Give The Devil His Due

by H G White

  Ablutions over, I returned to the pack. Phil had stuck the coffee on. Exhausted from the night before, we were slowly easing into the day. Neil and Peachy would be getting the train. I’d be driving to Wales. Phil offered to run the two of them to the railway station. I said I'd wait until he got back before I left. I still felt over the limit and unsafe to drive. It was about 1.30 p.m. when Phil returned.

  ‘They get off OK?’

  ‘Well, Peachy did. Neil asked to be dropped into town. Said he had a few things to pick up before he was going home.’

  Again I found that odd; why they wouldn't have travelled together? They were, after all, going to the same place, and surely they had shops in London where Neil could get what he wanted.

  It was time for me to head off. ‘Have you got their phone numbers and addresses, Phil?’

  ‘Here's Peachy's work, mobile and email, his address is on the back.’ It was a P.O. box-number. ‘Neil said he's moving house at the moment, so the best way to reach him is via his folks.’

  Talk about cagey, I thought this all a bit bizarre. Were these guys frightened to give me their addresses or something? Perhaps they thought I was going to stalk them. Mine was not to reason why. Phil opened the windows; the fresh air breezed in and I began to feel a little better. Time to go.

  I arrived back an hour and a half later, straight round to mum's. Pugsley was waiting. He stank a bit but never mind; it was his smell and I loved him. He didn't ask much in life, just a decent meal, walk and cuddle and he’d be ecstatic. If only a happy life was as easily attainable for the rest of us. I avoided the sauce for the next few nights. My liver was grateful – it would have bought me a present if it could.

  Wednesday 9 a.m. South Wales

  I'd been busy working the last few days, trying to maintain Mr Barclaycard in the manner to which I'd let him become accustomed. My plastic was beginning to strangle me.

  I hadn't spoken to Phil but would give him a bell around tennish. It was now 6 p.m. Dave was walking towards his house just as I pulled on to my drive. By the time I'd switched off the engine and opened the driver's door he had changed direction, covered thirty-five yards and was two feet away.

  ‘There's a new arrival in the street!’ he said excitedly.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes, I met her for the first time a couple of hours ago, and we really hit it off.’

  She must be into premium bonds I thought.

  ‘She's moved into number twenty-seven.’

  I lived at thirty, and twenty-seven was opposite. If we both had our curtains open we could see into each others' front rooms – both floors. This fact very obviously had not escaped Dave. Dave's house was to the left of mine and both he and I had trees which severely hampered his view of the new arrival’s residence.

  ‘Fancy a drink?’

  ‘No thanks Dave, I've got to shower and sort the dog out.’

  ‘I could pour them and feed the dog while you're getting douched.’

  ‘Thanks Dave, but I've got loads on. Maybe some other time.’ It was apparent that Dave was eager to do a ‘bit of surveillance’ but I didn't have the energy or time to indulge him. Besides I was tired, wanted to relax. I'd had people through the cab all day long and needed to chill.

  I went inside where Pugs was waiting. He did his usual bendy-body thing showing he was pleased to see me. He started barking at the fridge – bollocks! I'd forgotten to get dog food.

  I went straight back out and headed for the corner shop, on foot. No point in taking the car; it was only two hundred and fifty metres away. I picked up two cans of rabbit flavour, two original and two chicken-in-jelly. It would be rabbit flavour tonight; he liked that. I decided to rent a video while there – The Mission. I'd seen it before and it wouldn't strain me to watch it again. I often found that second time round the film was more enjoyable, mainly because I could take in the minutiae that I'd missed during the first viewing. Another advantage, it wouldn't matter if the phone rang or somebody came to the door, I could rejoin the movie without need for rewind.

  Back home again, as the dog tucked into his rabbit-flavoured repast, I got my dinner under way. It was a pheasant I'd taken out of the freezer that morning. I put a couple of roasties and some carrots in a tin and shoved it all in the oven. It would be done in an hour. I'd deal with the peas and gravy later.

  I showered. Stepping out the shower I caught sight of something in the mirror. Fuck! I was staring at Buddha, and what was even more disturbing – he had a little dick!

