Give The Devil His Due

by H G White

  He was right, but I wanted to make it look like I'd put in a little bit of effort on the costume front. After a cup of tea I’d calmed down slightly. We watched some sport on TV. I looked out of the front window. Tegan's car wasn't there.

  ‘Fuck it! Let's take all the stuff over.’ I grabbed Tegan's keys and we each took one end of the barbecue, carrying it to the top of the street, then back down the lane that ran behind the houses with odd numbers.

  It was easy to work out which gate was Tegan's. There was a whacking great big number 27 painted on it. I unlocked the gate and we put the barbecue on the patio. As we made our way back up the lane, Neil spotted a shopping trolley someone had left. It belonged to our local minimart.

  Neil had an idea. ‘We could use that to get the rest of the gear over.’

  I congratulated Mr Fairburn on his excellent suggestion. ‘Good call!’

  After commandeering the trolley and taking it to my house, the charcoal was piled in, extremely heavy gas bottle, assorted tubs of marinated meat and some pasta salad Neil had prepared. I grabbed the heater and we trundled off on our second trip to Tegan's.

  Neil had made an observation. ‘The front wheel on this is seriously iffy. It's shakin’ more than Stevens.’ I looked down and the added weight had increased the shaking. It was indeed wobbling at an amazing rate.

  ‘So, what do you expect me to fucking do about it? Go back to the house and get my tool kit?’

  ‘Keep your rug on Will. I was just forewarning you in case the wheel comes off and the bloody thing goes tits-up. I don't want to be held responsible for your spare ribs going all over the street.’

  ‘Just be careful when you go on and off the pavement.’ I said. We took our time and safely managed to transport our precious cargo to Tegan's back garden, stopping on the patio. I unlocked her kitchen door and headed for the fridge; opening it revealed an unwelcome find.

  ‘Arse! It’s full.’ There was no room at the inn.

  Neil had another idea. ‘Let’s just take the meat back to yours and leave it in your fridge till the party starts.’

  We locked her gate and re-trundled up the lane back to my place minus 2-ton gas bottle and charcoal; left Shakin’ Steven’s trolley outside my front door and put all the meat tubs and salad back from whence they came.

  It was now 3.30 p.m. I was sweating like a pig. I grabbed two cold stubbies and handed one to Neil. We had a couple more after that.

  ***

  I checked the clock; it was 4.47 p.m. Time to go and collect our costumes. We walked to my mother's house. She opened the door.

  ‘Hello ma.’

  ‘Hello you two. Gosh, Neil you've changed. You look very grown up.’

  ‘That's hardly surprising is it mother, seeing as the last time you saw him was about fifteen years ago!’ This was true. Fairburn might even have been wearing his school uniform if my memory served me correctly.

  ‘Isn't he rude Neil? There's no need to be like that Will.’

  ‘There's every need to be like that mother.’

  Mumsy suddenly noticed Neil’s eye. ‘Ooh Neil, that looks ever so painful. What have you done to yourself?’

  ‘I fell down a flight of stairs.’

  This was not what he had told Alan. ‘I thought you slipped on a bar of soap?’

  Neil stared at me and grinned. ‘Yeah, it was at the top of the stairs.’

  I’d had enough of this nonsense. ‘Look mother, we are running to a tight schedule, so if you could give us the costumes, we'll be on our way.’

  ‘Follow me then.’ We followed her into the lounge. There, neatly laid out on the sofa, was a pair of pyjamas. They looked as if they could've been made to measure for Fairburn.

  ‘I hope they fit you Neil,’ she simpered.

  ‘I'm sure they'll be perfect Mrs Rees. I really appreciate this. In fact I can't thank you enough.’

  Neil was beginning to irritate me. ‘Do you have to crawl so much Toadburn?’

  ‘He's not crawling. He's just being polite Will.’

  ‘Rubbish. His voice is that muffled 'cause his head's so far up your backside I'm having difficulty understanding what he's saying!’

  ‘Stop it William. You weren‘t brought up to behave like that.’ Evidently I was. I tried to ignore her drivel and turned my attention back to our outfits. Next to the pyjamas on the sofa was a neat assortment of bandages, including a sling – to make it look like Neil had a broken arm. This was good. The icing on the cake though was standing in the middle of the lounge – a lightweight foldaway wheelchair!

