by Ian Woodhead
“You’ve played the concerned boyfriend part well. Now forget about it”. He let his hand go. Damien snatched it back and hid it under the table. Tony went back to his drink, his eyes never leaving his sister.
“We keep this conversation between ourselves, Damien. I know Jen is a tough kid but there is no way she’ll be able to handle him.”
Damien just nodded, he felt incapable of speech.
She put the cups down almost dropping them. “Thanks for the help guys. I’m not your slave, you know.”
“Of course you are,” said Tony. “You’re a woman aren’t you?”
Damien couldn’t even raise a smile. She poked her brother in the ribs. “Your mum would slap you silly if she heard you talking about womankind like that.”
“We would have helped you, but we couldn’t leave the table, we had a bet on didn’t we Damien?”
Damien nodded. “We placed a bet on two pigeons having a fight.” He said, hoping the quiver wasn’t noticeable in his voice.
“I won.” Tony poked his tongue out at Damien.
Damien was too tired to work out how this was going to affect his relationship with Jen. He’d always considered the Patterson family to be normal, well, more normal than his, anyway. Now he discovered that their talent for deceiving each other, and now him, had been honed to a fine point. Did she really love him or was she lying about that too?
“That’s horrible,” she said. “You should have stopped them instead of putting money on who won.”
For one moment, Damien didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, until something wet splattered against his nose.
“Hello? Earth to Damien.”
Tony’s finger was wet. The froth dripped Damien’s his nose and onto the table. He nearly stood up and went home; all he wanted was a normal life. Was that too much to ask? He gazed at Jen then at Tony, maybe this was what normality really was. How would he know the difference anyway, not now, not after his own brother had sent him into the fucking twilight zone this morning?
“Are you ok?” asked Jennifer.
Damien nodded, “Yeah, just a little tired.”
“Are you still having those bad dreams?”
“I had another one last night.”
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a decent nights sleep. He needed to shut his eyes and know he wouldn’t be waking up in the morning screaming, his body covered in cold sweat. He wondered if beer would help, he hadn’t tried that yet. Damien had a better idea; fuck the beer, he should get something stronger. In fact, he wanted to get plastered right now and after the events this morning, buying a large bottle of Jack Daniels and disappearing down the woods alone for a few hours sounded like bliss. He heard Jen bollocking her brother and threatening to call the RSPB and wondered if it wasn’t too late.
“Are we still going to the pictures tonight?”
Damien turned to Jen and shrugged. He’d love to go to the flicks; he might even get an hour’s kip.
“What’s the point?” said Tony. “There’s nothing on.”
“I thought you guys wanted to see that new Rambo film?”
“It finished yesterday.” Tony stared at Damien, “We couldn’t go cos he had to go home to wipe his spazzy brother’s shitty arse.”
Jen stared at him in shocked disbelief. “Jesus Tony, you can’t say that”
“Why’s that then sis?” he sneered. “Fancy a kinky threesome do you? Your loser boyfriend kneels in front of you while the spastic is busy filling one of your other holes?”
Damien stood up, “You’d better fucking take that back Tony!”
“Sit down bitch, before I throw you down.”
Jennifer got to her feet, grabbed Damien’s hand and pulled him away. She was sobbing. Tony then seemed to undergo a transformation, his eyes cleared and the sneering mask fell off to be replaced by one of fear and confusion.
“Guys?” he said before his head crashed onto the table.
Jennifer was still trying to pull Damien away, he remembered what Alan said to him this morning about people about to change and not to blame them. He took a deep breath and dragged her back to the table.
Tony saw the tears in Jen’s eyes. “Oh Christ. Not again, I didn’t hurt anyone this time did I? Please don’t tell me I hurt someone…”
Damien shook his head. The distress engraved on his friend’s face was tangible. Despite his size, Tony was one of the kindest people he had known. In the two years he had been his friend he had only seen him raise his voice once.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said. “I think I need to throw up.”
Damien watched him stagger over to the café door then felt Jennifer’s hand find his, and he winced. She saw the bruises. “Did he do that?”
Damien nodded.
“He’s scaring me Damien. He hasn’t been the same since he found that necklace.”
Damien watched him barge through the coffee shop door. He hadn’t noticed anything around Tony’s neck.
“He told me he found it this morning before I set off to pick up the dog food. It was lying on a bench in the park; he assumed that this tramp must have left it, because one left the park just as he entered.”
“He put it around his neck after some vagrant had his dirty paws on it?”
She nodded. “That’s what I said but he took no notice. Do you know what is most strange?”
“You mean apart from this whole day?”
“He lost one just like it six years ago, that one once belonged to our aunt, it was very valuable.”
“Just how alike are these necklaces?”
“I couldn’t tell the difference.”
He didn’t know what to make of that so he kept his mouth shut. He looked over to see if he could see Tony and just happened to follow a couple of pigeons flying up to the roof. They had trouble finding a clear spot to land. Damien had never seen so many pigeons.
