‘No!’
‘Geoff,’ Barry shouted out, ‘come in here!’
‘Stop.’
‘Geoff!’ Barry roared it this time, and over Barry’s shoulder Jim saw Geoff turn, look suddenly worried, and trot towards them.
Jim looked Barry in the eye and saw malice and determination. ‘Fuck you,’ he whispered, drew back his right fist, and punched Barry in the face. Barry fell backwards over the doorstep and landed outside, face up. His eyes were still open, staring up into the sky, and he was breathing heavily.
Jim stood in the doorway. Everyone was still and silent, until the jug of Pimm’s slipped from Carol’s hand and shattered around her feet. She looked down at her sodden shoes and blood-flecked ankles, put her hands to her face, and began to cry.
‘I’m all right.’ Barry sat up, but no one moved to help him. He looked at Jim. ‘You fucking bastard.’
‘Just watch your mouth.’ Jim looked up. ‘Geoff, take me home.’
‘What the fuck was that about?’
‘Nothing. I’m just drunk, and he’s being a twat. Right, Barry?’
No answer. Geoff surveyed the carnage and shook his head. ‘Trust you two to fuck this up.’
‘Let’s go.’
—
Later that night, the booze had worn off and Jim sat in his armchair with a terrific headache. He tried to watch TV, but he couldn’t concentrate on the screen, so he just listened to the sound. It formed a bed of something, at least, in the room and held back the nothingness. He tried to imagine, without much optimism, what it would be like when he went to the Job Centre on Monday morning. He’d never been inside one; there had always been enough work with Barry and Geoff. But now there wouldn’t be any more Barry and Geoff; Jim had fucked everything up. Even if Barry did keep his mouth shut, neither he nor Geoff would want to work alongside Jim now.
The worst part was that Jim hadn’t planned, or even wanted, to hit Barry. It burst out of nowhere. Everyone had seen him do it, just like the stupid ex-convict he was, and just when he thought things were getting better. Jim put his hands over his face and sighed. ‘Oh God. You fucking idiot.’
Then the phone rang.
‘Hello?’
‘I’ve just done you a big fucking favour.’ Barry, in a low voice, as if he was worried he might be overheard. ‘Carol wanted to call the fucking police. I told her not to be so daft.’
‘Right. Thanks.’
‘Nothing’s broken, you’ll be pleased to hear.’
‘Oh.’
‘Oh. Is that all?’
‘Yeah. That’s all.’ There was no point giving him an apology now.
‘You’re a miserable cunt.’
‘Well, that makes two of us, then. Goodbye, Barry.’
‘Hold on, hold on.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve thought about it. Mebbes you’re right. Not about her, like – she’s a fucking slag – but y’know, about rocking the boat and that.’
‘I never said anything about rocking the boat. I just told you not to be a twat.’
‘Well, I’m saying about it now. So listen to me, you bastard. I’m not going to tell him – yet – but I’ve got this one on you, right? So don’t fuck me about anymore.’
‘Fuck you about?’
‘What I mean, Jim, is that you need to remember who the fucking boss is around here, OK?’
‘And that’s you, is it?’
‘Yes, it fucking well is. I’ll see you on Monday.’ Barry hung up.
9
May 2001
Geoff sat in an armchair in his family’s living room and stared into space. The carriage clock on the mantelpiece said it was eight thirty. Geoff was still in his pyjamas, and his tea was going cold.
Jim was in the kitchen polishing the men’s good shoes. Now and again he looked up through the doorway at Geoff, who hadn’t moved for a while. Jim just concentrated on getting the shoes nice and shiny; right now, it seemed like the best way he could help. Not that any of them would thank him. They almost hadn’t let him in the house, but Geoff insisted.
Eventually, Geoff’s brother came down and roughly patted Geoff’s shaven scalp. ‘Cheer up, you fat fucker. You’ve done bloody well for yourself.’
‘Yeah,’ Geoff said, and then he didn’t say anything else.
Jim watched them for a few seconds, blinked, and went back to the polishing. Geoff’s brother walked into the kitchen and rummaged for something in the cupboard under the sink. He ignored Jim. Then he went back upstairs.
