Salt of Their Blood

by Gerald Wixey

By evening and I guessed Kathy had told him by now. As they assembled in the bar, I felt like Gary Cooper waiting for High Noon. I tried to act normally.

  Stopcock Arthur said, ‘I saw Bridget, she said she was getting married to that smarmy wanker. You know the one who messed her about almost as much as you did.’

  Listening to the others laugh, I understood why my old man rattled so easily. It might be good for business, but tonight it was nearly the final straw. ‘Well, Arthur – I can honestly say tonight’s going to fly by.’

  ‘You’ve got to take it like a man, master.’

  ‘What, like my old man and call you all a bunch of useless tossers.’

  ‘Anyone else?’ Fred drank up and pushed his glass towards me, saying, ‘You having one?’

  I shook my head, ‘Maybe later, thanks Fred.’ I needed one, for sure, and staring at Tommy’s empty space just reinforced the arduous contractual obligation still to be discharged.

  Maybe I’d wait until everyone had gone; have a late one with Shirley, maybe then.

  ‘Harry’s got decent weather.’

  ‘Shines on the righteous.’

  ‘All these holidays.’ Another bone of contention with me, ‘He never took me and my sister away once.’

  ‘Now now, master, you know he never had the time.’

  ‘Too tight with his money, that’s the problem.’ Jack was way off the mark for once.

  I shook my head, ‘It’s not that simple; for the life of me I can’t understand this one. Why on earth would he prefer to be with you lot?’

  Arthur smiled, ‘We’ll remind him when he’s back – evening, Shirley.’

  Shirley! Why did she come through the front door?

  Carrying a basket of food for the crib match, Shirley didn’t acknowledge me on her way through. My heart fluttered and flapped, a butterfly into a stiff wind. I waited until glasses were full enough, then slipped out. Shirley’s back faced me as she buttered bread, aware of my presence, but a steadfast silence waved its way towards me.

  Do it now, ‘Shirley, Shirley…’

  ‘Don’t bother – Kenny’s down at home now. He’s told me, I know what happened.’

  Oh God!

  ‘I’m sorry, Shirley – I didn’t want you to find out this way, I was going to tell you.’

  She slammed her fist down onto the bread board and shouted at me, ‘You bastard – you pair of conniving bastards.’

  Her eyes blazed briefly, but then went out, resigned, beaten, even – just a defeated, dull eyed stare across at me. I felt frantic, the right words gone – she knew!

  She spoke again, flat. ‘Is she here?’ I shook my head. ‘Is she coming here?’ I shook my head again. ‘I’m going to talk to her. I’ve got a few things to say.’ She held the knife at a dangerous angle as she spoke. ‘How long?’

  ‘January.’

  She thought for a minute. ‘Jesus, eight bloody months and me telling you all that time what a lovely couple they were.’ I didn’t like her looking so crushed. ‘Go on – you’d better be getting back – Ron knows. It’s a good job your mum’s back tomorrow because I won’t be here. I won’t be in next week, or the week after, or the week after that.’

  Oh no!

  ‘No – don’t do that, I’ll stay away – that’s best.’

  She ignored that, saying. ‘I’ve done the food, I’m going home. I’m frightened for him, he’ll do something silly, I know it.’ I wasn’t sure if she meant Ron or Kenny; I didn’t get a chance to ask, Shirley stared, ‘You lied to me, I knew something was going on and you lied to me.’

  Shirley dried her hands and threw the towel onto the draining board, pointed at me. Finally a reconciled shake of her head, then she brushed past and swept out the back door. At the same time as the phone went.

  ‘Have you told her?’

  ‘She told me.’

  ‘Shit!’ Short gasps, like a minor asthma attack, ‘He stormed off as soon as I told him, got in his car and drove off. I’m sorry, I tried to ring you.’ Her breathing rasped away. ‘I seem to have spent all day saying sorry.’

  ‘Are you all right? How’s your mum?’

  ‘Well, let’s just say I won’t be going around there for a long time.’

  ‘How did Tommy take it?’

  ‘Shouted and ranted for a while, he’ll be with you shortly.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to that. Shirley wants to talk to you.’

