‘You’re lookin’ very nice this morning.’
‘Yeah? Well I’m knackered, been up half the night.’
Mr Etchman’s heart and erection fell at the thought of his Happy Mount Park Van Assistant being occupied in the twilight hours. ‘Oh yeah, boyfriend keeping you up was he?’
‘Just a bit. I chucked him last night and he went mental. Lobbed curry all over dad’s new Avensis, then robbed some ladders from the garage and tried to get in my room in the middle of the night.’
‘Mad bastard! You poor little thing. Are you okay?’ Etchman slid over on his seat to rest a compassionate hand on Tania’s shoulder.
‘Yeah, just shattered.’
‘So then, why’d you finish with him?’
Tania swivelled around to face her employer and smiled as seductively as a 16-year-old knows how. ‘You know why, you dirty old sod.’ She leaned forward and kissed Etchman on the lips, her hand delving between his legs to confirm she had his full attention.
‘Oh, Tania.’ He moaned.
She withdrew, apparently disinterested, and laughed at her boss’s undisguised disappointment. ‘Morning, Alfie.’ Tania called over Etchman’s shoulder.
Etchman spun round to look out of his window and saw Alfie wandering towards them, wheeling his bicycle beside him.
‘Oh, err, morning Alfie. Lovely day for it.’ Etchman waved compunctiously, causing Tania to giggle again.
Alfie waved back uncertainly. He wasn’t comfortable with Lee Etchman and Tania Streatham cooped up together in a van. She was young, almost too young, although she blatantly acted like the world had nothing left to teach her, and Lee, well he was married. Alfie knew that because the first time they met and shook hands he had noticed a ring on Etchman’s finger. It had been the week Alfie started his job as Park Keeper shortly after arriving in Morecambe.
Alfie continued walking, bicycle beside him. He always cycled to work but it was prohibited on park grounds and it wouldn’t do for the Park Keeper to be seen flouting the rules. He unlocked the hut; a diminutive red brick building with a wide window that slid open to allow him to serve customers, and a pallid wooden door that, while still maintaining some of its original vermilion hue, badly needed painting.
Inside, other than the stool which he rarely used, was a comfortable chair, a Calor gas fire for winter, a kettle, toaster and a small television. Alfie parked his bike behind the chair and left the hut, locking it again and setting off around the park perimeter to unlock and open all the various gates. As cafe owner Mr Etchman had a key to the main gate for access to set up prior to the Park opening. But only the Park Keeper held keys for all the other gates and doors.
Alfie had just opened the gates that adjoined the golf course and was strolling towards the final set beside the toilets, themselves situated in a particularly well shaded spot with plenty of tree cover, rendering it a fitting location for those people with singularly sordid interests who frequented the park after dark, when he thought he saw someone duck behind the hedgerow.
Pausing for a moment Alfie peered at the hedge and, observing no further movement, dismissed it as a startled squirrel. He held the padlock in one hand, inserted and turned the key with the other and pulled the chain through the gate, wrapped the whole lot around the fixed post and bent down to pull the drop peg from the concrete. As he did so, someone emerged from behind the hedge, barged into the gate causing it to rebound off Alfie’s head with a clang, and sprinted past his spread-eagled form into the park.
3 Ice Cream War
Sharada Bhumbra, uncommonly short with vast unwieldy feet, bistered skin and an untameable mass of black curls that were usually restrained with braids or clips, lied to her father when she told him she was going to school early this morning. He waved her away; she doubted if he even registered what his second child had said to him, so distraught was he that his beloved only son, Kuldeep, might be brain damaged in some way – some might say more brain damaged - following his plummet from a ladder into a bush.
Only part of Mr Bhumbra’s concern was paternal, however. An equal, if not larger, area of anxiety was that Kuldeep may lose his gift for numeracy or, worse, be unable to help in the restaurant, forcing Mr Bhumbra to hire more staff, which meant paying wages and tax and could only lead to unnecessary beleaguerment.
