Clovenhoof 05 Beelzebelle

by Heide Goody

  Clovenhoof sniffed the air.

  “They’ve changed the smell of it then. I always assumed it was called that because it would fell a charging rhino.”

  Nerys retreated and slipped the atomiser back into her handbag. Clearly holy water wasn’t going to work to control Clovenhoof. Maybe she should get herself some Lynx Africa.

  By a small copse of trees near Keeper’s Pool in Sutton Park, Michael met up with Clovenhoof and Ben as planned. Clovenhoof had a wheelbarrow filled with spades, rope, and tools.

  “Jeremy, I’m amazed at how well equipped you are!”

  “You better believe it!” said Clovenhoof, as he grabbed his crotch with a hip thrust.

  “I meant the tools you’ve brought,” said Michael, indicating the wheelbarrow. “Haven’t you lost a great many of your possessions?”

  “Oh, these,” said Clovenhoof. “I borrowed them.”

  “Well, as long as you put them back where you found them, I suppose I can overlook that,” said Michael. He looked at Ben, who had his arms folded, his back to Clovenhoof, and was staring up at the sky. “Do I detect a slight frisson between the two of you this morning?”

  Ben rolled his eyes.

  “Jeremy is, quite simply, a massive prick who has no clue how to behave,” he said.

  Michael nodded in sympathy.

  “That’s hardly news. Well, let’s see if we can work together to catch this beast. Do you have a plan?”

  Ben instantly became more animated, his arms waving as he spoke.

  “I’ve assumed that the beast will want to feed, so we’ve got a bag full of butcher’s scraps as bait. I’m going to dig a pit over there, at the edge of the copse. We’ll cover it over, lay down the bait, and wait.”

  “Sounds good,” said Michael. He contemplated briefly whether he ought to offer his help with the digging, but he’d worn his cream chinos. “I need to, er, analyse the area for spoor and other signs of the beast. We can learn much if I can get a viable sample to the lab.”

  Ben shrugged and wandered off with his spade. After a few moments, he decided on the optimum place and broke the ground.

  Michael turned to Clovenhoof.

  “What’s your role? You don’t seem in a rush to do any digging.”

  “If I thought there was any danger of that, I’d have pinched a JCB rather than just a wheelbarrow,” said Clovenhoof. “I might have a look round for some branches to cover over Ben’s pit.”

  They walked off together.

  “Here’s one,” said Clovenhoof, pointing. “Do you want to help me get it?”

  Michael pulled a face and addressed Clovenhoof, hands on hips. His phone was ringing in his pocket, but he felt it more important to deal with Clovenhoof first.

  “Jeremy, there are two things wrong with that branch. Firstly, it is so enormous that we wouldn’t be able to carry it, even between the two of us, so it certainly won’t break, as intended, under the weight of the beast. The second thing that’s wrong with that branch is that it’s still attached to a tree. Quite high up.”

  “Fine!” huffed Clovenhoof. “Hadn’t realised you were afraid of heights.” He slapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you to get the branches then. Nice low down ones. I’m off to have a chat with some friends I’ve just spotted.”

  Michael tutted. He looked at his phone. There was a voicemail message.

  “Michael, dearest,” said Andy, “I’ve taken yet another call from your friend, Nerys. She wasn’t drunk this time. Once again, she had hoped to stay at ours, but realised that we had a lot going on in the bedroom. Apparently, she feels that cleanliness and hygiene are important and knows that we – I don’t know if she meant you and I or, you know, the international federation of gays – do take pride in our appearance, but wonders if we should have thought ahead before mixing things up in the bedroom. She did suggest that, if we want to get it resolved quickly, I ought to get my plumbing looked at by a professional. Delightfully, she knows a man who can come sort things out with little fuss. Apparently, he’s a wizard with the waterworks. You need to call me now, Michael, and explain.”

