by Vance Huxley
Holly turned towards Harold. “Stop sulking. Come on, I want to dance. Then you can walk me home.”
“In broad daylight? I never realised lettuce had that effect.” Harold grinned.
Holly laughed. “You haven’t heard about rabbits? That’s all lettuce powered.”
“I’ll be out at dawn, planting more.” Harold collected his kiss for dancing her home and opened the door.
“Stinky water, stinky water.”
“Stop her.” Harold snagged Daisy as she made a break for it and then sniffed.
“Whew.”
“Stinky water. Curtis says it makes things grow but mummy wants to wash it off.” Daisy didn’t sound even a little bit repentant.
A harassed looking Sharyn came through. “Good. I was putting Wills in the playpen so I could catch this tyke and dunk her. While you’ve got a good grip there’s a tub full of hot water up there so dump her in, complete with her clothes to get the worst off.”
“How did that happen?” Holly smiled but kept well clear.
“Curtis told her his barrels of compost water, the ones with all the rotten leaves and stuff in, made things grow. Next thing Daisy is holding the watering can over her head. She wants to be big enough for a crossbow.” Sharyn started upstairs after Harold and Daisy. “Though he did leave a heap of salad stuff as compensation.”
“Since I didn’t get splashed, that’s a bargain.” Holly and Hazel hi-fived.
Chapter 9:
Ferdinand, Roast, Casper's Fury
“Do you think that’ll get past the check?” Harold frowned at the pack, his Bergen but shortened a little and with a metal frame inside.
“They’ll need a spanner to work out what we’ve done, and even then you can plead it’s only a frame. It’s allegedly there to help the pack with all the rough treatment it’s getting.” Liz and Rob both watched anxiously as Harold inspected the supposed frame.
“They’ll find a spanner if I carry one.” Though Harold had to admit the frame looked innocent enough, just steel tube with pipe fittings holding it together.
“Watch and learn.” Rob unscrewed the cap on one of the front tubes by hand and turned the pack upside down. Two pieces of metal held together loosely at one end by a bolt through them slid out. “Swivel the two bits round edge to edge and you’ve got a spanner. The back two side supports and this front one are solid rods, not tube, but screwed together tightly. That gives any shoppers three three-foot iron bars for self-defence.”
“You need them and if this works we’ll fit shorter ones in some of the other packs. You called the shopping off because of how many armed gangsters were there last time, and cut it short the time before. We need groceries, Harold.” Liz sighed. “You only take big men but even so you’re all unarmed and someone will get badly hurt sooner or later.”
Harold swivelled the bits of metal round and yes, the oddly shaped ends turned into the jaws of a spanner. “I called the shopping off last time because there were new computer games on sale and every nutter in town brought a machete and a bad attitude. Though I will try this next time, thanks.” He grinned. “Iron bars are actually better than a baseball bat and scarier as well.”
“No, Jeremy will try it.” Holly, Liz, Rob and Casper all agreed.
“I ought to do it. I can’t risk someone else.” Harold simply wouldn’t order anyone to take that chance even if the idea looked sound.
“No need. Jeremy has been bringing flowers back from scavenging, for Matti, and he’s volunteered.” Patty clasped her hands and rolled her eyes upwards. “To show the fair maid what a big strong macho bloke he is. He’s in lurve.”
“His brain is still jelly since Matti kissed him after you killed Jon.” Holly grinned. “Worse, Matti is encouraging him, but just a little bit.”
“She didn’t ask him, did she, because that’s taking unfair advantage. Sort of like playing cards with a drunk.”
“Oh no, but she’s mentioned privately that she might reward him. Something to do with ruffled and breathless.” Liz tried very hard not to burst out laughing and more or less made it.
“Cripes. Is Doll competing?”
“No Harold, or his brain really would be jelly. Doll said she had the stopwatch. From that grin you understand the code.” Casper wagged a finger. “Give. I hate not knowing.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“No they aren’t.” Holly smirked. “I’ll tell you all later.”