  ‘No, thanks – not tonight, not ever. Kenny said something pretty bizarre.’ Kathy waited for a few seconds, ‘He said this is because of Declan; it wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t have found Declan.’

  ‘Did you…’

  ‘No, I never had the heart to say it was as good as over before they found him. See you later, what time?’

  ‘Around midnight, what are you going to do?’

  ‘Bath and watch T.V, go to bed and read – be good.’

  Tommy was lighting up when I went back through, he pointed at the beer tap.

  I said, ‘Can I have a word out the back?’

  Tommy brought the flat of his hand down on the counter, the slapping sound causing a synchronised blinking of eyes amongst the others. Then he shouted, ‘Can you fuck – you can tell this lot what’s going on as well.’

  I pushed a pint his way. Tommy picked it up, never paid for it and went into the far corner and sat down. A collective question mark appeared above the heads of the others. Lots of faces showed an initial maelstrom of confusion at the few words Tommy had shouted my way.

  Mr Goldstone recognised a flash point and, with his nose for trouble, said, ‘Who’s ready for one?’

  A question that defused most altercations, Tommy marched up and put his empty on the counter. ‘Tell them now, you cunt.’

  I nodded, served the rest, told Mr Goldstone how much, he sucked his breath in through closed lips, that much – you are joking?

  Tommy was back in his corner, sat with his dusty boots on an empty chair – he stared at me. His eyes screamed – now.

  ‘I’ve… Kathy and Kenny have split.’

  I looked for Arthur; a friendly face, such a relief to look at him.

  ‘Tell them the rest of it.’ Tommy shouted from his chair, staring out of the window at the same time.

  I found Arthur’s face again, ‘We’ve set up together, she’s left Kenny and we’re living together.’

  Stopcock’s mouth froze in an exaggerated yawn of disbelief. I looked along the line of the others. Demon Jim never took anyone for what you were, he wanted to see inside your soul – well, it felt like I’d bared the lot in front of him. Mr Goldstone counted his change and Tommy mumbled away; was it a muttered oath or a loud whisper? Fred shook his head.

  Jack eventually brought his eyes up and said, ‘Make the most of it, paradise can be fleeting; gone as quickly as a Mayfly in the spring.’ A sad little smile played across his lips and a look my way – be careful.

  ‘Thanks Jack.’ Someone had said something at least.

  The phone went again, it was my old man, ‘How’s it going – quiet?’

  ‘Pretty good – I’ve got something important to tell you,’

  That did it, ‘Here, talk to your mother – Peggy!’

  ‘All those phone calls – hmm! I’ve always liked Kathy.’ She said this after I told her. Mum didn’t sound surprised or pleased, or angry; at worst, she was neutral and certainly practical as she asked, ‘How’d Shirley take it?’

  ‘Not good, you’re going to have your work cut out when you get back.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to that.’ She tried to sound burdened by it all, but I knew different; just another situation for her to revel in, ‘Watch your back, be careful and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  I went back through as Stopcock ploughed on in his usual serious delivery; wooden at times, often accompanied by a half smile when the others never laughed at his jokes. The silence that greeted his comic turns confused him
. The big man took on a baffled appearance similar to a stand up comic that bombs when he knows his material should be red hot.

  Tommy hadn’t finished. He pushed his empty glass in front of my nose and waved it at me, ‘If you so much as hurt her – you’ll get this.’

  Arthur tried, ‘Steady, Tommy boy.’

  Tommy’s head lurched into Arthur’s. ‘Shut yer fucken mouth.’ He came back to me and pointed, ‘You better fucken look after her, understand?’

  I understood all right; so many things had changed. Ron never came in the next day, or the day after that. He stopped coming full stop, and Shirley had disappeared off the face of the earth. My old man was aggrieved about losing a customer and infuriated about losing her. I’d convinced myself that he would skin me if Shirley found work somewhere else. Mum– well, she had seen it all before, life goes on. She tried to reassure me that Shirley would be back.

  I found it sad; agonizingly depressing, that our late night, boozy rambles had been consigned to vivid memories. In the meantime, I started to commute to work, a five-minute stroll. On the way home, it turned into a creepy and wraithlike stroll in the dim streetlight; a malefactor’s penitential walk home where a hammer or a knife lay in every shadow. Not that it made me jumpy, just alert – always sober.

