by Wez Wallie
“I’m sure you can flog my love to a few blokes in New Look. I mean, River Island’s a shoo-in.”
“I guess…”
Mal rolled her eyes. “Stop taunting her, mum.”
Dotty conceded. “Alright, alright, here’s your real prezzie, then!”
Shonny gasped – “Oh, thank you, nanna!!”
Dotty brought out a top-of-the-range set of chalk pastels and a large wooden box of fine-art sketching pencils.
She gave her a sloppy wet kiss. (Dotty wiped her own cheek with her hanky and a sound of yucky distaste as the girl finally let go.) “I can’t wait to draw Peady with these – now I can really get to the nuances of his third chin and the subtlety of his groin bulge.”
Peader just looked down at his grey, (and indeed bulging), jogging bottoms.
“Here, you’ll need this one for that then,” she said, pointing at the bluntest pencil she could see. (“Put the tracing paper away, Shonny!”)
Mal intervened. “Hey look, I didn't have time to cook you homemade shortbread this time, so I ran out this morning and got you a pack of your favourite ‘Gender Non-Conforming Gingerbread Individuals,’ and also some Tottenham cake for your friends." Peader looked surprised. "I know," she whispered over to them, "They were on offer as part of the Pensioner Discount at the bakery."
"NO!" Dotty screamed, and began to dry-heave. "HAS THE TOTTENHAM CAKE GOT RAISINS IN IT?"
"Uh, I don't know, it shouldn’t have. You don't put raisins in that kind of thing."
Peader confirmed it didn't.
"Oh, fank god."
He looked up at the ceiling; "It's okey, Big Man; she didn't mean it." He turned back to Dotty: "I didn't know ye didn't like raisins now, Ms Walker?"
Dotty was still trying to swallow the little bit of sick she had upchucked in her throat.
"Yeah, it was crazy," said Mal, "apparently the bakery is under new management for some reason... I wonder if Mac n Jaq have gone on an extended holiday or something?"
Peader looked up at Dotty with a tinge of guilt. "Hang about now," he went on to say, "Why did dey tink ye qualified fer de pensioner discount section?"
Marion looked down. "That's why I was a little sad and self-conscious this morning, Peader."
Dotty looked baffled as she retained her composure. "Least you got the mould fixed up nice in here, eh."
Mal just gave her evils and went back to making up goodie bags at the table with Shonny.
"Charming!" Dotty walked out and Peader caught up with her down the end of the hallway.
"Listen, Ms Walker, I know it's not me place or anyting, but I tink Miss Mal may be a tiny bit upset about a possible tiffle youse two may have had recently."
"Really? What, about that banter in the park? That was just a loving conversation from muvver to daughter."
"Well, okey, but I tink she may have been a liddle bit saddened by it regardless, and whilst as I say it isn't technically my place an' all, I tink maybe best ting ta do like, is maybe go over and give her a hug?"
"You're right, Peter..."
"Peader, ma’am."
"...It ain't your place."
His face fell and he nodded slowly in acceptance.
"But, if she's that hysterical about it I'll go over and explain meself."
Alarm bells rang and he let slip a little botty-whiff. "Oh now, maybe dat's not de best way of approaching tings, Ms Walker!"
Dotty stormed back into the kitchen and Peader just slumped himself over the staircase banister.
There was some shouting starting from down the hall, with voices raising higher as Shonny came strolling past on her phone talking to her friend and casually saying "they're fighting again," before heading up the stairs with her birthday haul to nanna's bedroom.
"...Whatever! I need a break - make sure that oven's off so the pizza don't burn!" shouted Mal, who came storming down the hall and grabbing her coat off the wall, almost knocking into Peader.
"Oh sorry, Miss Mal, I didn't mean ta kick anyting off dere."
Marion just looked up at him and said, "You know what, Peader, I just realised I didn't get to give you the answer to your question earlier. The answer's yes. Fucking yes! I would love to go for a drink with you. Thank you for asking."
Peader's face lit up like a Christmas tree, and like he had finally hit the jackpot after decades of hesitating and living his life in fear and doubt.
"Ah, grand, Miss Malorker - Miss Malrion."
"Please, just 'Mal' now we're courting."
