by Ian Woodhead
The doorbell chimed and a young woman entered the shop. She saw Pete struggling to pick up the leaflets and rushed over to help him.
“Thanks, Jennifer.” He took the remaining leaflets and placed them back on the desk, away from Andrew’s big boots. “Is it the usual?”
“Yes please, Pete.”
Andrew slammed the newspaper down, scattering the leaflets and slouched around the counter.
“Hello, sweetheart.” He stared down her top. “What are you doing here?”
“Getting some stuff.” she murmured, covering her chest with her arms.
Pete wondered how the fat oaf could know his niece but it was obvious that she didn’t much care for him. Then again, Pete suspected most people who knew Andrew probably thought that he was a bit of a twat. An ugly, inbred, sadistic, thick twat.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” she asked. “Is the chip shop shut? Or are you looking for a furry friend?”
He tugged at the overall that was too small for him. “I work here now.”
“Oh Jesus God,” she muttered.
“Andrew? Would you be so kind and get this customer’s order from the storeroom?” Pete said that without a quiver in his voice.
The lad saluted him then winked at Jennifer. “Yes, boss.”
When he had gone, Jennifer pulled Pete towards him, she looked furious. “What the bloody hell is he doing here?” she hissed. “Have you any idea who that bastard is?”
He removed her hands and smoothed the shirt down. “Don’t get ratty with me love, I didn’t hire him.”
“He’s bad news, Uncle. You need to get rid of him.”
Pete shrugged.
“Don’t you care?”
“Of course I care, but I’m not in a position to do anything about it now, am I?”
She took hold of both his hands. “I’m sorry, Uncle; I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that this isn’t your shop anymore. I still don’t understand why you had to sell it.”
“And one day I’ll explain why. I promise.”
She let go of his hand at the sound of Andrew returning.
“You watch your back, Pete.”
“I can handle him,” he whispered.
Andrew came out of the store room with a large sack of Complete Dog Food slung over his shoulder. He hit the chinchilla cage with the bottom of the sack when he turned around.
“Do you want me to put this in your car, love?”
He was carrying that sack like it weighed nothing; Pete had trouble even dragging those sacks.
“No thank you,” she said. “I can manage.”
He dropped the sack of dog food on the floor. “Fuck you then bitch; it’s no skin off my nose.”
He made a show of looking at his watch. “Ok boss, I’m off for dinner.” He picked up Pete’s paper and left the shop, slamming the door after him.
“It’s only half past ten,” she said.
“Who cares?” replied Pete. “I’m just glad to get rid of him. With a bit of luck he won’t come back.”
He took hold of the top of the sack and dragged it towards the door, Jennifer was holding open for him.
“I mean it, Uncle. I want you to take care when he’s about.”
He managed to get the dog food into the back of her Ford Fiesta. “Don’t worry; I’m old enough to take care of myself.”
She shook her head. “You really don’t know who Andrew Butterworth is do you?”
“Should I?”
“Do you remember Michael Richards?”
Pete shuddered; he’d never forget that name. Michael Richards had terrorised him through five years of secondary school.
“Well, Andrews’s his nephew and he’s more of a bastard than his Uncle ever was.”
The genuine look of concern on her face touched him; he’d never seen her like this before. She really was frightened for him.
“I’ve gone through forty years of life so far relatively unscathed and I’ve come across worse characters than him, believe me. Now is that annoying brother of mine still having that barbeque Sunday night?”
She got into her car and fastened the seatbelt. “You are still coming aren’t you?”
He nodded. “I’m not going to turn down the offer of free food, even if my brother has cooked it.”
He watched her pull out and drive off down the high street. When she turned the corner he dropped the smile. Pete Grayson was worried about his future and his livelihood. The guy who had offered to buy his shop three months ago when he had been stupid enough to get involved with a loan shark was an old school friend, Alex Marshall. He knew how much trouble that Richards character had been to Pete as a kid. There was no way that he wouldn’t know that Andrew was related to him.
He slumped back to his shop, pondering what to do over this bombshell that had landed in his lap. Could this day get any worse?
Chapter Four
Could this bastard pain get any worse? It was like having his head trapped under a huge rock, Jesus, the pressure behind his eyes was becoming intolerable. What the hell was this? Damien sat on the floor in the corner of his bedroom wall with his knees up as far as they could go.
Until a couple of minutes ago, he’d felt fine, until the appalling sensation of drowning under miles of ocean crept up on him and threw him to the floor. Damien crawled over to the corner, threw a thick towel behind his head and groaned.
He’d been aware of Alan bursting through the door a few seconds after this had started but he was unable to even acknowledge him, let alone cry for help. Alan sat on the end of Damien’s bed just looking at him. He didn’t move, speak or ask if he needed any help, nothing. He just picked at the ends of his gloves while Damien felt the weight of a mountain crushing his head. He slammed his eyelids down. If he hadn’t his eyes would have been pushed out.
