Punk and Skinhead Novels Box Set

by Marcus Blakeston

  “How have you been, Abigail?” mum asks.

  I frown. “Never mind that, where have you been? And who’s that?” I point my thumb at the man’s back.

  Mum looks embarrassed, and so she fucking well should be. “That’s just Cedric from work,” she says a little bit too quickly. “I, um, had to get away. You know what it’s like living with your dad, I just can’t cope with him any more.”

  “What, and you couldn’t tell me you were going? You couldn’t phone so we’d know you were okay? Dad’s worried sick about you, he thinks you’re lying dead somewhere.”

  “How is your dad?”

  “Well how do you think he is? He’s not eating, and he spends more time sulking in bed than anything else.”

  “Has he been taking his medication?”

  She must mean his antihistamines. It seems a stupid thing to ask, given the circumstances, but I nod anyway.

  “Yeah. I think he might have skipped a few, but I’ve been making sure he has one every day.”

  Mum looks relieved. “Oh, thank god for that.”

  “So when are you coming back home?”

  Mum looks at the man in the tweed jacket before she replies. “I’m not, Abigail. I have a new life now.”

  “What, with him?”

  The man walks over and puts his arm around mum’s shoulder. I glare at him. I want to kick his fucking head in. Mum starts to cry, and he strokes her hair.

  “It’s okay, Barbara,” he says, looking at me.

  This is too fucking much for me to take. I turn and leave them to it. Leave my shopping trolley behind and head for the door. This is fucked up. Mum’s too old to be having affairs, she should be at home looking after dad.

  11

  “You got nothing, bitch. You’re going down and I’m gonna stomp your fucking pretty little head to a pulp,” the female gorilla says while we wait for the dolly-bird in the red knickers to finish prancing around in the cage on the other side of the door. Johnno looks at me to see if I’ll react to her taunts. I fold my arms and smile at her, Johnno goes back to watching the dolly-bird through a crack in the door.

  It’s the night of my big fight, and adrenalin surges through me. My opponent’s hair is as close-cropped as Dave and his two mates, and she’s got more muscle than the three of them combined. There’s a deep scar down the left side of her face, and her nose is crooked like it’s been broken several times. There’s more scars on her arms, criss-crosses of tiny cuts turning her tattoos into mosaics. Scunny Skank is her cage name, and if it wasn’t for her tits I’d swear she was a fucking man.

  I’ve seen her in action on one of Dave’s DVDs, and I know she’s just trying to make me angry so I’ll lose control once we’re inside the cage. That’s one of her tactics, egging her opponent on and then taking advantage of the mistakes they make in anger, but it won’t work on me. She’s pretty slow, and relies on those massive fists of hers more than anything else. With the size of her there’s not a lot else she could do, and that will work in my favour as long as I don’t get too close. I’m pretty confident I can take this bitch down.

  They called me Stabby Abby. A fucking stupid name if you ask me, but I didn’t get any choice in the matter. I guess whichever fucking brainbox comes up with these things couldn’t think of anything else. Could be worse, I suppose, thinking about some of the names of the other female fighters on Dave’s DVDs.

  Scunny Skank bares her yellow teeth at me with a snarl. I guess she’s too fucking stupid to think about using a gum shield because she’s hardly got any teeth left at the front, just two up and three down. Hopefully I’ll get a chance to do a bit of dentistry on her myself in the near future and even them up a bit. Me, I’m not taking any chances like that. I like to chew my food, yeah? I swiped a gum shield from Big Al’s gym the other day, and I’m wearing a chest protector under my vest that I got from the sports shop. It’s designed for fencing, but it should do just as well with fists.

  The cage door opens and the bird in the red knickers flounces out with her placard, shivering from the sudden change in temperature. Johnno steps forward and drapes a fur coat around her shoulders and she draws it around herself. She looks blankly at me and Scunny Skank while we continue staring each other out.

  “You go in first,” Johnno says to me.