  Nerys had arrived a full hour early for her interview, and had some time to kill in Erdington. She’d phoned Andy to offer her own insights into the installation of an en suite shower (with the ulterior motive of reminding him that she was still looking for a place to stay, of course) and then, with dreams of moving into a proper home on her mind, stopped outside the window of an estate agent and gazed at the available properties. She sighed deeply. There were many flats in the local area. Nice flats with carpets, running water, and neighbours who wouldn’t unleash insane monkeys into the walls and then demolish the building. All completely outside her current price range, though.

  She went inside to examine some of the other boards. Since she couldn’t afford to move anywhere, there was no point limiting her window shopping to the cheap end of the market. What would it be like to live somewhere quiet and stylish? Somewhere with private parking, or a doorman, or a rooftop pool …

  “We’re interested in the house for sale on Warden Road,” said a woman behind Nerys.

  She turned. A young couple looked at her expectantly.

  “Sorry?”

  “Warden Road.”

  “Oh,” said Nerys. “No, I’m not … er …”

  Nerys looked at the one man in the office. He was on a phone call and looking the other way.

  Nerys smiled at the young couple and reasoned to herself that, when she got her new job as a legal advisor, she’d have people coming to her for advice all the time, so she needed to practise.

  “Let’s see,” she said. “Warden Road? Really, you want to move to that place with all those trees?”

  “Leafy suburbs,” said the man. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

  “Not really,” said Nerys. “You’ll never see any sunshine with those massive trees and the way it faces. Gloomy, if you ask me. And think of the tornados.”

  “Tornados?”

  Nerys nodded earnestly.

  “There are more tornados per square mile in the Birmingham area than the American Midwest. Do you know how many houses have trees fall on them? Stay clear, I say.”

  “Oh. I had no idea. You’ve also got a property on Church Road?”

  “Yes, but the cracked pavements round there will destroy a decent pair of heels in no time. You do know that there was an accident on that road? Killed the vicar!”

  “I’m sure there are accidents all over the place,” said the woman.

  “True, but, I tell you, if a woman of the cloth can’t safely cross the road … I’d look elsewhere if I were you.” Nerys scanned the houses. “Now, this place here, on Maney Hill Road, is in another class. It’s handy for the shops and all the decent pubs are up that end.”

  “We’ve not been looking up there,” said the woman. “It’s a bit out of our price range.”

  “This house really ought to be loads more money than they’re asking,” said Nerys, peering at the price. “I’m tempted myself.”

  Nerys realised that the estate agent had materialised beside her. She hadn’t noticed him finishing his phone call. How long had he been there?

  “That’s absolutely correct,” he said. “We’d normally see properties on that road going for much more than this, but the owners are an elderly couple who really need to move into a care home. Tragic story. They keep telling the family that women with pushchairs have been breaking into their garden and climbing over the rockery. Mummy and baby parkour, they say. Can you imagine?” He smiled. “Anyway, they’re after a quick sale. Can I show you some details?”

  The man shrugged. His partner nodded.

  The estate agent gestured to some chairs. As the couple turned away, he leaned across to Nerys and passed her a business card.

  “Nice work,” he said.

  Sylvester McIntyre – Estate Agent, the card read.

  “I think you actually have them hooked,” smiled Sylvester. He had a cute smile
, and he smelled of hair product. Nerys thought there were worse things for a man to smell of.

  “They thought I worked here,” explained Nerys apologetically.

  “Maybe you do, Nerys,” said Sylvester and tapped the business card. “It is Nerys, isn’t it?”

  “Um. How did you know …?”

  “I’ve seen your YouTube video skits.”

  “Skits.”

  “Comedy dating advice. I’m a big fan. Funniest thing ever. Call me if you ever need a job.”

  Clovenhoof strolled over to where the Sutton Coldfield Union of Mothers had spread their blankets on the ground. Some of them had brought placards bearing slogans like Only the breast for my baby and Feeding time is not a crime. Sandra was distributing juice drinks from a cool box.

  “Jeremy! How lovely to see you here. You didn’t bring a placard.”

  “I do have a whole cupboard of pro-breastfeeding placards at home, but I just didn’t know which one to bring.”

  “Would you like to write on one of the spares?”

