Broken Toys

by Jackson Lear

  “I don’t think I need any help in that department,” said Josh.

  “Okay. But she’s not going to break up with you. You’re as close to ‘the one’ she has ever found but she isn’t your ‘one’. Now, fair play to Gemma because she figured this out long before I did, but Hannah is thrilled that you two are together because she’s never going to break up with you and you aren’t going to break up with her. I think Brooke is less of a fling and more of an end to you and Hannah. If you wanted a fling or to shag someone else, London is right down the road and you have the money to pick up anyone you want. Hannah has left the house before. She’s gone to visit her parents or was gone wherever business has taken her. You could’ve taken a sick day, gone to London or anywhere else, shagged some tourist or businesswoman and never thought about it again. But every fantasy is better when it involves someone you know. If you sleep with Brooke you’re going to be caught and it’s going to be the only way Hannah is going to break up with you. You won’t be the bad guy for dumping her but you will be the bad guy if you get caught fucking someone else.”

  Josh peered at his friend. “Your wife figured all of that out?”

  “No, just the part where neither of you will break up with the other. You’re not happy. Brooke is making you happy because you see it as the end to you and Hannah. And since Brooke is married you know that, realistically, the two of you living happily ever after is flooded with complications.”

  Josh grumbled and slid back into his chair. “You know one thing I miss? If I found myself quickly single before twenty five I was an emotional mess but that was about the height of it. Now if I become single it’s going to cost me a fortune to buy out her share in the mortgage and we’ll have to split the furniture.”

  Anthony shook his head. “Yeah, it’s not a troubling sign at all that you’ve already worked that out. If I break up it’s going to cost me twice that.”

  Their fresh round of drinks came.

  “I saw the bridesmaid outfit,” Josh said.

  “So did I,” said Anthony, with a grimace. His phone buzzed with a message. To his surprise, Amanda had sent him a message.

  ‘I’m bored! Why have you abandoned me on a Sunday? x.’

  Anthony hesitated, then he glanced back up to Josh. “I’m just going to be rude for a moment.”

  “Fire away. Tell the missus to send a photo.” Josh leaned around and took one last look at the decrepit Hoolan’s. The place should be condemned but it had been around for sixty years. God knows what was going to be put up in its place. Maybe an accountant’s or a block of boring offices. He waited until Anthony had finished his message.

  “Amanda’s coming over. We’re to order her a drink and a burger.”

  Josh arched an eyebrow. “She hauls ass when she needs to.”

  “She’s going through a break up so I think she’s looking for all the distraction she can find.”

  “Should be fun,” said Josh.

  Anthony quietly nodded and returned his phone to his pocket.

  Josh took that as his cue to pry. “Something the matter?”

  “If you know why she’s back in town, you’d tell me, right?”

  “Of course,” said Josh.

  “And if there was a Cone of Secrecy, how would you handle that situation?”

  “By not letting you know that there was such a thing. You can’t tell people you have a secret and then not tell them. The easiest way out of that is to just say you don’t have such a secret.”

  “And ... has Amanda told you such a secret?” Anthony asked.

  “She has not,” said Josh, as he shook his head.

  Anthony glanced off to the side and tried to figure out how best to broach a delicate topic. It took a minute of silence before he noticed that Josh was carefully sipping his drink. “You two email each other quite a bit, right?”

  “Yeah, once or twice a month. Are you asking if we talk about you?”

  “Pretty much,” said Anthony.

  “We do, but I imagine she emails you as well.”

  “Yeah, a couple of times a month.” The actual answer was a couple of times a week.

  “I don’t know why she’s back,” said Josh. “I have a hunch, though, and it’s mostly because you’re trying to figure it out as well.”

  Anthony glanced around to make sure the coast was clear before he leaned forward. “Earlier this year Gemma and I were fighting. I told Amanda that I was considering getting a divorce.”

  “Woah,” said Josh, pulling back in surprise. “I never knew that.”