  With a final smile at my opponent I turn away. The heat as I walk into the cage is fucking intense, it’s like walking into an oven, and the sweat starts to pour after a few seconds. The crowd cheers my entrance, and I raise my left fist to them, showing off my new studded wristband. The cheering gets louder as I strut around the cage, posing for the cameras. I can see Shaz standing near the bars with Dave and his skinhead mates, she’s shouting something but I can’t hear it over the crowd because they’ve just gone fucking mental over the entrance of Scunny Skank. She must be their favourite to win or something because her cheer is a lot louder than mine was.

  I retire to a corner of the cage while she has her moment in the limelight. She’s doing some sort of fucking war-dance or something, legs apart like one of those fat bastard sumo wrestlers on the telly. She’s got her back to me, I could easily run up and kick her in the arse before she even knew what was happening, but that wouldn’t be sporting would it? Instead I just practice my footwork, jab the air with my fists, and wait for the bell.

  And here it is, just seconds after Scunny Skank moves to her corner and turns to face me. Ding fucking dong, round one of one. She runs at me, arms outstretched to grab me in a bear hug. I wait until she’s close and then duck under her arms just as she brings her hands together. I keep moving and spin around behind her, ready to smack her on the back of the head with my studded wristband, but she’s quicker than I expected at regaining her balance and turns to face me. She shouts something and spits in my face, I throw a punch at her midriff and dance backwards out of reach. I can feel her phlegm dripping down my cheek, it’s quite cooling in a way. I wipe it with my hand, smear it around the rest of my face.

  She lunges at me again, and this time I let her come. She swings her fist, but there’s no real control to it, she just lashes out blindly. I raise my left arm to meet it, and her knuckles graze across the studded wristband. There’s a lot of power behind her punch, I can feel it juddering through my arm. I swing with my right fist, catch her on the side of her unprotected chin, and her head turns with the blow. Spit flies from her mouth, showering me again.

  I aim for her knee with my boot, kicking out sideways, hoping it will put her down. She must be expecting it because she steps backwards and spins around, her arms outstretched like fucking Jesus doing an impersonation of a spinning top. One of those massive fists glances across the side of my head and I stumble to one side. She grabs me in a bear hug, pins my arms by my sides, and pushes me up against the bars.

  I can feel someone outside the cage groping my arse through the bars. The crowd are shouting for blood, and it’s mine they want. Scunny Skank screams in my face and stamps down on my foot. Thank fuck for the steel toe-caps, I don’t feel a thing. But then she nuts me in the face, and that I do feel. A blinding white light between my eyes, and a sharp pain on the bridge of my nose. I kick out at her shins, one after the other. She breaks her hold on me and grabs me by the right wrist, spins me around. I run with the spin, knowing she’s going to let go at any moment to send me crashing into the bars. But I’m ready for that.

  She lets go and I stumble toward the bars like she expects me to. She’s close behind, ready to finish me off, and looks surprised when I crouch down and dodge between her legs. She doesn’t even have time to reach down to grab me. She spins around and I grab her by the neck, digging my fingernails in as I squeeze. I raise my left arm and bring the studded wristband down on top of her head. She grins at me and drives a fist into my stomach. The breath is sucked out of me, and I get that Oh no I’m going to fucking drown panic you always get when your muscles tense up and refuse to do what they’re supposed to do, but I try to ignore it. It’ll
pass, it always does. Just keep squeezing the bitch’s neck and she’ll be in the same position as me soon enough.

  She makes a grab for my hair and yanks my head to one side. My lungs start to work again, letting me yell out in pain. It’s fucking obvious now, but I really should have shaved it off before the fight like Dave had suggested. I told him to fuck off, I like my hair just the way it is. That was a mistake I’m regretting now.

  I can’t help bending over as she yanks my hair down, and I lose my grip around her neck. She brings her knee up into my face and I fall back onto my arse, dazed. She’s on me in an instant, and straddles me with her knees holding my arms by my sides. Her massive fists pummel my already smarting head, one after the other. I can taste copper in my mouth, something warm and wet pouring from my nose. I turn my head to one side as another fist flies toward me, and spray the floorboards with blood. The fist smacks me in the ear, making it burn and whistle.