‘It’s murder, that’s what it amounts to.’ Mr Bhumbra bellowed as he paced up and down the hospital corridor in the early hours, waiting for news.
‘Dad, he fell off a ladder.’ Sharada corrected every time her father began to rant and gesture at passing nurses.
‘Attempted murder then. Bastard swine! My poor boy…’
‘Dad, he broke into their garage and took the ladders and was round the back of their house banging on the windows.’ Except Mr Bhumbra seemed unable to hear that part of the argument, and why should he? Sharada knew who was to blame and she intended due retribution.
As a second generation Asian, a British Asian, Sharada felt no real, tangible connection to Sylhet, the land of her father and only knew a smattering of the language because her parents still sometimes lapsed at home. She knew the history, had been told the story of her father’s migration, the family sacrifice, but her life had been so different. She lived in an expansive house, her father drove an expensive car and her slightest whim had never been denied. She’d been born here, educated here, all her friends – what few there were – lived right here in Morecambe.
That said, Sharada was a curious and intelligent girl, keen to learn new things and certainly she was interested in her roots so that, despite her father having lapsed years before her birth, she took an active interest in her religion in an attempt to create some kind of link with her heritage. Her older brother Kuldeep had no interest in such things, was not able to make sense of the idea that a person could be from one place, yet be in another. All he knew was that he lived in Morecambe which is in a country called Britain and that is in Europe which he knew is a continent. The notion of roots and background meant nothing at all to him.
Sharada didn’t mind this, was even sometimes envious of the simplified view of life held by her brother. Besides that, Kuldeep inadvertently provided an outlet for Sharada’s frustration with her physical self, her unpopularity, her perceived lack of a life. Kuldeep’s autism rendered him a stickler for facts and accuracy and he could not let a point pass uncorrected.
‘I wish I were dead!’ Sharada would sometimes say.
‘That’s not possible.’ Kuldeep would reply calmly. ‘If you should happen to die it would be because of an accident or an illness, not a wish.’
‘Everybody hates me, I’ve got no life!’ She would wail.
‘You are breathing and shouting and as such have a life. Also, since it is impossible to know everybody, everybody cannot hate you.’
This would go on until Sharada felt better, had ranted out all her grievances. She enjoyed the release and valued her older brother for providing it, whether he understood or not, which was why she was so affected by the despicable, trampish behaviour of Tania Streatham.
Sharada and Tania had been in the same year at school, before Tania left to do a college course. Sharada hadn’t liked her, all short skirts, tight shirts and plenty of make-up, but the boys loved her. They stared, hypnotised, when Tania bent over to pick up her bag from the floor and her skirt rode up, they ogled like builders when she wore a black push-up bra beneath her white blouse and left the top three buttons undone and they all, with little exception, branded Tania a slut and a slag.
The thing was, much as she disapproved of Tania’s reputation and solicitous behaviour, Sharada was consumed with envy and jealousy of Tania’s confidence and beauty, both of which were entirely alien to the awkward, shy, unpopular Sharada whose cumbersome breasts seemed to hang lifelessly in front of her and whose make-up collection consisted of two Boots Number Seven lip colours and a Good Earth eye shadow trio.
Kuldeep’s announcement that he was seeing Tania had failed to p
rompt any exultant displays from Sharada, although she’d been surprised at such an unlikely coupling as Kuldeep was obsessively selective whom he even spoke to, and had never been romantically involved with anyone. Sharada was also well aware that Kuldeep was a long way off being the type of boy Tania typically attached herself to and had been further perturbed a few weeks later when her naïve brother had proclaimed he loved Tania, but last night had been the final straw and action needed to be taken.
Sharada had deceived her father, who had already been warned by the police that his son was lucky not to be facing charges of breaking and entering and harassment, thanks to the sympathetic and magnanimous nature of Miss Streatham who had pleaded with her father not to press the matter further, and gone to the park where Tania worked.
