by Hugh Fraser
‘Hello, Rina love. You all right?’ she says.
‘Yes, thanks, Mrs Welch.’
‘How’s your Jack?’
‘He’s not too good at the moment.’
‘Poor little mite.’ She turns to Claire and says, ‘Go up the pub and see if your dad’s there and tell him his dinner’s spoiling.’
‘Oh Mum …’
‘Now.’
Mrs Welch shuts the door.
Claire looks at me and says, ‘He came back drunk at seven o’clock this morning. When she asked him where he’d been, he punched her in the mouth, picked up his lunch, and went to work.’
‘Blimey.’
‘I’d better try and find him.’
She opens the wardrobe and says, ‘Take anything you want except my red dress.’
‘Thanks.’
‘And watch out.’
I open Claire’s wardrobe. She’s got some really nice clothes. All nicked over the last couple of years. We’re the same size, so I know anything will fit me. I take a tight black skirt, a white V-neck sweater, a pair of high heels and a handbag. I roll them up in a sway back jacket and go back to ours.
Mum’s at the kitchen table with a bottle, muttering to herself. She doesn’t see me as I walk through to the bedroom. Georgie’s in bed, reading her book.
‘You all right?’ I say.
She nods without looking up from the book.
I go behind the head of the bed and lift up the floorboard in the corner. I take out the gun, put it in my jacket pocket, put the floorboard back and say, ‘I’ve got to go and help Claire with something. I don’t know what time I’ll be back. I’ll ask Lizzie to look in later. You get off to sleep now.’
I take the book out of her hands, but she grabs it back off me and puts it under the blanket next to her, then she turns away from me and closes her eyes. I say good night to her and go into the kitchen. Mum’s lying on the mattress now. I put the gun in the oven, change into Claire’s clothes, brush my hair and go up to Lizzie’s. The high heels are really hard to walk in and I nearly fall off them on the stairs. I listen at Lizzie’s door; I can’t hear anything so I knock quietly. In a minute the door opens and she’s there in the pink dressing gown and the black undies.
‘Well, look at you, gorgeous!’ she says.
‘I need a favour.’
‘You’re going out.’
‘I’ve got to.’
‘I should say you have, looking like that.’
‘Can you look in on Georgie for me?’
‘Of course I can. Who is he?’
‘It’s not like that.’
‘Oh yeah? Come in a minute.’
‘I’ve got to go.’
‘Won’t take a second.’
She pulls me over to her dressing table and sits me down in front of the mirror.
‘Close your eyes,’ she says.
I feel her brushing make up onto my eyelids.
She says, ‘Open your eyes. Now, pull your lips back like this.’
She widens her mouth. I do the same and she puts lipstick on me and then powders my face. I look in the mirror while she brushes my hair into waves with a round type of brush I’ve never seen before. She finishes my hair and steps back to look at me in the mirror.
‘There’s my glamour girl,’ she says.
I stand up and turn to face her. She’s looking at me and I see her eyes get softer behind her smile. I move closer to her. She takes my hand and pulls me to her and there’s that soft skin on her neck again and her arms are round me and I’m pressing against her lovely warm body.
Someone’s banging on the door. Lizzie pulls away from me. She puts her finger to her lips and goes and opens the door.
‘A gentleman to see you.’
It’s the rent collector’s voice. The door opens wider and the Alsatian’s head appears, looking round with its piercing eyes and sniffing the air as if it’s suspicious of something. Lizzie stands to one side as a very fat man in a pair of dungarees and a donkey jacket comes in. The rent collector pulls the dog back and shuts the door.
The man looks at Lizzie and then at me and says, ‘It’s a team, is it?’
Lizzie says, ‘This is my sister. She’s just leaving.’
‘I’ll pay more.’
Lizzie lets her dressing gown fall open, puts her arm round the man’s neck, reaches down below his fat gut and says, ‘I wouldn’t want to share a lovely big hunk like you with anyone.’
She walks him towards the bed, lays him down on it, climbs on top of him and starts kissing him and whispering in his ear. I back away towards the door and she raises a hand behind her back and waves at me. I close the door quietly and go down the stairs to our kitchen.
I get the gun out of the oven and push it into the back of the waistband of my skirt. I look at my reflection in the window and check that the loose fold of the jacket hides it. I make sure Georgie’s asleep and go down to the street. Some boys on the other side whistle at me as I wobble a bit on the heels.
As I get to the end of the street, Claire comes round the corner with her old man holding on to her arm. He slips off the pavement into the gutter and staggers into the road cursing and swearing. I step up into a doorway so he doesn’t see me. Claire goes to pull him back onto the pavement and he shoves her aside and weaves his way up the middle of the street. A van comes round the corner and he shakes his fists and shouts at the driver who just manages to swerve round him. He aims some more abuse at the disappearing van and then lurches off towards his basement. Claire follows him down the steps and I go on to the end of the street, hoping she’s not going to get hurt tonight.