  I squirm my body, try to free my hands so I can get at her. She grins down at me, saliva dripping from her mouth. I manage to twist one hand around and dig my fingernails into her thigh. She flinches, and her weight shifts slightly to one side. I bring my knee up into her cunt. It takes a few tries to hit the right spot, but when I do she squeals like a fucking pig at a slaughterhouse. I knee her again in the same spot and she slumps down on top of me like a dead weight, crushing me.

  I wrench my shoulder upwards, twisting my body at the same time. She starts to topple off me and I get my arm free, help her on her way with a shove. She rolls onto her back and clutches her rancid cunt with both hands. Her face screws up in pain. I roll over onto my hands and knees and crawl toward her. I push myself upright onto my knees and clasp my hands together, raise them above my head. I scream as I bring them crashing down into her fucking ugly face and splatter her nose all over it.

  I lean on her chest while I struggle to my feet. Her hand darts out and grabs my ankle. I lose my balance and tumble backwards, land hard and crack the back of my head on the floorboards. I roll onto my side, dazed. Scunny Skank crawls toward me on her hands and knees, blood dripping from her face. She grins at me like a fucking demented demon.

  “Fucking get up, Abby,” I hear someone yelling over the roar of the crowd. I think it might be Shaz, but it could just as easily be me.

  My head’s spinning like fuck and I can’t think straight. All I know is I can’t let that fucking bitch get back on top of me again or I’m finished. I roll onto my stomach and crawl to the cage bars. People outside shout and wave their fists at me. I grab the bars, start to pull myself up. My hands slip down, leaving a trail of blood behind them. Where the fuck did that come from?

  I struggle to my knees and try to summon up the strength to pull myself onto my feet. Someone yells in my ear, “Fucking die, you bitch!” If I could see straight I would make a note of the bastard’s face so I can twat him later, but all I see is a fuzzy haze of blurred faces all yelling and screaming at me.

  I look over my shoulder. Scunny Skank is only a few feet away, still crawling toward me. I scream at the crowd in rage, and wrench on the bars. My arms ache, my hands slip, but I slowly pull myself up. I slide my hands further up the bars and get my feet under me, push up with my knees. Just one more push and I’ll be there.

  I feel fingers clasp around my ankle, and a primal scream behind me that’s loud enough to drown out the noise of the crowd. I spin and lash out with my foot, not caring what I hit. It hits her in the temple. Steel toe-caps make a dull thud and send her spinning away from me. I stagger toward her. She rolls over, struggles to sit up. I kick her in the face and send her back down again. She stares up at me, her eyes blazing, her fingers twitching by her sides. I stamp down on her tits and she screams, her hands flail up to protect them. I crouch down by her side and lean over her, my face inches away from hers. My blood drips onto her face.

  “Not so fucking tough after all, yeah?”

  She stares up at me, like she wants to fucking kill me. I reach down and grab her ears, twist them as I pull her head off the floorboards. I slam her head down as hard as I can. Her eyes roll up, but they’re soon back staring at me again. For fuck’s sake, what is she some sort of fucking Terminator or what? I struggle back to my feet and kick her in the side of the head. She rolls over, blood spraying. She starts to push herself up with her arms, I kick her in the head again. She goes down. Stays down.

  I turn away from her and stagger to the centre of the cage. I raise my arms, fists clenched, and roar. The crowd roars with me, and it’s the best fucking feeling ever. They’re chanting, “Abby, Abby, Abby, Abby,” and I turn around slowly, basking in it. I can see Dave grinning at me, Shaz jumping up and down in excitement by his side. Hands reach through the cage bars, just trying to touch me as I make a triumphant circuit.

  Then the cage door opens, the doctor rushes in, and the crowd peels away in search of liquid refreshment. I glance at Shaz and Dave, still standing there by the bars, and stagger through the open door.

