by Mick Scully
‘Shit,’ he said when he saw Ashley’s face. ‘Who you upset?’
He carried on walking. Ashley fell into step beside him. ‘Who d’you think?’
‘The dogs?’
‘Course.’ Ashley scoffed. ‘What d’you expect?’
‘Bin to the hospital?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Broken?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Oh well, it doesn’t hurt for long.’
‘You got my wages?’
‘Sure have. Up here.’
When they reached the wharf steps that led on to the Mendy, Knighton stopped and pulled a wad of notes from the back pocket of his jeans. Ashley sighed his relief. He knew the man might try to cheat him when he hadn’t paid him at the handover. Ashley had walked the dogs back to Knighton’s place with him, then once they were penned, ‘Can’t pay you today. I’ll see you Thursday. At the canal. Usual time.’
‘Right. Three dogs at twenty quid a dog.’
‘Fifty. You said fifty a dog.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Knighton was laughing.
‘You did. You did. Fifty each you said. I’ve been kicked to fuck over them dogs.’ He pulled the jerkin of his hoodie up, revealing his blackened ribs.
‘All right, kid. All right. Don’t get excited. Just testing. You know. Business. We’ll call it eighty for the three and we’re in business.’
‘I can tell him where they are.’
‘Your uncle?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Look, kid. You can tell who the fuck you like.’ Ashley saw the snarl that came with the words, the laughter gone now. He recognised that he had no choice. Anyway, eighty was all right. He held out his hand. ‘Do you still want me to help you exercise them? Train ’em up?’
Ashley finished his breakfast. A full English with double fried bread; he’d been starving. He tried to think straight. He couldn’t stay at Sophie’s. He’d texted Karl twice but received no reply. He thought about a train – to London. There were hostels there. Hundreds of kids ended up there. No one bothered. No one checked. But he didn’t want to do that. Not really. He thought about his bedroom. He wanted to sleep there, not in a hostel. He wanted to stay here where he knew people, where he knew his way around.
He could just go back to Cecil Road, act as if nothing had happened. No. That was stupid. His stomach turned as he recalled Kieran’s words – What he’d say is, kill the kid. Shoot him. Drop him on the railway. Tie him up and dump him in the canal. That’s what he would say, Ash. Not a shadow of a doubt. But it was more the look on his face. That was as bad as the words. Just saying it like it is. Dead eyes. Turned off: you have to do what you have to do.
He was in the shit.
Kieran wouldn’t really do that.
He might.
Crawford wouldn’t order that.
He might.
So?
The only answer he could see was to call Kieran and say he was sorry. Say he wanted to go back home. Promise he wouldn’t cause any more problems. Briefly – very briefly – the thought passed through his mind that he might try to use their own tricks – threaten to go to the police if they didn’t let him live in his own house. But no, that was stupid. That way he could end up dead.
The woman he’d heard the lorry drivers and workmen at the other tables call Maureen came across to him. ‘You finished, Bab?’ She was Irish and he liked her calling him Bab. It was what Mel called Sophie sometimes.
‘Yes, ta.’
She lifted his plate. ‘You’ve cleaned this.’
‘I was hungry. Can I have another Nescafe?’
‘I’ll bring it over.’
When the coffee arrived Ashley phoned Kieran. ‘I’m sorry, Key. Really, I am.’ He waited. Nothing. ‘I just couldn’t stay there. It spooked me. I haven’t said anything to anyone, honest. I wouldn’t.’
‘Where did you go last night?’ He couldn’t work out Kieran’s tone of voice.
‘I stayed at that girl’s. Sophie. She hid me in her wardrobe.’ He heard Kieran laugh. It was going to be all right.
But now, walking back. The fear. He could walk through the front door, and that could be it. He remembered the gun in the Chinese bloke’s hand. And they were funny these Chinese. Perhaps he had insulted his mother by running away. His mother and his nan. Ashley had heard about honour killings, seen them in Kung Fu films. They were big on honour, the Chinese. Shit. He stopped on Rea Bridge and lit up. Looked down into the treacly brown river making its sickly way through the litter that had been dumped in it. Tyres. A fridge. Branches that had broken off the trees. There used to be a car door just over there. Ashley wondered where it had gone.