Jim finished the last shoe and called through to Geoff, ‘Come on, mate, let’s get a move on, eh?’
Geoff nodded slowly and stood up.
They went upstairs to the room Geoff used to share with his brother. Jim hadn’t been in this room since they were teenagers. It still had the two single beds in it, although Geoff had moved out six months ago and got a place with Laura. Jim pointed with his foot at Geoff’s old bed. ‘Is there still a stash of Razzle under there?’
‘Dunno,’ muttered Geoff.
Jim decided that there probably wasn’t, and started to pull the plastic off the rented suits.
Geoff dressed slowly, fumbled with the buttons. Jim finished long before him and sat on one of the beds to wait. Eventually, Geoff turned and said, ‘Look all right?’
‘Aye, like a real groom.’
‘Good.’ Geoff paused. ‘I’m sorry you’re not my best man. It’s just…’
‘They wouldn’t like it. I know. I’m an ex-con.’
Geoff shook his head. ‘Don’t say that. It’s in the past.’ He paused. ‘You’re doing well.’
‘There’s a ringing endorsement.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Don’t worry about it, Geoff. Anyway, your best man should be your brother.’
‘Little bastard. I caught him perving at her the other day.’
‘You can hardly blame him – she’s pretty fit.’
Geoff sighed and sat down on the other bed.
‘Geoff, what’s wrong? You were dead happy before. You couldn’t believe your luck.’
‘That’s the fucking problem. I don’t believe my luck. I know it’s fucking stupid, but I just cannat stop worrying, you know?’
‘Geoff, I’m not the best person to ask about relationships. I’ve never had one.’ Geoff just sighed again, so Jim said, ‘What are you worried about?’
‘About everything you’ve been saying, man. That she’s beautiful, and she’s nice, and she’s just…’ Geoff trailed off in a growl of frustration and hammered his fists on his thighs. ‘Too fucking good for me, that’s what.’
‘Well, she must think you’re all right. She’s fucking marrying you.’
‘I keep telling myself that, but then I keep thinking that she’s going to get bored of me in the end. I’m fat and I’m boring.’
‘Jesus Christ, man. It’ll be more than just boredom she feels if you carry on like that. You’ve got to pull yourself together.’
‘I’m serious, though. What’s going to happen a few years down the line?’
‘Fucking hell, Geoff. I’m no expert, but I think most people generally consider that before their wedding day.’
‘It’s not fucking funny.’
‘Do you see me laughing?’
Geoff stood up and looked out of the window, his back to Jim. Jim glanced at his watch. Barry would be here at any moment, and Jim suddenly felt sick.
‘Geoff, have you talked to anyone else about this?’
‘No. Just you.’
‘Good.’
Geoff put his forehead on the glass and sighed. ‘It was all right until we said we were getting married and now I’m just fucking sick to death of hearing people say, “You’ve done well for yourself.” Like no fucker can believe it. It makes me feel like a fucking maggot.’
Jim realized that Geoff was close to tears and he dug his fingernails into his palms in embarrassment and pity. He didn’t know what to say to his frien
d. The sound in Geoff’s voice reminded Jim of a day – years ago, shortly before Geoff left school – when a girl Geoff secretly fancied had called him ‘Spotty McBlobby’ to his face. Geoff had burst into tears and thrown a chair across their form room.
A mad thought flickered like a knackered light bulb in Jim’s head: tell him the truth. Jim shook it off. It was far too late for that. All Jim could do now was make sure that Geoff got down the aisle without incident.
‘Well, you’re marrying her. You’re going to get out there and you’re going to show them.’ Jim tried hard to make his voice sound casual, as if it was all just a matter of fact.
‘Everyone’ll be laughing behind their hands. Even my own bloody brother.’
‘Bollocks. Anyway, who cares what they think? This is between you and Laura, and no other bugger’s opinion matters.’
Geoff sat on the edge of the bed again and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Thing is, mate…I don’t know if I can keep up with her. She’s so’ – Geoff screwed his eyes shut – ‘experienced.’