  12

  I’m lying on Dave’s bed with my legs in the air while he slides in and out of me. I try to make the right moaning sounds to encourage him, but my head’s not really in it. I’m covered in cuts and bruises from the fight, woozy as fuck from all the painkillers I’ve taken, and I just want him to shoot his load so I can go to fucking sleep. Thank fuck he’s keeping all his weight off me, that’s all I can say. I’m sure one of my ribs is cracked, I should probably go down to the hospital in the morning and get myself checked out.

  The money I got from the fight is spread all over the bed. It seems a bit weird fucking someone when you’ve got the queen’s face stuck to your arse, but I’ve never had this much money before and the thrill of seeing it covering the entire bed is something that will stay with me forever. I don’t know how long it will last now I’ve joined the ranks of the unemployed, but fuck it. I’m going to enjoy it while I can.

  Dave’s making his gurning face, and he’s going faster now, so it looks like he’s nearly finished. I reach around and grab his arse, he spurts into me and I moan up at him and pretend to shudder. He bends down and blows the sweat from my forehead then gets back up on his knees and stretches his arms out. He smiles down at me.

  “Why don’t you move in?” he says, and wipes his cock on a five pound note. He lies down next to me, waiting for an answer.

  I don’t know what to say. I mean, it’s just come out of the fucking blue, yeah? I can feel his spunk dribbling out of me, I should probably do something about that before it reaches the money, but all I can think of is what he’s just asked me. I smile and close my eyes. Moving into Dave’s bedsit is a big step, and I don’t know if I’m ready for it. He makes me feel good, there’s no denying that. It’s like I’m walking on air when I’m with him, and I get this fucking weird aching feeling when I’m not. But I know from my own parents that won’t last long. The mutual hatred will soon set in, then we’ll be yelling and screaming at each other all day.

  But then again, maybe we could somehow be the exception to that particular rule?

  I open my eyes. Dave’s asleep. Oh well, at least that gives me more time to think about it. I roll over onto my side and put my head against his chest, listen to his heartbeat. He murmurs in his sleep and an arm flies around me. I snuggle closer and close my eyes. I like things with Dave just the way they are. That daft grin of his, the gentle way he fucks me, the places he takes me, the way he pays me attention even when he’s with his mates, the way he always–

  My eyes snap open.

  What the fuck? I’m starting to think like a fucking girl. I’ll be wanting to get fucking married next, and start producing sprogs with him.

  But would that be such a bad idea? Give up the fighting, boozing and partying for good, swap it all for a life of domesticity with Dave?

  Nah, fuck that. It must be the fucking painkillers messing with my mind, yeah?

  Punk Rock Nursing Home

  Colin Baxter strained to hear a Rezillos song
above the incessant chatter of the other residents sitting around the communal lounge. Why everyone had to shout at each other when their armchairs were only a foot apart was beyond him. And if everyone was so deaf, or their tinnitus was so loud they couldn’t hear themselves converse at a normal volume, why did the music piped into the retirement home’s speakers need to be so quiet? It was barely audible.

  Colin sighed. He looked down at his entoPAD screen and prodded the Silver Punkers Community Forum icon. He waited for a video advert to finish playing, then scrolled through the subject headings with his gnarled index finger. Most of the posts were adverts for garishly coloured mobility aids. Leopard-skin patterned walking sticks with skull and crossbones handles, pink and yellow mobility scooters with the words Boredom or Nowhere printed on the front basket. Colin wished there was some way to filter out all the nonsense to make the genuine content easier to find.

  Frank Sterner shuffled by with his walking frame, making his third trip around the outskirts of the retirement home lounge that morning. Colin watched his slow, ponderous movement past a set of French doors leading out to the back yard. Frank paused in the doorway and looked out before continuing his journey.

  Near the lounge door, Fiona Scott sat asleep in her armchair with her mouth hanging open. A line of saliva dripped from her chin. Sitting next to Fiona, Sharon Baker smiled at her entoPAD. She laughed, and held the screen out to Louise Brown on her left. Louise looked, smiled and nodded to Sharon, then turned her attention back to her own entoPAD. Louise wore a pair of headphones, and her white-haired head bobbed from side to side. Her lips formed a string of obscenities as she sang along to whatever it was she was listening to.