‘You’re right, I wasn’t much better, but there was never any fuckin’ ‘ope for me, was there? I was always the lost cause. Not like some others.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Don’t mug me off, fella, you’ve never been any good at it. You know full well what I mean. We were both as bad as each other, but it was always me that got the blame. I was always the one that dragged you down, remember?’
‘Well, let’s be fair, most of the scrapes we got into were your idea.’
Paul exhaled wearily and picked up the vodka bottle again. Having finished his hors d’oeuvre, he was ready for the main course. I forced my own drink back and pushed the empty glass across to him. After all, no one likes to eat alone.
‘I see you’ve still got the scar from the joyriding accident,’ I said, trying to change the direction of the conversation.
Paul touched his forehead. ‘Yeah, and there’s few more besides that now.’
He lit another cigarette and became lost in thought for a moment. With his head held low he looked repentant, and for a split second the teenager I’d once been such bad friends with returned. Paul obviously felt himself thawing out too, because when he looked back up, he was more intent than before.
‘So what’s brought this little visit on anyway?’ he said. ‘What do you want?’
‘Well, since I’ve got the weekend to myself I thought I might check up on a few people that I’ve lost touch with. You know, from the old school. Of course, you were at the top of my list, and I kind’ve hoped we might be able to patch things up a bit.’
‘Patch things up? Fucking patch things up? What do you think this is, you prick? A fuckin’ daytime TV programme? Now don’t fuck me about Shill, I’m not in the mood. What do you really want?’
Ignoring the ashtray, I squashed the cigarette under my heel. Placed my glass back down on the bar. Deep breath now.
‘Alright,’ I said, ‘If that’s how you want it. I came here because I’ve got a question for you.’
Paul laughed. ‘I know what you want,’ he said, blowing smoke through his nose. ‘You wanna know why I clocked you at that rave, don’t you?’
I nodded. ‘Yeah I do. It’s just always bugged the shit out of me. I mean, one minute we were friends, the next you were laying me out - and for no apparent reason. I went round to your house the next day but by that time you’d already left home. I’ve not seen you since.’
Paul was studying the Zippo in his hand.
‘It was a good punch that was,’ he said fondly.
‘Yeah, not bad, considering that I had my eyes shut at the time.’
His sardonic smirk suddenly disappeared and was replaced by something far more dangerous: a look of angry embarrassment.
‘Come on then,’ I said, grasping the nettle. ‘Tell me, why did you do it?’
‘Fuck you, Shill. There’s nothing to tell. The world doesn’t revolve around your fat arse, you know. You never think that you actually deserved a fuckin’ smack?’
‘For what?’ I said, incredulously.
‘For being a cunt.’
I couldn’t stop myself laughing at that one.
‘Well, that’s no excuse, I’ve always been one of them, mate, you know that. That’s why we got on so well together.’
‘Yeah, but you were something else. You pushed people to the fuckin’ limit. I don’t suppose you remember that night at all, do you?’
I shook my head. ‘Not very well.’
‘Ah, well I fuckin’ do. Things were never the same once we got booted out of school. You went on to that shit hole college and I…’ Paul licked his lower lip menacingly.
‘So here’s a question that’s always bugged me; why did you never come and see me after the crash? When I was in hospital?’
Struggling to recall the reason, I improvised. ‘I don’t know. I was probably grounded at the time–’
‘Fuck off grounded, you twat. Just listen to you; you’re making excuses for something that you didn’t do twenty years ago. See what I mean? Pathetic twat.’
‘Alright, alright, I’m getting the message.’
Paul looked down at the glass he was gripping far too tightly.
‘I’ll tell you, if you really want to know,’ he said. ‘That night, I could tell when you and Ralph picked me up that something had changed. You weren’t joining in the craic anymore. You didn’t even want to be there. All you kept saying was that it was your last night out on the pills, ‘cause you were “knuckling down”. You had it all fuckin’ sussed out. Pass the exams, go to university and then get her back. All you had to do was find her. On and on you kept going, you were getting right on my bastard nerves. I thought you’d been on the speed or something. Anyway, that’s when I bet you that your little plan wouldn’t work. Do you remember?’
