Sottopassaggio

by Nick Alexander

  I glance at Tom, but his expression is blank, so I turn back to Jenny.

  “Oh come on,” I push. “We’ve come all the way from Brighton. Give us a cuppa maam?”

  She glances at the entrance to the close again, and then looks me in the eye.

  “It’s really not a good time,” she says with a shake of her head. “I’m really sorry… You should have phoned.”

  “Jenny,” I say, stepping forwards.

  But as I move, she takes a step back.

  “I’m sorry Mark,” she says again. “But you have to go.”

  I glance at Tom. He shrugs and rolls his eyes.

  “Can I at least use the loo?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

  Jenny stares at the ground, then looks up at me. “Please?” she says. “You have to understand. Don’t make this hard on me. I feel bad enough.”

  I shrug and nod slowly. “OK,” I say with a sigh. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

  I open my arms to hug her and she moves forward. Over her shoulder I see the curtains next door twitching, then as I hug her I notice something is wrong with her hair. It’s matted and stuck to the side of her head. When I raise a hand to touch it however, she pulls away.

  “What happened to your hair?” I ask, frowning and glancing back at Tom.

  Jenny raises a hand and gently touches the side of her head. It reminds me of the gesture she made when she hurt her cheek.

  “Oh that,” she says. “I, um, got it caught in something. Ripped a bit out. It really hurt!” she laughs falsely.

  Tom steps forward. “Show me,” he says, his voice suspicious.

  “I really don’t have time for this,” Jenny protests. “Nick will be back any minute.”

  Tom’s lips thin, his expression becomes deadly serious. He looks soulfully at Jenny, then glances at me and raises an eyebrow, asking me for permission to go ahead. I nod.

  Tom places a hand on Jenny’s back. “And what happens when Nick gets home?” he asks.

  Jenny raises a hand to her mouth and chews a fingernail. I notice that her hand is trembling.

  “He… He just has a temper,” she says. “And he’s jealous, and he’s been drinking. It’s not a good combination.”

  She steps sideways, but Tom and I move with her.

  I lift her chin and look into her eyes.

  “Does he hurt you?” I say. “Because if he’s hurting you, you must say. You must tell us.”

  Jenny opens her mouth to speak but says nothing. She stares into my eyes and chews her bottom lip. Her eyes are watery.

  “No,” she says finally, her voice hard, almost metallic. “He doesn’t.”

  Then she raises both hands and pushes me away. “Now go,” she says.

  I sigh and look at Tom who shrugs.

  “Come on,” I say shaking my head. “Let’s fuck off.”

  Tom looks flushed. His neck above the collar is turning pink. He swallows hard. “OK,” he says.

  We turn towards the Mini, but the sound of a car entering the close makes us pause. Jenny places one hand on each of our backs and gives us a little push.

  “Go!” she says urgently. Then she turns and trots back down the path towards the house.

  I glance at Tom, who winks sadly at me. We move towards the car.

  As Tom climbs in, I glance regretfully back at Jenny, but she is already inside, already closing the door behind her.

  As I pull open my door, a grey BMW swings into view, driving quickly towards us. I pause, my hand on the top of the open door.

  It slows as it approaches, then starts to swing behind the Mini and into the driveway. I peer in through the window, intrigued to at least catch a glimpse of Nick, if that’s who this is.

  The driver looks up at me, then brakes, tyres crunching on the gravel as the car slides to a stop.

  The window opens. His eyes are blue and bright. His long blond hair is pulled into a ponytail. His face is flushed and pink, good looking, if slightly swollen features.

  He looks up at me. “So what are you looking at?” he asks.

  Tom leans across the passenger seat and peers up at me. “Get in,” he says.

  “Nothing,” I tell the man. “I’m just going.”

  The guy nods. “Good, ‘cos you’re parked in front of my house,” he says.

  He isn’t slurring, but his voice is a touch too loud, a little too crude. It lacks a certain precision. He’s been drinking all right.

  I turn to get into the Mini, but something makes me stall. My legs fail to obey. I turn back and frown at the man.

  Tom pulls on the pocket of my jeans. “Mark, just get in,” he says.

