by Wez Wallie
"Okey, Ms Walker, accordin’ ta dis dey are tellin' Ms Matt'ews ta sneak onto de red Tanker dat has just one chimney tower to take out de Captain before it leaves port."
"Now that's more like it! Quick, let's get over there before she nabs the bastard."
*
Dotty and Peader were parked behind the corner that led to the edge of the dock, the view of the giant and rusting red Tanker mostly eclipsed by stacks of shipping containers and a few harbour guards patrolling the area in the centre. Giant mechanical spotlights illuminated the ship from the side of the dock.
The vessel was huge and filled with seamen. "Now don't worry, Ms Walker, it's nuttin' ye haven't had ta deal wit before."
"It's packed with crew and how the heck am I gonna get over the giant fence and past the guards?"
"No worries - I got just de ting! Now put on yer beanie whilst I get it outta de back."
Peader went around to the boot and unloaded her walking frame as Dotty pulled on her black woolly beanie hat to match her all-black thermal outfit. (Snug, yet flexible.)
Peader handed her the walking frame. "Okey, Ms Walker, I finally got around ta makin' de adjustments fer de "Walker's Walker Dat's A Jet-Fuelled Walker!"
"What the -"
"- 5000."
"You really need to stop naming things. So, what is it? By the title I am guessing -"
"It's a jet-fuelled walking frame! Jus’ press down on de two buttons on top here and propulsion jets fire outta de bottom of de legs. Just like Iron Man! Kinda."
Dotty looked impressed but also unsure.
"Look, all ye need is a bit of upper arm strength ta keep it below yer waistline dere and yer golden. Lucky ye do yer own wheelin’ around town when I’m not around so yer arms are like feckin' Schwarzenegger!"
"Hasta la vista, baby!"
"I don't know, I've never been."
"Huh?"
Suddenly, another black figure appeared on top of the nearby shipping container.
"Dorothy Walker! What in the name of Buck Rogers are you doing here?!" she asked in a whisper-shout.
"Tilda coontin' Maffews! Bognor puts us on the case too, wants to find out who's the better assassin!"
"They'd never do that, no way - we had a deal!" Her shrill shrieky voice was drawing unwanted attention their way.
"I knew it!" she said under her breath. "What's the matter, Tilda - afraid of a little competition?!"
She clenched her fist. "Just stay out of my way, Dorothy Walker!"
The Hitnan grinned smugly as Tilda pirouetted and flipped over the fence, and then used a long black bullwhip to climb up on deck.
"Gotta admit, she still has a fine figure fer her age, Ms Walker!"
"Shuddap, Peter, and get me over there before she takes out the Captain first! And put your cap back on your head."
Peader, whose neck was still cricked and constantly facing left, set up the Walker's Walker 5000 and they sneaked over to the wire fence to prepare for the jump, but their bickering caught the attention of a harbour guard who confronted them in their tracks.
The imposing 6'6 uniformed man loomed over them from the shadows. Both of them gulped in unison. His scarred ugly leathery face leaned down from the darkness to study them:
"...Dotty? Dotty Walker?" he said in a thick Bristolian accent. "OMG I'M LIKE YOUR BIGGEST FAN!! I JUST LOVE YOUR CHANNEL!"
Peader wiggled his fingers in the man's face and immediately fell back on his training: "Dis is not de fame whore yer looking fer..."
Unfortunately, it was his training from a '70s sci-fi movie which earned him an elbow from Dotty and a face-slap from the guard. "Don't call your nan a whore, young man!"
Peader nodded sheepishly, and the guard suddenly noticed his stiff head. "Omg have I broken the dude's neck?! My willy doctor was right - I don't know my own strength!"
"Nah don't worry, he's just got a cricked neck from having to look left to see the road out of his right eye. It's a whole thing, don't bother trying to understand."
The dude who was built like a brick shithouse simply shrugged and then started fangirling, asking for selfies. "OMG we should totally do a Dotty's Diary entry, like, right now!"
Dotty got caught up in the flattery and started doing a live stream on her phone from the harbour dockyard with the guard:
"Hey y'all, it's ya girl Dotty, and today I'm here with my maaain man..."
"...Alan..."