  My mother had instructions for us. ‘That wheelchair is new and mustn't be damaged. Carol's lent it to me on the Q.T. and her supervisor doesn't know about any of this. So I must have it back in the same condition. Promise me you'll look after it William.’

  ‘Yeah, whatever.’ I had to hand it to her. She had delivered ... big time.

  ‘Now you've kitted Mr Brown nose-out mother, where's my doctor’s outfit?’

  She pointed. ‘In that bag on the chair over there.’

  I walked over to the chair and picked up the bag. I pulled out the clothes that were inside. Wank!

  ‘There was just one little problem,’ she added. Too bloody right there was. ‘I couldn't get a doctor's coat, so I got you a nurse’s uniform.’

  Maybe this was an opportune moment for me to express my misgivings. ‘I'm not wearing that. Tegan will think I'm a frustrated transvestite.’

  ‘Being a frustrated transvestite is nothing to be ashamed of,’ said Neil.

  ‘Shut it Burnsie. This is no joking matter.’

  I looked at my mother. Her eyes narrowed; the mouth may have been silent, but the face was shouting from the rooftops, ‘Cinderella – you shall go to the ball!’

  As I stared at her I detected the suppression of a slight but triumphant grin. ‘You've done this on purpose ma. You knew I’d be lumbered. That's why you told us to come round so late.’

  ‘I wouldn't do that to you Will.’ She bloody-well would and she had. Neil was doing his best trying not to laugh and failing miserably.

  ‘Look Will, time's ticking. Just try the thing on to see how it looks. Your mother and I promise we won't laugh.’

  ‘What do you mean, you won't laugh? You're laughing now.’

  ‘Yeah, but the novelty will wear off once I see you dressed up.’

  Sod it; this was after all a fancy dress party we were going to. I grabbed the uniform and went into the dining room, put it on and came back out into the hall. I looked into the full-length mirror hanging on the wall. Cruella and Fairburn the Human Slug appeared from the lounge doorway.

  Slugman studied me carefully. ‘It looks OK Will.’

  ‘It doesn't look OK. Apart from the fact I don't want to appear like something out of Rocky Horror, it accentuates my gut. Jocky Wilson in drag are four words that spring to mind!’

  ‘That's easily remedied Will. Isn't it Neil?’

  ‘Yes Mrs Rees.’

  Was I going mad? Or were these idiots some sort of sick double act? My mother went upstairs, then came back down carrying her sewing box and an old bra. She put both items on the hall chair. Very quickly she disappeared again, this time into the cloakroom. Seconds later she reappeared clutching a large roll of toilet paper. She opened the sewing box and took out two Joan Collins-type shoulder pads.

  ‘Will, be a good boy and let your dear mother sort you out with a couple of falsies.’

  Why was I letting her do this? I had no idea. Within a couple of minutes, she'd created me a couple of realistic looking boobs. They were a fair old size too! And the gut had gone.

  ‘There's something missing Mrs R.’

  ‘Yes, I know what you mean Neil. Come out to the kitchen Will.’ I followed her like a lamb to the slaughter.

  ‘Sit down there for a moment.’ She made herself scarce only to return with her make-up case.

  ‘Now don't moan Will, not until you've seen the end result. You can always wash it off if you
don't like it.’ I sat there reluctantly, being made up by the party saboteur while the slug watched proceedings, grinning from ear to ear. I was beginning to think the three arseholes that had given Neil a kicking outside Mile End tube station weren't such bad guys after all. A quarter of an hour later, I heard the words from behind me.

  ‘There you are, all done! Go and have a look.’ I walked into the hall followed closely by the unfunny double act. Staring into the mirror; I didn't recognise myself. It was shocking. To be absolutely honest, I'd have to say I probably looked better as a trannie than I did normally.

  The more than ample breasts I'd acquired together with my mother's exceptional work on my ugly mug had, in all truth, turned me into a bit of a babe. It was a good job that Neil and ma were standing right behind me watching, otherwise I don't think I'd have been able to resist the temptation to feel myself up, especially with those tits!