Jim laughed despite himself. ‘You fucking idiot. Is that what this is all about?’
No answer.
Jim sighed. Other than the odd detail dropped into workday banter, Jim had no idea what Laura had told Geoff about her past. Jim would have to be careful about what he said, but all he could think of was, ‘It’s a damn sight better than marrying someone who’s fucking frigid. You’re sex-obsessed yourself, man!’
‘Aye, but now I’m worried that I’m never going to be exciting enough for her.’
‘You’ve been thinking about this too much, mate. You’re going to drive yourself bloody crackers this way.’
‘You’re too late – I’m already there.’
‘Come on, man, get a grip. And give her some credit – she’s not stupid. She’s not marrying you for a laugh, is she? She’s serious about you.’
‘No, she’s not stupid, that’s for sure.’
‘Fucking right it is.’ Jim’s mouth was whizzing ahead of his mind now; he felt like he was cycling downhill. ‘And mebbes she’s had enough of that sort of excitement, eh? Mebbes she wants someone she can actually rely on, and that’s why she’s chosen you.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. You’ve got a fit bird who likes you just the way you are. It’s the best of both worlds, mate. You’re on to a winner.’
Geoff smiled for the first time all morning. ‘You’re right.’
‘Of course I’m right.’
‘I knew I could trust you to set me straight.’
Jim had no idea that he’d done any such thing, but he smiled and said, ‘Let’s get you married.’ He desperately wanted a drink.
10
November 2004
I think Barry’s scowl is going to stick to his face and stay there for ever. They’ll cremate him like that and it’ll be a closed-coffin job, because once he stops breathing, nobody will want to look at him again.
‘That fucking Mac, thinks he’s the fucking crown prince.’
We’ve had this for days: every time the three of us have the cabin to ourselves, out it comes. It’s nine thirty and Barry hasn’t even changed into his boots yet. He kicks out at one of them and it skitters across the floor, coming to rest next to me. I kick it back.
‘He’s all right is our Mac,’ says Geoff. ‘He’s got a big gob, but a big heart too.’
‘He’s arrogant, that’s what he is. Arrogant.’ Barry drags hard at the last of his fag, drops it onto the floor of the cabin, and grinds it into a black smear under the heel of his trainer.
I’ve had enough of this. I finish my tea and walk outside. It’s freezing. November brought an early frost, and now it’s almost cold enough to justify downing tools, but Mac negotiated a completion bonus with the main contractor, so his lads keep at it. Barry won’t be shown up, so we’re here too. The difference is that they’re actually working, while we are sat on our arses.
I mount the ladder and haul myself to the second tier of scaffolding that runs along the section we’re to work on today. This side of the building is in shadow, and dew is frozen in the folds of the hessian that protects the blockwork. I’m about to pull it back so that I can see where new stacks are needed when Mac rounds the corner and says, ‘Morning.’
‘Morning, Mac.’ My breath clouds.
‘Are them two coming out to play or what?’
‘Give ’em time. They have a unique conception of what constitutes a working day.’
‘Has Barry mentioned the other night?’
‘No. I think he suspects something, though.’
‘Miserable bastard. Why the fuck are you still working for him anyway?’
‘It’s not really for him, is it? We’re old mates; it’s just the way it’s worked out.’
‘Doesn’t mean it has to stay that fucking way.’
‘We’ve been the same crew almost our whole working lives, man. Anyway, it’s Geoff I feel sorry for – he has to stand next to the bastard all day.’
‘I’m not fucking worried about Geoff.’
‘Well, don’t worry about me either. Shouldn’t you be sat in an office somewhere?’
Mac laughs. ‘I couldn’t sit down in my office even if I wanted to: it’s an absolute pigsty.’
‘I bet it’s a damn sight warmer than out here.’
‘Bollocks to the weather. I’ll lead from the front. That’s why my buggers are out here working, while your buggers are indoors.’
‘You’ve got some cheek, you know. You’ve been gone for years.’
‘You knew where to find me. You’ve hardly ever called. You could work with me, you know. I’d fucking pay you more for a start.’