* * *
Shopping with an iron bar definitely felt more restful. Harold headed for the spices and stopped in his tracks. “Tessa?” Harold really wasn’t sure. Firstly because he hadn’t seen Tessa in years except as a succession of photos in Stone’s wallet. Her appearance confused him as well because Tessa had always dressed to kill, in the nicest way. Or at least dressed to stun a seventeen-year old Harold. Now Tessa wore no makeup, a shapeless jacket and a long loose skirt with trainers.
“Harry? It is! What are you doing in this shit-hole? I thought you were in the Army?” Tessa glanced nervously around. “Watch out, we’ve got a minder and we’re not allowed to talk to others.”
“What gang?”
“Hot Rods. Christ, Harry, are you in a gang? You must be.” Tessa curled a lip as she took in the iron bar and two muscular men behind Harold with similar weapons.
“Orchard Close. We’re a bit different.”
“I’ve heard of them.” Tessa smiled which made her look a lot more like Harold remembered. “I’m pleased, but why are you here at all and not the other side of the bypass with a bloody great rifle?”
“I came to get Sharyn out and we didn’t make it.” Harold glanced back. “That lot loading up at the end are with me. These two ruffians are Casper and Alfie and one’s too young and the other too gay to be the sort of gangster you normally deal with.”
“Probably not too young going by some of the animals we see.” Tessa smiled at Casper. “Are you really gay or is Harry winding me up?”
“We call him Harold now, and yes, I’m the Orchard Fairy. Do you have any lumberjacks where you live?”
“Sod off. You’re as bad as him, though he’s lost the pimples and blush now. Ooh look, no he hasn’t.” Tessa raised her voice just a bit. “Pete, bring Eddy will you?” She turned back to Harold. “You remember Pete, my little brother? Eddy is Edward, you know about him.”
“Cripes yes, Stones only mentioned little Ed about fifty thousand times. How old is he now?” A sour-faced youth with a small boy in tow came around from the next aisle, carrying half a dozen carrier bags.
“Cripes?” Tessa sniggered. “Eddy is nearly four. Eddy, this is Uncle Harry, or would have been if you’d ever seen him.”
“Oy you.” Harold turned and the Hot Rod stopped. “Oh, it’s you. I thought you were all fixed up with that blonde piece.” He grinned. “I’ve seen your women so why are you trying to poach another?”
“I’m not. I’m supposed to be looking for spices so I asked this woman for advice.” Harold nodded to Tessa. “Thanks.” He took a half dozen packets and hoped someone would use them. Harold knew that Cadillac would love having a friend of Soldier Boy’s under his thumb, and that it wouldn’t be good for Tessa.
“Where’s your fancy stick?” The Hot Rod eyed up the iron bars.
“That’s for official spankings.” Harold hefted the bar. “This is for smacking cheeky oiks.” Harold moved away, looking at other shelves as if totally disinterested in the woman behind him.
“Fair enough, though I prefer a blade.” The youth turned to Tessa and Pete. “Come on, haven’t you done yet?”
Once around the end of the aisle Harold heaved a sigh of relief. Until the guard turned up he’d relaxed, not even thinking of the consequences for Tessa if Cadillac or even Cooper realised who she knew. “Who was that? She made you blush, just a little bit.” Casper grinned. “Ooh, gossip. Wait until I tell Holly.” Behind Casper, half a dozen men including Jeremy and Tim smiled and leaned forward to hear.
“Cripes yes, because staggering home will take a while.” Alfie looked at his list. “These veg will weigh a ton. Oh, er, can we go round by the ribbons and lace and stuff like that?”
Harold watched a pink tinge spread over Alfie’s face. “Ribbons and lace?”
“A private request so you don’t know so don’t look, all right?”
Casper laughed. “She should have asked me. Harold wouldn’t have been surprised if I bought lace.” His lip curled. “Though the selection here is a bit vanilla, cheap scratchy nylon stuff that costs a fortune. It’s a good job I’m butch.”
“I would have thought the scavengers found enough frills to keep them going. Don’t worry Alfie, I’m no longer interested in what other women are wearing under their jeans or skirts.” Harold endured some good-natured ribbing from all the rest about being hen-pecked and how Holly might be keeping his interest fixed on only one woman.
