Divorced and Deadly

by Josephine Cox

  ‘He’s turned against you.’ Dickie was enjoying himself. ‘Switch the engine off, or he’ll have your throat out.’

  Pinned to the seat by half a ton of aggressive dog, and mad-eyed Dickie peering at me in the mirror, my sense of survival kicked in. Carefully reaching between Battersby’s legs, I turned off the engine. ‘All right! NOW GET HIM OFF ME!’

  ‘Battersby! Come on, boy.’ The mutt leaped over the seat and into Dickie’s arms, releasing a huge puff of gas as he went.

  ‘Oh, phew!’ Half poisoned, I scrambled out of the car, ‘You and that mutt are an embarrassment! If I had any sense, I’d leave you here.’

  ‘Stop moaning. Once we’re clean and fed, we won’t be any trouble.’

  ‘Huh! Famous last words!’ After we all got out, I quickly locked the car before they could get back in, ‘Half an hour!’ I warned. ‘Then we need to find a route back to the motorway.’

  We sauntered smartly across the pavement, well at least I did. Dickie and the mutt just shuffled and slid, covered in slime and mud as they were.

  ‘You’re right,’ Dickie admitted. ‘This place does look a bit run down, but we’ll be in and out before you know it. I need a quick wash and brush up; I expect Battersby needs a hedge to cock his leg up, and we’re all in need of refreshment. Right?’

  ‘Right!’ It didn’t look like I had much choice. ‘Let’s get to it!’

  Showing who was boss, I led the way to the café, tried the door, and when it wouldn’t open I knocked very loudly on the glass panel. ‘HELLO IN THERE!’ I can be assertive when I’m put out, ‘WE’RE THREE WEARY TRAVELLERS IN NEED OF SUSTENANCE!’

  The door slowly creaked open, just enough for a shadowy face to peer out at us, “Ow many are yer, did yer say?’ We thought it was female, but the voice was low and croaky; the face lost in a murk.

  ‘There are three of us…me, my friend Dickie, and his big, hairy mutt.’

  The face looked at me, then it looked at Dickie, ‘Where’s the big, hairy one?’

  I brought her attention to Battersby, who was skulking behind Dickie, ‘This is him.’

  The little eyes swivelled downwards and took stock of Battersby, ‘It’s not too pretty is it?’ The creature twitched her nose, ‘Don’t smell too pretty neither!’ She lifted her gaze to Dickie, who to my mind smelled worse than the mutt, ‘What’s this?’

  ‘This is Dickie, my flatmate. The dog fell down a ditch and Dickie fell in after him. I can see I don’t need to tell you how badly they stink.’

  ‘Hmm! It’ll tek a few buckets o’ water to get rid o’ that pong!’

  ‘Have you got a bath they could use?’

  ‘Might have!’

  ‘So can they use it?’

  ‘No, it’s mine! I don’t allow strangers in my bath. So what else do you want?’

  ‘Do you have food?’

  ‘Did yer see the sign at the top of the road?’

  ‘The one that said there was a café?’

  ‘That’s the one!’

  ‘Yes, we saw it. That’s why we’re here. We came off the motorway and got lost. We’re all famished and like I said, these two had a bit of an accident and they need to clean up.’

  ‘What kind of accident?’

  I sighed patiently. I could see I was going to have to repeat everything. ‘The dog needed to pee, so we came off the motorway and found a quiet lane. There was this hedge. He cocked his leg and the next thing we knew he was drowning in the ditch. Dickie went in after him and got washed away in the mud.’

  ‘That’s why they stink then?’ The lump looked them up and down again, ‘They can wash in the outside loo.’

  ‘That’ll do, yes, thank you, but we’re hungry and cold. So now, can we come in?’

  Ever so quietly the door opened wider. Standing before us, bathed in twilight, was the biggest, ugliest creature I have ever seen. Wrapped in a filthy pinafore, her purple matted hair forced into a ribbon over her right ear, she had bright crimson lipstick gaumed all round her mouth and down to her chin. (I hoped it was lipstick and not blood.) ‘Are yer coming in or what?’ she grumbled in a deep, northern accent.

  Somewhat nervous we groped through the haze to search out a table, ‘The fire’s gerring old,’ she groaned, ‘…too much smoke.’

  Walking on the tips of his great pads, the mutt brought up the rear, watching the stranger’s every move, a low growl emitting from his throat.

