by Liza Cody
‘Just like that?’ Lynn said.
‘Just like that.’
‘And then?’
‘And then he started going out with the girl on the cosmetics counter who didn’t run. And he divorced me.’
‘What about the bloke in the van?’ Lynn asked.
‘Oh it was only the once,’ Mandy said. ‘I never saw him again after that one time in the back of his van. I sort of gave up interest in running after that.’
Well, you could see her point, couldn’t you? Anyway, running isn’t much fun at the best of times.
‘I had a bloke like that once,’ Bella said. ‘He thought I was having it off with every feller I talked to. So I avoided fellers like the plague. And then he turns round and accuses me of being a lesbian with all me girlfriends. You can’t win. What tapes you brought, Mandy? I’m getting cold.’
So Mandy put a tape on. It wasn’t anything decent – like Megadeath or Guns’n’Roses – but you could do a simple eight-count to it. And I got to say, Mandy was right. They did look a lot better to music. You could almost forget what they were, and think they was a bunch of ordinary women at a keep fit class.
But I was thinking.
Bella thought she was so clever. She thought I made a mistake about Mandy. But I didn’t. Well, all right, I was surprised that fat Mandy had ever been thin Mandy. But that was the only surprise.
Fat Mandy told a story about thin Mandy. The story wasn’t about the London Marathon. No. It was about Mandy being totally under some bloke’s thumb. Which is where I’d expect her to be. So I wasn’t wrong, was I?
I grabbed Mandy once. In the alley where Dawn got clobbered. Remember? And she just stood there wobbling like a jelly-bag. She didn’t do nothing. And that’s what made me right and Bella wrong. Suck on that, Bella Big Mouth.
So I waited – ’cos I’m a patient person. I waited till the girls had finished the stretch and warm-up stuff. And then I picked on fat Mandy again.
There she was, pink and breathless, fat little cheeks jubbling, right pleased with herself for taking charge.
So I picked on her. I didn’t do nothing canny. I just caught her by the throat, two-handed, and shoved her back against the wall. She let out this squawk and went all boneless. Just like she did before.
‘Oy!’ Bella said. ‘Stop that. You’re hurting her.’
‘No I ain’t,’ I said. ‘I’m holding her. She’s hurting herself.’
And I let go. Mandy had gone all limp, so she fell on the floor.
‘You got no call to do that,’ Bella said. She was standing in her favourite pose. Hands on hips. But she never moved an inch towards me. When fat Mandy fell all of a heap, though, she went to help her up.
‘Too late,’ I said. ‘Pathetic.’
‘Bitch!’ Stef said.
‘That’s better, coming from you,’ I said. ‘Last time I did that – in the alley – remember? Last time, you didn’t even say gosh-o-golly. You stood there like a wet weekend and did nothing.’
I waited till the girls got Mandy stood up again. And then I attacked her. Same thing. Two hands on her fat throat.
‘Look!’ I said. ‘She’s got both hands and one foot free. And what’s she doing? Nothing! That’s what she’s doing. She’s got her big mouth open. Is she shouting or screaming? No she isn’t. And what are you lot doing?’
I let go of Mandy and turned to face them.
‘You’re doing nothing,’ I said. ‘She’s your mate, ain’t she? She’s one of you. But you’re all stood there with nothing better to say than “Oy!”’
‘Oh, I see,’ Bella said. ‘You’re learning us. Well that’s all right then.’
‘No it ain’t all right,’ I said.
‘Don’t shout at us!’ Stef said.
‘Why not?’ I said. ‘I can do anything to you I like. ’Cos you won’t stop me. There’s five of you and one of me. And you won’t do nothing to stop me.’
‘I will,’ Bella said, and she took a kick at my leg. I could see by her hard painted face she meant it. I sidestepped.
‘That’s better,’ I said. ‘That’s more like it. Legs hurt. Give someone a nice whack on the shin or the knee, and he’ll know all about it.’
‘But you’ll just get people angry,’ Mandy said, from her cringe by the wall.’
‘I didn’t get you angry, did I?’ I said. ‘Why the fuck not? I went for your throat. I was right in your face, pinning you up against the wall. You should be fucking angry. But you ain’t. Why not?’