  My body was a bit like one of those balloon animals the balloon guy makes at kids’ parties. The funny-shaped ones, where if you squeezed one part, it got smaller and another part inflated. At some time I must have inadvertently squeezed my cock too hard – that would explain why it was so small and my gut had become so big. Time to lose weight. I'd start my diet immediately after my roast pheasant dinner.

  Dinner served, I settled down to watch the video. It was just as I remembered; nothing had changed. Entertainment needs fulfilled, I glanced at the clock. It was ten to ten. I dialled Phil. He picked up.

  ‘Greetings Earthling.’

  ‘Will, can I call you back in a couple of minutes? I'm on the other line to work.’

  ‘Yeah, no problem.’ That was Phil, true to form as always. ‘Sure, speak to you in a bit.’

  Phil's work wasn't really work as such. He was hired to do contracts. Sometimes it would be from home, sometimes some unusual location. He never turned up for a nine-to-five at some grey office building. ‘Work’ was just an expression he used in order to have an affinity with the rest of us lowly mortals. Twenty minutes later the phone rang.

  ‘Hi, sorry about that. I had some brain-dead numbnuts on the line. Couldn't get rid of him. What gives?’

  ‘OK, just done The Mission again, pretty knackered. How're things with you?’

  ‘Same old shit. Really enjoyed last week. Have you heard anything from the other two?’

  ‘No, I was going to give Peachy a ring see if he's still in the land of the living. It's a bit late tonight though. Should imagine it’s past his bedtime.’

  ‘Yeah, he's probably snuggled up with Rosanne Barr by now, so I think you could be right there. What else's new?’

  ‘Dave's all-excited.’

  ‘Has the Post Office launched a “Become-a-Wanker-and-Get-a-Bonus” scheme?’

  ‘No, there's a new neighbour! Dave headed me off at the pass when I came home, and announced they got on like a house on fire. I think he was staking a claim.’

  ‘Is the new neighbour male or female?’

  ‘Don't try and be a funny fucker. You can't. Female.’ Phil's attempt at humour, insinuating Dave and I might become love rivals for a new male neighbour's affections, was causing him to snigger on the other end of the line.

  ‘So what's she like then?’

  ‘I don't know. Haven't met her yet. Dave’s been offering to do my housework so he can perv from my front window.’

  ‘Let me guess. You said no.’

  ‘I certainly did.’

  ‘Is that so YOU can perv from your front window.’ Phil asked.

  ‘No. Let me tell you; there are two things I've learned about women.’

  ‘Oh yeah, what are they then?’

  ‘Well, number one is: not to get involved with them.’

  ‘And what's number two?’

  ‘Number two is … not to get involved with them!’

  ‘Fiver says you get involved with another woman.’

  ‘You know I don't do phone betting Phil. It could be the start of an addiction.’

  ‘Fuckin' chicken.’

  ‘As usual, you are correct.’

  ‘That's why I'm a superior being to you.’

  ‘My dog doesn't seem to think so.’

  ‘What do you expect from a dog whose arse is the identical twin of its face?’

  ‘Don't insult my dog.’ At this point I gave Pugs a reassuring cuddle to let him know that his dad still lov
ed him.

  ‘You know what they say about owners looking like their dogs?’

  ‘Goodnight Phil. Speak to you tomorrow.’

  Thursday 8.23 a.m.

  More bills arrived. At least they weren't huge. I switched on the TV then went to the kitchen and put some coffee on. Coffee to me was a strange thing. I couldn't decide which I liked more – the aroma that it spread around the house or the actual taste of the stuff.

  I opened the fridge. Damn, no milk. Why hadn't I bought some the night before? Couldn't have it without milk, so off to the corner shop again. This was a double-edged sword. It would probably mean me doing a Danish pastry as well as coffee. The good thing – at least I was getting five hundred yards’ exercise.

  As I walked down the drive, the new arrival was getting into her car. It was a fleeting glimpse. If pressed I wouldn't be able to pick her out in an ID parade.