“I’m sorry about this, Damien. Really I am. I’ll get you a glass of water. I’ll sprinkle some magic powder into it; Damien, it’ll make you better.”
The bedsprings squealed then his bedroom door slammed shut. Damien was left alone.
He couldn’t stay like this forever, head pressed against the walls; he knew that his mum was downstairs, probably watching some shite on TV. All he had to do was lift one leg and drop it and she’d be up here like a shot. His mum would give him some tablets, call the doctor and everything would be ok again.
All he had to do was just lift the leg up and drop it down. So why was he so reluctant to do it then? He tried to ram his head deeper into the towel. Oh God in heaven, please make it fucking stop!
This wasn’t just a headache. As soon as he described the symptoms to the doctor coupled with the freaky nightmares, he’d be carted off to see a special doctor. One of many - thanks to Alan - that his family were now on first name terms with.
Someone tapped on his door twice. It had to be Alan with his fucking glass of water.
There were times when his brother’s eccentric behaviour could really grate. He’d doubtless spent the last ten minutes going through the kitchen cupboards looking for the magic powder. Alan tapped another couple of times on the door.
God damn it! Why didn’t he just come in? Damien couldn’t raise his voice, it was bad enough speaking.
He hadn’t thought about the magic powder for years. His mum always told him that his food and drink was sprinkled with it when ever either of the boys was poorly.
Back then, he had an older brother, a proper one. A brother that used to look after him, teach him cool things. Someone he admired and looked up to, instead of the dribbling imbecile he had now.
Another tap on the door.
“For crying out loud!” he shouted. “Come in!” His head almost imploded. Jesus Christ, what the bloody hell did he have to do that for?
Alan pushed open the door and walked across, both hands gripping the full glass. He was being extra careful not to spill it. It was full to the brim; only the surface tension was holding it in. Alan reached his younger brother and crou
ched before him.
“This will make you feel lots better,” he said. “Drink it all up.”
There was something not right here.
“It’s yellow.” Damien whispered. “Why is the water that colour? Have you pissed in it? Is this your revenge for snapping your game disc?”
“It’s got magic powder in it,” Alan smirked. “Drink it all up; it’ll make you feel lots better.”
His brother placed it into Damien’s hands. He wasn’t prepared for the weight; it almost slipped through his fingers. The glass was ice cold.
“Don’t spill any of it! Jen will be here soon. You don’t want her to see you like this do you?”
Damien brought the glass up to his nose and took an apprehensive sniff. It didn’t smell like Alan had taken a wiz in it. If anything, it smelled of lemon.
Magic powder my arse; he’d poured some food colouring into the water, no wonder he had a big smirk plastered all over his face earlier. So why wasn’t he grinning now?
“Drink it.” he said. “You’ve got to drink it now. She’ll be here soon.” Alan pushed the glass closer to Damien’s mouth. “She can’t see you like this, it’s too early.”
Alan tipped the glass up and made Damien drink the lot in three gulps. The pressure on his head lifted, leaving a mild throbbing ache just behind his eyes. Damien was too shocked to do anything but look at the glass. The remaining drops rolled down the inside and collected at the bottom.
“The throbbing will be gone in a bit.”
Alan rocked back and forth on his heels, a smug grin plastered over his face. “I told you, didn’t I?”
Damien placed the class on an empty bookshelf then strode up close to Alan. “What the fuck is going on? Since when did you turn into a medicine man?”
Alan cowered away from his brother, retreating to the door. “The doorbell’s about to go. Just be happy that you’ll now stay the same, Damien. Don’t be mad.”
Alan opened the door but didn’t leave.
“Have you not got some aliens to kill?” Damien asked. Physically, he felt great but his mind was still all over the place.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to make your bed?”
“No I don’t. Alan, will you please leave me be.”
He still wasn’t moving, as if he was waiting for Damien to do something.
“Alan, will you please just fuck off.” Damien almost called him a dribbling imbecile out loud this time.
He spun around and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He guessed Alan would stay in his bedroom for the rest of the day. Damien considered going after him but then had second thoughts, if he’d upset him, there was a chance that Alan wouldn’t talk to anyone now for days. What was his mother going to say? He sat on the edge of the bed and cupped his head in his hands. Alan was right, the throbbing was receding and so was the memory of the dreams.
Alan burst through the door again, marched up to Damien and threw something down at his feet. “You owe me a new game!” he announced. “And by the way, I’m not a dribbling imbecile!”
“Alan! Look, I didn’t mean what I said, okay?”
Alan stopped at the door with his back to Damien and stared at the white painted wooden door frame. “There are monsters coming, Damien.”