  “Hang on,” I snap. “Something’s not right.”

  As I turn back to Nick, Tom, behind me mutters, “Something’s not right…”

  “If we’re parked in front of your house that’s probably just because we’re leaving your house,” I say with a false smile. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  The man nods and wipes a hand across his chin. It’s an aggressive open-mouthed gesture.

  “Is it now?” he says, sarcastically. “Is that the reason? Well, I won’t worry then.”

  Tom pulls on my rear pocket again. “Mark, will you leave it?” he says.

  “Wait!” I tell him. I’m not sure what I’m doing, but I’m sure it needs to be done.

  “So, tell me, friend,” the man says. “Who the fuck are you, anyway?”

  “A friend, of Jenny’s,” I say. “Mark.”

  I hold out my hand. Nick stares at it with distaste, as if it is some alien object. Then he looks back up at me.

  “The poof?” he says. “From Brighton?”

  I nod. “Yep!” I say perkily. “That’ll be me. The poof. From Brighton.”

  I hear Tom behind me. “Shit!” he mutters.

  “So you’re the cunt who’s been keeping my wife so busy,” Nick says.

  I run a hand across my head. I hear a click as Tom releases his seatbelt.

  “Yep,” I say. “You’ve got me all worked out. I’m the cunt from Brighton.”

  I glance over at the window. Beneath the sunny reflection on the pane, I can make out the silhouette of Jenny standing as before, chewing a fingernail.

  Nick nods. “Good. I’m glad that’s sorted. Now you can fuck off back to Queer-Town then,” he snarls.

  The Paths Separate

  I nod slowly. I am frozen at the point between two destinies. It’s not as if I’m trying to decide what will happen, it truly is a question of destiny. I’m waiting to see what will happen. This is where the paths split. And someone has to choose.

  “And you and your queer friends can stay away from my missus,” Nick says.

  I nod again. For a moment no one speaks. I feel a vague, unspecified heat. A burning, rising, pulsing heat is spreading through my body, up towards my forehead. The edges of my vision are blurring slightly. I can feel blood pulsing through my temple. It seems to me that in some strange way, Nick has chosen.

  “Well, I’m glad I met you,” I hear myself say. “I thought you were probably a cunt, and, well, now I know. You are.”

  I hear Tom say, “Oh fuck.”

  As Nick reaches for his door-handle, I hear a clunk indicating that Tom has done the same behind me.

  Nick’s nostrils flare. He flexes his shoulders as he rises from the car. He’s wearing jeans and a denim jacket. He looks solid and muscular, but shorter than me, 1m75 max.

  As I look down at him, flexing his muscles, pumping himself up, I have a sudden desire to laugh at his size. I resist, but smirk all the same.

  He pushes out his front teeth and lowers them to his bottom lip, then spits a drawn out, “Fuck, off,” at me.

  The front door opens and Jenny appears, advancing slowly, her arms crossed across her stomach.

  “Mark!” Tom shouts behind me.

  I turn to look at him. He’s standing one foot in the car, peering over the top of the Mini at me.

  “Listen to me; we real
ly need to…” But he stops mid phrase. His mouth drops.

  I hear Jenny scream behind me, but as I spin to see whatever they are seeing, Nick’s fist meets the left side of my head, just in front of my ear.

  The pain of his knuckles smashing into my cheek is gut wrenching. The shock of the blow winds me. The force of his arm behind the fist sends me crashing into the door of the Mini.

  I crash and crumple against the car door, then miss my footing and slide to the floor, turning as I fall to look at my assailant.

  Jenny has now reached Nick. “Leave him!” she shouts, latching onto his arm.

  “Please!” she pleads. She glances at Tom, “Please just go?” she begs.

  Jenny is hanging on to Nick’s right arm, but his left hand is free. He swings at Jenny and the flat of his hand slaps her hard across the cheek. The sheer sound of the slap makes me wince. She stumbles backwards onto the lawn, still, incredibly hanging onto Nick’s right arm.

  He leans over her and slaps her again, this time on the side of her head. She crumples backwards onto the lawn just in front of the fountain.

