by Liza Cody
Keif said, ‘You really Eva’s sister – same mother, same father?’
‘Same mother.’
‘Fer true? Her well-being your well-being an’ all that?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well then,’ Keif said, ‘you won’t object if I carry this away.’ And he picked up the lovely big bottle of Jamaican rum and walked out with it.
‘Oi!’ I yelled.
We both ran out after him but by the time we got to the door he’d vanished into the rain.
‘The cheek of it!’ Simone said.
I was so narked I could hardly utter.
‘Did you see what he did?’ Simone said. ‘Did you see? Who does he think he is?’
‘Keif,’ I said. ‘He’s my …’
‘Personal trainer. You told me. You let him treat you like that? I’m surprised at you, Eva. You used to be able to stick up for yourself.’
Ouch. I said, ‘Well he’s …’
‘I mean, can’t you get someone better than him?’ Which gave me a problem. I couldn’t talk Keif down like I wanted to ‘cos then Simone’d think I couldn’t afford anyone better. So I said, ‘Well he’s very good on basic fitness and that sort of thing. I been sick recently.’
‘Yeah, but Eva, a black guy with no manners – or is he your boyfriend?’
‘Shit, Simone …’
‘Because, otherwise, why would you let him dictate to you like that?’
‘I ain’t letting him dictate,’ I yelled. ‘And ’sides, I’m thinking of letting him go.’
‘I should bloody well think so,’ Simone said. ‘And don’t shout.’
‘But he ain’t my boyfriend. He ain’t.’
‘So you might fancy him or something.’
‘I ain’t got a boyfriend. I ain’t interested.’
‘All right, all right,’ said Simone. ‘I didn’t mean you couldn’t have one if you wanted one.’
‘I told you,’ I said. ‘I ain’t interested.’
‘Don’t get so worked up,’ Simone said. ‘You’re better off without, believe me. It’s just I couldn’t stand to see that guy treat you so mean – walking off with your rum – the cheek of it.’
See? She did care. She really did. She was looking out for me just like I always looked out for her.
‘I bought you a toothbrush,’ she said. ‘You couldn’t find yours.’
I was so melted she’d remembered, I went straight off to the cubicle and scrubbed my teeth. My mouth felt cool and my teeth felt slippery. And then I noticed that the muscles in my calves and thighs felt warm and burny. So I thought, I can get it all back – if I work I can get hard again. If I had Simone behind me, Simone to watch me, I could do it all – be the London Lassassin again. There wasn’t nothing I couldn’t do if I could do it for her. I wouldn’t mind the pain at all.
When I got out of the cubicle she was there, leaning her back against the counter looking at an old poster – a Deeds Promotions poster with my name on it. All the old names were on it – Harsh, Gruff, Pete, Phil and his dad – and it gave me quite a turn. I don’t know where she found it ‘cos I thought I got rid of everything that reminded me.
I said, ‘Yeah, well, it’s hard coming back from injury.’
‘I thought you said you’d been sick,’ she said.
‘As well,’ I said. I didn’t want to tell her what really happened.
‘See, it’s rough in the ring,’ I mumbled. ‘I done me back in. I got the flu later.’
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Bad luck.’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Athletes is finely tuned animals. Put your back out of whack and it can take for ever healing.’
‘So that’s why you need a personal trainer,’ she said. ‘You must’ve been doing really well at the wrestling if you can afford one of those.’
‘Top of the tree, me.’
‘Then why’s your name at the bottom of the poster?’
‘Old poster,’ I said. ‘Before I reached me full potential.’
I wished she’d talk about something else.
‘Come on,’ she said, like she could read my mind. ‘Let’s go out. That idiot stole our rum so there’s nothing to stay in for.’
So we went out. Only this time I remembered the dogs. Simone quite liked Milo but I could see she was shit scared of Ramses and Lineker so I put her outside the gate before I let them out.
They could smell a stranger so they piled out of their pen and chased over to the gate to see her.
‘Shut up,’ I yelled, trotting behind them. ‘That’s my sister. She’s OK.’
I wanted her to stand up close to the gate so they could get a proper whiff of her and know she was welcome. But she didn’t want to get too near.