The chiming of the front door bell echoed downstairs. Alan walked through the door then stopped in the hallway. “You can buy me a new game when the monsters have gone.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Alan ignored him and padded into the bathroom and slammed the door.
“What’s wrong with your brother?”
Jennifer was coming up the stairs.
“You haven’t upset him have you?”
He shook his head. “To be honest, I don’t know what I’ve done. What are you doing here anyway?” He held up his hand. “Not that I don’t like having you turn up unexpectedly, it’s just, I thought you were driving over to your dad’s.”
She followed Damien into his bedroom and wrapped her arms around his neck then covered his face in kisses then burst into tears. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back.
“Jesus, Jen. What’s wrong?”
“Just hold me.”
He did as she asked, stroking her hair.
“Has somebody upset you?” He thought of Alan storming off into the bathroom and wandered if he was the best person this morning to offer comfort to anyone.
“I’ve just seen a ghost from the past.” she said.
“From London?”
Jennifer nodded. “I thought he was dead, I hoped he was and now the bastard has shown up here.”
Damien kept quiet and just held her, there were a million questions he wanted to ask but didn’t want to say the wrong thing.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spring this on you.” She wiped her eyes and smiled up at him. “I’m not usually in the habit of unloading my burdens onto blokes I’ve only known for a couple of weeks, it’s just that it was such a shock seeing him.”
Damien sat her down on the bed and pulled up a chair for himself.
“Can you tell me what he did?”
She first took a deep breath then searched through her bag. She brought out a tissue and dried her face with it. Damien took it off her and placed it in his pockets, thinking that it may come in useful later on.
“Me and my best mate from school had been invited to this party at some big posh house a couple of miles from where I lived. I was thirteen at the time and dead excited, it was my first invite.”
Damien nodded. The last party he’d been invited to had balloons and birthday cake. At that age, he was stuck at home looking after his brother who’d just come out of hospital.
“It was my friend you see, Alison. A week didn’t go by without at least one boy asking her out, she attracted the boys like moths to a flame.”
“You make it sound like she was prettier than you.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Damien. Now shut up. My dad dropped us off at the house and told us he’d be back at nine. We had three hours to become party animals and for a couple of hours we did just that.”
Jennifer stroked the back of his hand. “Don’t look at me like that, it wasn’t an illegal rave in the middle of a field or anyway. It was organised, nobody over eighteen and no alcohol - although I remember a couple of bottles of homemade wine getting passed about.”
Jennifer tightened her grip on his hand.
“You okay?” he said.
She nodded. “I only left her for a minute so I could go to the toilet, when I got back there was this big lad, a right scruffy bastard he was. He was trying to get a dance off Alison and she was having none of it. I never saw him before but you could tell he was trouble.”
“What did you do?”
“I got help but by the time we got back, he had run off and Alison was on the floor having convulsions. It turned out that he’d spiked her drink.”
When she said that, Damien thought about his yellow water.
“A week later, he followed me from school and when there was nobody about, he dragged me into a nearby park and into some bushes.”
The colour left his face. “Oh Christ Jen, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t faint on me Damien. He didn’t manage to get very far. The park wasn’t as empty as he thought. My screams attracted the attention of a gay couple who accidentally dragged him out of the bushes by his hair and kicked the shit out of him.”
Damien looked at his girlfriend in a new light. Good God, she had bigger balls than he did. He tried to picture the terror she must have felt when that monster got hold of her, knowing full well what he was going to try and do. To be the victim of such a brutal attack, yet not let the experience show. He thought of what happened to Alan six years ago and wished he could have done the same. He wouldn’t have a clue if she hadn’t seen that lad today.
He realized that she hadn’t told him where she had seen him. A lead weight settled
in the pit of his stomach. “He was just passing through wasn’t he? Don’t tell me he’s moved here.”
“Its worse, he’s working in my Uncle’s shop.”
“Right, well I’ll tell him to keep away from you.”
She shook her head, “Don’t be silly. He’ll turn you into burger meat.”
He wasn’t too sure how to take that. She continued.
“What I want you to do is to persuade Tony not to go after him.”
“You’re joking aren’t you? Are you saying that you never told Tony?”
She shook her head; her eyes were filling up again. “You’re the only person I’ve ever told.”
He was about to ask her why but bit his tongue just in time. He nodded. “Ok Jen, consider it done.”
“Thank you.” She kissed the tip of his nose and then stood up. “I’ll deal with him my own way.”
“Are you going?”
“I have to, my dad will be wondering where I’ve got to. I didn’t know I was coming here until I drove past the end of your road. I just needed some reassurance, you know?”
For some reason it seemed incredibly important to ask his brother how he knew she was coming, come to think of it how did he know he’d called him a dribbling imbecile? He wondered where he was.
Jen hugged him.