  ‘Does ’e bite?’ she asked.

  ‘Only if he’s worried,’ Dickie said.

  ‘Is he worried now?’

  ‘Not yet, no.’ I added cautiously.

  ‘What does ‘e eat?’

  ‘Anything that moves.’ That got her thinking.

  ‘That’s what I need, a dog that’ll eat owt that moves! Is it for sale?’

  ‘NO HE’S NOT!’ Dickie was horrified. ‘He’s mine! I’ve had him since he was a pup. I love him and he loves me. He’ll NEVER be for sale!’

  There was a moment of palpable silence while the creature stared at Dickie and he stared back, and the mutt spread his legs as if he was about to pounce. The silence thickened, the smoke billowed round us and a clock ticked loudly in the background. It was like showdown at the OK Corral.

  ‘BATTERSBY, SIT!’ On Dickie’s instructions, the mutt sat back on his haunches. We sat at the table, and the creature shuffled off, only to return a moment later with a candle. ‘The lights keep flickering.’ She plonked the candle on to the table. ‘But yer don’t need much light for eating; long as yer know where yer mouth is.’ An unearthly chuckle echoed around the room. Unnerved, the mutt howled and the stranger growled in response, ‘SHUT THI GOB OR I’LL MEK YER INTO SAUSAGES!’

  ‘Hey you!’ Dickie said nervously. ‘Don’t go upsetting him like that.’

  For what seemed forever she gave him the evil eye, before the spell broke. ‘Right then! I ain’t got all night. The menu is up there on the blackboard. Now then, what d’you want?’ She stood at the ready with pen and pad.

  ‘I fancy eggs or something,’ Dickie was quick to decide.

  ‘What sort of eggs?’ Still scribbling on the pad, she didn’t even look up.

  ‘Just eggs!’ He quipped bravely, ‘You know…them oval-shaped things that pop out of a chicken’s rear end!’

  There was another long silence before she asked, ‘What sort of eggs are yer wanting?’

  ‘What sort have you got?’

  ‘Look at yon board!’ She pointed to the far wall, where the menu was chalked up in a child’s scrawl.

  Straining his eyes to master the higgledy-piggledy writing, Dickie read out loud: ‘Fried eggs, sliced eggs, poached eggs, scrambled eggs, boiled eggs…’

  ‘So which d’yer want then?’ She was growing impatient.

  ‘Mmm.’ Dickie knew straight off what he wanted, ‘I’ll have a cheese omelette.’

  ‘A what?’ She gave him a look.

  ‘An omelette, please…with cheese.’

  ‘So yer saying yer want a cheese omelette then?’

  ‘That’s it! Cheese omelette. Lovely!’

  ‘This cheese omelette…is it on’t board?’

  Dickie checked the blackboard, ‘No.’ He glanced up, ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, because if it’s not on’t board, we don’t do it!’

  ‘But it says you do eggs every which way!’

  ‘What was it yer wanted again?’

  ‘An omelette!’ Growing impatient, and convinced she must be a bit deaf, he raised his voice, ‘I WOULD LIKE AN EGG OMELETTE…WITH CHEESE!’

  ‘I’m not deaf!’

  ‘Could have fooled me!’ Dickie muttered under his breath.

  ‘D’yer want trouble?’

  ‘No, I do not want trouble!’

  ‘And are yer saying it’s not there, on’t board?’

  ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.’

  ‘There yer are then!’ Leaning forward she glared at him, ‘Like I already told yer…if it’s not on’t board, we do
n’t do it!’

  ‘That’s plain daft! By the look of that menu, you’ve got more eggs than you know what to do with, so what’s so difficult about making me an egg omelette?’

  She leaned towards him again, her voice low and threatening, ‘D’ye see that door?’

  Dickie nodded, ‘Yes, so what?’

  ‘If yer don’t like what we’re offering, there’s the way out!’ With mouth pursed and arms folded, she was a frightening sight. ‘There’s no chance of an omelette! Ave you got that?’

  Mumbling under his breath, Dickie nodded, ‘Got it, yes!’

  ‘So I tek it you’ll be leaving then?’

  Before he could answer, she lunged forward, grabbed him by the ear and frog-marched him to the door. Dickie was screaming like a baby and Battersby was trotting behind, tail between his legs. I made a hasty exit too!