I nodded.
‘Yeah,’ Paul continued, ‘and I was fuckin’ right, wasn’t I? You never did find her, did you? She dropped you like a fuckin’ dose.’
I didn’t need reminding of that. ‘And so you just left.’
Paul shrugged. ‘Well, there was fuck all to keep me there, was there? My old man didn’t live at home any more, and the old bitch came and went as she fuckin’ pleased. I found out later that my sister only helped me pack so that she could get the bigger room. Sly bitch.’
‘It was probably all for the best,’ I said.
‘You reckon?’
‘Well, yeah. Let’s be right, we were never very good for each other, were we?’
Paul didn’t seem to agree.
‘But we weren’t though, Paul. You and me, we were bad chemistry. I mean, we’d gotten bored of taking the piss out of the teachers, we’d moved on to nicking cars, for fuck’s sake. I dread to think what we might’ve done to top that. When we got expelled I knew that I had to make a choice: keep my head down and maybe salvage some kind of education, or keep mucking around. And I dread to think where that would’ve led. The stripy hole knowing my luck.’
Paul wasn’t having my feeble attempt to lighten the tone.
‘I ain’t so sure we were bad for each other,’ he said, ‘but that’s how it turned out, innit; you got your precious degree and I ended up inside.’
He dropped it into the conversation in such a matter of fact way that it took me a moment to realise what he’d just said.
‘What? Really? How long for?’
‘Three years in the end,’ he said, trying to suck the stains from his front teeth.
‘For what?’
‘You really don’t wanna know, Felix. Let’s just say that I managed to top the joyriding.’
‘Jesus. I had no idea–’
‘Why would you? You were too busy living the fuckin’ dream. You made it perfectly clear that you didn’t give a shit about anyone else – especially me.’
‘You make it sound like your mistakes were my fault.’
‘Well,’ said Paul, slamming down his glass, ‘if you hadn’t – ‘
But he never got the chance to finish his sentence. The door behind us burst open and an excited Rudi came lumbering towards us.
‘Two maggots on the hook,’ he said, and almost knocked me over as he barged past.
Paul’s face snapped back into character the instant he heard the alarm.
‘Where are they now?’ he asked.
‘They up top, just working up a semi.’
‘Right,’ Paul said, clearing the bar, ‘you get in the back and keep the fuckin’ noise down.’
Rudi jumped to it like an enthusiastic child and sent a couple of bottles flying in his eagerness to squeeze back into the bolthole.
‘Right, Mr. Shill,’ Paul said, replacing the vodka bottle with the drinks list. ‘It looks like that’s the end of this little chat. You should fuck off.’
‘But can we just– ‘
He cut me off without looking up from what he was doing.
‘Look, don’t muck about, pal. I’ve got a business to run here and you’re a f
uckin’ Jonah.’
That stung more than I expected. I got back to my feet. As I drained my glass I waited for Paul to throw me some kind of lifeline, some opening to a further discussion. But there was nothing. The scent of money was ripe in the air and I could see that in his world, that took precedence over everything. Once the bar was clear he nodded at me and then vanished into the back room.
And that was it. Our conversation was over as unexpectedly as it had started. I felt almost betrayed by his lack of courtesy and walked to the exit shaking my head in disbelief.
As it turned out, Paul was destined to have one last salvo. I was opening the door when I heard him call after me.
‘Oi, fucknut.’
I looked back to see his shiny head poking out from the back office.
‘What now, then?’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Where you going now?’
‘Well… I… um…’
‘She’s down here, you know.’
‘Who?’
‘That muddy piece of arse that you used to be obsessed with. You know, the one you never married.’
I felt my pulse surge. ‘What, you mean Kalila?’