I keep my head down as I walk towards Walmer Road. It’s Friday night, the pubs are chucking out and there’s a good few skirmishes and punch-ups on the way. Outside the pub on the corner of Portobello, two women are going at each other and a group of men are laughing and egging them on. One of the women swings a punch and the other one takes her shoe off and whacks her on the head with it. The men cheer as her victim falls onto the pavement.
Walmer Road’s quiet and I can see a couple of Teds standing near to the corner where the club’s supposed to be. One of them’s big and powerful looking, the other one’s short and looks older. I can hear music as I get nearer. A car pulls up by them and I step into a doorway. Three men in dark suits get out of the car. They talk to the Teds and then go through an iron gate and down some steps.
I walk up to the gate. The bigger one of the Teds steps in front of me.
‘Where the fuck do you think you’re going?’ he says.
‘I’ve got a message for someone,’ I say.
‘Who?’
‘Mr Bailey.’
‘Which one?’
I’m wondering what to tell him when his mate says, ‘Don’t be a cunt, Reg, they need a bit more skirt in there.’
The big one looks at him as if he doesn’t like being challenged. The older one holds his look then opens the gate and says, ‘Go on love, you’re all right.’
I go down the steps and push open a door. I weave my way through a press of bodies around the door into a long room with a low ceiling. There’s a bar down the one side, made out of packing cases with a couple of wooden planks on top. There are tables along the wall opposite, with a card game going at one of them, and a juke box at the far end. Older men in expensive suits and younger ones wearing the drape are talking at the bar. Groups of men and women sit at the tables. The women are mostly young and there’s a lot of beehive hair, rock’n roll skirts and stiletto heels. The whole place reeks of villainy and ill-gotten gains and I can see my dad at home here, if only the silly old sod hadn’t got himself killed.
Old man Bailey’s holding court at the table at the far end. He’s a round little pig of a man with a bald head and small squinty eyes. They say he once ate a live mouse between two slices of bread in a pub one night and then spat the innards into his pint and drank it off. There’s a beautiful dark-haired girl next to him who can’t
be much older than me. She could be his daughter, but I don’t see his wife anywhere, so I think maybe she isn’t.
Nick Bailey’s at the end of the table next to his younger brother and an older geezer with white hair who’s with a brassy middle aged woman. Nick’s good-looking with blonde hair, sharp blue eyes and an easy way with him. The old geezer says something and they all laugh. Nick puts his arm round the old boy and raises his glass to him.
I go to the bar and buy a whisky, and then I move towards the back of the club where I can see a door that’s half open. When I get to the table, Nick’s turned away, talking to his brother. As I get beside him I drop my handbag by his feet and kneel down to pick it up.
‘Oh, sorry,’ I say.
He turns and sees me. I stay on one knee and smile up at him.
He has a good look down my V-neck and says, ‘The way you’re dropping things, I’ll take you home tonight.’
I laugh and get up.
He clocks my tits again from below, stands up and says, ‘What are you drinking?’
I show him my whisky and say, ‘I’ve just got one, ta.’ ‘Well, have another one.’
He takes my elbow and guides me to the bar. The suits make way when they see who’s coming and he shakes a few hands while we get drinks.
He leans on the bar and says, ‘Who are you with tonight?’
‘One of them over there.’
I nod in the direction of the group of lads by the door.
‘Boyfriend?’
‘Just a mate.’
He leans closer and says, ‘You live round here?’
As I’m saying the name of our street, there’s a commotion by the door and the two Teds who were outside earlier are being pushed and jostled into the club by people I can’t see. The bigger one falls forward onto the deck and there’s a man behind him holding an iron bar. Everything goes quiet and nobody moves, then a Bailey boy smashes a bottle over the head of the man with the iron bar and the whole place erupts. Chairs are flying. Women are screaming. Knives are slicing. Blood’s flying and bodies are thumping on the floor. I dive over the bar out of the way, but then the bar’s toppling towards me and I’m going to be crushed against the wall. I vault back over and catch an elbow in the face. I fall on top of someone and a heavy weight lands on my legs, then I’m picked up and crushed against someone’s chest and pulled through a mangle of heaving bodies until I can’t breathe. I reach round for the gun, but it’s gone and then there’s cold air on my face and then a bump. I’m sliding down a brick wall and it goes black.
‘Come on, girl, get up!’
Someone’s lifting me up and shaking my shoulders. Dave’s holding the gun in front of my face.
‘He’s coming after me. Fucking do it!’ he hisses.
The runt’s got one hand round my neck. I snatch the gun off him and bring my knee up into his bollocks. As he doubles over and staggers away, Nick Bailey comes out of the door and aims a kick at his head that has him bouncing off the back wall of the yard and landing on the cobbles. I hide the gun behind my back as he picks Dave up, swings him round and chucks him over the wall.
Nick walks towards me looking wild and breathing heavily. He leans against the wall beside me.
‘It’s all right,’ he says. ‘Don’t be scared, that’s the last of them. It’s all over. Fucking liberty!’
He stands in front of me, pulls me to him and kisses me. I can feel him trembling. The bell of a police car jangles in the distance. I press my body into him and slip my tongue into his mouth. His hands close round my tits and I feel his cock harden. I open his flies, take hold of his cock and rub it back and forth with one hand while I raise the gun behind his back until it comes level with the side of his head. I pull the trigger. There’s an almighty bang and the bullet goes straight through his head and smacks into the wall with a splatter of blood and muck. I push him off me onto the ground. Blood’s spewing out of his head onto the cobbles.