  As if to punish myself, I turned and went down Mill Street, the weather still humid as I went through the mill and alongside the brook where the pure darkness gave me chance to think. I walked slowly and my mind rambled. I knew the town so intimately, I was comfortable with it, like a longstanding and familiar lover. I saw equilibrium everywhere; for every bright setting, an equal and opposite number of gloomy places, for all the people I knew, others – nameless people, forgotten lives.

  At the moment, my sense of perspective could only see places that were damp and bitter, that rebelled against hope, wilting and rusting and decaying, warding off self-importance and inviting death. God what’s up with me? A mild summer’s night and I shivered, doing the buttons up on an imagined coat. I told myself yes, I’ll soon be against her and sleeping the fatigued, profound sleep of those in love. The town slept and I worried about ghosts jumping out at me, I stopped and looked behind towards the Platte, dark and alone – pull yourself together!

  I turned up the hill towards the church. A blurry, withered character, with a bottle in one hand, came towards me. A rounded figure with a lethargic shambling bearing that suggested either tough, manual work, alcohol or both. I nodded as we passed and looked at my watch, the thought of Kathy asleep in a hot bed and then another thought, Kenny unable to sleep in a cold bed. I couldn’t wait for the morning to shake off this unfamiliar gloominess; dejected night owl to morning lark within the flap of a wing.

  All these signs to concern a reprobate and make my solitude stroll a misery; being miserable balanced the equation nicely – a small price to pay for Kathy. I shivered again thinking of her, and of me soon lying alongside, watching her, listening to the little groaning noises she made in her sleep – and I felt better.

  Kathy was asleep when I got into the bedroom. I undressed slowly and tried not to wake her. She slept soundly on as I slipped in alongside her. I never touched, just lay still for minutes, before sleep began its reluctant approach. At the same time, Kathy’s hand came wandering up between my thighs. Like sleep, an apparently hesitant advance; starting just above my knee, it fluttered and floated ever upwards. I groaned and twisted – her eyes were tight shut, her mouth smiling. A nightly miracle; her fierce little hands had turned into butterflies. She teased me within an inch of my sanity, until I begged her. Kathy owned me – mistress and workhorse, mill owner and wage slave.

  I never wanted to sleep afterwards, content to listen to her breathing and the infrequent sound of someone in the street below; then the morning sounds. The milk floats fanned out around town, heavily laden, electric motors and their low frequency whine, and the newspapers being dropped off. The next sound Kathy’s alarm, I got up with her and looked at a subtle dawn, mist rising from the canal as colour began to filter into the scene, then saw her off to work – and more sleep.

  ***

  We went out for a walk on a lovely, soft September evening. The sky streaked with the red chevrons from a dying summer sun. We walked into a warm breeze, but the fag end of summer gave it a melancholy feel somehow. I don’t mean us – we were just beginning; just as the summer ended, I suppose. We spent an hour in the Royal Oak, not a usual haunt for either of us, but things had changed – forever, maybe. A few drinks, no one bothered us, it felt good to be out in town with Kathy.

  A soft, hazy night for lovers, she responded as always by falling in with my mood, always loving, always happy to indulge me, aware by now that I never liked holding hands, but she always took my left arm with both of hers. The intimacy made me feel good, happy to walk through a blizzard or a sandstorm this way. Walking back in the quiet night, warm and sultry and sensual, more like mid August than September. The full moon, millions of silver stars and Kathy holding onto my arm, I stopped under a streetlight and gazed down at her, ‘You look stunning – I love you so much.’

  Our lips brushed and we strolled on, down Portway and into Priory Road, so happy, but at the same time alert and suspicious, smelling violence in the car exhaust fumes and allotment bonfires. I felt strong, unafraid and adored the way we walked along together, lovers – hips and shoulders touching. We talked occasionally, comfortable with our silences. We were so sure of ourselves; the perfection of our bodies and the certainty of everything, indifferent or oblivious to anyone else.

