by Ray Banks
Or a beaten man he’s bleeding.
The cab drops me off outside Collins Motors. I watch it go before I head into the garage. Looks empty, but I can hear people pottering around. That same DJ I heard before is on a radio somewhere in the building.
A mechanic, all grey stubble and sick eyes, comes out from the side office and frowns at me. He’s wiping his hands on a Lake District tea towel. Chewing something, too. From the smell that follows him out, I’m guessing it’s a fried egg buttie.
He jerks his chin at me, grease shining. “Y’alright?”
“Eddie about?”
“Why?”
“Out the back, is he?” I walk past him, head through to the back yard.
And speak of the fucking devil.
Eddie’s tinkering with a Nova, working on something under the bonnet. The mechanic I just saw says his name as I step out into the yard. Eddie straightens up. Sees me. Roll-up in his mouth as always. He squints against the smoke.
“Just come round to see how the car’s doing,” I say.
“Your car?”
“Yeah.”
He chews his lip. Looks behind him. My Micra’s parked by the entrance to the alleyway. Looks like the window and mirror have been replaced.
“Yours is the Micra,” he says.
“That’s right.”
“Looks finished.”
“How much is it going to set me back?” I say.
“I’ll get the bill for you.” He heads off to the garage office. There’s some noise from within. I look around the place for a potential weapon. There are a couple of spanners in the garage, but I don’t want to be seen going for them just yet, so I light an Embassy while I’m waiting for Eddie to get back.
He doesn’t take long. He holds the bill out to me. “Here y’are.”
I take one look and say, “Got to be some mistake here, Eddie.”
“Nah.”
I stare at him. “Then you’ve padded the fucker.”
“Not me.”
“Phil, then.”
“It’s all itemised,” says Eddie. He points at the bill, but looks over my shoulder at something behind me. When he points, he shows the knuckles on his right hand. They’re scraped and a little swollen. “You got your wing mirror, your window, your tune-up and your labour.”
“I didn’t ask for the tune-up. Scratch that off.”
“I can’t scratch nowt,” he says. “That’s a usual. Standard, the tune-up, like.”
“Not for me.”
“For everyone, mate.”
“I’m not your fuckin’ mate, you cunt.”
Eddie keeps quiet. His lips go thin and he stares at me.
I stare right back. “Tell me something, Eddie. Were you at that meeting the other night?”
“What meeting?”
“St Dominic’s church hall. The community meeting. You know the one.”
“No,” he says. “Not really my thing, is it?”
“You’re not into local politics?”
“No.”
“Who added this tune-up?”
“It’s standard.”
“So Phil did, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And where’s he?”
“Out.”
“Where’s out?”
“Not here.” Eddie shifts his weight back. I can almost see him wind up for a sucker punch. “Here, you want to pay the bill, sweet. You don’t want to, we can hang on to your car.”
“Oh, you can do that, can you?”
“That’s our right, like.”
“How’d you fuck your hand up?” I ask.
“You what?”
“Your hand. Noticed that it’s skinned. Wondered who you’d been fighting with. Or if you got it dragging your knuckles on the fuckin’ floor.”
“How’s that your fuckin’ business?”
“Just wondering.” I open my wallet, pull out some notes to cover the bill, saying, “You charge everyone the same round here, I’m not surprised you don’t do much business.”
Eddie’s still not sure how to take me. Which is precisely how I want him. He might think he’s on his guard, but he’s not clever enough to maintain his calm. I hand him the cash. He counts it himself.
“You want a receipt?” he says.
“Yeah, why not? Be a nice souvenir of the time I got fucked by a stranger.”
“Not a stranger, mate.”
“And I told you, you’re not my fuckin’ mate.”
He nods, sucks his teeth. Then he heads back to the office. I check the work on the car. Can’t complain, apart from the price, the gouging bastards. Look around, and I’m sure there are blokes out there in the garage watching me, waiting for me to leave. Let them watch. If they were going to do something, they would’ve done it by now.