The gates were locked and her restrictive dark green school blazer and knee length pleated skirt would not permit Sharada to climb over with any dignity so she was forced to loiter behind a hedge until the Park Keeper unlocked them. Then, she charged past him and ran in the direction of the ice cream van to confront Tania.
* * * *
Tania Streatham, although only in her mid teens, had, in some ways - predominantly the ways of men and how to manipulate their apparently feeble one track minds - a very mature head on her shoulders. Not that she was a cold, calculating little madam, not at all; Tania had simply grown weary of boys and their bravado, adolescents who invariably lacked substance and so she had turned to Kuldeep who, beyond any doubt, had stimulated her mentally but at the expense of any real physical attention.
It had crossed Tania’s mind on several occasions throughout her brief relationship with Kuldeep that she was too fussy, that she expected too much. She’d desired more substance and Kuldeep certainly possessed that. He was clearly intelligent, interested in her thoughts and her mind, treated her with nothing but the utmost respect. The problem was that Tania found herself wishing, just once, that Kuldeep might lose his temper with her, show some passion, ravish her without restraint.
Tania made the effort to understand Kuldeep’s condition, had done some reading on the subject of Autism Spectrum Disorder and certainly did not share the view of many at school who saw anybody different as strange or as a target for bullying. But despite Kuldeep being a high functioning autistic, his literal understanding of the world and obsessive need for routine meant he was a model of control. Her attention began to wander away from free Indian meals and being treated well, towards someone more rough and ready, someone with an ample supply of cash, her boss, Lee ‘The Letch’ Etchman.
One of the conditions imposed by Tania’s parents of her being allowed to leave school – of which she’d grown disenchanted – and go to college - which in Tania’s view was far more sophisticated - was that she earn some money to pay her own way and substantiate her declaration that she was mature enough to support herself. On her first visit to the Job Centre she found the job in the ice-cream van – or Seasonal Chilled Confectionary Assistant as it was advertised. It was within walking distance of home, the park was nearly always deserted and Tania was, essentially, left to her own devices, which meant she was able to help herself to ice cream when she fancied it, have the radio blaring all day and browse magazines for the latest celebrity gossip and dietary fads.
It had, however, become abruptly obvious that her boss, Mr Etchman, fortyish with a slight beer belly and a penchant for unyielding jeans and constrictive shirts which he wore with the top few buttons undone to expose the gold chain that adorned his thick red neck, had something of a roving eye. He began to spend increasing time with Tania in the van, initially affecting the duplicity of observing her work and training her up when in reality he was becoming obsessed. Tania couldn’t help but provoke and vex the pitiable sod, brushing against him every time she reached for the change box, inviting him to smell her new perfume and flirting to farcical levels until, finally, about three weeks earlier, she’d decided to try her luck.
‘Mr Etchman?’ She had asked feigning abasement.
‘Please, Tania, it’s Lee. What is it?’
‘Well, I know I shouldn’t ask, but I couldn’t possibly… I mean. Oh, never mind.’ Then she had looked away.
‘No, go on, Tania darlin’, you can ask me anything.’
‘Well, the thing is, I was just wondering if there’s any chance I could have a sub on my wages this week, only I’ve seen some dead nice shoes in town and there’s this party Friday night and I’d love to have them to wear for then, only I don’t get paid until Monday which is too late and…’
Etchman had held up his hand to quieten her and smiled to show he appreciated exactly what she was saying.
‘Of course, of course. I was always ‘avin’ subs when I was your age. Always a party to go to. Of course, you must have a sub.’
‘Nice one. You sure it’s okay?’
‘Certainly. On one condition.’
‘Anything.’
‘That you let me see these wonderful shoes that you simply must ‘ave by Friday.’
Tania found the request more than a little peculiar but agreed and watched covetously as Etchman pulled a wad of cash from his back pocket and peeled off some notes.
‘Fifty okay?’
‘Brilliant.’ Tania threw herself at Etchman and kissed him on the cheek, quite aware of the effect she was having. That was when he’d found the mettle, or could simply no longer resist the compulsion, to kiss her and, given the circumstances Tania let him and responded with gusto, quickly feeling his excitement pressing against her thigh.