‘Dunno,’ Mandy said. ‘I was scared. You took me by surprise.’
‘Surprise?’ I said. ‘Surprise? Gimme strength! And you doing what you do for a living. Out alone at night with some bloke you never saw before in your life. Nothing should surprise you, girl, nothing. Now if he gave you a box of chocolates and a ticket to the ballet – that might be a surprise. But not if he does something nasty. Where you been?’
They really got up my nose, standing round gawping like they did. It was them who took the risks. Not me. It should be them telling me. Not me telling them.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘Unroll them mattresses. Spread ’em out on the floor. We don’t want anyone hurt too much.’
They hopped to it. And I suddenly thought it was sort of okay being an expert – having people who did what I said.
‘Right,’ I said, when they’d finished. ‘Mandy. I started with you so I’ll go on with you. Come here. On the mat. Now, I’m putting my hands round your throat. Not surprised, are you?’
‘No.’ Mandy giggled. ‘You’re tickling me.’
‘Shut up. You got four weapons. What are they?’
‘Um,’ Mandy said. ‘Two hands and two feet.’
‘Wrong. You got two hands and one foot. You got to keep one foot to stand on.’
‘That’s only three,’ Mandy said. ‘You said I got four weapons.’
‘You got your fucking voice, dozy.’
‘Oh.’
‘Not “Oh”,’ I said. ‘AAAAGH!’
I opened my throat and blasted them all in the eardrums. Mandy nearly dropped dead of fright.
‘Surprised?’
She nodded.
‘So will he be. Okay, your turn. Shout at me.’
‘Aaah.’
‘Listen, stupid,’ I said. ‘You want to shock him. And you want to make enough noise to get help.’
‘If there’s anyone around,’ Bella said.
‘So when I say shout, you shout. Really shout.’
Mandy tried again, and I thought a mouse would make more noise. Inside a python.
‘All do it together,’ I said. Because, like I notice with the fight crowd, people will do things in a bunch they’d be ashamed of alone.
‘On a count of three,’ I said, ‘one, two, three.’
You wouldn’t believe the racket those five pros made. I had to cover me ears, and if the windows hadn’t been boarded up the glass would’ve shattered. They was really enjoying themselves, stamping their little feet, screaming, laughing, and then screaming again.
‘You can stop now,’ I said. Well, I didn’t say it. I yelled it. But they never heard. Or maybe they heard but they took no notice. ‘SHUT UP!’ I yelled. But they didn’t.
Crystal came belting inside going, ‘Wha? Wha? Whassa matter?’
And Justin came down from upstairs, all pale and worried-looking.
But the girls went on screaming and rolling round on the mats.
‘They was practising shouting,’ I told Crystal. ‘But now they won’t stop. I dunno what got into them.’
But Crystal was watching and smiling. And Justin had a big grin pasted on. So I went into the back and put the kettle on.
Everywhere I go I’m surrounded by fools. They all carry on like fruit-bats. Sometimes I think I’m the only one left with any marbles.
I made my tea and waited till the ruckus died down. Then I went back, and, stripe me pink and spot me blue, they were all lolling around on the mats chatting. I’ve nev
er known a bunch like it for sitting on their padded parts and chat-chat-chatting.
‘Right,’ I said, taking charge. ‘Where were we? Mandy? Come on.’
‘Do I have to?’ Mandy said. ‘I’m knackered.’
‘You haven’t done no self-defence yet,’ I said. ‘What you going to do about that?’
‘Always use a condom,’ Bella said. And they all went off into fits again.
‘It isn’t funny,’Justin said. ‘It’s true. First line of defence.’
‘Don’t teach your grandmother to suck eggs,’ Bella said. ‘What you think we are? Babies?’
‘Shut up, all of you,’ I said. ‘Come on, Mandy.’
So Mandy heaved herself up and stood there like a great blister. I went to her, hands out, to grab her throat. And, would you believe it – she kicked me!
Not an ordinary kick at my legs. Oh no. She went for the high kick. She knocked my hand, and if I hadn’t swerved, she’d’ve landed one on my chin.