  ‘Well done, that’s all we needed!’ As she slammed the door shut, I turned on Dickie Manse brains-in-his-pants, ‘Why couldn’t you have gone for poached eggs, or scrambled eggs, or other eggy things on the board?’

  ‘Cos I fancied an omelette!’ he couldn’t help himself. ‘That thing in there, she wants locking up! Did you see how she grabbed me by the ear?’ He fondled his glowing earlobe, ‘It’s cabbage red, isn’t it? And don’t lie, cos I can feel it, all swollen and throbbing!’

  There we were, without food or drink, and Dickie and Battersby still caked in foul-smelling mud. ‘You’re a disgrace!’ I told him straight. ‘You shouldn’t even be here. This was my break, away from you and that disgusting hound.’ I scrambled into the car and before I could start the engine, they were in the back, Battersby still whining, and Dickie still grumbling.

  ‘It’s a café, isn’t it? They do eggy things, don’t they? So what’s wrong with wanting an omelette? Why wasn’t it on the bloody board anyway! What’s the difference between scrambled eggs and an omelette, tell me that!’

  ‘For pity’s sake, will you stop moaning! Anyway, it’s all your fault! We’ve strayed so far off the beaten track, the natives don’t even know what an omelette is!’

  I was cold, hungry, brassed off and gagging on the stench that filled the car. ‘You’d best stop that dirty animal from letting off or I swear I’ll dump the pair of you on the side of the road!’

  I’m not sure what it was that sent me into hysterics.

  It could have been when Battersby fell off the seat, propelled by the longest, loudest rattle of escaping air I’ve ever heard; or it could have been Dickie’s wide, frightened eyes.

  Then again it could have been his glowing, bulbous ear, or the two of them whining and complaining and Dickie going on about the damned omlette! Anyhow, for some reason I got caught by a fit of giggles and I could not stop.

  Holding my breath, I drew the car on to the side of the road and scrambled out, laughing so much I could hardly stand. ‘GET OUT!’ I spluttered, falling to the ground, ‘and leave the doors open.’ That was the last thing I said before Battersby launched himself through the air and flattened me. And even while I fought him off, I couldn’t stop laughing. In my minds’ eye, I could see the bigger picture: the hairy, smelly monster straddled across me like some creature out of the swamp, Dickie tumbling out of the car, a bright red swelling on the side of his head growing by the minute, and me rolling about the ground, helpless with laughter, frantic to escape what was rapidly becoming the worst nightmare of my life.

  What were we doing here anyway? How did I get into this mess? All I ever wanted was a quiet time on my own to gather my thoughts about my ex-wife, who doesn’t want me but who doesn’t want anyone else to have me. Then there’s my psycho mother threatening to do away with herself. I ask you! What did I do to deserve it all?

  Mother has been writing to me, and hot on the heels of her last letter was a long, heartfelt warning from my dad:

  Stay away, son.

  The woman’s gone mad. The minute you step through that door she’ll have you trapped and you’ll never see daylight again. For your own sake, you should ignore her silly threats to do away herself. She’s too selfish for that. In fact sometimes I’m tempted to do it for her! I might be jailed for life, but the way I see it, a life sentence without her would be like a holiday.

  Look, I’m just saying…she’ll try any means in her power to get you back in her clutches, just like she’s got me.

  I’ll never know what I ever saw in the wicked mare. Sorry, son, I know she’s your mother, but she’s a bad ’un! On the first date she got me so drunk I didn’t know what I was doing…before I knew what was happening, she hadme trousers down. The upshot was you, and that’s how she trapped me. She’s always had a nasty side to her, but the older she gets the worse she gets. She keeps a bread knife under the bed…says it’s in case o’ burglars; now I can’t sleep for fear of losing my precious parts!

  Just think on what I’m saying! Be on your guard, son.

  Love you, Dad

  Needless to say, my dad’s letter had me shaking in my boots. Truth is, I was really nervous. For all I know, she could be watching the flat. Worse than that, she could team up with Laura and the two of them might kidnap me, strip me naked and tie me up in Antonio’s cellar. I’d be totally helpless! They could do all kinds of terrifying things and I wouldn’t be able to scream because they’ll have stuffed a rag down my throat.

  Dear Lord above, I’m a nervous wreck!