  The corner shop was swarming with kids, both inside and out. Inside the ‘buyers’ were deflecting staff attention away from the ‘pinchers’, who were busy filling their pockets with what they could. Outside, the twenty-a-day James Dean wannabes were leaning against walls, puffing on the cigarettes which someone older had had to buy for them, trying to look cool and mean. A bit difficult when you're in your school uniform and not long celebrated your thirteenth birthday.

  I didn't hang about. Back to the house and coffee. Coming through the door I could hear the familiar rasp of the coffee maker, the last drops of water being transformed into brown gold. My timing was good. I sat down and took a seriously-needed sip. Phil always maintained that coffee was the drink of eunuchs. Whenever challenged about this statement he would just say, ‘It is, take my word for it.’

  I decided to call Peachy. I'd try his work number first. No point in paying mobile charges if he could be reached on a landline. A lady answered.

  ‘Senior Archivist Kozen's phone, may I help you?’

  ‘Er, is Mr Kozen there?’

  ‘May I ask who is calling?’

  ‘William Rees.’

  ‘And what may I ask is it regarding?’

  ‘It's a personal call.’

  ‘I will try to locate him Mr Rees.’

  A few moments later and Peach was on the line.

  ‘Will, how are you?’

  ‘Not bad. The dragon scared me a bit though.’

  ‘She's harmless. In fact she's lovely – once you get to know her.’

  Had Peachy moved from ‘big’ to ‘dominant’ I wondered? This would probably need further investigation.

  ‘Listen Will, I've been meaning to call you about a few things. I've got to go into a meeting right now, budgets and reorganisation etc. Can I call you back in say – a couple of hours?’

  ‘Yeah, no worries. Try the house first. If you don't get any luck, try the mobile.’

  ‘OK, will do.’ The phone clicked and Peach was gone.

  It was a toss up. Should I go to work? Or should I have a lazy morning and start about lunchtime? The lazy morning won.

  I sat in front of the box watching all manner of crap. From house makeovers and the latest fashions for pets; to serious scumbags washing their dirty laundry in front of a jeering live TV audience. There seemed to be quite a lot of common ground.

  ‘I'm addicted to chips and having my ninth child. Who's the father? Is it my unemployed husband or my brother-in-law who's a smackhead?’

  ‘Join us after the break, viewers, to find out.’

  ‘My wife's lesbian lover raped me with a fifteen-inch strap-on.’

  ‘Did she find his G spot, viewers? Join us after the break to find out.’

  Something I couldn't get over was that all these people were on benefits. It amazed me that they had any spare time to fill out the claim forms. They must be shagging 90 per cent of the time! What little spare time they did have must have been spent either dealing or taking drugs or down the chip shop/tattooist/bad hairdressers/pub. They certainly weren't going to the dentist. Don't know why though. I'm sure they wouldn't have had to pay for their dental care. These people had no shame. This was their ‘fifteen minutes of fame’ and they were going to milk it for all its worth.

  Track suits and fluorescent-orange trainers were the order of the day. Big arses and squeaky voices: the bigger the arse, the squeakier the voice. Then … I finally sussed it. The chips must have been helium-filled!

  I was on my third Danish and cup of coffee. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take of either: stuffing myself or watching daytime TV. Perhaps this is how the whole daytime TV thing worked: You sat in front of the box for so long stuffing yourself, watching gross people losing it, that over a period of time you then became one of them. Climaxing in your very own appearance on daytime TV, losing it in front of millions of other people sitting at home stuffing while watching.

  The phone rang. The vicious circle was broken! Had a couple of hours gone by already? Only an hour and forty minutes to be exact.

  ‘Sorry about that Will.’

  ‘Don't be sorry Peach, work's work.’

  ‘Yeah, mine's particularly tedious at the moment. I'm getting tied up in so much red tape you wouldn't believe it.’

  ‘I've just been watching daytime telly.’

  ‘All right for some. Listen, do you want to pop up and see me in a about a week or so? I'm on a training course for a few days, but I'll be free from Friday afternoon on.’