"Oh courtin'! Oh wow, Missy Mal. Ah t'anks - ye won't regret it. Well, I hope ye won't. I'm 99% sure ye won't. I mean I can't guarantee anyting of course, so dat's why I say it's not 100% guaranteed ye'll have a good time, er, out wit me, but I hope during de course'a de evening, like -"
She just laughed as a note was stuffed through the letterbox.
"Oh, what's dat now?"
He picked up the blank envelope as Dotty was kicking things in the kitchen down the hall. "Shut up mum, we're trying to read something!" Mal yelled toward the kitchen.
"Trying to get the poxy oven off, for frig's sake!" she called back.
Peader unfolded the note inside:
"They. Watching. You."
Mal looked at him. "Who's 'they'?"
Suddenly, a giant fireball erupted from the kitchen and engulfed the house, with an ear-splitting *BOOM* being heard all the way down the street. Thick black smoke pervaded the blue sky where the roof used to be.
All was still.
Chapter 10
Her eyes slowly opened to the blurry visage of a hospital ward, as Dotty was roused to the sight of a podgy bloke in a wheelchair fast asleep by her bedside. Autumnal sunlight was streaming into the room, and a beam of solar energy was focused directly through the glass windowpane onto Peader's face as he slumbered, which was making his cheeks look naturally like Shonny had taken one of her red foundation brushes to his mug. He only woke up when he could smell burning and thought there was a fry-up going around.
"Ms Walker!! T'ank God de Lord returned ye ta de warmth of our arms!"
"Who are you?" she said slyly, pretending she had brain damage.
"Ah naw... ah please naw! It's me! Peader - Peader Seamus-Manus-Dreyfus!"
"Fack me, that can't be your name - you sound like a character from an 'Arry Enfield sketch."
"I promise ye, Ms Walker! Maybe if I refresh yer memory, like, it'll all come back ta ye? So, as I say, me name is Peader, (wit a 'D', ma’am, if ye'll remember), uh, I'm t'irty-eight and officially I am yer 'carer'," he said with a wink, and then whispered, "but really, I am yer Handler assigned ta ye from de Agency, codenamed 'Bognor,' where we undertake dodgy jobbies ta take out de marks and make dem sleep wit de fishies, like."
"Eh - Sleeping with fishes?! Who is this bestial-bastard?!" she cried, reaching for the red string - "NURSE?!?"
Peader yelped with a fluster and lunged over to stop her grabbing the panic cord. "NAW, MS WALKER, I'M NOT A PERV, LIKE!" He seized her hand and brought it into his chest. "Ms Walker, I promise ye can trust me -"
"Oh, leave off, I was only pullin' your plonker, ya plank. I'm fine," she said, sitting up and ripping out all the tubes and suction pads that were connected from under her wrinkly folds and which led over to some monstrous apparatus by her bedside like something out of The Fly.
"Oh, I don't tink maybe ye should do dat yerself dere, Ms Walker. Dey look important!"
"Peter - where's me daughter? Where's Shonny? What in the name of Michael Barrymore's sweaty lawyer even happened back there?!"
"Dere fine, Ms Walker. Just fine. I've been sitting wit dem all week. We were all more worried about youse! Ye took de full brunt of de blast and well, at yer age an’ all..."
Her eyes focused in a squint: "Finish the sentence, boy."
"Well, I just mean -"
She grabbed him by the scruff of the collar and pulled him nose to nose - "Did me tommies survive?! Tell me me litt'luns are still going strong!"
Dotty screamed up to the ceiling with her arms raised high - "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! What about Spartacus?! Me prized most favourite of 'em all! He was the strongest - he must have made it, surely?!"
"Well, he looked pretty roasted but went down a treat wit me bacon sarnie, like."
Dotty sobbed for her sprogs. "Well, there goes my T.O. Magnifico trophy for this year." She took a moment to breathe, crossed herself and said a little prayer for their souls. "Golly, I need a fag," she whined, before coming to notice the state of Peader's noggin, cheering her up a bit.
"What the heck happened to your head?!" she asked, falling into sniggers now her vision had returned fully to see all the hair from the back of Peader's head had been singed off, but luckily, most people hadn't noticed as it just looked like a trendy haircut you'd pay a tenner for down in Dublin.
"I don't know what yer laughin' at dere, Ms Walker, are yer eyes not full of dust at all?" he retorted, snorting in partially withheld chuckles.