It was Ramses really. Some dogs have a nose for blood, some dogs can sniff out dope, some are ace with explosives – but give Ramses a tiny whiff of fear and he’ll suck your veins out through your belly button. I told you Simone was too sensitive. It made Ramses want to take advantage.
‘They’re awfully big dogs,’ she said as we walked away.
‘They’re proper bastards,’ I told her proudly. ‘I trained them myself
We didn’t go to the Fir Tree. I couldn’t remember exactly what happened last night but I could remember the landlord hadn’t been polite.
‘Not fit to be a publican,’ I said as we went past and turned left on the main road.
‘Pardon?’
‘Nothing. I’m starving. I ain’t eaten all day and me blood sugar’s taken a nosedive.’ As a matter of fact I suddenly couldn’t remember when I ate last. Not at all.
‘Simone,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ I said. I was going to tell her I couldn’t remember when I ate last, but I thought I better not. What if she thought I was a nutter? What if she didn’t want a nutter for a sister?
We went into the Cat and Cowbell and I ordered a meat pie and chips to go with the beer. Simone had another of those white-wine things.
‘What?’ said Simone.
‘That drink,’ I said. ‘It’s piss elegant, ennit?’
‘Is it?’ she said. ‘What you said about blood sugar …’
‘What?’
‘Well, you know an awful lot about fitness and things.’
“Course I do.’
‘We could go into business together,’ she said.
Together. She used that word again. It made me glow.
‘How?’ I said.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Open a fitness centre. You know all about whatsit, um, training, and I could manage it – look after the glamour end. You know, sunbeds and leotards.’
That was a stunner. In business together. It meant she did want me around. She could see our future and it was together.
‘Yeah,’ I said, gulping my beer. ‘Why not? When I retire I’ll be the most famous fighter ever – we could call the place The Lassassin …’
‘When you retire?’
‘From the ring.’ I was eating meat pie like there was no tomorrow. How can you be that hungry without knowing? ‘Simone,’ I said, ‘I want to be the most famous fighter there ever was. Famouser than Haystacks, Klondyke Kate, Kendo Nagasaki. I can do it. I know I can …’
‘Shshsh,’ she said, ‘everyone’s staring.’
‘Let them stare,’ I said, ‘that’s what being famous is all about.’ I turned to look at everyone who was staring at me and, oh choke on your chips, there was the Enemy. The Enemy looked at me just at the same second I looked at her so I couldn’t pretend I ain’t seen her.
‘What?’ said Simone.
‘Bugger,’ I said. ‘Someone I know. Bloody politzei.’
‘What?’ she said. ‘Police? Shit.’
‘No worries,’ I said. ‘Ex-politzei.’ But when I looked over again I saw that the Enemy was with Mr Schiller and a geezer I didn’t know. Well, I didn’t know who he was but if I didn’t know what he was you could fold me up, stick me in an envelope and post me to Rio.
&
nbsp; ‘Scrub that,’ I said, ‘ex-politzei at the trough with real politzei.’
‘Let’s go,’ Simone said. ‘I’m still allergic.’
See, whatever else changes there’s one thing never changes – it’s like the colour of your eyes – you’re born with it and you go to the grave with it – and that’s what you think about the Law. It made me feel homey. Simone, for all her white-wine thingies and fancy-speak, was still my sister.
‘Finish your drink,’ I said, ‘they ain’t got nothing on me.’ I went on shovelling meat pie into my gob and washing it down with bitter. All the same, I wanted to leave ‘cos I didn’t want Simone to know I’d been working for Lee-Schiller. That was a real come-down for someone like me, and I wouldn’t of done it except I was on my uppers. But I didn’t want Simone to know that neither.
But Simone had ants in her bloomers and wanted to go before I’d finished my pint. Trouble was, we had to walk past politzei on our way out, and the Enemy turned round, all teeth and tits, saying, ‘Hello, Eva. I didn’t know this was your pub.’
‘It ain’t,’ I said. ‘Wouldn’t be seen dead in here. It stinks of pork.’
‘Don’t be so bleeding rude,’ she said. ‘I’ve told you a million times …’
‘You can tell a pig by the company it keeps.’