  Turning into Church Street, we noticed the usual group stood outside the in the gloom at the back of The Swan. Cooling off, smoking a reefer, couples negotiating how the rest of the evening would be spent. Couples wrapped around each other having already made that happy decision. Away from the main group were two men, the lights from the churchyard beyond, gave them a vaporous indistinct appearance, but I knew. A small electrical charge went zipping across the back of my neck. I had an unreal sense of inevitability – at last!

  I felt Kathy tense; she tightened the grip on my arm. Her breathing became quick, shallow and furious, I heard her murmur, ‘Oh no.’

  Kenny came out of the shadows and quickly towards me, straight into my face.

  ‘You bastard.’

  I concentrated and focused on his eyes. I felt calm, despite the adrenalin and the anticipation. I was composed in that pure way boxers feel before the bell. ‘Go home, Kenny.’

  Kenny’s eyes were everywhere, his voice breaking. ‘I don’t have a home any more.’ His eyes jerked towards Kathy, ‘Kathy…’ The dim streetlights bounced lazily back from the tears rolling down his face. It was like he couldn’t bear not to look at her. His eyes came grudgingly back to me. She had done no wrong. Kenny saw me as the problem, get rid of me.I’ve had years of practice in these situations; all of my sparring with my old man condensed down to this. Hours and hours boiled down to a few seconds – here we go then! Despite wanting this so much, I spoke slowly, an icy calm and an edge to my voice, ‘You don’t frighten me anymore. We’re not in the playground now.’ I knew this would do the trick; his pupils dilated. Kenny began to pull his left hand back. I brought my forehead down, hard towards Kenny’s nose. My old man’s mantra guided me, always go for the shortest distance! Kathy’s grip on my arm shortened the arc of travel; instead of finding his nose; my forehead went crunching into the cheekbone just below his right eye. He crumpled, holding his face. Just before he hit the ground, a metallic clang rang around the silent throng watching us. A single peal – what was that? A heavy section of tubing – brass or copper maybe, about eight inches long. Kenny meant it this time all right.

  As he went down, I went up – up and up – I wanted more – a feeding frenzy. I turned to his blubbery mate and shouted, ‘Want some?’

  He brought the palms of his hands up and took a step back. Kathy dragged me away. I looked straight ahead, scared of her tear
s, fearful of her rage, feeling the green eyes blazing up at me, hearing her sharp words.

  ‘What did you do that for? What’s up with you?’

  ‘He was going to hit me.’

  ‘It didn’t look like it to me.’ She snapped again, ‘What’s up with you? Why didn’t we just walk past them?’

  I listened to her with the deferential silence of an offender being scolded. I didn’t tell her about the section of heavy brass pipe that fell from his left hand when I hit him. Instead, I stopped and put my arms around her, at the same time looking back at the assembled huddle around Kenny.

  I said, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t want this to happen.’ The sincerity of my lie felt good and cheek-to-cheek, I looked back at my handiwork… Twelve years.

  I learned pretty quickly; an incensed Kathy didn’t manifest in a screaming fest of why this, why that? I think I could have coped with that, instead just cold reason and calm furious logic.

  ‘You didn’t need to hit him.’

  I couldn’t tell her – I had no choice, I had to do it; one hand a clenched fist and a piece of heavy brass in the other, both homing in on my head. ‘He was going to hit me – you must believe that.’

  She accepted it, but never liked it, probably never really believed it either. But Kathy never brooded, always too practical to waste energy on what might have been. Eternally optimistic, now she was tired, a little touchy and sadly reflective – no longer certain, the world had become suddenly dangerous as well as complicated.

  I said, ‘We should have turned back.’

  Kathy shook her head, ‘No, I’m not tiptoeing around anyone. We’ve done what we’ve done, everyone has to accept that.’ She put both hands around mine, ‘It’s guilt – I’ve hurt him enough and then this.’ The intensity came back into her eyes, ‘It’s not an issue for you, is it? Hitting him doesn’t bother you.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter what I wanted – I was happy enough to walk past him. He gave me no choice.’ Perhaps I could allow myself to feel some guilt now that an injustice had been righted. A devilish twelve-year vendetta exorcised.