"Eh, you what?"
She looked at her reflection in the metal handrail to see her eyebrows had been completely blown off, and her hair had been wafted and singed making her look like Noel Edmonds, just with a hairier top lip.
"Oh, my gawd! Quick - draw 'em on and shave me ‘tache; if we leave the room looking like this, people will fink Noel's House Party is coming back, especially if I have Mr Blobby by me side!"
"In an instant, Ms Walker!" He hopped out of the wheelchair and went over to her toiletries on the side, swallowing down the self-pity when it finally dawned on him just who that last comment was referring to and he sucked in his belly accordingly.
"Here ye go, Ms Walker!" He began drawing all over her forehead with eyeliner.
"Gawd. Where's Shonny when ya need her?!"
A few hours later, the Police had visited to take their statements now the key witness was awake, and Dotty was just shaking her head in disbelief as Peader took the opportunity to remove his pants and hand them back to the same copper from outside the Bingo Hall that night, still warm and fresh.
"Oh, thanks very much, Mr Seamus-Manus-Dreyfus."
"Please. Call me Peader. We've shared panties now, Sgt. Jones."
"Please. Call me Oluwanjeolumbingo."
Peader just stared and smiled politely. "Maybe I'll just stick ta yer rank dere, ta be respectful, like."
The Sergeant just nodded with a shrug. "Woah, you look surprised to see me, Ms Walker. You must have known I'd have to come back and take your statement about this?"
"It's not personal. Peter just sucks at make-up. Just stop looking at them and move-on."
"O...kay, well I must say, I was surprised to see you on the front page of the local paper after our last meeting... hopefully that won't happen again after all this drama!"
"Nah, all that's dying down now," Dotty said absent-mindedly, now focusing on the form in front of her and pushing her polka dot glasses closer up her nose: "Is this all one word?!" she asked, pointing to Peader's multiple surnames on the statement bemusedly.
"Yeh," he whispered to her. "Me middle name is Ben."
"Cor, I've never known anyone to have as many names as he has chins!"
"Yeh, me modder converted religions when I was in me late teens and she was in an open relationship before it was a ting, and so I ended up having t'ree daddies who all wanted ta be part of me life. Pretty grand, like."
Sergeant Jones took the paper from her and addressed them sternly. "Okay, now this is the second accident you have been victim to, Ms Walker, that has involved an unfortunate leakage of gas."
"I'm used to it with this one around!"
She snorted and so did Peader, and Sgt. Jones tried to cover the short and sharp girly giggle he inadvertently let out and just made some sort of pretend note on his pad.
He regained his composure and continued: "Ms Walker, can I just remind you of the seriousness of this. Now it would need to have happened three times to form a pattern, but even a twice-occurring coincidence is grounds for suspicion. You see where I'm going with this?"
"Oh, I do apologise, Mr Sergeant. Do you think I'm trying to blow myself up?"
"No, no, but it is possible that someone, or some third party, perhaps with vested interests... may be attempting to, hasten your expiration somewhat..." The cop was doing the eyebrow thing Peader does when he tries to signal something. "Perhaps Mr Seamus-Manus-Dreyfus could pop outside for a refreshment whilst we talk in private, Ms Walker?"
For once in his life, Peader cottoned on. "Well, I ain't tryin' ta croak her; she pays me wages, like!"
"No, no, no, of course, Mr Seamus-Manus-Dreyfus," he said, trying to backpedal.
"I'm honestly a little hurt, Sgt. Jones. I t'ought we were boxer-buddies an' all dat."
"No, no, look, I just have to do my job and investigate all possibilities, you understand. Including the possibility that you could be a gas maniac."
"Fair enough. Dat was me nickname at school, like. But I can hardly help it - I had an anxious bowel during spelling class!"
"Be that as it may, the initial reports have come back from Ms Walker's property indicating the gas line to the oven unit was tampered with. We have spoken with all members of the household, but none have admitted to the offence, and so we will have to take matters further -"
"No, actually, it was me, yes."
"I'm sorry, Ms Walker?!" Sgt. Jones was stunned at the confession, twirling his pen in his afrocurls.
"Yes, I just remembered, dear, that I thought it was broken and so I loosened the valve at the back to see if that would do the trick, and huzzah it did! I suppose in one way, my pizza was cooked eventually!"