  ‘Mmm, it'll have to do I suppose.’ No good letting her know what I really thought – I'd never hear the last of it. ‘Right mother, pour me a small Scotch. I need it before I go out in public looking like this. And bring a straw 'cause I don't want to smear my lipstick.’ She disappeared into the kitchen. Fairburn looked at me still grinning.

  ‘Nurse, if Denise does turn out to be a burglar’s dog, how much would you charge me for a BJ if you don't mind me asking?’

  ‘What's your intention with this BJ Burnsie – to give it or receive it?’

  ‘Very funny Will!’ At that moment mother appeared with two glasses and a little bowl of ice, all sitting symmetrically on a tray.

  ‘Before you go Will you'd better take a pair of my black tights. They'll hide the hairs on your legs, unless you want me to shave them for you?’

  ‘No thanks ma, the tights'll do just fine.’ We took our Dutch courage and it was time to leave.

  ‘Get in that chair Fairburn. At least when people see me pushing you up the road they won't give me a second look.’ Neil was giggling like a simpleton as he got in the chair, and off we went. Luckily I had tennis shoes on. They didn't look too bad with the rest of the outfit. God knows how I'd have managed if I'd have been in high heels. Checking my nurse’s pocket watch the time was now 6.23 p.m. Not wanting us to be the last to arrive I picked up the pace a bit.

  ‘Steady on you plonker. You'll have this bloody thing over and then I really will be the patient!’

  ‘Be quiet and let me drive Fairburn.’

  ‘This is a wheelchair, not a car. Besides you're supposed to be looking after it.’

  I ignored him and went like the clappers. After his ridiculing me at my having to cross-dress, I felt now was the right time to scare the shit out of him. Our arrival back at my place was timed by the nurse at 6.29 p.m. We left the wheelchair at the front and went inside. The dog needed feeding.

  ‘Before we go over there Will, have you got any Imodium? I don't feel too brilliant.’

  ‘There's some in the bathroom cabinet.’ Neil disappeared into the bathroom. I could hear some pretty unsavoury noises coming from that direction.

  ‘Are you OK Neil?’

  ‘Yeah, I think it's just a few pre-match nerves. Meeting new people and all that.’

  I hoped he was going to be all right. I hadn't meant the wheelchair ride to have affected him to this extent. Having given the dog his dinner, I started to get the tubs of meat and salad out of the fridge in readiness for the party. The front doorbell went. It must be Tegan, come to give us a hand with the stuff. I opened the door.

  In front of me stood a smiling policeman in uniform. Was this a party goer? I realised not, when the radio secured to his jacket blurted some sort of message out. He didn't answer. It must have been intended for someone else.

  ‘Good evening madam, I'm PC Adams, South Wales Police. Sorry to trouble you, but ...’

  ‘Let me stop you there officer. I'm a man.’ He looked at me. I'd fazed him for a second. ‘We're going to a fancy dress party shortly.’

  His face said, ‘Of course you are!’ Prompted by my revelation, he now wore a different expression, the smile had disappeared. This led me to believe that he hadn’t called round to forge a new ‘special’ relationship between cross-dressing party goers and the local constabulary. ‘Sir, I'm here because we've been asked by the store manager of the minimart on Stainton Road to investigate the theft of a shopping trolley. It's been reported to the store by one of the local residents that two males were seen earlier today with a trolley headed in this direction. While proceeding up this street, I happened to notice that you have a trolley on your property matching the description of the one we're looking for.’

  ‘Is this some sort of a wind up?’

  ‘I can assure you sir that it isn't.’

  ‘Look, we didn't steal the trolley. Somebody just left it at the top of the lane that runs behind those houses over there. We only used it to take some heavy things to the party we’re about to attend. I was going to return it to the store in the morning.’

  ‘I'm afraid things aren't quite as simple as that sir.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because the store manager is of a mind that, due to the persistent theft of trolleys from the minimart, on this occasion they will be looking to prosecute. I'm afraid I'm going to have to arrest you on suspicion of theft.’

  This was getting heavy. ‘I'm an extremely good customer of that shop. Is there no way I could take the trolley to the store now and smooth things over with the manager? He knows me personally.’

  PC Plod was thinking. ‘OK sir, here's what I'm going to do. Providing the store manager is in agreement, I shan't arrest you, but you will be cautioned. If you could accompany me to the store with the trolley sir …’

  ‘What? Now?’