  Clovenhoof got busy with a marker pen, and then saw a familiar face approaching.

  “Toyah!” he shouted. “Over here. Do you like my placard?”

  He waved it above his head.

  “Get your tits out for breastfeeding,” read Toyah. “Stating the bleeding obvious, if you ask me. How you gonna do it otherwise?”

  “No,” said Clovenhoof. “It’s a thing. I saw it on the internet. Women are supposed to get them out to show that boobs are not just for men to look at. I do think that maybe a man thought that up though. Genius.”

  Clovenhoof crouched and rubbed his nose against Beelzebelle’s. She giggled, and playfully punched him in the eyebrow. Clovenhoof felt a warm glow within his chest. He wasn’t sure if he liked that feeling or despised himself for feeling it.

  “Love truly is the work of the devil,” he said.

  “Hello, hello! Is this a new recruit?” said Sandra, approaching Toyah. She bent down to the buggy and then popped up again, a surprised expression on her face. “Oh, goodness me, are you Belle’s mom?”

  Toyah looked Sandra up and down. Sandra was wearing a maxi dress and Birkenstocks, which contrasted sharply with Toyah’s sequinned t-shirt with Bitch Queen embossed upon it.

  “Yes,” said Toyah, clearly biting down on a much sharper retort, “but her name’s Bea, not Belle.” She brought out a box of cakes. “I brought some cherry Bakewells for the picnic.”

  “Perfect!” beamed Clovenhoof. “A cake with a built in nipple. Pass one over.”

  Toyah was introduced to the other mothers and then she set Bea down on the blanket, where she could wriggle with the other babies. Sandra pulled Clovenhoof aside.

  “None of my business at all, but I take it that the two of you aren’t together?” she whispered.

  Clovenhoof shook his head, a cherry Bakewell wedged between his lips.

  “I understand. It must be so hard on you all.” She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Although, I can’t get used to Belle’s new name.”

  One of the non-Sandra’s looked at Sandra and tapped her watch.

  “Oh,” said Sandra. “It’s time for the speakers. We’ve got a health visitor and a local councillor. Oh, and a performance poet.”

  Clovenhoof saw Toyah shoot him a look that clearly said that he was an asshole for dragging her along to this.

  Sandra bent to another cool box and pulled out a pair of bottles.

  “So, let’s make sure that everyone’s got a nice full glass of Prosecco, so we can enjoy the speeches.”

  Clovenhoof winked at Toyah, who hunkered down and reached for a glass.

  Nerys entered the park and stormed across the grass at speed. The speed she was able to attain fell short of what she really wanted, but that was because of the clothing she was wearing.

  “Ben! Michael! Where’s Jeremy?”

  She approached Ben and Michael, who were packing some tools into a wheelbarrow. They looked up at her in surprise. Ben’s forehead was smeared with dirt.

  “Nerys! How did the job interview go?” asked Ben.

  “I was offered the job,” growled Nerys, quivering with rage. “I was offered the damn job.”

  “Well done! said Michael. “When do you start?”

  “I’m not bloody starting!” she yelled.

  “You sure, Nerys? Sounds as if you’re starting to me,” said Clovenhoof, walking over.

  Nerys was too furious to even ask why he was carrying a Get your tits out for breastfeeding placard.

  “You! You unbelievable shithead!” she seethed. “You applied for a job in my name, without asking!”

  “Yes, I did, and you’re very welcome,” said Clovenhoof. “I see you adhered closely to the dress code.” He indicated her short leather skirt, low cut blouse, and impractical heels. “You obviously nailed the wiggle test and the pole trial?”

  Nerys was momentarily torn between a perverse sense of pride and the anger that had been working its way to the surface and was refusing to leave.

  “I scored in the upper quartile for the wiggle test, and my pole routine was so spectacular that apparently I can start at the advanced grade, where you get to choose the best shifts, but that’s not the point! I don’t want to work at a lap dancing club. I want to be a legal advisor. You not only sent me off to an audition to titillate pathetic businessmen, you’ve shared it all on social media! Tina’s been laughing her head off about this. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

  “Hashtag catfight?” said Clovenhoof.