When Eddie comes back, I snatch the receipt out of his hand, nod at the car. “You fill her up?”
“Oh, you took the platinum service, did you?”
I grab my car keys off him, thinking even if he hadn’t done what I know he did, I’d still want to smack him. “Forget it.”
I get into the Micra, start the engine, and there’s a rattle somewhere that wasn’t there before. One of those repeat customer plants, probably, a final fuck-you from Eddie to me. He’s about to head back to the Nova when I call his name.
“Just one thing,” I say. “When you see Phil, you tell him I’m sorry that I couldn’t make it to the meeting the other night.”
“Right,” he says.
“But I sent a mate of mine along to cover it for me. So I’ve got the edited highlights to look forward to.”
Eddie nods. He looks almost relieved.
“Just so he knows.”
“I’ll tell him,” he says, smiling.
Bet you fucking will.
I throw the Micra into gear, then struggle to get the car back down through the alley. I drive a little way up the street, then kill the engine. Sit watching the garage in the rearview mirror. Eddie emerges from the garage, sees my car and folds his arms.
We both stare at each other for a few seconds. He’s waiting for me to leave. I’m not going anywhere.
I light an Embassy and wind down my new window. He stays there for a while, staring at me, then he shakes his head and turns back towards the garage.
So what now?
There’s a lad I know, he wasn’t big on the whole revenge thing. A lot younger than me, acts a lot older. More mature, like he’s made enough mistakes and learned from every single one of them. He wouldn’t do what I’m about to do. He’d think it was a waste of time and energy, that there were other ways around it.
But the fact remains that when someone beats the shit out of your partner, you’re supposed to do something about it.
Or something like that.
29
I smoke the cigarette down to the filter and chuck it out of the car. I get out, slam the door and head back towards the garage again.
If Eddie had done a runner when I came round, I wouldn’t be back. If he’d showed some fucking guilt at what he’d done, I wouldn’t be grabbing a large spanner from the garage and heading through into the back yard right now.
But he thought he could ride it. See him ride a fucking spanner in the head.
Eddie’s back at the Nova. I could rush him now, but I want him to know about it.
“Eddie.”
Eddie freezes. Then thaws almost immediately. He slams the bonnet of the Nova harder than he needs to. Sounds to me like he’s making a point. “Fuckin’ hell, mate. I do not get you at all.”
“How’s that?”
Turns back to me, takes the cigarette from his mouth and blows smoke at the ground. He looks amused with me now. “Come out with a fuckin’ spanner, is it? So what d’you think you’re gonna do with it? It’s not even your spanner. You just picked it up from in there.”
“Did I?”
“Yeah, you did. That’s Tony’s spanner, that.”
“How d’
you know that, then?”
Eddie grins. “Because it’s got his fuckin’ name on it, mate.”
I don’t check. Positive someone’s going to jump me the moment I lower my head. I can hear crunching gravel behind me. Tony’s come out of the garage and, from the sounds of it, he’s brought reinforcements.
Which means I’m flanked. And fucked if this turns nasty.
“So what you doing with Tony’s spanner?” says Eddie.
I smile. Even though my arse is eating my boxers with fear. “Tell you the truth, it kind of depends on you, Eddie.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah. Depends on what you want to tell me about last night. See, I couldn’t make it to the meeting. But you know that, right?”
“What meeting’s that again?”
“You know the one.” I change my grip on the spanner. “St Dominic’s. You met a mate of mine there afterwards.”
He looks at my hand. He raises the cigarette back to his lips. When he opens his mouth, I catch a glimpse of yellow-streaked teeth.
“Went to the pub,” I say. “Got talking to him properly, went back to his flat and then you and your pal beat the shit out of him.”