‘Yeah, Kalila, that’s the one. She’s out Kensington way, working for this right dodgy bastard – Arab by the name of Darwish Hadad.’
‘How do you–?’ But I didn’t need to finish the question. Paul’s smirk was back and more devious than ever.
‘You should try patching things up with her as well,’ he said. ‘Maybe she’s got a fuckin’ needle and cotton handy.’
He just had time to wink before I heard Rudi’s deep voice call after him. Then Paul’s head disappeared back into the wall.
‘Maybe I will,’ I said aloud.
*
On my way up to the street I passed a couple of Japanese businessmen. They were braying like horny sheep as the skanky wolf described what treats lay in store for them below.
Women. They can smell desperation a mile away. Judging from the promises the skank was making, this sense clearly becomes more acute when they reek of it themselves.
It crossed my mind to warn the poor bastards off, but then I remembered the fifty quid I owed Paul. It kept me quiet. As far as I was concerned this made us all square.
When I got back above ground the flunky was nowhere to be seen. You might think the tone of the place would’ve improved as a result, but with the sky now completely overcast, the narrow street felt even gloomier than before. I dug my hands into my pockets and got onto the main road as quickly as possible. There was a well-armoured off-licence just a few hundred yards away, and since death was no longer the deterrent it once was, I stopped in for some cigarettes. It was time to start smoking again.
I sparked one up outside the shop and thought over what had just happened. In spite of the reception, it had been good to see Paul again. Our discussion went some way to filling the gaps in the years, giving me a real sense of satisfaction. More than I ever expected. Nevertheless, there was something about the meeting that left me wanting.
Paul blamed me for playing a part in his decline. He as good as said so before we were disturbed. What had I done or failed to do that could’ve possible contributed to his descent? Had I ignored one of his appeals? Had I missed a cry for help?
I wracked my memory and tried to remember, but nothing came to mind. Having mashed it into a self-induced blur, that whole period of my youth was sketchy. If only Rudi had been ten seconds later, I’m sure I would’ve teased it out of him, but now the only way to find out for sure was to go back down there and start all over again. I dismissed the idea. The ice was broken, and now I knew where to find him, I could always call back later. Besides, I had a new purpose. She was in London.
Last I heard Kalila was living half way around the world. Turns out she was right on my doorstep. So close. All I needed now was her address.
Finding missing people is not new to me. While conducting a similar search a year or so earlier I found that most UK residents can be tracked through the electoral register. So I had registered with a number of different websites which allowed you to search them online.
An Internet café sat a short way along the road. When I logged in I found my accounts were still active. A few minutes later, Kalila’s details were mine. I stared at the print out in my hand.
Kalila Bahar! There she was, after all this time.
When I conceived this exercise back in the tattoo parlour, I could think of maybe half a dozen people that I would like to meet up with again. I never dared dream that Kalila could be one of them. My mind was swirling with the possibilities. This was better than I could have ever imagined.
I glanced at my watch. A little after one o’clock.
Next stop Kensington.
11.12pm, Friday, September 20, 1985
Sunshine bore through the thin windowpanes of the old prefabricated classroom, forcing the students to shield their eyes. They were supposed to be copying French verbs; however, the sun’s glare reflected off the blackboard, making it impossible to read the teacher’s scrawl. As a result, they were compelled to interpret his stern dictation in the hope they might correct their notes during the break.
But for once, Felix wasn’t looking forward to the lunch hour. While thirty-one children scribbled frantically, he sat motionless, his attention rapt by something far more interesting than “a bunch of foreign crap” that “he’d never use”.
That something was Kalila Bahar.
She sat on the opposite side of the room listening calmly, with a poise that seemed out of place amongst these mere children. If Felix had been free to walk across and peer over her shoulder, he knew that every curve, every line and every join she wrote would be perfectly balanced and formed. Just like her.