"...Alaaan, and we out here lookin' at some boaaats! Yeeeah, bend your back and then dig it! Now Alan, what can ya tell all my Dotty’s Devotees at home about these sweet, sweet Tankers, yo?"
She was shootin' it like an episode of MTV Cribs, manically pushing the phone into extreme close-ups and low angles of their exaggerated facial expressions.
"Well Dotty, this Tanker right here is owned by a fuel company called 'Oil Slick' and -"
She thrust the phone close to her face: "Uh, no waaaay!"
"- Yes way! And she's quite an old girl really, I think she was built in 1982 in Limerick, Ireland."
"Oh. Em. Gee. Hey Peter, it could be your siiiister! Did your mum ever shag a U-boat?"
Alan laughed his arse off as Peader was trying to give her “the signal” from behind the camera that Tilda was getting away.
"Oh wow, I think it's too much for your friend there, he seems to be having a stroke!"
The guard went over to check on Peader as Dotty quickly spoke into the camera and signed off: "Yo, that's all we got time for, bredrins, but keep it on the down low 'cos it's supposed to be suuupa-secret, ya know what I sayiiin'? …No but really, please do like, share and subscribe and click the bell notification for future content - this is your side-bitch Dotty, signing out - DEUCES!"
The Hitnan put the phone away and sneaked up behind the guard, whipping out her cane and choking his windpipe 'til he went night night.
"Sorry about that, got a bit caught up there."
"Honestly, Ms Walker, what were ye tinkin'?! Now go on, get up dere before it's too late! And keep in contact!"
She ignited the walker and it shot her the short distance over the fence and up onto the stern of the ship. Two guys were already on the floor unconscious, presumably from Tilda’s initial incursion.
Most of the crew were down the other end and busy loading various packages and pallets onto the ship, whilst the Captain was leaning over the side taking stock of the conditions of the waters and practically just waiting to be toppled overboard.
"This might be easier than I thought," said The Hitnan over her radio earpiece.
"Aboy de kid! I'm so glad me invention worked! I was worried I put too much lighter fluid in de tank and it would'a shot ye ta de feckin' moon!" She shook her head in exasperation as he continued over the radio: "Y'know, I wish I was up dere, Ms Walker. I've always wanted ta be a fearsome pirate an' seize a ship!"
"Leave it out, Blackface. You're more likely to get jolly rogered by the crew than succeed in commandeering this ship."
"Hey, dey dropped de charges after all dat now! It was jus' a joke, like!
"Blackface is never funny, Peter."
"Naw, I mean it was from de joke toy ting, Ms Walker!"
"Ssh! There's movement on that smokestack..."
"De watty?!"
"Shh, the funnel chimney fing - shut up a minute!"
Dotty looked up and could just make out a dark figure. I need a better position, she thought, and used the walker to boost her up to the lines of connecting cables above that were suspending cargo before storage. She squatted atop a container box and hung one of her super-buff arms around the wirings, whipping out her mini telescope from this raised position to see Tilda Matthews clambering up the far side of the chimney column.
"What can ye see, Ms Walker?"
"Tilda's mounting a shaft - up to her old tricks again!"
Dotty noticed the giant spotlights lighting the part where oil and fuel was being loaded into the ship.
"Peter, quick! See if you can direct one of
them spotlights up at the funnel!"
"Are ye mad? Dey'll see me - plus dey weigh a ton, like!"
"Just do it! I'll create a distraction - on my mark."
Dotty dug a coin from her pocket and lobbed it over the fence in front of the patrolling guards down on the dock.
They all ran over to investigate the disturbance: "Now, Peter!!"
Peader made a run for it, scuttling behind them like a crab stuck facing his left side and got to the nearest spotlight, turning it with all his might a few inches to the right to illuminate the chimney. All the crew onboard looked up. The black figure of Tilda Matthews just froze in the light above them, limbs sprawled and still like a giant spider hoping no-one can see it if it Just. Doesn't. Move.
Below, the beardy hard-ass looking Captain came running over directly below her, yelling in a Russian accent. "Oy! Vwat'z all diz?!"
The crew were throwing all sorts of deck debris at the intruder to knock her down, and before she could readjust her sticky gloves, she was conked on the head with a flask of rum and fell the 20ft down to the deck, where the excited crew caught her and swarmed to study the spy.