“So what happened the first time?”
“He tried to kill the postman.”
“Oh shit”
“Have you seen the one with the long blonde hair? He wears blue glasses.”
He nodded. The man was an arse. He insisted on calling everyone ‘ducks’ and banged on folks doors like he was a policeman.
“I was in the back, feeding the dogs. I didn’t hear the doorbell go but I did hear Tony thundering down the stairs shouting ‘I’ll get it’ I didn’t think much more about it and went back to sorting the dogs out. The next thing I hear is a scream followed by lots of shouting. When I got there, the postman was sat on the lawn, his hands clamped against his nose and blood all over the place. He was telling the world that he was going to call the police. Dad had Tony in a bear hug trying to calm him down.”
“Jesus.”
“I saw Tony go limp in dad’s arms, he was shaking and crying. That postman wouldn’t shut up about being assaulted, not that anyone was listening. Dad put Tony on the floor then ordered me to get some water. Before I did though I saw our neighbour stride up to the fence and told the postman to shut his gob, says it’s about time someone bopped you one, knocking on folk’s door at all hours of the morning. When I got back, the postman had buggered off and Tony was sat up asking dad what had happened.”
Damien was beginning to suspect that Alan’s down right odd comments this morning might not be as fantastic as he first thought.
“We need to get him to a doctor.” He had this mental image of Tony walking into the doctor’s office and seeing Alan sat there holding up a glass of piss coloured water.
“Dad’s already sorted it but it won’t be until Monday now.”
The pigeons were now joined by sparrows and starlings.
“We need to keep an eye on him then over the weekend,” he said. “Tell you what, why don’t we grab a DVD, order a take out and crash at Tony’s flat tonight. I’m sure he won’t mind.”
Jen bit the bottom off her lip. He knew what was coming next, what about his brother? Damien’s very own dead alb
atross.
“Just the three of us?” she asked.
Damien sighed and looked at his feet.
“You’ve forgotten about him haven’t you? Don’t worry about it; I’m sure we’ll sort something out.”
Damien looked at her and grinned, “It was his suggestion.”
“Honest? Is that what he said?”
Alan’s actual words were – you need to be away from me tonight as I won’t be able to protect you from the monsters but he didn’t intended to tell her that. His eye caught the sight of something bright yellow above him, this couldn’t be right.
What the hell was going on? That was a bloody budgie up there, perched on a drainpipe in between two starlings. He was sure that the little bird should have been pecked to death by now.
“Am I boring you?”
Damien tore his eyes off the birds and faced Jennifer, trying not to look so guilty.
“Sorry” he said, “It’s just that I’ve never seen so many birds round here before.”
She glanced up. “So there’s a few birds on the roofs, so what? It’s a nice day.”
Tony pushed his way through the door; he stopped and waved at them then threw himself to the floor as half a dozen pigeons flew past him. The birds rocketed up and landed on the already overcrowded roof of the café. All the rooftops around them were full of pigeons, starlings and sparrows with more birds joining them from the street. A crowd of starlings outside the fish shop fighting over a discarded chip took to the air.
“What the fucking hell is going on?” cried Jennifer.
Damien bit his tongue to stop himself telling her that it’s a nice day, what did she expect? Alan had told him that there would be signs. He was finding what little scepticism he had left fading away to almost nothing.
Without warning, all the birds flew down and returned to what they were doing. Damien saw the pigeon with one leg had the plaster in its beak and was hopping under their table.
Tony stood next to Damien, he held out his hand.
“Mates?”
“Only if you promise not to try and crush my hand again.” He replied.
Tony looked like he was about to burst into tears. Damien thrust his hand into his and shook it.
“I’m sorry Damien. I don’t know what came over me just then. Tell you what; let’s say we finish your conversation where they sell proper drinks, like in a pub, I’ll get them in. Call it my treat.”
“But it’s only half eleven, nothing will be open yet,” said Jennifer.
“The Rose and Crown opens early on a Saturday. I’ve been in a few times, decent beer, upholstery not ripped. What do you say?”
Damien nodded. “Ok, but I’m warning you, no funny stuff. You’re not my type.”
He looked at Jennifer. “Besides, I’m almost married.”
Tony laughed. “No funny stuff, I promise. Now let’s get to that pub before those birds dive bomb me again.”
Chapter Seven
The owner of that new café had ordered him to leave a few moments ago. Apparently, his appearance and foul odour were scaring her customers away. The bitch had said that out loud! Ernest had left before she had time to reach for her sweeping brush. That horrible woman would get her just reward for treating him like scum, they all would. Just like that mother over there, her arms around the shoulders of her brats, leading them away from the swings. He saw the look she gave him. He wasn’t blind.
He didn’t scare anyone away, they were disgusted with him. Well fuck them. By this time tomorrow, nobody in Holburn would be bothered about a scruffy little tramp messing up their pretty little town. The ones who survived the transformation would be running for their lives, from their changed neighbours. A delicious thrill travelled down his spine. Ernest couldn’t wait.