  Tom starts to move towards them. He’s shaking his head. He’s saying, “No, no, no, no…” His voice is peculiar and flat. He sounds oddly unemotional.

  I struggle to stand; my legs feel rubbery and uncoordinated.

  Nick is shaking his arm violently in an attempt to dislodge Jenny, but she is white knuckled, gripping the denim of his jacket.

  I pull myself up by the door handle, and manage to balance unsteadily on my two feet.

  “Nick, you can’t…” Tom is saying. His voice is still strangely calm.

  “Fucking get off me!” Nick shouts.

  Just as he says “off,” he swings his leg and kicks Jenny hard in the ribs. She shrieks in pain, and releasing his arm, she rolls away, her arms wrapped around her belly.

  At the instant of the kick, everything shifts speed.

  Tom runs and dives onto Nick’s back, knocking him to the ground. Memories of the nightmare are pulsing through my mind, so I run to Jenny, desperate to insert myself between her and Nick.

  The two men roll around in an indistinguishable mass, until Tom manages to plant the sole of his foot against Nick’s stomach and push him hard away. Tom moves onto all fours and starts to scramble towards the BMW.

  Nick grabs for the tail of Tom’s jacket, but he scrabbles away, standing as he runs, finally dodging behind Nick’s car.

  As the two men face off over the roof I yank Jenny to her feet and glance back at Tom.

  “Nick!” he is saying. His voice is breathless but still spookily toneless. “Just stop…”

  Tom’s eyes flick towards the Mini and I realise he wants me to get in, he has a plan, and he wants us to be ready to go.

  “You can’t behave this way. We don’t have to fight,” he’s shouting.

  Nick is darting right then left, but Tom, on the other side of the BMW, mirrors every movement.

  “This is family,” Nick is shouting. “It’s none of your fucking business.”

  “But you can’t behave like that,” Tom says. “And you can’t win. There are three of us.” There’s almost a hint of laughter in his voice.

  Tom’s eyes flick towards the car again, so I grab Jenny’s arm and start to manhandle her towards the door.

  “Now let’s just slow things down…” Tom says.

  Nick jerks right, leaping over the bonnet of his car, but Tom is as fast and skips sideways so the end result is the same. They have simply swapped sides, only Tom now has his back to the Mini.

  “Slow things down,” he says again breathlessly. There is definitely a note of sarcasm in his voice. As if he finds this all slightly amusing.

  I push Jenny into the back seat of the Mini. Tears are rolling down her cheeks, but she seemingly resigns herself to leaving.

  I look back at Tom who, behind his back, is making a screwdriver gesture. I edge towards the driver’s door, and glance inside but can see no tools, nothing resembling a weapon whatsoever.

  I glance back at Tom and see Nick’s eyes swivel towards me. I see him realise what’s happening.

  “Jenny, get out of the car!” he shouts. “JENNY! GET OUT OF THE FUCKING CAR!”

  Tom glances behind to see where we’re at, but as he does, Nick lurches towards him, higher than I would have imagined possible, and reaching across the top of the BMW, he manages to swipe and grasp the end of Tom’s tie.

  “Ha!” he laughs madly. “Fucker!”

  Tom struggles against the side of the car but Nick has him in a noose. He drags him sideways, then, down over the bonnet. Finally he winches him in.

  Tom glances back at me. His eyes look terrified, but as I start to move back towards him, he says, “Will you please, just start the fucking engine?”

  I freeze. I could almost cry at my stupidity. The screwdriver gesture was an ignition key. I get in the driver’s seat. Could Tom really have a plan? Could there really be a way for him to get out of this unscathed?

  I turn the key, over-revving the engine as it starts, then check the gears, feel for the pedals, and lean across the passenger seat to survey the two men.

  Jenny is peering from the back window.

  She says, “Mark. He’ll kill him; do something. Really, he’ll kill him.”

  Nick swaps his grip on Tom’s tie from the right to the left hand.

  Tom glances back at me, nodding maniacally. “Be ready,” he says.

  I shake my head in disbelief. I’m trembling and tears of rage are pushing from the corners of my eyes.

  “How the fuck?” I say. I push on the accelerator and rev the engine again.