  Nerys roared in frustration and grabbed a spade from the wheelbarrow. She hefted it above her head and swung it at Clovenhoof. He parried, reducing his placard to Get your tits out. He was on the move before she could get him with a reverse swing, but he really didn’t have to move very quickly to outpace her in the vertiginous heels she was wearing.

  She tried to chase him anyway. Now she had the spade in her hand, she wanted to feel it connect with his skull. She knew that she couldn’t kill him, which was actually quite a liberating thought. She could crack open his skull, and then maybe he might appreciate the depth of hatred she felt for him at this moment.

  She could hear the others calling out, but ignored them. If there was something she was good at, it was focus, and, right now, she was focussed on pulverising Clovenhoof’s head. Ben was more vocal that she would have imagined. A few short hours ago, he was baying for Clovenhoof’s blood himself. He had just as many reasons to want to swing at their stupid neighbour as she did. Except that he didn’t have the added humiliation of an ex boss’s mockery over social media.

  “Hnnnyaaaagh!” Nerys knew she wasn’t going to catch Clovenhoof, so she hefted the spade at the back of his head and staggered to a stop. Except that she didn’t stop. The ground gave way beneath her. Broken branches and leaves did little to break her fall into a large hole that she felt sure had something to do with her neighbours. She landed in a painful tangle with broken branches scratching and poking her exposed flesh.

  “Nerys?”

  Ben and Clovenhoof peered over the edge of the hole.

  “Gah! I didn’t even crush your stupid skull! When I get out of here, I’m going to make sure that the next thing I do is research how much pain you’re physically able to feel, and then I’m going to make you feel it!”

  “Ooh, nice. Hashtag fighting talk!” said Clovenhoof, holding up his phone to take a picture. “I think we’d better get going, Ben.”

  Nerys was speechless. The cowardly pair had retreated, rather than helping her out. She took a breath to shout for help, but then paused as she heard voices, and what sounded like applause.

  “Those performance poets are brilliant!” said a woman. “Who knew they could inject such passion into such a short piece?”

  “Yes, but I still don’t understand what it had to do with breastfeeding,” said another.

  “The way I see it, the woman – representing the objectification and sexualis
ation of women – lashes out against the reasoned and liberal worldview that we represent.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “But – and this is telling – we don’t need to meet them with violence to defeat them. Those who would sexualise and diminish us will fall into a trap of their own foolishness – represented here by the physical trap in the ground.”

  “Powerful stuff. That woman is an astonishing actress.”

  “Well, you know who she is, don’t you? It’s the woman that does those parody dating advice videos. She’s quite the local celebrity. Let’s help her out of the hole. I want to see if she can do party nights.”

  Nerys looked up.

  The first face to appear over the lip of the pit seemed somewhat familiar. It was whatsername Wilson – Toyah. Nerys had seen her in pubs and clubs here and there, previously hanging on the arm of …

  “Oh.”

  “You’re the cow what stole Ed from me, aren’t you?” said Toyah.

  Nerys stumbled in her search for words.

  “Stole is a bit strong. I didn’t even do anything. I was just stood there and … um, he has a thing for leopard print.”

  Toyah grinned at her.

  “What? And now you’re caught in an animal trap. That’s iconic, innit, love?”

  Nerys gave up.

  “‘Ironic’, but yes. Yes, it is.”

  “And my mom tells me she caught you in bed with my dad.”

  “Now, that’s not strictly true,” argued Nerys. “He put me up for the night, but there was no, um, hanky-panky, and I understand your mum and your dad haven’t been together for years.”

  Toyah was laughing.

  “God, you’re a pathetic bitch.”

  Nerys was about to fling an insult back, but Toyah had a hand held out to her. Nerys looked at it, then took it.

  Clovenhoof and Ben had made an uneasy truce as they hurried back to Buford’s.

  “We need to come up with a good story. A really good story. Epic,” said Clovenhoof, as they entered the temporary sanctuary of the storage room cum bedsit. “Shall we blame Michael?”