He tried to formulate some sort of plan. He went through all the people he knew, but couldn’t come up with anyone who could help him. There was nothing else for it. Just go back, see what happened. And with that he was filled with optimism. Everything would be all right. No problem.
He half expected the locks to have been changed again. But no. And when he gingerly entered the house there was no one waiting with a gun. Everything the same – except cleaner. Tidier anyway. No cups and plates in the sink. No teabags on the side. Bin empty. Upstairs his bed was made, his clothes picked up and folded on the chair. The locked rooms were still locked. Someone had put disinfectant down the toilet. It was weird. Ashley looked around. He still was expecting something bad to happen. But when he switched on the lights, they came on. The telly too. There were some cans of lager in the fridge, a sachet of weed in a drawer.
He sat down. Stood up. Sat down stood up. Looked out the kitchen window. This wasn’t right. The place was spooky. Dangerous. He went through the numbers in his phone – no one to ring. He went to bed even though it was still only afternoon.
The next day nothing. He watched telly, smoked some weed, drank a can of lager from the fridge, bought a pizza and a Cornish pasty, a carton of milk and some cocoa, made three cups, bought some biscuits, custard creams, ate them dunked in cocoa. Tiptoed round. Kept thinking something might happen. Then decided – it wouldn’t. Everything was all right.
The next day he got a text from Kieran. Hope your behaving yourself. K.
Then one from Sophie. Meet me by the funni shop at 2. So.
The Funny Shop was Sophie’s name for it. On the Pershore Road. An old-fashioned shop that had a variety of items in its window. In one, piles of wool for knitters; pastel colours mostly. Some cheap cups and saucers; plain white mostly, but dusty. Ornaments, like dancing ladies and Tutankhamuns. Aston Villa mugs. Some paintings in gold frames; landscapes mostly. The other window had a notice in it saying Discounts, and the goods here changed regularly. Sometimes a pyramid of tinned cat food, or a tower of boxes of biscuits; today there was cleaning stuff, for kitchens and bathrooms, and a box filled with flip-flops for fifty pence a pair.
Her bus had been early and Sophie was standing looking into the window of the Funny Shop when Ashley arrived. Turning the corner and seeing her side-on, she looked pregnant to him now for the first time. He wanted to surprise her but she saw him before he reached her. ‘Look at this.’ She moved to the wool window. ‘That’s a cuckoo clock, isn’t it?’
‘Think so.’
‘I’ve never seen a real one before. You got any money?’
‘Yeah. A bit.’
‘I’ve had me dinner, but I’m still hungry. Can’t stop. Hungry all the time.’
They went to Mr Sizzle on Burnside Hill. Cheeseburgers and chips and mugs of hot chocolate.
‘You got me into a right mental with Mel.’
Ashley wiped his fist across his mouth, examined the grease on it, licked it, and waited for her to explain.
‘I had to tell her about the other night.’
He waited for more.
‘There was blood on things. In the wardrobe. Tops and stuff. Must have come from your nose. Mel thought it was me. Thought I was trying to get rid of the baby. I had to explain.’
Ashley wiped his fist on his t
rackies. Waited for more.
‘She was all right. Didn’t believe me at first. Was a right old cow. But in the end she was cool.’
Ashley opened his cigarettes. Pushed one across the table to Sophie.
‘We won’t be able to do this soon.’
‘We’re in the smoking.’ He indicated the ashtrays.
‘They’re banning it.’
‘What, smoking? Who are?’
‘The government. In the summer.’
‘They can’t.’
‘They are. Cafés. Pubs. Everywhere except your own house and outside.’
‘That’s daft. They can’t do that. No one will stand for it. Blokes in pubs not smoking.’ He tried to imagine someone telling Kieran he couldn’t smoke. Or Crawford. ‘Who says?’
‘It’ll be the law.’
‘No one will put up with that. It’s stupid.’
Sophie leaned across the table towards him. Rested her chin on her folded hands. She had that look on her face; she wanted something. ‘Ash. Will you do me a favour?’
‘What?’
‘It’s a big one.’
‘What?’
‘I want you to come with me to the hospital. Will you?’
Ashley was confused. He didn’t know what to say.
‘Will you? Tyr won’t. Will you?’
‘Shouldn’t your mom be with you or something?’