  “I regret saying it. I never told Gemma and I deleted the email and every trace of it. The next day I was feeling a little better. Gemma came and apologised about whatever it was we were fighting about and we started to try and fix things. But every time Amanda asks how Gemma and I are doing there’s this whole unresolved issue on the side.”

  “Do you think Gemma was thinking the same thing?” Josh asked.

  Anthony felt a smile creep over his face. “You and Amanda asked me the same thing. And both of you asked straight away.”

  “And?”

  “I think so, because a few days later she got her old job back.”

  Their conversation was broken by a scuffle beyond the wooden fence. Josh and Anthony glanced over to see a tall, scruffy man pull the gate open and head into Hoolan’s beer garden. Anthony pulled his shoulders back and felt a grip of caution take control. The new arrival had thick matted hair. He looked emaciated and walked hunched over, as though he was nothing more than a badly put together skeleton wrapped in sallow skin. He wore torn black jeans and a simple, crumpled black t-shirt. He had a slight stagger which told Anthony that he was drunk and probably looking for money. The man came in through the courtyard and didn’t register the presence of anyone. He stumbled towards the employees-only door and found it was locked. He tugged on it a few more times and gave up, stepped back, and looked for a Plan B.

  He then found something to his liking. There was a red plastic crate of empty beer bottles. He knelt down, picked up each of the bottles and swivelled them around, checking the contents. He poured whatever remained into one main bottle, regardless if they had been sitting outside in the rain, the sun, or crawling with ants. Some of the bottles still had cigarette butts in them. He held his thumb across the opening to trap the filters inside as he poured the contents from one bottle into another.

  “Let’s go inside,” said Josh.

  “Hang on,” said Anthony, with his eyes squinting at the intruder.

  The guy was finished with the first crate and moved onto another, gradually filling up a whole bottle. He swished it under his nose and took a sip.

  “Come on,” said Josh, as he pushed his chair back.

  A distant memory shot back at Anthony. “Toads.”

  “Huh?”

  A dawning light spread across Anthony’s face. The link confused him and yet he pictured the man in shaggy black raising someone’s skirt to peer underneath. Anthony quickly glanced back to Josh.

  “Do you remember a weird kid, one who showed us a box of toads and it kinda freaked us out?”

  “Not especially,” said Josh, his eyes never leaving the sight of the scruffy man.

  Anthony pointed across the table. “I think that’s him.”

  Josh grimaced as ‘Toads’ swallowed the rest of the beer.

  Anthony dropped his voice low and leaned forward. “You remember when we were in the woods, or somewhere like that, and we found this shoe box full of dead toads?”

  “We did?”

  “Yeah. The amount of shit I got for it from my mum was a nightmare. Well, there was a kid who walked around pulling up skirts and he followed us around. He had a box of toads and I’m sure it was the same box we found and the same kid. I don’t know why but I just got the same vibe from that guy over there.”

  Josh looked over at Toads, trying not to stare, but it wasn’t easy to get a good look at his face while he was turned away from them.
“So the weird kid grew up to be a homeless guy?”

  Anthony shrugged. “Makes sense. I get the feeling he wasn’t all there as a kid.” He looked back around as his mind ticked over with a plan. “Maybe we should talk to him.”

  “Forget it,” said Josh, snapping his head decisively.

  “Do you have any money?”

  “That guy is likely to stab you the first chance he gets,” said Josh.

  “I’m serious. Let’s ask him.”

  “Ask him about dead toads?”

  “Yes,” said Anthony.

  “You’re serious?”

  “Very.” Anthony pushed his chair back and stood, waiting for Josh to do the same. “You know I still have nightmares about toads and shoe boxes? I can’t stand white shoe boxes being kept in the house, they still give me the shivers.”

  “This guy isn’t going to help you get over that,” said Josh. “Look, as a friend, I’m advising you to sit your arse down before you do something stupid.”