The Captain was separated from the group and calling in the incident on the phone beneath her.
"My lucky day!" The Hitnan loosened the ropes of a giant crate suspended directly above the mark and it smashed down and crushed the target with barely any fucker noticing. Done and dusted!
"Quick Peter," she said over the radio. "Get back to the cab and get outta here! I'm gonna fly back to town."
"Peader, ma’am, and I'm already at de gates!"
She took a moment to savour her archnemesis getting bundled off unconscious and shuffled down into the lower decks by a bunch of eager sweaty blokes.
"Lucky bitch. Everyfing always works out for her!"
And with that, she jumped off the top of the container and ignited the jet-fuelled walker, flying upright and out over the harbour at a height of 60 feet, smashing into the city at a cruising speed of 25mph whilst struggling to hold the shaking apparatus beneath her waist, but enjoying the super-heroic thrills of taking out the bad guys and soaring away like some old and busted Iron Man.
A child spotted her out of his window however and started weeing the bed again, thinking witches were real and were waiting for him outside his bedroom, whilst the old haggardy hags from mythology had seemingly modernised from flying on sticks between their legs to hovering on some contraption you get from the local council. His mum never believed him of course and he ended up spending the next eighteen years in serious therapy, jumping at shadows and wetting himself any time an old fogey hobbled into the GP's waiting room with a walking frame.
Chapter 9
Today was Shonny's birthday and the newly eight-year-old was getting ready for her party. Marion was running around the kitchen like a blue-arsed fly, and Peader came downstairs as a red-faced pig.
"Oh no, she didn't get you to do it too, Peader?!" asked Marion, somewhat rhetorically, given the state of his mug.
"I'm sorry, Miss Mal," he said, between mouthfuls of pickled onion Monster Munch. "It’s me own fault fer geddin’ her a trendy new make-up set as a gift. I did try ta say no de first few times, but she's relentless dat liddle one, and uh, too cute ta say no to. Jus' like her mammy."
Marion shook her head and pulled her hair over her face subtly to hide the blush, whilst taking a crisp he offered to her. "My favourites, these are. Shouldn't really..."
She licked her thumb and wiped off some crumbs from his lips, and a moment passed between them as they held the eye contact.
"I dunno. What is it with you and getting stuff all over your face, P?" Then she smiled and went back to the oven.
"Don't ask me!" His eye had healed up and his neck was now back to normal after some vigorous self-massaging. He looked down at the yellow-clothed dining table full of mini-sausages, pork pies, scotch eggs, chicken wings, sausage rolls and all types of sandwiches. He chucked the empty crisp packet over his shoulder.
"Grand!" Peader's face lit up redder than his made-up rosy cheeks.
"Oi - eyes off and hands off!" warned Marion, playfully.
"Oh, can't I jus' have a cheeky sausage?"
"Last time I said that I ended up pregnant, so careful what you wish for. But you can help me plate up the sweet stuff and make some goodie bags to keep you and your mitts busy."
"Fair enough, Miss Mal." He sat at the table and began blowing up balloons. He woke up minutes later with a burning sensation in his lungs, halfway through Mal apparently chatting away to him behind. "Feck dat!" He then began unloading swiss rolls, cupcakes, and other chocolatey goodness onto paper plates. "Golly, don't let Ms Walker see all dis! She don't jus' have a sweet tooth, she has sweet gums an' all!"
"Don't talk to me about that woman."
"Aw naw, did youse have a barney, like?"
"Yeah, and I don't want to talk about that. She can be so mean sometimes."
'Well, I can't say yer wrong dere. Whew, it's bakin' in here!"
"I know, sorry, I'm just finishing the Pizza - do you think this will all be enough?"
"Fer twelve liddle girls? I doubt dey'll even finish a pizza slice. Dey're all funny about calories and tings dese days."
"Not at eight years old, surely?"
"Yer girl Shonny jus' explained how many calories dere is in a tub of face cream, when I dipped me finger in it tinkin’ it was a stash of melted cheese she was hiding away up dere... 75! Can ye believe dat? No wonder I'm so podgy! Anyway, where's de Vimto, now?"
"Gosh. They grow up so fast these days." She sat down next to him at the table, throwing the tea towel down on the counter. "I remember when I was her age. I didn't know what a calorie was until I was in my late twenties. I just wanted to play with Barbies and beat up my sisters. Now they have social media and are obsessed with make-up and filters and how many followers they have on Instabook."