I went for her again, and she kicked me again. This time I caught her foot in my hand – just to show her how dangerous it was. For her. I could’ve wrenched her leg up higher and tipped her on her back. But I didn’t. I just let her go. I waited till the leg was going down, and then I grabbed her throat. All the others were going, ‘Ooh, aah.’
‘Good stuff, Mandy,’ I said. ‘But don’t try it more than once. High kicks put you off balance. And what about shouting?’
‘Yaaargh!’ she went. And she started hacking at my shins and ankles. She went at it like a frigging mule, and I had to dance this way and that to stop one landing.
In the end I let go. She stood puffing and sweating.
‘Way to go, Mandy,’ I said. ‘But what you doing, just stood there? What next?’
And she came at me like a runaway train flailing her arms.
‘No!’ I yelled, sidestepping. ‘No, not that.’
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I just got pissed off, you always picking on me.’
‘Fuck it!’ I yelled. ‘Don’t say sorry. You should be pissed. S’pose I’m a bloke and I grab you by the throat. You fight me off. You don’t stand there and say sorry. What you got to be sorry about? He’s the one should be sorry.’
‘What, then?’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘you don’t go back and attack him either. He’s faster than you and he’s stronger than you. And sure as muffins he’s nastier than you, or he wouldn’t’ve grabbed your throat. No, when you’ve broken free, you run like the clappers and you make as much noise as you possibly can.’
‘Personal alarms,’ Crystal said. ‘I think I can get hold of some.’ No one asked her where.
‘Can I sit down now?’ Mandy said. ‘I’m sweating.’
‘Lynn,’ I said. I wasn’t going to pick Bella because of those two-inch purple fingernails.
‘Me?’ Lynn said. ‘Do I have to?’
‘Yeah. Come here.’ Lynn was from the country somewhere. At least that’s what she said when she told that disgusting thing about the frogs, but she looked pretty normal. Well, more normal than the others. Which was why I picked her. I couldn’t pick Kath because I didn’t know what to do about those bosoms. And Stef looked like one breath would blow her flat. Bella, as I said, would claw me eyes out, and suck ’em like gumballs, if I let her.
‘This next bit’s about hands,’ I said, when I had Lynn stood in front of me. ‘Mandy done good with her feet. She went for all the painful bits – shins, knees and ankles. But she forgot the groin, which was stupid. And she didn’t use her hands.’
‘That’s right, girls,’ Bella said. ‘It’s stupid to forget the groin.’
‘Always use your hands,’ said Kath and then the whole bunch neighed and snickered like the dirty mares they were.
I said, ‘Why don’t you two hang yourselves upside down and crap on your own heads?’
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Crystal said. ‘And before I forget, Stef, there’s a message for you outside.’
‘Okay,’ Stef said. And she went.
Everything was falling apart.
‘If that’s the way you feel,’ I said, ‘I’m off home. You’re none of you serious anyway.’
‘Don’t be like that, Eva,’ Crystal said. ‘You made a start. Everyone learned lots. Didn’t they Bella? Bella?’
‘Okay,’ Bella said. ‘Don’t mind us, Eva. We just ain’t used to being organised.’
‘Well, all right then,’ I said. ‘But you better shape up next time.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Crystal said.
‘I got a fight tomorrow. I got to get sharp.’
‘Earlier then? A short session.’
‘Today could’ve been a short session, if they didn’t spend all their time farting around and nattering.’
‘May I join in tomorrow?’ Justin asked.
‘You?’
‘It sounded really interesting.’
‘You ain’t a sI … a woman.’
‘Guys get picked on too, you know.’
Which is true. I s’pose. Especially if they’re young and pretty like Justin. Everyone pretty gets picked on. Actually, come to think of it, you only need to look out of the ordinary, one way or the other, and people think you’re up for grabs. I used to get picked on myself when I was young. And it wasn’t ’cos I was pretty.
‘Money!’ I said. I’d forgotten – which wasn’t like me at all. ‘I’m not doing this for free, you know.’
Chapter 12
The market was packing up. It was dark. I decided to go to Hanif’s because I was running out of food at the Static. I’d only gone a couple of steps when someone in the shadows said, ‘Oy, Bucket Nut!’