  And now, if that wasn’t enough to contend with, I’ve got a problem with Poppy. Lately she’s become really clingy; all over me like a rash and giving me the goo-goo eyes. She definitely fancies me. Oh, I’ll admit she’s a lovely little thing, and I’m sure she’ll make some boy very happy when she grows up, but it won’t be me, so she’d best get that crazy thought out of her head straightaway! And another thing! I wish she’d be more careful with that damned hosepipe! The thing is, she can’t seem to help herself.

  I’ve threatened to sack her, and I’ve even given her a few lessons on hose control, but she still can’t seem to get the hang of it. It’s not like she’s got control of the hose, it’s more like the hose has got control of her. One time it lifted her clean off her feet, swung her about then chucked her in the feed bins. The poor little kittens thought it was a missile. They hid in their cages for six days!

  I’ve decided! When I get back I’ll give the job of hosingdown to somebody more capable. The lad who did it before her was just as useless. However he managed to get the hose-end stuck up a drainpipe, I will never know.

  Worse than that, the elusive owner came to inspect the premises last week and ended up being caught in a freezing gush of water that shot him up in the air, skidded him across the yard and left him stranded in the muck heap.

  So there I was, lying on the ground, still reeling from recent events and chuckling to myself. I looked at Dickie Manse and the hairy hound, and I suddenly thought of that song All By Myself. What a luxury that would be!

  For now though, I could see the funny side of things.

  ‘I’m glad you find it funny!’ Dickie glared at me, before snapping at the mutt, ‘GET BACK INSIDE THE CAR!’

  For a minute Battersby looked really sorry for himself. There was a moment of wonderful silence when it seemed he would do his master’s bidding. Then in slow motion he drew back his lips and showed his teeth. Vigorously shaking himself, he then stood up, proudly sauntered towards Dickie, slowly emitting a loud and hissing explosion that shook the ground like an earthquake under our feet.

  ‘STAY AWAY, YOU FILTHY PIG!’ I have never seen Dickie move so fast.

  With me in hot pursuit, the two of us legged it up the street, screaming and shouting, while the mutt calmly got back into the car, where he stared as us though the back window, somewhat bemused and well proud of himself. ‘I think I’ll walk the rest of the way!’ Dickie spluttered, trying hard not to laugh.

  ‘I think I’ll join you!’ I declared sombrely, before we were both helpless with laughter again.

  And you know what? For some ri
diculous reason, I began to feel that this trip was might turn out all right after all.

  Right now, I could really do with a hot shower and a warm bed, but I knew that it wouldn’t be that easy. No doubt, knowing my luck, the hotel proprietor will turn us away. I’m worried how they’ll react when they get a whiff of what’s arrived on their doorstep!

  And I can’t imagine what they’ll say if they clock the hairy mutt!

  BLACKPOOL, LATER THAT NIGHT…

  Dear Diary,

  We arrived at the hotel sad and weary. Dickie had this bright idea, ‘Get yourself booked in. Me and Battersby will be right behind, and nobody will ever know.’

  ‘No way!’ I was adamant, ‘You’re coming up to the desk with me. We’ll take our chances.’

  ‘Take a gander at that!’ Dickie sneaked a look at the burly porter, ‘We’ll be on the end of his boot an’ sailing out the door before you can say “Jack Robinson”.’

  ‘Is that right? And whose fault will it be if we have to sleep on the beach, eh? Who was it that smuggled himself and that hairy mutt into my car, eh? And why should I worry what happens to you, tell me that?’

  ‘Because we’re mates, that’s why.’ He put on that little boy lost face.

  ‘All right! All right! Hide the mutt as best you can, while I check in.’ I gave him a shove, ‘Get on with it then!’ (Honestly! He’s like a light gone out!)

  I waited until the two of them were out of sight, then I straightened my jacket, wiped my shoes on my trouser legs, sidestepped the porter and sauntered ever so casually to the desk.

  ‘Yes, sir?’ The long streak at the desk twitched his nose and looked me up and down, ‘What can I do for you?’

  I gave him my most winning smile, ‘I booked a single room, but I’d prefer a double if you have one available.’

  ‘Name?’

  ‘Ben Buskin.’

  After locating my name in his ledger he peered over his spectacles, ‘Three nights, is it, sir?’

  ‘That’s it, yes.’

  ‘Bed, breakfast and evening meal?’

  ‘Yes.’