There’s movement on the gravel behind me. Someone shifting their weight. I pause, brace myself to move quickly if that weight shift is accompanied by something aimed for my head. Eddie doesn’t look behind me, so I suppose I’m safe for now.
“Can’t say I remember,” he says.
“You need a reminder, I’ve got it all on tape.”
He doesn’t say anything. But there’s tension at the corners of his mouth. A tiny movement, but seeing as I’m watching his face like a fucking hawk in case he nods at someone behind me, I catch it.
“You knew he was wired for sound,” I tell him. “Just didn’t know where, did you? Fuckin’ stripped him down. Like a couple of grab-arse poofs. You strike me as the kind of bloke that did time, got fucked and liked it a little too much. What d’you say, Eddie?”
Eddie blinks. Slowly.
“Talking fuckin’ hard, eh?” he says, breathing out through his teeth. “But you got nowt.”
“I just wanted to tell you.”
“You got nowt.” Shaking his head slowly now, pushing his mouth up to his nose. “You got fuck all, you just come round here to try and put the shits up us. Reckon you see these fuckin’ tats, I’m scared of going back to stir, you’ll fuck with me head a little bit, right?”
“Hit them before they hit us?” I say.
Eddie drops his cigarette to the gravel, steps on it. “You fuckin’ heard nowt, mate. Making it up.”
“Frank wasn’t wearing a wire, Eddie,” I say. “But he was recording. You just didn’t bother checking the rest of the house, did you?”
“Fuck off.”
“What was it?” Another change of grip, my palm slick with sweat. “You take one look at him, think he was dead and fuckin’ bottle it?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, mate.”
Eddie looks behind me. I don’t say anything. Listen for sudden movement.
If they come at me now I reckon I’ve got one clear throw at Eddie’s head, watch the spanner connect and put him down. Then maybe a few decent kicks to the fucker’s balls and face before I’m pulled off. All dependent on how many of Eddie’s mates are now standing behind me, and how committed they are to the cause.
“You know I’m telling the truth here, Eddie,” I say.
“So, what d’you want, mate?” Eddie sticks his tongue under his bottom lip as if he’s fishing for food. Then he sucks his teeth and takes a few steps forward. “You want to fuckin’ come at us, or what?”
“Take a swing at you?” I say.
“Yeah. Fuckin’ that’s why you got Tony’s spanner, innit?”
“One of the reasons.”
“So, you gonna ask Tony if you can use his fuckin’ tool?”
“Tony, can I use your spanner to brain this cunt?”
“Cunt, is it?” says Eddie.
“Nah,” says Tony. “Think I’ll have it back.”
“Fuckin’ cunt, is it?” Eddie gets closer. He’s breathing through his mouth now. Working himself up for something bloody. “Here, you want to be the fuckin’ hard lad, you come ahead. Do not fuckin’ bottle this, alright? Your mate took a few kicks, reckon he took ’em because you were too much of a fuckin’ bottler to get the job done yourself, eh?”
I keep it calm. Don’t even twitch with the spanner. Difficult now Eddie’s close. One quick swing is all it’ll take, and him pushing the bottle button doesn’t help his fucking case.
“So what’s stopping you now?” says Eddie.
“I didn’t come here to deck you, Eddie,” I say.
“Fuckin’ looks like it.”
“That’s because you haven’t been listening. I’ve got you on tape.”
“I heard that.”
“But you didn’t listen. I’ve got you on tape. Russ, too. And I’ve got you both saying that this march tomorrow night is going to be a fuckin’ bloodbath.”
“We never said that.”
“You said enough. You said Briggs has organised this to be a fuckin’ riot. Can’t stop you from marching, right? And if you march down where you’re not wanted, and people happen to be out there chucking things at you, provoking you, you reckon it’s perfectly alright to fight back, don’t you? Because that’s all you’ve been doing all this time anyway. Fighting back.”
Eddie doesn’t say anything.