  “And as a friend I would have advised you to not go and do yoga two times a week because of some sexpot you work with. I would have told you but I know you would only ignore me and three months from now you’d be up shit creek with a crush on this girl and Hannah would be balling her eyes out. If we talk to this guy and find out he’s the same dick with the toads then you have my blessing to do whatever the hell you want with this Brooke girl.”

  Josh glared at the cheap shot. And if he got stabbed because of his friend …

  Anthony looked over to Toads. “Come on, before he leaves.”

  “It’s not him,” said Josh.

  “You barely remember who I’m talking about.”

  “It’s such a random thing to ask, especially for someone with his level of IQ.”

  “Don’t care,” said Anthony. “I need you to back me up on this one so he doesn’t attack me.”

  “Jesus Christ,” mumbled Josh, as he returned Anthony’s stare. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s go see if this creep is the actual source of your nightmares.”

  Anthony walked slowly towards the rear entrance of the building, keeping his escape options open and positioned to intercept the lunatic if things became violent. “Excuse me?”

  The man didn’t seem to realise he was being spoken to.

  “Sir?”

  The man in black slowly turned around.

  “Hi,” said Anthony. He felt the cold eyes of Toads linger on him. All of a sudden his pulse skyrocketed, realising instantly that he was making a mistake. “This may be an odd question, but you look like someone we used to know.” Anthony pointed to himself and Josh, while Josh did his best to look intimidating while standing behind his friend. “Did you, by any chance, happen to live here twenty, twenty five years ago, and carry around a white shoe box with a toad inside?”

  The man craned his head around as he processed the information slower than humanly possible. He finally stared back to Anthony with a confused look on his face. “A what?”

  “A white shoe box,” Anthony said, now measuring it out with his hands. “There was a toad inside. We were in the park near Portal Close. You remember Portal Close?”

  It took another age for the man to process the information. “Fielding Street?”

  “Yes!” said Anthony. “We used to live on Fielding Street.”

  “Not comfortable,” murmured Josh. The guy remembering where they used to live after all that time only spurred Josh’s defences into full blown paranoia.

  “So, we used to live on Fielding Street, near the park towards Portal Close. Twenty five years ago? Was that you?”

  The final piece of the puzzle dropped in the guy’s head and his whole attitude changed. Now he looked as though he had been caught committing a crime and became just as defensive as Josh appeared to be. “Sorry,” he mumbled, as he edged towards the exit.

  “Wait,” said Anthony.

  “He’s trying to leave,” whispered Josh.

  “I just want to know if that was you.”

  Toads headed away, ignoring Anthony completely.

  “I have some loose change, if you need it. About five pounds. All you have to do is tell me you’re him.”

  Toads moved past the gate and walked off. Josh shook his head and prodded Anthony in the back. “You were going to give him money to say that he was the same kid?”

  Anthony shrugged. “Closure.”

  “Closure could’ve ended with him sticking you in the face with a knife. And don’t think that’s an impossibility – it happens everyday to someone around the world.”

  Anthony felt Josh’s glare driving into him.

  “Is there any chance we can finish our drinks inside?” Josh asked.

  He conceded that maybe it was better hiding from Toads than remaining out in the open.

  Inside, though, something stirred Anthony’s curiosity. Dave was reading a newspaper behind the bar. He glanced up as Anthony approached. “Another pint?”

  “No, not yet,” said Anthony. “I was outside before and there was a guy who wandered in. Tall, hunched over, mid-thirties and probably homeless.”

  “Oh yeah, Fuckwit,” said Dave. “Last time he was here he scared all of the girls away before last call.”

  “What did he do?” Anthony asked.

  “Just came in, wandered about, stared at people. Didn’t say a fucking word. If he’s still there I’m going to call the police.”

  “Nah, he’s gone,” said Anthony.

  “Well, fuck it, I should call them anyway. He didn’t do anything stupid, did he?”

  “No, nothing. Just a blast from the past,” said Anthony. “Has he always been coming here?”

  Dave shrugged. “Couldn’t begin to tell you.”