"Oh – oh, okay then! Well, that's saved me weeks of paperwork and freed up my day! Seems like this is an easy open and shut case, and what I like to call a 'quick win!' Fantastic! Well, I shall be on my way then; I hope you get well soon and remember - don't go playing around with any gas valves in the future!" He was pointing his finger at her mischievously.
"I'll certainly try, Sgt. Jones!" she replied with a feigned cheekiness.
"No seriously, don't," he said stopping halfway through the door, "otherwise I'll have to come back and take statements again, and then the third time will be a pattern and then that will blow up into a whole conspiracy to murder investigation and then the paperwork and oh my word I can feel my hernia coming back out!"
"Ssh!” said Peader, running over and rubbing his back, "jus’ breathe, like." The Sergeant took deep breaths leaning against the door frame, nodded and left. Peader closed the door shut and sat back down.
"Honestly, Ms Walker, what were ye tinkin', messin’ around wit gas pipes at yer age!"
"Shut it, fopdoodle, it obvs weren't me was it! I just had to say that to get the Fuzz off our backs. Now take me to me daughter and the kid; the cops have seen 'em before even I have."
*
Mal was dozing off watching Songs of Countryfile of Praise, which due to mass cancellations of BBC license fees had forced them to merge the two popular Sunday evening programs, whereby now a choir of mixed-race hippity-hoppity schoolboys in a Yorkshire field were belting out a semi-orchestral, semi-R'n'B version of ‘O Come Emmanuel’, in a desperate attempt for the BBC to remain remotely relevant. (Viewing figures show only one person in the desired 16-35 age-group even watched the thing, and that's because Dani Dyer off Love Island fell asleep watching Doctor Who and had left her TV on.)
"Oi, don't fall asleep girl, ya mum wants to talk to ya!" Dotty wheeled herself to the side of Mal's bed.
"Mum!" I can't believe you're finally awake!" she screamed, leaning over for a kiss. "You look surprised to see me?"
"Just ignore the fackin’ eyebrows!! (Peter, I'm gonna kill you!")
Mal hugged her. "Never mind that - how did you even survive that blast?!?"
"
Me skin's old and battered like a leathered gimp. The fire probably made me ever tougher - I wouldn't be surprised if I was bulletproof to be fair."
"It's true! Ye could put a fag out on her arm and she wouldn't even feel it!"
Mal smiled warmly at Peader.
"Ahem. Not dat I've tried, like..."
"Aaanyway," said Dotty. "The real question is how did you survive?"
"Well, Peader and I were way down the hall, so it was mainly the collapse of the roof that got us. Peader leapt on top of me and saved my life, mum." She looked down at her fractured pelvis and then over to her saviour proudly.
Dotty studied the plaster casts Marion was wrapped up in.
"Yeah, but I bet it weren't the roof tiles that did that - you probably suffered more damage when this fat lump saw his moment to jump ya bones!"
"Mother!!"
"Oh, hang about now, Ms Walker - me trousers were done up at all times!"
Dotty just cackled.
"Leave him alone. In fact, you owe him a debt of gratitude for saving your daughter's life! Have you seen what's happened to the back of his head all because he sacrificed his safety for mine?"
"Naw, Miss Mal, dat's just me Dublin haircut, like," he said with a sweat. "One of de nurses is Irish, so she did me a discount on de side, dere."
"Oh... it's uh, very nice...P," she said with a wink.
He just put his flat cap back on and sat quietly.
"So, where's Shonny? I want to see me granddaughter."
"She's staying with Gus until I get better."
"What, the café bloke?"
"Yes."
"Why??"
"He's my therapist. He does it on the side at the weekend. He happened to mention he got his Hypnotherapy accreditation when he was cooking up my Eggs Benedict one morning, and he said I could be his first practice case."
"So, you're telling Gustavo the café manager all our private personal history, all because he said he has some poncy certificate in mind-fackin’, and now you've let him look after me injured granddaughter without supervision?"
"Firstly, she's fine - she was on the other side of the house when it went off. Secondly, I trust him, mum, and in case you hadn't noticed, all my family are in the hospital 'cos you couldn't stop kicking the gas oven! How many times did I tell you to stop bloody doing that?"