‘Oh act your age, Eva,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know you knew Sergeant Chapman.’
‘I don’t,’ I said. ‘But I could smell him from across the room.’ I was getting a glow on – I could tell she was annoyed ‘cos her jaw went rigid.
‘Come on!’ Simone hissed in my ear.
‘I just wanted to say – no hard feelings,’ the Enemy said, looking at Simone, ‘and don’t accept any three-pound notes if you happen to do any cash jobs for anyone round here.’
‘I wouldn’t work for anyone in here,’ I said, ‘not if I was living in a cardboard box.’
‘OK, OK,’ she said, grinding her teeth. ‘Only some funny money’s started appearing on the patch, so be warned.’
I swung away. I said, ‘Simone? Have I got dribble on my chin? Do I look like a retard baby?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Eva …’
‘Simone?’ the Enemy said. ‘Is this the Simone? Your Simone?’
‘What of it?’ I said. ‘Whose business is it if she is?’ But I wanted to tell her. I was so proud I said, ‘Some of us get what we want in spite of all the blibbers trying to bring us down.’
Suddenly Simone slipped her hand through my arm and said, ‘Look, Ms …?’
‘Lee.’
‘Ms Lee. It’s been lovely meeting you, but I’m afraid we have to rush off to another appointment.’ And she turned me round and we sort of sailed out of the Cat and Cowbell.
I was so impressed I kept saying in my head, ‘Hey, we gotta rush off to another appointment. Another appointment.’ It made us sound so fancy-pants important. I felt brilliant walking out on to the wet street with Simone’s hand tucked in the crook of my arm.
‘You are the business,’ I said. ‘You’re fucking incredible.’
‘Don’t you ever do that again,’ she said, snatching her hand away.
‘What?’ I felt like she slapped me. ‘What I done?’
‘Don’t you ever make a scene in front of the cops again,’ she said. ‘Don’t you ever talk about me to a copper again.’
‘I never,’ I said.
‘What do you call that, when it’s at home?’ she said. ‘You were drawing attention to us.’
‘I never,’ I said. ‘It’s that Anna Lee – she’s got her conk in everyone’s business
‘I don’t care who she is,’ Simone said, backing away. ‘You shout and yell and insult everyone and it’s like waving a flag and saying, “I’m a wrong’un, I’m a bad’un, come and take me on.” And I don’t want to be around when you’re doing that ‘cos it’s like you’re tarring me with your mucky brush too.’
‘I ain’t:
‘You’re yelling now,’ she said. ‘I came to see you ‘cos I thought maybe we could get together, maybe we could do something together. But you ain’t changed. I thought maybe you might’ve changed. But you haven’t.’
‘I have changed,’ I said. ‘I’m the London Lassassin. I’m famous. I got me name on posters.’
But she walked away. I ran after her.
‘Simone!’ I said. ‘What do you want? I’ll do anything you want.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Then stand there and count to a hundred,’ she said. ‘I’m going home.’
‘Wha’?’
‘Stand still and count,’ she said. ‘Or I’ll not come back.’
‘But why?’ I said. ‘Why, Simone?’
“Cos it’ll stop you chasing me and shouting,’ she said. ‘If you can do that I might come back. Might.’
Chapter 9
Have you ever done that? Stood like sponge cake in the rain, sopping up everything the night dumps on you, counting? Just counting. And did you ever get past forty?
I kept getting screwed up around thirty-seven. I must of got to thirty-six or seven a hundred times, but Simone didn’t come back.
Then I thought, maybe she didn’t mean she’d come straight back, maybe she meant she’d come back tomorrow. So I stood there dithering a little longer. I mean, what if she was coming straight back, and I wasn’t there? What’d she think then?
But it’s a long time to stand still doing bugger-all but counting, so in the end I went home. And I thought, it’s all down to that pile of cow-flop, the Enemy. If she hadn’t of been there and mouthed off about Simone everything would of been all right. Simone and I would of sat there all comfy-cosy and made plans about the fitness centre. Instead I was going home alone and I didn’t even know where Simone was staying.
