Salt of Their Blood

by Gerald Wixey

  ‘He snarled at me, but I was safe; in striking distance of your old man, he wouldn’t dare. I ran back and Harry was waiting by the front door. I looked back and at the same time Kenny came past, and as he went past the door, your old man grabbed him, dragged him indoors, picked him up and slammed him into the floor.’

  The same floor Shirley polished so conscientiously; he hammered her son into it. My old man’s strength frightened me. I imagined him picking Kenny up like a loosely-packed hay bale, tossing casually several feet into the air, before catching him and slamming him down. Patrick had never spoken so much; usually just a few words over a long period. He’d delivered his annual quota and surged well into next year – unstoppable.

  ‘I was terrified; he lifted Kenny’s head six, eight inches and then hammered it back into the floor. ‘The fists clamped around his jacket lapels appeared to drive on – like he tried to push them through the rib cage and all the way into the floor. Kenny gasped, the air smashed from his lungs, he couldn’t breath, he looked up and thought, like I did, that this red-faced maniac was going to kill him. He said, ‘please’. Harry lifted him again and Kenny expected to be smashed back into the floor, he shut his eyes and waited.

  ‘He looked petrified; Kenny thought Harry was going to kill him, ‘Touch my boy again and you’re fucking dead.’ Harry began to shake him again. ‘Do you understand, no second fucking chance, you’re fucking dead.’ Kenny cried and cried, his grip relaxed, Harry letting go completely and he stood, his face like thunder. “Fucking right, no warnings, just remember. Now get out; fuck off out of my sight.”

  ‘Kenny got to his feet and bolted for the door, his trousers soaked, piss everywhere, tears streaming down his face, he ran home. I thought Harry was a menace, never seen anything like it ever, before or since – Kenny pissed himself, served him right.’

  Well, that explains that – my old man and Patrick, they were always as thick as thieves, heads together all the time. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘You’re joking! Your old man said, ‘not a word Pat my boy, savvy’. Tell anyone, you’re joking. He put the fear of Christ in me – I didn’t want to tell you now – I half expect Harry will be knocking on my door in the morning to give me a bollocking. Peggy must have heard the noise; Kenny went out of the front door just as she came into the bar, saw me, said hello, looked at your old man and said, ‘What’s going on, what’s that on the floor?’ He could think on his feet – I’ll give him that. ‘Some dirty sod spilt their beer at lunchtime; Patrick’s just going to get the mop.’ Peggy shook her head as if to say, why didn’t you do that two hours ago.’

  ‘And I came in just as you were mopping it up.’

  ‘Don’t tell Harry.’ Then Patrick smiled, ‘I did well that afternoon; Peggy gave me a shilling for doing the floor.’

  I tried to wipe the smile off his face. ‘How’s Suzie?’

  ***

  Awake, my thoughts swung wildly between all the lies that I’d spun and the pain in my ribs. I sweated and shouted, trying to remember the dreams. I looked around, eyes everywhere. I was still trapped in a twilight zone, full of old men moaning and deep rattling, phlegm riddled coughs, scars from their crutch to their throats.

  Why am I in a ward full of dying old men, either calling for the nurse, falling out of bed or dropping their bedpans?

  As if by magic, Kenny suddenly stood at the end of the ward, scanning the line of beds until he stopped at mine. My eyebrows stretched and my fists bunched. That was pointless; tubes everywhere chained me to the bed, like a sacrificial goat. I half expected him to pull a carving knife out as he advanced towards me. I stared frantically looking for a nurse or a doctor or a cleaner, anyone to ward of the madman advancing on me. Dogs always sought sanctuary by getting close to their masters, where did I go?

  Nowhere – I watched him approach, his eyes everywhere but on me, self-conscious and giving me the distinct impression that he would rather be somewhere else. I no longer saw a nemesis coming my way, more like a sinner edging towards the confessional box. The ugly bruise on his cheekbone where I’d tried to plough my forehead right through to the back of his head winked and flared like an angry beacon. Kenny finally glanced my way, those brown eyes always suggested they could see things other people missed – poisonous places that I’d be frightened to visit. He came up to the edge of the bed. I sensed he was on the brink, like a diver about to take the leap into fresh air. My eyes were all over him, nothing in his hands, they just hung limply at his side.