Now here she was, three weeks on and poor Mr. Etchman, her lustful employer, had slipped into his new role as supplicant with extraordinary ease. Tania had effectively doubled her weekly wages and received numerous gifts including a new watch which she loved and a necklace that she only wore to work because she didn’t particularly care for it. In return she was physically responsive and attentive.
Tania had no desire to hurt or humiliate Kuldeep, her feelings for him were, as far as she was able to judge, wholly different from anything she’d experienced before and entirely genuine. It was just that Etchman obviously fancied her and would provide her with the things Kuldeep could not, namely all the presents she demanded and all the physical attention she could stand.
That is why, when Tania spotted Sharada stampeding towards the van, Mr Etchman had one hand inside her bra and was kneading her left breast with ardour while attempting to manoeuvre his other hand under her skirt and into her knickers, moaning appreciatively the whole time. Tania’s role in this act was merely to massage her hand over Etchman’s increasingly constricted trousers leaving her mind free to muse on other matters such as why one of her former classmates was galloping towards her and what on earth she might want when she arrived.
‘Lee,’ Tania said, removing her hand from his trousers.
‘Oh, Tania.’
‘Lee.’ She tried to remove one of his hands without success. ‘Mr Etchman!’ She insisted vehemently.
‘Yes, Tania love, what is it?’
‘Customer.’
Etchman leapt up, thunderstruck, and banged his head on an overhanging shelf while Tania adjusted her clothes just as Sharada began walloping the glass window.
‘Open this window!’ Sharada challenged. ‘Come on, open it.’
‘Alright, don’t have an eppy!’ Tania shouted splenetically, sliding open the serving window. ‘What the hell d’ya want? Shouldn’t you be at school?’
‘We need to have words about my brother.’
‘We’ve split up, end of.’
‘He’s in the fucking hospital ‘cos of you.’
‘I didn’t push him off the ladder; I’m the innocent party in all this.’
‘Innocent! Half the lads in town have been through you, you’re like the gates at Alton Towers.’
‘Fuck off! You’re brother hasn’t. Frigid I reckon.’
‘It’s called having respect, not that you’d know anything about that, slag.’
‘Look, I’ve work to do, so if you’ve nothing left to say…’ Tania moved to shut the window.
‘I’ve got plenty to say, you dirty bitch. You leave my brother alone from now on; he doesn’t need a skank like you.’
Tania leaned out of the window. ‘I don’t want to be anywhere near your brother. He’s a boring bastard with fuck all money and he always reeks of fucking curry.’ She screamed captiously.
‘You fucking absolute bitch, slag, whore.’ Sharada shrieked, grabbing two fistfuls of Tania’s hair and endeavouring to drag her through the serving window head first. Tania yelled in pain while a stunned Mr Etchman seized Tania’s ankles to arrest her undignified departure from his van.
* * * *
Moments later a panting and somewhat bewildered Alfie appeared on the scene to discover Tania portraying the rope in a horrific pantomime tug of war. In between wails and howls of agony, Tania was managing to scoop up handfuls of ice cream, cones and flakes from the tubs and containers beneath her outstretched body and launch them in the general direction of her assailant.
Old Mr Crowther and a couple of his bowling buddies had already found their way into the park for an early morning game and were gaping timorously at the spectacle unfolding in front of them, leaving Alfie no option but to get involved.
‘Hey, what’s going on here? This is a public park, we can’t have this.’
Alfie advanced with authority and was immediately poleaxed by a lump of airborne ice cream. Wiping his face on his sleeve, he corralled the girl in the school uniform who seemed to be the instigator of the trouble and picked her up. Momentarily stupefied, Sharada yielded her grip on Tania’s hair, who cascaded into the van where she barrelled into Mr Etchman, still pertinaciously clutching her ankles.
‘Right, young lady,’ said Alfie. ‘I don’t know what’s going on here but I think you’d best come with me while I ring your parents.’
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