A pigeon with some rubbish in its beak hopped past his bench; he aimed a kick at it but the bloody thing didn’t even register he was there. It just carried on, hopping towards the mother who was now feeding her brats sandwiches from a plastic box. She looked up every so often just to make sure he wasn’t running over to rape her and kill her kids. She was looking now so he gave the bitch the one finger. The pigeon stopped by one of the kids, put the crap it had in its beak down beside it and looked up. One of her kids giggled and threw a piece of bread towards it.
His stomach rumbled, he’d forgotten the last time he’d had food, maybe he could scrounge some chips off the owner of the fish shop. She used to be quite friendly with him back when they were kids. He stood up, and the woman jumped when he started to walk towards them’ he sniggered then changed direction and headed back to the high street, he hoped she still owned the fish shop; if she had sold the business then he guessed he’d have to have a go at begging for money again.
Ernest couldn’t believe just how much his home town had altered in the last six years. Take that new café, for a start. How long had that been there? He shook his head, not that it mattered.
Everything in Holburn would be changed forever in a few hours.
He walked up to the large iron park gates, at least they were still the same, and he grabbed one of the pitted bars and hesitated. There was something wrong, somebody close by wanted him dead. A stone pinged off the gate by his hand; the second one smacked into his overcoat, the material was thick so he didn’t feel the impact. Ernest could not believe it. He walked back into the park, intending to calm her down.
The woman was ranting like a wild harpy and calling him all sorts of nasty names, in front of her kids as well, not that they cared. They were too busy fighting over the controls of a handheld video game. She threw another stone, this one nicked his ear. He looked around hoping they were alone, he was going to have to deal with this woman as soon as possible. She was causing a scene. One thing that generated a crowd more than anything was a scene.
She just stood there, her arms planted on her hips, giving him a look like he was something she had just trod in. Her kids were now running down the field behind her, football in arm. The video game sat on the bench forgotten. The woman wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to her kids. Her attention was focused on him. Ernest slowed down and stopped by the swings. She bared her teeth in a snarl of rage; this woman wasn’t going to back down. He knew she had one more stone in her hand and waited for the bitch to throw it before he moved in and finished this. Her kids were now at the bottom of the field kicking a football about; with luck they wouldn’t even notice their mummy was no longer functioning.
Ernest looked behind him to make sure they were still alone. When he turned back, the stone bounced off his nose; the sharp pain ricocheted through his head. That fucking hurt! She squealed in triumph then dropped to the floor, scrabbling about in the loose dirt and broken glass searching for more stones.
There was no way that he was going to let her throw another stone. Ernest charged in and launched his heavy work boot into her side. From the shock registering on her face, she hadn’t expected him to retaliate. Did she really think he would slink away? Or cower in a corner while she pelted him with stones. He booted her again this time in the face, her cheek almost collapsed inwards from the force. The tramp stood back, panting. Her kids were too busy playing to notice their mum was now close to the end of her life. He rolled her on her back and sat on her hips. The woman was close to passing out. Ernest pondered pushing his fingers into the cheek wound, hoping the shock would bring her back just for a moment. He wanted to know why she had behaved like a wild animal. He couldn’t risk it; he felt he was running on borrowed time already, He wasn’t worried about the kids on the field, he was going to handle them but if anyone else happened to wonder into the park well, the less said about that the better.
He unbuttoned her blouse, and then removed the ceremonial blade he kept in a sheaf on his back; Ernest placed the tip in between her ribs then pushed it in, putting his weight on the handle.
He half expected the screams to start now, for her kids to start running up the field but no, they just carried o
n playing. He shook his head in disgust; did kids nowadays not notice anything?
He climbed off the body but not before removing his blade, he’d need that tomorrow.
Why did she suddenly start acting all weird? It was going to bug him all day now; He picked up the video game and took the cartridge out of the back. The front showed a couple of cartoon turtles beating the shit out of each other. He didn’t have a clue who they were but that didn’t matter, as long as the kids recognised them. Ernest sat on the bench and rested his knife beside him.
He heard the kids shouting and running up the field, he smiled. Now they noticed. The two boys stopped at the edge of the field. He doubted that they would attack him and even if they did, so what? He could handle a couple of grieving kiddies, plus he had the knife. The youngest one dropped his football and threw himself at his mother’s body, sobbing and wailing into her hair.
The eldest kid didn’t move; he stared at the tramp, his eyes burning with hatred. If that was all the boy was capable of doing then that suited the tramp down to the ground, he was used to people hating him, but just to be sure; he picked up his knife and waved it in front of the boy. He started to wipe it clean then had a better idea. He brought the knife up to his mouth and licked the blood off both sides of the blade then grinned, showing off his blackened, blood stained teeth.
The boy didn’t even fucking move. Wasn’t he gross enough for it to register? That so pissed him off. He could have at least thrown himself at him or at least break down into floods of tears.