  ‘I didn’t do it.’ His mouth opened a couple of times, it appeared as though he was miming a prepared script. ‘I wanted to kill you. But this wasn’t me.’

  ‘You tried, remember?’

  ‘I did, didn’t I?’ Kenny hesitated, ‘I wouldn’t have hurt Kathy. You’re a different kettle of fish, though.’

  Kenny seamlessly joined my silent world and sat staring down at his feet. I didn’t know what to say, don’t hit me, or why don’t you just fuck off?

  ‘No work today?’

  ‘I’ve given it up.’ He shook his head, ‘Not many people can say that they’ve had two fathers in their life, I can and I hate the pair of them with a vengeance. I hate you as well, I hate a lot of people at the moment.’

  I needed a drink; nothing they served up here either. Something to put me under again. I glanced up at the clock on the far wall, I imagined it ticking away, running the time slowly down until Kenny finally made his move.

  ‘He died, I watched… watched him die.’ Kenny spoke as if he was in a trance, eyes wide open and staring into space. Face expressionless as he said something that jolted its way inside my head.

  I tried to sit up, ‘Who?’

  ‘That ugly little friend of yours. Kathy’s brother, he would have been my brother-in-law. Have you ever thought about that one?’ Kenny sighed and finally looked at me. ‘He followed Ron for weeks, drove him up the wall. That and the fact that my other dad was fucking the arse off Shirley. We all went mad, Shirley was just sex mad and so much happened to Ron, no wonder he went fucking crazy. Then that stupid little bastard wandered into the farmyard and fucked everything up.’

  Kenny appeared to be in a dream now, adrift in his own little world. Eyes glazed and he stared at nothing. ‘Ron thought that if he had plenty of money, Shirley wouldn’t leave him. He was thieving everywhere. He often dragged me along, as a lookout, he told me. He broke into Broughton’s farmhouse. You know how those rumours about him not using banks and burying his money. Well they were true. Ron got in, early evening, they were still harvesting – the lot of them were out and I stood around in the farmyard while he ransacked the house. That’s when Declan came along. I never killed him; only raised my hand to him and chased him away. He turned and ran, I supposed he couldn’t see much with no glasses. Jesus, he was quick, I’ll give him that, but he ran full pelt into a counterweight from that old bearing press.’ Kenny’s head dropped onto his chest, ‘He didn’t see it, bigger than a shot-put, it hit him straight between the eyes… he went out like a light. I shouted and shouted for Ron. He came out, eventually, fag in his mouth, ‘What have you done?’ That’s all he said.

  ‘He was convinced that I did it; hit Declan with something heavy. Ron sat down alongside and made sure he was breathing, then handed me the biggest wad of money I’ve ever seen. ‘Keep it safe’ were his instructions, then he picked Declan up, telling me he was going to stay with him until he came around. Ron carried him across the meadow and alongside the canal.’

  ‘Lime Kiln Lock?’

  Kenny nodded, ‘We sat with him for a while; he died in Ron’s arms and that’s the god honest truth.’ He stared into my eyes, ‘Ron said that it would be prison for both of us. I mean, who would believe me? Ron didn’t, he honestly believed he was protecting me. Imagine, we’d just burgled a farmhouse, and the little man caught us at it – no-one would have believed us, would they?’

  I pointed at Kenny, ‘Why did you hide his bo
dy?’

  Kenny looked away from me. ‘Ron told me to fuck off home. I asked him what he was going to do. ‘Hide the little fucker’. That was all he said and I watched as he lowered him into the canal and laid that old cast iron radiator across his chest. Ron told me that if I ever breathed a word, it wouldn’t be prison and they still hung people back then. I wanted to tell Kathy this from the moment we started going out. All the things that have happened help to ruin me; this secret destroyed me. More than you fucking off with her.’ He leaned close and gripped my wrist, ‘Promise me you won’t tell Kathy?’

  I nodded and, the strangest thing was, I believed every word. I understood why Ron did what he did; I couldn’t forgive him, but I could recognise the hopelessness of their position. His fingerprints all over the farmhouse, a dead old woman who he probably smothered and a boy’s body twenty yards away. He would have hung, that’s for sure. Would I have been able to think straight in that situation? No is the answer, but the repercussions? A family holding their collective breath for twelve years.