Sophie squealed with laughter. ‘Not when it’s born. Div. Now. This week.’ The laughter went. ‘I just want to have a look at the hospital. I have all my appointments at the Mendy Clinic. I just want to go up the hospital. Queen Elizabeth. So I know what it’s like. I won’t be scared then. Mel won’t come. She says it’s unlucky. Wait till the right time.’ She mimicked her mother’s voice. ‘You’ll be there soon enough. I wish you couldn’t see it from our window. Well the new parts they’re building. Cranes and steel and stuff. I look out and it’s always there. Growing.’
Ashley recalled the view from Sophie’s kitchen window. A massive building site. You could hardly see the old hospital behind it. He thought about his visit to Selly Oak with Kieran. That had been mental. He knew hospitals scared people, especially girls having babies.
‘So will you come with me?’ Sophie asked.
‘All right then,’ he replied. ‘We can go and have a look sometime.’
Sophie’s hand lay flat on the table beside the ashtray. Ashley wanted to reach out and take it, tell her everything would be all right – but he didn’t.
19
‘All right,’ Ashley yelled. Knighton was banging the door down. ‘You’re early.’ It was only just two, and Knighton had said two-thirty. He was holding a proper cat-carrier, pink nylon, a bit like a rucksack, but with a grille at one side. Ashley had expected a sack.
Knighton followed Ashley through to the kitchen. ‘D’you want a cup of tea?’ Knighton looked around the kitchen. He seemed amused. ‘No, you’re all right, kid. Where is it?’
‘In the shed.’ Ashley unbolted the back door and Knighton followed him out into the garden. ‘Are you living here on your own?’
‘Not really. My uncle looks after me.’
‘Oh yeah, your uncle.’
Ashley recognised the tone and grinned. ‘He’s not here today though. Away.’
‘I thought he might be. How long’s it been in the shed?’
‘Since I texted you. A couple of hours.’
‘Fed it?’
‘Done nothing to it. Just shut the door.’ And now he opened it – just a touch. The cat was there. Ashley hissed, nudged it away with his foot, squeezed into the shed. Knighton followed pulling the door behind him. Cracks in the rotten timber provided sufficient light to see the cat, backed into a corner.
Once the cat was in the carrier Knighton reached into his back pocket. ‘Fiver we said, wasn’t it?’
‘A tenner. You said …’
‘Okay.’ The tenner was already in his hand. ‘Just testing. Business you know. Let’s keep it at one a week if you can for now. That should do.’
‘Terry’s All Gold. Ooh you little love. I love dark chocolates.’
‘You love anything dark.’ This was Jackie, standing beside Alma. Both women enjoying a cigarette. A saucer on the counter served as an ashtray. ‘The darker the better.’ The women laughed.
Ashley had given Alma a card and a box of chocolates for her birthday. She was delighted. ‘Come here.’ And she gave him a kiss on the cheek. ‘How did you know?’
‘I heard you saying, last week. About going for a curry. Sorry there’s no wrapping paper on the chocolates. I’m no good at wrapping things up.’
‘Ooh what a lovely card.’ The card showed a bouquet of flowers in a glass vase; above an arch of gold letters said Happy Birthday to a True Friend. Ashley got it from the Funny Shop. ‘Look at this, Jack. Isn’t it lovely?’
When the thank yous were over Ashley went across to a machine. He hoped this was going to work. Maybe he should wait for a few days, so it wasn’t so obvious. No. Best try while she was in a good mood. He saw her put his card with three others on a shelf above the counter. His first six pounds went immediately and he thought his plan was dead, but gradually he began to creep towards the ten-pound max. When he got there his luck was in. Three bells and HOLD flashing. ‘Bloody hell!’ he said loudly. ‘Just my luck.’
Alma looked across. ‘What you moaning for? That looks all right to me.’
‘I’m at ten.’
Alma laughed. ‘Oh go on then. But if you reach twenty-five, stop. Okay?’
He stopped at eighteen pounds and left two on the counter for Alma. ‘Buy yourself a cake.’