I wipe the gun on my skirt and drop it. I run across the yard, kick off my shoes and try to climb the wall. The skirt’s so tight I have to hitch it up to my waist to get over. When I’m astride the top of the wall, a copper comes out of the door flashing a torch about. I swing my leg over before he sees me and drop down onto the bomb site that’s at the back of Walmer Road.
Dave’s out cold, lying on a pile of rubble. I haul him up, put his bony little body over my shoulder and carry him away across the bomb site. There’s a broken down shed near the road. I lay him down behind it, kneel beside him and look back at the club. A copper’s looking over the wall and shining his torch around. Dave comes round and starts moaning. I put my hand over his mouth. He looks at me pleadingly with his squinty little eyes and goes quiet.
I take my hand away and he whispers, ‘Did you get him?’ I nod.
He says, ‘Where’s the gun?’
‘I dropped it back there.’
‘Good.’
‘Where’s my three hundred?’
‘Meet me outside the yard, tomorrow at six.’
He stands up slowly and leans against the wall of the shed. He holds his head with one hand and his balls with the other. There are tears in his eyes and I think how pathetic he is.
‘Can you walk?’ I say.
‘Yeah.’
I look back at the club. There are bright lights in the yard but no coppers in sight. I straighten my skirt and head for Ladbroke Grove.
• • •
The night air feels cold and clean on my face. I’ve got that pure, empty feeling that came on me after I killed Johnny, like I can do anything and I’m not scared of anybody. I look up at the moon all that way away and I feel as if I could fly up there if I wanted.
When I get back to our street, that lumpy Jamaican music that you can’t quite dance to is thumping through the window underneath ours. I go up the stairs and into the kitchen.
Claire stands up from the table and says, ‘Come and look at this!’ She takes me into the bedroom.
‘He’s nearly fucking killed her this time!’ she says.
Claire’s mum is lying on the bed next to Georgie. One of her eyes is blackened and closed and there’s a cut on her forehead. Her nose is swollen and pushed sideways and her lips are covered in dried blood. Claire takes a cloth from a bowl by the bed and wipes some of the blood away.
‘She’s black and blue all over. He went berserk when he got in and now he’s passed out drunk on the floor, so I’ve brought her here.’
‘You’ve done right.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be daft. Has he had a go at you?’
‘He never touches me. He saves it all for her.’
‘Is he still at yours?’
‘Yeah. I’ve taken his keys and locked him in.’
‘Good. You’re stopping here.’
‘Thanks, Reen.’
I look at Georgie sleeping next to Claire’s mum and I wonder what else she will have to be in bed with in her life.
I say to Claire, ‘Did our Mum wake up?’
‘No. She was raving something terrible when we first got here and I thought she was awake, but she was asleep.’
‘Good.’
‘Lizzie was here. She said to go up and see her when you got in.’
‘OK. I’d better go up. Will you be all right?’
‘Yeah. You go on..’
Claire sits in the armchair with one arm and I go through to the kitchen. Mum’s quiet and sleeping on her mattress.
I go out onto the landing and sit on the stairs. The music is still pulsing up from the Jamaicans’ front room. I’m thinking about what Claire’s dad’s done, and all those men in that club tonight with their tough guy look and their gangster suits, and I think how small and stupid they really are. All they do is make people afraid of them so they get their respect, but in actual fact it’s just fear. I’ll respect that doctor at St Mary’s if he cures our Jack, but I’ll never respect some bloke who can do nothing but be cruel to people.
15
The gates swing shut behind me. I drive towards the familiar façade and stop the car under a palm tree opposite the front door. I lean back, close my eyes, inhale the sweet evening scent of subtropical flora and listen to the high-speed clicking of cicadas. The pool glistens through the trees and I long to peel off my stale denim and dive in. The front door opens and Manuel, wearing a white silk shirt and black trousers, walks towards the car. I get out and go to meet him.
He offers me his hand. ‘This is a pleasant surprise, Señorita Walker.’ I smile and shake his hand.
He says, ‘I did not expect to see you again so soon.’
‘I don’t have too many friends in Mexico.’
‘And none at all in Texas, I think.’
‘That’s true.’
‘I am glad if you think of me as one, Señorita Walker.’
I hear footsteps on the gravel behind me and turn to see Guido limping towards the front door. Manuel barks an order at him and he disappears inside.
Manuel takes my arm and says, ‘Please, come. We sit by the pool.’
At the table, he summons a guard. I ask for whisky and a glass of water. Manuel orders tequila.
‘You are hungry?’ he asks.
‘No, thank you.’
I’m starving, but I need to be clear and unencumbered for what’s to come. I always lose weight when I work. I try to push away thoughts of Georgie being fed from a tube.
Manuel gives a laconic smile and says, ‘Congratulations on your escape.’
‘Thank you.’
‘There have not been many from that prison, I think.’