It’s a good thing the Enemy didn’t come out and see me. If she had it would of been curtains for her. I’d of strung her up by the tits and left her swinging for the crows. It was all her fault.
So I trudged home all cold and wet. My legs were aching from the running and I didn’t know what to think. It was like the light went out every time Simone left. I had to make her stay. Whatever it took, I’d do it just to keep the light on in my head. But I didn’t know what it took. I felt knitted and knotted. Till I got home.
I knew what to think when I got back to the yard. I was twenty yards from the gate when I met Milo trotting towards me.
‘Milo!’ I said. ‘What the fuck you doing out?’
‘Herf,’ he said, like nothing was wrong. But it was. It had to be if Milo was out on the street instead of in the yard.
‘Heel!’ I said.
‘Hip,’ he said, falling in behind me like he was taught.
‘And shurrup!’ I said, swiping at his snout.
The gate was swung wide open. The chain was lopped in two pieces. I could see that much by the street lamp. The yard was dark.
My torch should of been in my hand. But it wasn’t. It was inside the Static. Usually I carry it with me everywhere. It’s a dirty great heavy thing – a good cosh. But you don’t take a cosh for a cosy-comfy drink with your sister, do you?
I walked into the dark yard. I stopped and listened. Nothing. I don’t like it when it’s quiet.
‘Ramses!’ I yelled. ‘Lineker!’ If Milo was out on the street, where were they? I didn’t want to cross the yard to the Static without them. There are too many heaps of bent metal, too many machines, too many hidy-holes.
And then I heard them – a low throaty snarl from Ramses and a sharp ‘Yack-yack’ from Lineker.
‘Here!’ I yelled. ‘Ramses! Here!’
But they didn’t come.
‘Shit,’ I said. ‘OK, Milo, it’s you and me, kiddo.’ Because even though he’s not much more than a whelp he’s got good ears and a nose to sniff out trouble. At least he could warn me.
‘Come, Milo,’ I said. ‘Home.’
‘Herf,’ he said, and trotted off towards the dog pen.
‘Not you
r home, stupid,’ I said.
He flattened his ears and trotted on. I was on me own.
‘Fuck,’ I said, and I set off running, keeping low, sprinting for the Static.
No one jumped out at me. No one stopped me. I reached the Static, grabbed the tyre-iron I keep by the steps and burst in through the door.
‘On your knees, scum,’ I shouted, ‘cos there’s an advantage to going in loud. But no one did doodle. And that’s because there was no one there to do doodle.
I snatched up my torch and switched it on. Then I searched. There was no one in the kitchenette, no one in the shower-stall or bedroom. No one there at all. And as far as I could see no one had come inside.
‘OK,’ I said. ‘Where the fuck are you?’
I went outside, torch in one hand, tyre-iron in the other. All I could hear was the dogs going ape over the other side of the yard. But first I went to the dog pen.
Milo was outside looking wet and pitiful like he wanted to get in and go to bed. I pushed him out the way. I was narked with him.
‘Stay!’ I said. But when I went into the shed he followed me.
The Puma bag was still nailed to the wall. It was still full. I let my breath out with a big hiss.
‘Safe,’ I said. Keeping hold of your stash is hair-raising work.
‘Hip?’ said Milo.
‘Hip yourself,’ I said. I wasn’t quite so narked now. But I pulled Milo out of the shed and made him come with me. He didn’t want to, but I made him. I couldn’t let him bunk off the action.
There was action. I could hear it. That creepy rrr-argh from Ramses said there was something going down.
At first I thought him and Lineker had someone trapped in one of the dead motors. But as I got closer I thought they’d killed him. They had something down on the ground and they were worrying the life out of it.
Let ‘em, I thought – that’ll teach the bugger. But then I thought, no, that’ll bring the shite on my head for sure. It ain’t fair, but the Law puts your dogs down if they kill or maim anyone. Even if it’s his fault and they’re only doing their job. You’d think a person could protect her stuff any old way, wouldn’t you? You would if you had a single brain in your head. But you’d be wrong. ‘Cos the Law ain’t got a single brain in its head and what the Law says goes. There’s natural justice and then there’s the Law and, believe, the two don’t even shake hands.