  ‘Yes, now sir.’

  Fucking great! I just hoped Neil's diarrhoea continued to flow with gay abandon. I didn't want him coming down the stairs and both of us receiving a caution. It might mess up his badge application. If PC Jobsworth knew that my accomplice to this heinous crime was nearby, he would probably radio in for reinforcements and we might have a real cabaret going on in the street.

  ‘I'll just have to get my house keys.’

  ‘If you must sir.’ I closed the porch door and dashed upstairs. I whispered through the bathroom door. ‘Neil, listen, don't talk; stay in there. I've got a minor emergency. I'll be back in ten minutes. Whatever you do don't answer the front door.’

  Neil groaned. ‘OK.’

  I grabbed the trolley and accompanied Poirot up the street. As we neared the end, Rupert the Bear and Wonderwoman rounded the corner heading towards Tegan's. Rupert, not realising the severity of the situation and that I was a gnat's whisker away from being given a thirty-year stretch, tried his hand at comedy.

  ‘Evenin' all,’ (as he bent both knees à la Dixon). ‘Party's the other way matron.

  Poirot, completely poker-faced, responded instantly. ‘He's not a matron. He's a staff nurse and at this precise moment in time he's not coming to your party.’

  Rupert suddenly caught on that this was a real police officer and took the hint, shut up and carried on walking in the opposite direction.

  As we approached the minimart, a few of the Deans were hanging about near the entrance. They'd be trying to get some of the local 18-year-olds to buy them booze. It was Saturday evening. They were dressed, not in school uniform, but in their best James Dean clothes – trying to look even cooler and meaner than normal. One of the Deans spotted me; perhaps my nurse disguise was not as good as previously thought.

  ‘Given up taxi-driving have you mate?’ another joined in.

  ‘Had it cut off have yuh? You pervy bastard.’ I ignored them, left the trolley outside and went into the shop with PC Jobsworth.

  Derek Elliot was the store manager. It said so on his badge. Derek knew my face, and well he ought. I was in his shop at least three or four times a week, due to my forgetfulness and thus intermittent emergency need of milk, bread, dog food etc and video rentals. />
  Jobsworth started off proceedings. ‘This gentleman says he knows you Mr Elliot.’ Derek looked blank.

  ‘It's me Derek. Will Rees from number 30 Armadillo Street. Video club membership 3172.’ The penny dropped.

  ‘Ah Mr Rees, I didn't know you were a ...’

  ‘... Nurse. No I'm not. It's a fancy dress party.’

  Derek looked almost disappointed. ‘Oh.’

  Jobsworth took control again. ‘Mr Rees was found in possession of your stolen trolley.’

  It was time for me to say my piece. ‘I didn't steal it Derek. Somebody left it at the top of the lane. I saw it there and just borrowed it to move some heavy things across the street for the party.’

  Jobsworth interjected. ‘Nevertheless you took property that you knew was not yours and did not return it to the shop after you had used it.’

  I had to shut him up. ‘Derek, I was going to bring it back in the morning. I just didn't want to have to come here dressed like this. I'm sure you understand. Please can you explain to the officer that I am a regular customer and have been for many years and that I'm not a thief?’

  ‘Mr Rees isn't a thief, officer. I'm sure there's been some misunderstanding.’

  Well fuck-a-doodle-do! At last the voice of sanity prevailed.

  ‘There has not been a misunderstanding Mr Elliot. You have made a complaint of theft to South Wales Police. We have acted on that complaint, located your stolen property and the person in possession of it. I am now going to caution Mr Rees. Are you willing to accept a caution Mr Rees?’

  ‘Derek!’

  ‘Officer!’

  ‘If you are now saying that the trolley was not stolen and that Mr Rees had your permission to take it, then I shan't caution Mr Rees. Is that what you are saying Mr Elliot?’

  ‘Yes officer.’

  ‘In that case Mr Elliot, I'm afraid you're going to have to be charged with wasting police time.’

  Shit. Derek had tried to help me and now he was getting shafted by Jobsworth. I looked at Derek and silently mouthed sorry. Jobsworth took his notebook out and started writing. Derek for a moment stared at Jobsworth imperiously scribbling away. Then, without warning asked the greatest question I've ever heard anyone put, albeit only six words long.