I didn’t stop. Why should I? Do you stop whenever any Tom, Dick or Harry says, ‘Oy’?
‘Oy, you!’ he said again.
‘Oy you yourself,’ I said, and I went on.
‘I’m talking to you,’ he said, coming out of the shadows.
‘Talk to yourself,’ I said. ‘I’m busy.’
‘I know you’re busy,’ he said. ‘I been watching you.’
He had a sneery stoatish way of talking so I stopped to take a look at him. He was about my height – which is not short – but he wore his trousers at half-mast with a belly-roll oozing over the belt. His cap sagged over his little eyes and his nose had woodworm.
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘I been watching you. I seen your little set-up. And I reckon you could do with a partner.’
‘You what?’ I said. ‘You seen nothing I want a partner for.’
‘I ain’t offering,’ he said. ‘I’m telling. You need a partner. Fifty-fifty, and that’s being fair – I could cut you right out. But I won’t.’
‘No you won’t,’ I said. ‘And shall I tell you for why? It’s because if I see you stoating round my door just one more time I’ll spread you flat and butter my bread with you. I don’t like you.’
And I walked off. I mean, what did a bloke with a belly-roll know about self-defence? What right did he have muscling in on my patch? I’d show him muscle he never even heard of.
‘You better listen when I talk,’ he shouted after me. ‘I got mates.’
‘You need ’em,’ I shouted back. ‘But I don’t believe you.’
If he had mates, they’d have herpes. They’d be creepy-crawles like him. They’d be miserable old blokes who never had a single idea in their lives except to make money off the backs of others.
I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again – if you got something, stick to it like shit to a blanket. Because, no matter what it is, even if it’s only a dirty old shop-front gym and a self-defence class, some miserable stoat will want to take half. Half he hasn’t earned.
And let me tell you – Eva Wylie, the London Lassassin, did not come into this world just to make things easy for stoats.
It’s not that I’m bloody-minded – I’m a helpful sort, really. I mean look what I’m doing to help Crystal and Bella and that crowd. It ain’t for free, granted. But I work for my gelt
. I put up with a lot. And, ask yourself, do I want anything for free? Do I complain? No I do not. There should be more around like me, and the world’s be a better place.
At Hanif’s I bought bread and bananas. I bought tins of beef stew and a couple of pork pies. Then I went back to the Static to sort myself out and check my gear.
I let the dogs out. I changed their water. I dusted their bedding with flea powder. And that reminded me. I needed a bath.
Normally I shower at Sam’s Gym. But these wasn’t normal times. There is a little shower stall in the Static but it works off electricity. The Static is not connected to mains electricity. It could be. It once was. But not any more. No electrics. No electric bills. Simple.
You think you need electricity, don’t you? Well, you don’t. That’s what the electricity company wants you to think. They want you to think you can’t do without. And when they’ve got you thinking that way they put their prices up. And up and up and up. And you suckers, who think you can’t do without, pay. And pay and pay and pay.
Not me. I’ve got candles and torches for light. I got wood and paraffin for heat. I got gas cylinders for me stove.
What I ain’t got is meters, or someone with his nosy little calculator totting up how much I use and how much I owe. I don’t rent his equipment. I don’t need him or his goods. I’m free. Hand on heart, can you say that?
I put a pan of water on the stove and ate a pork pie while it heated up. I like a nice hot shower – true – but I can get clean without.
After that, I checked my gear. I hung my black costume up to air, I made sure my boots were sound and the laces were strong, I inspected the straps on my kneepads. I don’t want no broken straps or laces when I’m in the ring. I want to be perfect. Imagine a wrestler with her costume held together by safety pins! I don’t want to spoil my image, do I? I’m a villain, and villains and safety pins don’t mix. Mean hard villains got to have mean hard gear. I couldn’t believe in myself if I was falling out of my gear.
I ran my black belt through my fingers, and tugged at the buckle. I like that belt. It looks like power and control. It’s hard, and it’s supple. Like me. I’m hard and supple. I can dish it out, and I can take it. I just wish there was more competition around so I could prove it to more people.
