner takes all! Pathetic!’

  exclaimed Ron.

  ‘Shut it!’

  That was Ken to Ron. This was fast turning into a bar room brawl.

  ‘Do you want me to throw them out?’

  asked Rani.

  ‘Just try!’

  ‘Please, please, just listen to me for a minute. Please!’

  Another mini break for the tension to ease off just enough for speech to make its re-entry.

  ‘Please.’

  Diamond took advantage of the lull to sneak in from the kitchen. She slipped in behind Rani and tried to catch Ron and Ken’s eye, hoping to confront them, but they avoided contact. First let Paul have his say.

  Ah, if only life were a film! This would have been the perfect occasion for an eloquent speech – the tension had been created, they were now all on their feet, a silence had been granted,
and the main character was about to unify and pacify. Wise words indeed, solemnly pronounced, and music to match. We could focus on his perfect delivery whilst the others, dimly lit, are moved to tears, or at the very least acquiescence. Ron would have given it a bash. But it wasn’t his turn. So, Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you – Paul Kavanagh!

  ‘Look, this isn’t about me. And I had nothing to do with that website, either. I can’t just, well, I can’t just, well, hide my head in the sand. Not really. But as I said, it’s not about me, well, not only me, as such. If only they could just leave you all out of this! But I can’t just, stop. It is important. So we have to reach, come to, you know, some kind of compromise. Middle ground. Where we all feel, well, happy.’

  Something had happened that Paul hadn’t seen, because Ken suddenly pushed past him and headed straight for Rani. There must have been some silent taunting going on. Diamond spotted her cue again and threw herself at Ken before he could lay a hand on her Rani.