  I shut my eyes. I had to tell Kathy, but when?

  ‘I never touched it.’ Kenny suddenly spoke and he made me jump.

  What?

  ‘The money – it’s still in a drawer at home. When Ron got out of prison, he never mentioned it, just assumed that I’d spent it. I asked him enough times over the years, about Declan I mean, why couldn’t we just find the body? Stumble across it and put everyone out of their misery?’ Kenny’s eyes refocused. He leant forward close to me. ‘Two hours after Declan died, Ron stuck it to your uncle, stuck it to my real dad. Got himself arrested and spent the next six years inside.’

  The tears were streaming down his face by now, yet he wasn’t sobbing; his voice was clear and steady. Why now, why me? I was in turmoil, an answer after all this time; Declan’s damaged eyesight exaggerating his already poor perception regarding judgement of distances and angles. Full pelt into something that weighed the best part of half a stone. Unconscious and destined to remain that way, until his tenacious heart finally gave up the fight. I was half right, I never thought for one second that my clumsy little friend would blunder into the canal and drown.

  I asked a stupid question anyway, ‘Why didn’t you tell the police?’

  Kenny just shrugged and I knew the answer to that: because we didn’t, you just didn’t. But he never told anyone, least of all the woman who he still loved. He dropped his head again. ‘I don’t expect that you’ll believe this, but I never hurt Kathy and I never stuffed you over either.’ Kenny laughed, a short exhausting bark of a laugh. ‘You know that she’s had others don’t you? You weren’t the only one. I would always forgive her. Will you be able to say the same?’

  Why did he say that? Did he believe that anyway?

  I should have a sense of relief or resolution at least; all the answers apart from who attacked us. I believed him; everything he said rang true, except the less than cryptic rubbish about Kathy, of course. I watched Kenny walk away, shoulders hunched, head forwards as if he was trudging into a stiff breeze. Just like he was leaving another of my dreams.

  Was that all a dream?

  Something bothered me. Declan’s lungs were full of water. That meant one thing; he was breathing when Ron lowered him into the water.

  Did Kenny know that?

  I dreamt about Kenny and a farmyard and my short-sighted friend.

  ***

  I dreaded this moment, me as Ebenezer Scrooge and Bridget my ghost of Christmas future. I watched as she talked to the ward sister, relaxed and laughing with a colleague. She walked gracefully towards me, her cosy uniform highlighting her curves, her arms folded under her breathtaking breasts. Her face clouded over as she got closer. Bridget was all business – I had to admit, you always knew exactly where you stood with her. I stared up at the tight uniform and her redoubtable glower. Her eyes met mine, the intimacy in the look only achievable between people who had made love.

  Unnerved, she looked away, swearing under her breath. Not mine to excite – not any more, anyway. Over the years, she never acknowledged any of my compliments; sometimes a silent nod of the head and a suspicious glance my way. I could see her years from now, grey hair pinned up, big chest strapped in and a ferocious frown capable of stopping a galloping camel. She made me her scapegoat, telling Kathy and anyone else who’d listen, how I used to mess her about. In Bridget’s black and white manual of who’s good and who’s not; I wasn’t good. She blamed me for all of Declan’s disasters, us getting expelled, and now this.

  I was once more a captive, a hospital bed my prison, tubes my shackles. Bridget ignored the chair and stared down at me. ‘God – you look a mess.’

  I nearly committed a cardinal sin, about to say and you look fantastic. But silence was my only safe option, insolence banned in her world; keep quiet and take it like a man.

  ‘Have you seen Kathy?’ A gentle start.

  I nodded my head, ‘Earlier – she’s got a real pearler.’

  ‘What a mess it all is.’ She sighed and sat down. ‘You’ve no idea, have you? You’re so far up yourself you’ve no idea of the havoc you’ve created.’

  Then silence; she used it as a bludgeon, in a similar way to Patrick.

  I couldn’t stand the oppressive quiet that emanated from Bridget. ‘When did Kathy tell you?’