‘Here is something you should know – I is evil.’ Geezbo curled the fingers of his right hand inwards and touched the centre of his chest. ‘Bad anyway. It true. My mom’s gran whood never seed me. She write. When I was born. To my mom. You ’as to treat him ’ard, she sayd. Treat ’im ’ard. He got the gleam of the dollar and the dime all over ’is soul. I know ’e ’as. I dreamed it. ’E like the other one. Our relative that I told you about. The last man to hang in Winson Green Prison, who didn’t string hissel up. You get me? An she right. There’s something in me. Like a fist I was born wiv. It run all the way through. Grow wit me. Inside. Nuttin I can do. She said my brother, Carlton, would bring credit. And she right there too. He a good upright man. Nation of Islam and all. Principles.’ He breathed the word out. Carefully and thoughtfully. Then stopped.
They were in Sophie’s flat. Tyr and Sophie were in the bedroom, Geezbo sitting on the floor, his back propped against the settee, his arms around his drawn-up knees. Ashley lay on the settee. Light was fading in the late afternoon. Soon it would be dark. Soon it would be time to go. The weed was done.
‘’Ere’s somethin’ else you should know. But it con-feeden-shal.’
‘You’re talking that way again. Why don’t you talk normal?’
‘Confidential. Okay?’
‘Okay.’
‘You ’eard of the Doberman Crew? Linton, the boss man?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well. It can’t be said I exactly one of tey. Yet. But I in with tey, innit. More all the time. Linton know me by name. I do jobs for dem. A little business on this estate. Know what I mean, man? Not big. Tey more active in de North. But tey movin all over the city. London too. An Manchester. Well, here, I do a little work for dem. A little runnin’ around. Developin’ the estate. Lookin’ afta tings. Know what I mean, man? A few orders. A few deliveries.’ Geezbo stopped. Silence. Well close. They could hear the lift moving up and down the centre of the building. A buzz from the heating.
‘I could get you a little work, man,’ Geezbo said at last. ‘Pay good. Weed sometime. Cash sometime.’ Ashley could hear a siren now, from somewhere outside on the estate. And inside Sophie’s phone ringing in the bedroom.
‘You gotta bike, man?’
‘Nah. Not any more.’
‘Get one, man. It’d be jus the ting. For deliverin’.’
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Another siren. Geezbo got up and looked out of the window. Then he turned on the light. Sophie came out of the bedroom with a can of air freshener that she sprayed around the room. ‘What time’s your mom coming home?’ Ashley asked.
‘About half an hour.’
Tyr followed her out. Moved to Geezbo at the window. ‘Anyting happenin’?’
‘Jus’ passin’.’
‘You’ve all got to go now.’ Sophie told them. She was on her way to the kitchen. ‘I’ve got to start doing Mel’s dinner.’
Sometimes at night he went up to the Parade on Pershore Road. There was always a group of kids there hanging around outside the chip shop. Not Mendy kids usually. At least not Mendy boys. Sometimes a few from the Lea Hill gang turned up. This was about as close to the Mendy as they were able to get, unless a fight was arranged.
Ashley looked out of the window. There was frost already. Silvery white moss glittering in the dark. It was funny, sometimes you didn’t feel so cold outside as you did in. He decided. He would finish his lager and go. At least it would be somebody to talk to.
He opened his eyes and Kieran was there, sitting in front of him, all suited and booted, reading text messages. Ashley blinked.
‘Hello. Enjoy your nap?’
‘Shit. What time is it?’ He lifted his arm to look at his watch. ‘Nearly eleven. Bloody hell. I was going out.’
‘Too late now, mate. Unless it’s a nightclub.’
‘Funny.’
‘Talking of which.’ Kieran closed his phone and rose from the chair. ‘I’m due at the Hippo in half an hour.’ Making for the door he suddenly turned. ‘By the way, Ash. Stay in tomorrow morning. I’m taking you somewhere.’
‘Where?’
‘You’ll see.’
Ashley didn’t like the sound of this. ‘Am I in trouble?’
Kieran laughed. ‘No. No you’re not. Not with me, anyway.’
‘With Crawford. Is he kicking me out? Because of the Chinese. I’m sorry about that. But I couldn’t stay there. I was scared. I’m sorry.’
Kieran sat down again, but on the edge of the chair; he wasn’t going to stay long. ‘Don’t worry, kid. You showed initiative. We’re impressed if anything.’ Ashley thought Kieran was probably being straight with him.