‘Mac, don’t rock the boat. You haven’t been here. You don’t know what’s happened. There are other things I’ve got to consider.’
‘Like what?’
There is nothing I can tell him. Then I see the top of the ladder shift and Barry emerges over the edge of the platform. He looks sour, but I can’t tell if that’s because he heard anything or just because Mac’s here.
‘All right, Baz?’ Mac asks with a smile.
‘Aye,’ Barry mutters, and then looks at me. ‘Are you going to bring up some fucking muck or what?’
I’m quiet for a moment; even Barry doesn’t usually talk to me like that.
‘There’s a tub of it right behind you,’ Mac observes calmly. He’s right: there is. A full tub, sat on a pallet. If I gave Barry the merest shove, he’d land in it arse-first.
Barry gives it a cursory glance. ‘That’ll be old.’
‘Actually, it’s fresh. I was on the teleloader anyway, so I sent it up for you, and a pack of blocks. You can say thanks if you like.’ Mac puts his hands on his hips. Barry stares at him. Mac stares back.
‘Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome, son.’ Mac claps his hands together and rubs them briskly. ‘Right, I’d best get on with some work.’
Barry watches Mac until he disappears round the corner of the building and then nods at the pack of blocks. ‘They’re a bit close to the edge, like.’
‘Never mind, we’ll soon use them all.’
‘Not at the speed Geoff’s moving. He’s on his third cup of tea and he hasn’t even put his boots on.’ Barry picks up his float and trowel, and knocks them together to clear the crust. ‘Lazy bastard.’ He stands there for a moment and stares at the blocks as if he’s steeling himself to start work, but then snorts, ‘Fuck it,’ sits down on top of the wall and lights a cigarette.
He smokes in silence and I don’t know what to do, so I just watch. Eventually, he looks up at me. ‘Was Mac giving you earache, then?’
‘No, just chatting, you know.’ I scratch the back of my head.
‘He’s full of shit, him.’
‘Aye, well, he must be doing something right.’ I don’t want to stand here and have this conversation with Barry. ‘I’m fucking freezing. I’m going to start work.’
‘Suit yours
elf.’
—
Eventually, Geoff drags himself out of the cabin and our collective mood improves somewhat. Cold gives you a hardship in common – unlike rain, which just locks you into a personal misery – and soon even Barry is laughing at the odd joke here and there. We fall into a rhythm of work, until I feel the first edge of late-morning hunger and somehow the soggy sandwiches in my bag become a tempting prospect.
‘I’m getting hungry. I think I’ll go in.’
‘Righto. We’ll be along in a minute. Put the kettle on.’
I clamber down the ladder and begin to trudge to the cabin when Mac spots me from inside the ground floor of the building.
‘You all right?’ he calls through the window opening.
‘Aye, just going for me bait.’
‘Anything nice?’
‘Potted beef.’
‘Classy.’
‘Oh right, because I suppose you’ve got smoked salmon, eh?’
Someone starts the engine of the teleloader, so I don’t catch Mac’s response, but I think it involved the words ‘cheeky bastard’. I give him a wave and head in, and behind me I hear the teleloader’s reverse pips. I have my hand on the door handle when there’s a loud crash and the pips abruptly stop. That doesn’t sound good. I turn round and look back towards the building, but can’t immediately work out what happened. All I can see is the teleloader, which is stopped roughly where I was standing when I spoke to Mac. Then I notice Barry and Geoff, still on the second level, peering over the edge. Something is going on. I climb up the steps of the cabin to get a better view, and it dawns on me: the idiot driver reversed into the scaffolding. Thankfully, Barry and Geoff were working three bays along or they might have been knocked off.
I trot over, and as I get closer, I see that two standards have been knocked out entirely. The boards above wobble and twist. Then I see Mac; he’s at the window again, and cranes out to see what’s happening. He shouts, but I can’t hear it, because the engine of the teleloader is still running. I can see the guy in the cab just sat there like a child caught with their hand in the biscuit tin. Mac starts to climb through the window and I’m suddenly flooded with fear, because I can see exactly what’s about to happen.
Magnificent Joe Page 8