Though there wasn’t much teasing or even talking on the way back, because they all needed their breath for carrying the packs. Missing two trips meant this shopping list leaned heavily towards bulk goods such as potatoes and all nine men were heavily loaded. Once home Harold did tell Sharyn he’d met Tessa, and endured her teasing as she told Holly about seventeen-year old crushes while Harold denied any such thing. Holly pointed out later that since Tessa wasn’t in Harold’s memento box she wasn’t worried, but there might be questions if Harold bumped into the garter woman.
* * *
“Cripes Cadillac. Have you raided an armoury?” Harold looked closer. “Or maybe a scrapyard. Some of those look really rough.” Harold pointed to a small calibre rifle with a crushed barrel. “I can’t mend that for starters.”
“Now we’re all informal you might as well call me Caddi.” Cadillac pointed at Harold’s machete. “I’ve spoken to the GOFS and Geeks, and that’s agreed with bosses now.” He curled a lip. “Senior manager if you’re a Geek. They really are a bunch of twats, though nasty twats who make a really mean looking crossbow. My lot were impressed and I’ve bought a couple.”
“I swapped that bow, the one with all the wires and pulleys, for another crossbow. That Tell reckons he can use it and none of mine can.” Harold grinned. “Alfie loves the crossbow though.” He glanced down at his machete. “Can I bring my stick in the future?”
“Instead of a machete? Yeah, why not. Now, you’ve been eyeing up this lot while we were nattering so what can you fix? I’ll want credit for the buggered up rifle as spares.” Caddi pointed at one of the revolvers. “We can’t even get the cylinder out of that and the bloke used it as a club.”
“I can tell. These really are a lot rougher than your usual offering and that rifle is worth sod all even as spares. It’s not a common calibre.”
“I get it, the repairs will be more expensive. Just to put your mind at rest we’re having a little disagreement with the neighbours.” Caddi bared his teeth. “We’re adjusting the border a little bit and these were left behind by the Ferdinands after our first disagreement.”
“Who?” Harold liked to get news about other gangs, if only as prior warning if any turned up.
“The Ferdinands. They’re based in a sports stadium and wear those American football helmets and shoulder pads. I reckon they’ve watched too many Mad Max movies though they’ve got a hell of a lot of aluminium baseball bats.” Caddi hunched himself forward. “Now stop dicking about. What can you fix and what will it cost in my hard-earned coupons and powder?” Caddi held up a hand. “I know, propellant.”
“Not quite yet, because if you want a good deal I have to be in a good mood, not frustrated by half-answers. Mad Max? The desert thing with idiots racing about on motorbikes and in beach buggies?” Caddi nodded and Harold frowned. “How come we haven’t seen that, motorbikes? They’re in every disaster movie, like feral dog packs.” Harold paused. “You’ve got a couple of motorbikes out there.”
Caddi laughed. “The Ferdinands did that, came hammering in on dirt bikes, and there’s two reasons we don’t use the bloody things. First, with all the fucking regulations and the insurance, not so many city lads learned to ride one recently.” Caddi waved a hand at the desk. “The second is what happens when something hits the bike or the rider and why we collected these. They part company and then the bloke hits the road, a wall, a car, and definitely not a soft sand dune. We use the bikes for fast messengers and patrolling the bits the cars can’t get to, because we’ve got a couple of suicidal idiots to ride them. We started that when someone mentioned strangers on bicycles.” Harold ignored Caddi’s long look and he hunched forward again. “I could bring in the dancing girls if you’re still frustrated? Or we could sort these out?”
“I can concentrate on these now, thanks.” Because Caddi would bring real dancing girls.
On the way home Harold smiled quietly to himself because for half a mile around the Mansion there were barely two bricks on top of another. Just under half a mile away the blunt concrete silhouette of a fifteen story block of flats had finally defeated Caddi’s paranoia. Part of the smile was relief, because if the Hot Rods were at war on their other frontier they’d be too busy for mischief elsewhere.