The window alongside Kalila was flung open as far as the old hinges would permit, allowing a welcome breeze into the room. The cool air feathered the edges of her syrupy black curls and teased the loose cotton of her blouse on its way to the soft dark skin beneath. Oh, how Felix envied its journey! Over and over he traced her graceful profile, humbled by the image he hoped would remain burned in his memory forev–
'Shill! What are you doing, lad?’ Mr Hull’s voice was so incensed it made everyone turn to see what heinous crime Felix was committing.
‘You’re fawning over that poor girl again, aren’t you?’
Every pair of eyes followed his bony index finger, making Kalila bow her head with embarrassment.
‘Why don’t you keep your ruddy eyes on what you’re supposed to be doing, eh? Face front, lad.’
Unashamed that his affections had been so publicly outed, Felix turned his head and stared out of the opposite window.
‘I said face the front, Shill. Do it now!’
Reluctantly, Felix complied, sighing just loudly enough for Mr Hull, on the other side of the class, to hear. Moments later, the teacher screamed just loudly enough for a class on the other side of the school to hear.
‘How dare you be so insolent in my classroom, boy! On your feet. Now!’
With a resigned smile, Felix casually pushed back on his chair.
Here we go again, he thought.
He was almost to his feet when he was yanked across the desk. A sharp rasp accompanied his lunge forward, as the stitching of his blazer gave way.
Undeterred by the damage he was causing, and panting furiously, Mr Hull held Felix within an inch of his hooked nose, dousing him in the smell of cheap staff room coffee.
‘Who the ruddy hell do you think you are, boy?’ he snarled. ‘Eh? Who do you think you are, coming into my classroom and acting like some kind of hooligan? Speak up, lad.’
Felix leaned back and looked down at the long fingers that pinched his flesh. Without showing any sign of pain, he stared defiantly into the old man’s brown, washed-out eyes.
‘I’m gonna come back here one day, you know that?’
‘Oh?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, barin
g his teeth, ‘and when I do you’re gonna regret all these beatings ‘cause I’m gonna fucking ‘ave you.’
The room gasped with delight. This was a genuine scandal, one of the two things their young spirits craved most of all. It was also the most mutinous act Mr Hull had ever experienced in forty years as a teacher. His cheeks quivered for an instant, as he digested the threat, then the rest of his body trembled with rage. Felix didn’t know it yet, but he had just pulled on a snagged thread that had been hanging loose for over two decades. Now the very fabric of Mr Hull was about to unravel.
‘How dare youyouyou…’ he growled, the heat of his rage fusing the words together. ‘In all my… right, by God… damn you, Shill… three years I’ve had to put up with your impertinence… threeyearswellnomore… I’ll drum some respect into you… I’lldrumsomerespectintoyou… even if I have to beat some of the life out to make room for ittttt. Do you hear me boy?’ He shook Felix furiously. ‘Do you hear what I’m saying?’
When Felix didn’t reply, Mr Hull flashed a giant hand across the teenager’s face. The room gasped again, but this time the delight was gone from their faces.
‘Answer me boyyyy… answer me or be damned.’
Felix chose to be damned.
Infuriated beyond all realms of self-control, the teacher shook more violently. Only this time he didn’t stop.
Soon the other pupils were shaking, too.
5
OK, so I admit nerves were starting to get the better of me. Kensington was only a few stops away, but my courage was wavering the closer I got to the underground station. It was the opening pitch that I was struggling with. I couldn’t just turn up where Kalila worked unannounced, especially if what Paul had told me about her employer was true. Then again, calling her at home would be no breeze either. I mean, what would I say when she asked how I’d known where to find her? There wasn’t any answer to that question that didn’t make me look like a potential stalker.
The more I thought about it, the more I felt like an angst-ridden teenager again. Doubt flooded my mind. Maybe now wasn’t the right time. She was probably busy at work or in the middle of her lunch, and it wasn’t as though there was any rush, right? I had all day, after all.
Felix Shill Deserves to Die Page 8