  Anthony returned to Josh and filled him in.

  “And?” Josh asked.

  “Not sure,” said Anthony, his eyes locked onto some ancient memory.

  16

  McIntyre

  James McIntyre followed the trail of half smoked cigarettes until the hair in his ears prickled to attention. He could just about make out the whispers of the kids hiding from him. He carried a pitchfork in one hand, ready to terrify the little shits from ever coming into his garden again.

  He rolled his shoulders forward as a breeze came from the right. No voices were carried along with it. He stood on the only path between the mass of trees and thick undergrowth. If the kids ran they would run straight into him. And straight into his pitchfork. It was either that or brave the swampy pond to the right or the tangle of thorns to the left. Behind the kids was the tall stone wall covered in moss. They may have been able to climb along the top of it, but there was no climbing back up once they jumped down to smoke their cigarettes or drink their beer.

  He had gone out to the back of his garden the night before, armed with a knife, and hurled it into the dark, trying to hit one of the kids. The garden had been empty. James refused to believe it was a figment of his own imagination. But those cigarette butts didn’t appear out of thin air.

  James readied his footing for an oncoming stampede. In a smokehouse rasp he bellowed, “I know you’re in there, you fucks!”

  An unusual silence fell upon the garden, as though even the wildlife had surrendered to his growl. James lurched forward, the pitchfork dangling in front of him, as he came upon the entry point to the Den. It was a low hanging mass of vines that James knew well. What the kids inside didn’t realise was that he had found their lair weeks ago and knew just as many tricks for staying out of sight as they did.

  James stepped forward, beyond the entry point, and swung the pitchfork down behind him as though he was using it for balance, right where a kid would land his foot if they tried to run. He could now smell tobacco and cheap beer. Looking away from the Den, James bellowed again.

  “I see you, you fucks! I see you hiding by the wall. I can smell you too. I’m going to cut your throats out and gut your insides!”

  Daniel, the first one brave enough to run for it, duc
ked under the hanging vines at full speed, caught his toes against the long forks, and pitched forward. McIntyre spun with a devilled grin and a heavy fist flew through the air.

  Warrick, the second to run for it, barrelled into the back of Daniel, sending them both collapsing to the ground. James’ fist swung through the air and missed both targets, causing him to lose his balance. He staggered three hops to the side before stabilising.

  Ian, the third to try his luck, tripped over one of Warrick’s wayward legs and fell to the side. Then came a thwack of metal against his collar bone. He yelped in fright and fell to the ground. With a muddied eye and a breathless gasp he caught sight of James McIntyre standing over them with a pitchfork jutting towards Warrick’s face.

  “Any of you fucks move and I’ll skewer the lot of ya!” The excitement had elevated his heart and he wasn’t used to such a rush. He breathed heavily, trying to regain his strength and come up with his next move. “Not a single one of you,” he said, to buy himself more time. “I finally got you.”

  Warrick’s face contorted as he struggled to keep a torrent of tears behind lock and key.

  James recoiled in disgust at the fat teen heaving in front of him. “No. No! You’re not getting out of this by crying like a fucking girl. You’ve been pissing in my garden for too fucking long!”

  “Please Mr McIntyre,” mumbled Daniel.

  James’ face contorted to a look of bewilderment. “Eh? Mr what? You must be a fucking salesman to call me ‘Mr McIntyre.’ Only shit brained kids and salesmen bother with ‘Mister’ and you don’t look like a salesman to me. Are you?”

  Daniel remained silent.

  James jabbed Daniel in the shoulder with the pitchfork, tearing a hole through his t-shirt. “I asked you a fucking question, kid! Are you a salesman?”

  “No!” shouted Daniel.

  “I’ve seen your cigarettes lying on the ground. You think I can’t see them? You don’t even pick them up when you’re done. You just drop them to the ground and think the magical fairies come and take them away, is that it?” James snapped the pitchfork closer to Warrick’s face. “Why don’t you pick up your fucking cigarettes?”