  ‘Yeah, why not? You can show me the sights. Shall I give Phil a shout?’

  ‘You can if you want. It would be nice to see you both.’

  ‘What about Neil?’

  ‘No, just you and Phil. You'll understand why when we meet. And please, can you not mention this to anyone and tell Phil not to either?’

  ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘No, it's just I haven't got a huge place and things are easier this way.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Great, then I'll give you a buzz on Friday morning and we can sort out a meet.’

  ‘Looking forward to it.’

  We hung up. Work beckoned. Having done sod all for most of the morning, I started work with the intention of carrying on that little bit later. I managed till about 6.30 p.m. by which time I was totalled. Time for home.

  It's funny that once the school summer holidays are over how fast the nights start drawing in, especially on grey days. At this same time only a week before, we'd been sitting in Phil's back garden enjoying the late afternoon sun.

  That was then, this was now. ‘Mr Autumn’ definitely had his foot in the door and it wouldn't be long before ‘Old Man Winter’ pushed him out of the way. I liked the colder weather. I didn't have to cut the grass. The street was very quiet. I went through my front door and grabbed the dog's lead. Pugs was going to give me a big hello but that went by the wayside as the excitement of a walk took over.

  On the driveway, I opened the car door and grabbed a couple of latex gloves from a box in the door pocket. They always came in useful for a wheel change or anything else oily. I was no great fan of picking up dog-shit, but even less a fan of stepping in it, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone else either, so gloves it was. With a spare Tesco carrier bag already in my jacket, off we went. Living five minutes away from the local park was a plus. We'd been going about ten minutes and Pugs was having a leisurely trot and sniff of things when, suddenly, I heard a voice from behind me.

  ‘Excuse me!’

  My mind raced. Had Pugs laid a cable I hadn't spotted and as a result the shit-police were now on my tail? I turned round.

  ‘Sorry to shout. I noticed you going out with your dog and mine needed a walk, so I sort of followed you. I'm still trying to get used to where everything is around here. I'm Tegan by the way, your new neighbour!’

  I could see why Dave was more than keen. Tegan was a stunner. She had lustrous black hair, nice curves in all the right places and a lovely smile, with a husky voice to boot. At that moment Buddha's dick twitched. Thankfully I had tight jeans on. The little man wou
ldn't be able draw enough blood to embarrass me.

  ‘I'm Will, pleased to meet you.’ I shook her hand. What a gesture! WHAT A WANKER!

  With Dave probably badgering her from the moment she arrived, coupled with the professional welcome I'd just given her, she must either think (a) He must work on the door at ASDA as a greeter or (b) Shit! I've moved house to Geekland – AKA ‘Tosspot-Central’!

  What was the betting her house would be back on the market within forty-eight hours? I tried to make amends.

  ‘That's a nice little dog. What's its name?’

  ‘Maude.’

  I was lost for words. ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Maude. It was my grandmother's name.’

  The dog wasn't my kind of dog at all. It was small and poodlesque. It looked like someone had put 10,000 volts through it and unfortunately the bloody thing had survived. It would have looked more in place on top of Barbara Cartland's head than running round the park. With brown food stains round its mouth, I'm sure it probably had halitosis.

  ‘Oh, she's one of a kind. There's not another like her.’

  I thought Thank God for that. I changed the subject. ‘I hear you've met Dave.’

  ‘Yes, the bond dealer!’ She gave me a knowing look.

  ‘Dave's a nice guy, once you get past “the front”.’ I didn't tell her he'd been trying to camp out in my front room with the hope of seeing her in the buff.

  ‘Yes, he seems nice.’

  At this point, ‘Barbara Cartland’s wig‘ was straining like a good'un to evict a bad tenant. One of the sickly-looking white-marbled type, no doubt.

  ‘Oh Will, I haven’t got any poo bags with me.’

  CRISIS. What should I do? Do I volunteer to clear up the wig-mess or do I just hand her the bag and let her get on with it?

  ‘Here, let me.’ I put one of the gloves on and did the gentlemanly thing.