Harold glanced in the rear view mirror. Caddi had sent an escort to keep his nine firearms safe on the journey since, as he put it, Soldier Boy swanned about on his own and someone might be tempted. The SUV directly behind Harold, the first of three cars and three motorbikes, had the front grill off a Rolls Royce bolted to the front complete with the winged lady. The driver, introduced as Rolls Royce, seemed to be polite and urbane but Harold knew that if the bloke wore overalls he had to be a nasty sod. Chevy, the muscular man Harold had first seen slapping gangsters about, subscribed to the Cooper school of blatant nastiness.
* * *
“We’ve got puppies!” Holly hooked an arm in Harold’s and swung him around. “Barley has had a crop. Five waggy tails.”
“Five? How many will Lucky have?” Harold had visions of spending his life hunting rats to feed dogs.
“Up to eight.” Holly’s big smile faltered. “Cripes, that’s nineteen dogs altogether. How did that happen?”
“This woman said she wanted a puppy and in a moment of weakness I said yes. Then her cohorts kidnapped job lots of dogs and threatened to cry if I let them go.” Harold laughed. “Oh gods we’ve done it again. I hope you enjoy skinning rats.”
“We could bring them up uncivilised? The five new adults don’t insist on skinned.” Holly tugged Harold’s hand. “Come on grumpy. Come and see the wrigglies.”
Harold found several people peeking through a door and looked as well. “Those aren’t wriggling.”
“They’ve been busy at the milk bar and now mummy needs rest and babies need to sleep. Shoo, everyone.” Seth waved a threatening hand. “Or else. Oh, Harold. Who wants a puppy?”
“Not yet Seth. You’re the babysitter until they’re at least six weeks according to the books. How did the birth go?”
“Kinda gross. There again Barley and Malt eat raw rat so I guess maybe not that gross.” Seth sighed. “Berry will need a little while because there were six and one just never made it. Can she burn the body and all that?”
“Spread the ashes? Probably best just on the edge because that sergeant up there won’t allow us on the exclusion zone with puppy ashes. He damn near didn’t let us spread Sandy’s.” Harold glanced through to where the pups were. “Are you OK with all this? You might lose more because we haven’t got a vet or proper food.”
“Yes thanks.” Seth smiled, just a little one. “There are benefits.”
“Just don’t let Nigel find you playing happy families.” Harold raised a finger as Seth started to protest. “With puppies. What on earth did y
ou think I meant?” He grinned as Seth spluttered.
“Do I get a puppy, Harold?”
“Probably, Holly. You’d better decide if you want a Lucky sized one or a Barley sized one, though Barley size might be a bit of a lottery. These are all very different sizes and one is definitely fluffy.” Harold grinned. “Decide now and prepare your arguments because Daisy will want one of each and then the fluffy version as well.”
“Cripes yes. I’d like a bigger one, but can I fend off Daisy long enough? I need the doggy books.”
“Why?”
Holly smirked. “To check dates because if Lucky will be producing before Barley’s lot wean, then it’ll be easier. Now we’d better go and see how Casper is settling in.”
“Yes, he’s really taken to Fury.” Harold shook his head. “I never thought the daft lump would move out of the girl club.”
“It’s the only way to get Fury calmed down and properly socialised according to Casper. He, Fury I mean, needs a home environment which includes sleeping in a house.” Holly scowled. “Fury can’t do that in the girl club. He goes for anyone with a dark skin, even Umeko and hers is only sort of olive. That name doesn’t fill me with confidence.”
“Tyson Fury was a world heavyweight boxing champion.”
“I know, you said, but when the dog sees Emmy or Suzie or, well, you know.” Holly smiled and hugged Harold’s arm. “But Thandia is a real love.”
“That big slobbery lump is called Thandia? That’s different.” Very, Harold couldn’t place the word at all.
“She’s called that because of what June said, about finding a safe place. Umeko came up with the name because it means just that, though her version had more accents and a hesitation. We anglicised it.” Holly giggled. “A name like that should be a relief after Sooty.”
“Patty reckons she can get a scarf out of black hair if someone can work out how to spin the brushing debris into yarn. Cripes, that’s a hell of a doorbell.” Harold took a step back before the door opened.