  ‘Months ago. I guessed, anyway – the way she hung around you like a fourteen year old.’ She noticed my suspicious expression. ‘After the funeral, she told me then. Lucky for the pair of you, Arthur told the world and his wife it was the two of us that went to bed that afternoon.’ Bridget shook her head, ‘I rang her that night and got the whole story.’

  And Kathy told me you knew nothing.

  ‘Did she tell you how things were between her and Kenny?’

  ‘I knew all about that.’ Bridget’s angry nodding preceded more censure. ‘She was having such a tough time and you’re like some blood-hungry hyena out on the prowl.’

  Kenny’s sneering comments kept buzzing away in my head, I said the wrong thing, ‘Perhaps there were others?’

  ‘There you go – what a thing to say, what if there were?’ Bridget pointed at me. ‘Relax, there was nobody else. She always wanted you and you knew it. It’s like you think you’ve got some godly right to do just what you like…’ Bridget trailed off and left me hanging for a few seconds. ‘Point is, she fell in love with you, anyone else and this wouldn’t have happened.’ Bridget pointed at my face to reinforce the indictment.

  What could I say? Nothing, it was illogical, but perversely true.

  ‘I love her.’

  She ignored that, shook her head, looked down at the upside-down watch and said, ‘I’ve wasted my break on you.’ She sighed and got to her feet. ‘Do you feel as bad as you look?’

  ‘I feel better for seeing someone familiar, thanks for coming to see me.’

  ‘I was going to give you what for, but sister told me to go easy.’

  ‘You’re joking – it was bad enough as it was.’

  Bridget smiled for the first time, ‘Be good, I’ll try and get in tomorrow.’

  ***

  All these visitors and now Fred, he walked the self conscious walk, helmet under his arm, a fixed nervous looking grin on his face. His eyes studiously avoided nurses, and locked onto me – his smile vanished as he drew up alongside. A horror-struck look spread across his face – fucking hell!

  ‘Hello, Stu.’ As he made himself comfortable, ‘Don’s getting the coffees.’

  ‘What’s he doing here?’

  ‘Don’t pick a fight with him. We just popped in here to see how you are – keep you in the picture.’ He showed me the palms of his big hands, they said please stay calm. ‘You gave us all a fright, are you able to talk?’

  I nodded as Don’s self-assured amble caught the corner of my eye. He projected an accomplished grin towards the nurses, then a nod towards me. He dragged a chair from the next bed, spun i
t around and threw a leg over it.

  He smiled, ‘Jesus – you look awful.’ Don gave me his sincere look, smiled like a dingo out on the loose. ‘I want this to be as civil as possible, please.’

  My eyes flicked across to Fred, what’s up with him? Fred smiled back and shrugged, saying. ‘What do you remember?’

  I looked down the bed at my feet, what did I remember? The way we walked, past the mill, arm in arm; the way we looked at each other every time we went past one of the infrequent street lights. She smiled up, I slipped my arm around her waist as we crossed the iron bridge that leads up to the church. Did I hear an owl? A twig snap? Anything? Any noise at all? No – just the dimmest of shadows moving maybe.

  We kissed, rain on her face, a sensation, a feeling, sensing something – a boxer’s peripheral vision, some awareness of movement in the corner of my eye. Then blinding pain, just above the right ear. Did Kathy scream, did I hear her scream? Impressions – a vicious attack of vertigo spinning, violently turning and falling. In the dimmest recess of consciousness, thinking, that doesn’t feel like someone’s knuckle. Before being enveloped in violent pain, someone pushing a jack hammer into my head – then nothing.

  I looked at Fred, ‘Nothing – not a thing. I never saw a thing.’

  ‘Nothing?’

  I shook my head, ‘What did Kathy say?’

  Don thought for a minute, ‘Just that someone came out of nowhere, as you fell, he whacked her and she went out like a light. She didn’t see anything.’ Don, all business pressed on. ‘We’ve talked to Kenny – he’s bombproof.’ His shoulders shrugged in a gesture of helplessness. ‘And we’ve heard about the two of you.’ Don lacked his usual belligerence, gentle almost with his delivery. ‘Outside the Swan – what happened?’

  ‘I’ve told Fred, we were walking down Church Street, past the back of the Swan and he confronted us, he was going to hit me – I stuck my head into him first.’