"Instagram, ma’am."
"Oh gosh, I’m an ancient, out of touch, fuddy duddy. I can't believe I got old."
"Now now, Miss Mal, yer not old, not at all!"
"I'll be fifty in two years. Fifty! Gosh, I wish I could have my twenties again. I wasted it on so much junk. I mean, a lot of it was great, the partying; booze; sex. But the drugs... I wish I could take all that back. They shrivelled my body, made me so unattractive..."
She began to get teary.
He put his hand on top of hers. "Hey now. I'll be having none of dat, now." She looked up at him with a sniffle and a smile. "None of dat stuff is in youse anymore. And it hasn't been ye fer years now. Yer a new person, reborn each day, ye could say. And yer still lookin’ pretty spiffin' from where I'm sittin', like."
She chuckled and wiped the tears away. "Thanks, P. I don't know why I am even telling you all of this, I usually save it for my therapist..."
"Well, ye can always talk ta me - fer free, no less." She returned the warmest smile and an appreciative nod.
He looked into her eyes, and somehow, from somewhere, he was moved to take his chance. "Say now, would ye like ta, uh... dat is ta say, would ye, um..." Marion took his hand and stilled the shaking. "Ahem. Would ye like ta go fer a drink wit me sumtime? Naw pressure, of course."
She smiled from ear to ear, but before she could answer, Dotty burst into the room, grabbing her rear and leaning roughly against the doorframe: "Turn that bleedin' oven off; it's making me piles throb like a Priest's chappy to an altar boy!"
Marion's smile quickly faded, and she stomped over to the oven to turn it down a little. It didn't seem to respond the first few times.
"Just give it a kick, woman, it usually behaves after a few boots."
"Kicking a gas stove is how you win Darwin awards, mother." Marion was clearly still bitter from their previous argument, for which Dotty had not apologised or sought to rectify.
Peader turned around to ask if she wanted her botty cream, when Dotty almost had a heart attack - the humidity of the kitchen had made Peader's make-up stre
am down his face in red and white lines, making him look like a cross between Pennywise the Clown from Stephen King's "IT," and Gemma Collins after she fell through that trap door one time at the BBC Radio 1 Teen Awards.
"Aw, sorry, Ms Walker, yer granddaughter's a bit of a tyrant!"
"Or you're just a wet blanket." Peader just shrugged in agreement as he reached for the tea-towel.
"Well, come on, where is the birfdy girl?"
"She's upstairs doin' 'her slap'," Peader quoted.
"What? Still? She's got the face the size of a dwarf - she could paint it on with one hand. Better not be in my room!"
Mal closed the oven and shouted for Shonny to come down, wafting the intense heat out of the open window.
"Here she is! Happy birfdy, schweet'art."
"Thanks, nanna..." She hugged her and turned to the table: "Peader! Oh no, yuck - I've made a right mess of your face haven't I! Sorry about that."
"What? But I just wiped it all off..."
She ran to Marion in her sparkly-sequined emerald frock. "Thanks for the new dress, mummy."
"No problem, hunnybun.”
“Yes. Very pretty. I especially love the way it sheds glitter all over me floor tiles…” Dotty jeered toward Mal, with wide eyes and gritted teeth. “Right, come here then, Nanna might have somefing for you here…”
Shonny hopped over with glee.
“Ooh, what’s this…” Dotty asked, as she scooped up a hefty white box from under the kitchen table. “Oh, it seems to say ‘Shonny’ on the tag, so it must be for you, dear.”
“Yeah, I know. I can read five different languages, nanna. I’m eight, not illiterate.” Shonny cut the shiny red bow and opened the large, ribboned box in giddy excitement.
“What you got me, nanna?” asked Shonny, confused at the emptiness inside the cardboard square and shaking in the comedown of disappointment. “Is this that Air Pie you keep threatening to serve me when I don’t eat my Broccoli stalks?”
“No, of course not. It’s my everlasting love, my love; that’s my gift to you. Ain’t you lucky.” (Peader seemed jealous as the room went all eggy).
“Yeah cool, but I wanted something I could spend in Topshop, nan.”