“I’m not on anyone’s side here, Eddie. Way I see it, you’re all as fuckin’ bad as each other. But I am warning you to get the word out. Call off the march. Else I’ll make that tape available to the press.”
“What tape’s this?” says Collins.
I see him moving in my peripheral vision, reckon it’s safe enough to chance a look. Collins is sweating hard under his suit jacket. The stains have already started to spread from his armpits to his tie, which hangs around his neck like a tugged noose. The gravel crunches louder under his feet as he walks round to face me. Eddie backs off a few steps at Collins’s approach.
“Eddie didn’t tell you,” I say. “Course not.”
“Tell me what?” says Collins.
“About this march tomorrow night.”
“I know there is one, yeah,” he says, looking at Eddie, then around behind me. “But I don’t see what it’s got to do with Eddie.”
When I look back at Eddie, I can see the fucker boiling, wishing Collins wasn’t here. I take the opportunity to turn round, see who’s behind me.
Three mechanics. The stubbly guy who I reckon is Tony, two others I’ve seen in the shadows of the garage, only noticeable because of the oil shining in the dark.
I turn back to Collins. “Right. Because you’re the politician, right? You’re the one worried about his community. You’re not part of this shite.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr Innes.”
I stare at Eddie as I say, “Well, to warn you up front, Mr Collins, Eddie and some of the other lads are going out down the curry mile tomorrow night. Reckon they’ll call in sick the day after, and you’ll have the press on your doorstep.”
“And why’s that?” says Collins.
“Because—”
“Fuck yourself,” says Eddie. “You want to talk about grab-arse poofs, you watch out for your gay mate up in Salford.”
“You what?”
“Fuckin’ sort that poof out good and fuckin’ proper—”
I bolt for Eddie, swing the spanner as hard as I can. The tip connects sharply with Eddie’s face and he drops like a bag of rocks. Hits the dirt with blood splattering out of his nose onto the ground, one hand up, the other breaking his fall.
I take another swing at him, but there are arms around my waist, forcing me forward into the Nova. A jolt of agony up my spine as Tony barrels me into the car. I drop the spanner and cry out. Then there are more hands on me, dragging me away fro
m the Nova. I can see Eddie still on the ground, up to his knees now, one of the mechanics demanding that he move his hand away from his face so he can check the damage.
I brace myself for a volley of kicks, a little solidarity violence for their fallen comrade, but all I get is held tight.
Collins turns to me, his face tight. He gestures for the mechanics to let me go.
“What the hell was all that about?”
I look round at Tony and the other mechanic. They’ve backed off. They don’t want to sort me out in front of their boss, but they do want to sort me out.
Back to Collins, and I realise he’s the only thing stopping me from ending up like Frank right now. “We should walk and talk.”
Eddie switches round in the dirt. He’s being helped to his feet, one hand clamped to his face, his eyes wild in their sockets. He points at me, doesn’t have to say anything.
You’re fuckin’ dead.
I walk with Collins towards the alley. “You know there’s going to be a protest march tomorrow night. Jeffrey Briggs is organising it.”
“I told you, I don’t have anything to do with—”
“I believe you. I think. But your boys here do have something to do with Briggs, and your fuckin’ ignorance isn’t going to save you. I’m asking you to talk to those lads for me. They’ll listen to you more than they’ll listen to me, obviously. Tell them to pass the word on, I have it on tape that this march is going to be a forced riot.”
Collins’s face pales. “That’s got nowt to do with me.”
“It will do.” I stop by the entrance to the alley. Look across at my car. “Because if you don’t manage to persuade these lads from attending, if you don’t use whatever pull you have with Briggs to stop this march, then I’ll get the Evening News to do to you what they did to Plummer.”
“You can’t do that.”
“With a fuckin’ tape of your employees, I can. Now think about that.”
I head off towards my car. Stop as I’m about to get in.
“And tell Eddie, I see him anywhere near the Lads’ Club, I’ll put him in the fuckin’ ground.”