  Tom turns back to Nick, who is now holding him mere inches from his own face.

  “Nick! Listen,” Tom says.

  Nick’s right hand collides with the side of his face. Not a punch, but a heavy slap, clearly the first of many. Nick has decided to enjoy himself.

  Tom stumbles sideways, but Nick pulls him back up by the tie, winding it further around his hand.

  “Nick, you’re making me really fucking angry,” Tom says.

  Whack! Nick’s hand slaps Tom’s head sideways.

  Jenny starts to sit forward, but I push the front seat down locking her in place.

  “He’ll hurt him!” she says, dissolving into sobs. “He’ll really…”

  “I’m OK!” Tom shouts.

  Nick laughs. “Are you?” he says, slapping him again. “Are you?”

  I shake my head. “This is bullshit,” I say, starting to stand.

  But Tom raises a hand towards me. It’s as clear as can be – a stop sign.

  “I give in,” Tom tells Nick. “You win. Listen…”

  As he says this Tom steps backwards and Nick follows. Tom’s back is only a few meters away from the rear of the Mini.

  Tom raises his hands to Nick’s chest, and grips his lapels. And suddenly I know what is about to happen. Suddenly I know what Tom is about to do. I’ve seen this before. I’ve been here before.

  I slide back into the driver’s seat, test the pedals, and glance nervously down the close. Then I lean over and look back up at Tom.

  Tom gives a huge grunt, and, with all his might, he pushes Nick away.

  Nick’s arms extend, leaving a meter between the two men, but he maintains his grasp on Tom’s tie and even laughs.

  “Oh no you don’t,” he grunts.

  Jenny is fumbling for the lever to release the seat, so I push her back again.

  As I glance back up, I see Tom give a final groaning push against Nick’s chest.

  “Here it comes,” I think, starting to grin, starting to will him on.

  I see his head withdraw; I see him lower his forehead. He aims it at Nick like a bull about to charge.

  “Yes!” I think. I look on with admiration, willing him to success.

  At the perfect moment, Tom stops pushing against Nick’s chest and simultaneously places a leg behind and throws himself forwards. Nick is pulling a
s hard as he can on Tom’s tie, his own force combining with Tom’s forward lurch.

  Tom’s head moves forward so fast, it blurs. As it meets Nick’s nose there is a gruesome crunch. Blood spurts forth. I gasp.

  Nick reels backwards, using Tom’s tie to steady himself, but then he releases his grip, totters backwards and collapses like a toddler onto the ground. He raises a hand to his face, to the blood gushing from his nose.

  He stares madly at his red hand, then up at us, then back at his hand. He looks astonished, cross-eyed, stunned.

  Tom spins towards the car but his city shoes slip on the grass and he loses his balance, one leg shooting out at a mad angle across the lawn.

  “Tom!” I scream, “Come on!” My voice is hoarse with terror. For Nick is already moving onto all fours, already staggering to his feet.

  As Tom scrabbles towards the open door, I push Jenny back into her seat again.

  “Fucking sit still!” I shout at her.

  I put the car into first and glance in front, to check the way is still clear.

  Jenny turns nervously and peers through the back window again. “No!” she wails. “Tom!”

  As Tom reaches the car, just as he starts to fold into the seat, Nick, now standing reaches inside his denim jacket and starts to pull something out.

  He lurches towards the car, and in a single swinging movement removes an iron bar – a wheel-nut wrench I realise – from inside his jacket.

  Tom is almost in the car, but just as he throws a leg inside, just as he tips sideways to drop into the seat, his head dips left and moves into the arc of the swinging wrench. It barely seems to touch him.

  “GO!” Tom screams.

  I rev the poor engine to death, and jerkily drop the clutch, and at the very instant Tom gets his other leg inside we lurch off across the close.

  Jenny is screaming, so I glance in the rear-view mirror expecting to see Nick running after us, but he is just standing in the middle of the street clutching his nose.

  As we swing around the bend, I glance left just in time to see him sink to his knees.

  Struggling to see – my vision seems blurred – and trembling with fear, I drive a few hundred yards to the end of the close, then pull out onto the open road.

  “Mark!” Tom shouts. “Change gear!”