by Liza Cody
I just wish I could fight on TV like they do in America. Then everyone would know. I’d be mega-famous and filthy rich and no one, no one, would mess me around. There’d be no stinking stoats popping out of the shadows going, ‘Oy Bucket Nut.’ No – it’d be ‘’Scuse me, Ms Wylie, might I take a few seconds of your precious time?’
And I’d say, ‘Make it quick, my good man. The chauffeur’s waiting.’
I’d have all the erks and bims grovelling. Believe me, I would!
I’d have a proper trailer with a proper shower in it. The trailer would be made of reinforced stainless steel and polished up like a silver bullet. The trim would be black and it’d have ‘The London Lassassin’ painted on the side so everyone’d know I was there.
I’d have a black and silver Rolls-Royce to pull the trailer.
I could go anywhere I liked and still be at home.
Ramses and Lineker could have a small trailer of their own. We’d be the Mobile London Lassassin and Her Hounds from Hell.
Crystal would have to make an appointment with my receptionist if she wanted to see me.
‘Ms Wylie’ll see you now,’ the receptionist’d say. ‘Knock before you enter. Oh, and take this mug of tea and plate of doughnuts through when you go in. Ms Wylie likes a little something this time of an afternoon.’
And Crystal would knock and come in, and she’d see Mr Deeds on his knees begging me to be top of his bill. He’d be arranging a fixture at the Albert Hall, and the only one who could fill the Hall would be the London Lassassin. Me.
He’d say, ‘Oh Eva … sorry, I mean Ms Wylie, I’ll be ruined if you don’t agree to make a guest appearance. There ain’t no one more popular than you.’
And I’d say, ‘I’ll have to look in my diary. You don’t want me to fight in a mask, do you?’
And he’d go, ‘I must’ve been bonkers to suggest that. It was all the fault of those two twats Gruff Gordon and Pete Carver. I fired them ages ago. They’re sleeping at the Salvation Army Hostel these days. I’ll go down there and pour battery acid on their beds if you like.’
‘Suit yourself,’ I’d go. ‘Pete who? Gruff who? I been too busy signing autographs to remember them.’
And then, see, I’d notice Crystal. She wouldn’t just pop up and grab my elbow like she does. She’d be standing there waiting to be noticed. So I’d notice her. In me own time. And I’d say, ‘What you want, monkey face?’
But I’d know what she wanted. Because I’d of just done this self-defence video. Y’know? Like Jane Fonda only serious. And Crystal wants to sell it on her stall. ‘Be Tough The Eva Wylie Way’, that’s what I’d call it. Or ‘The London Lassassin’s Secrets of Personal Security’.
‘Oy monkey face,’ I’d say, ‘the deal’s this – ninety-five per cent to me, five per cent to you. Take it or leave it.’
And she’d go, ‘Oh thank you, Ms Wylie, thank you. Five per cent of what you make will keep me for a year.’
And then Mr Deeds’d say, ‘Please, please, please, Ms Wylie, can I put your picture on my posters for the Albert Hall?’
‘All right,’ I’d say, ‘but there’s conditions.’
‘What?’ he’d go. ‘Anything. You only got to say.’
‘I’m top of the bill. I get me own dressing room with a lavvy and a shower. I pick me own opponent. I pick the music. I don’t want none of that sugar stuff like “Three Steps to Heaven”. I want proper music. Maybe I’ll get Axl Rose to do it live. I’m fed up coming out to “Satisfaction”. Why should I come out to a song so old it was a hit before I was born? And I want gold chains for Ramses and Lineker.’
‘It’s yours,’ Mr Deeds says. ‘Everything.’
So I go, ‘Don’t you want to know who I pick to fight?’
‘Who?’
And I wait and wait till his knees hurt – he’s still kneeling – and then I say, ‘I think, seeing as it’s the Albert Hall, and all the telly cameras will be there …’
‘Yes?’
‘And all those millions of fans will want something special …’
‘Yes? Tell me.’
‘Maybe I’ll do something different.’
‘What?’
‘I think I’ll fight …’
‘Who?’
‘I think I’ll fight California Carl!’
He gasps. Crystal faints.
‘But,’ he says, ‘you can’t. You’re a woman. It’s never been done before.’
‘So much the better,’ says I.
‘But California Carl is a maniac,’ he says. ‘We can’t risk it. It’s too dangerous.’
‘I’ll risk it,’ I say. ‘We got a score to settle – California and me.’
‘But he’s in chokey. He’s banged up for seven years, for Grievous Bodily Harm, multiple murder and cruelty to animals.’
‘Get him out,’ I say. ‘Clean him up and bring him to me. Midnight at the Albert Hall. I’ll show you how dangerous he is. Do it, or I won’t be there.’
So he does it.
Meanwhile, I’ve gone into strict training with Harsh as my personal trainer. We go to an island. Just the two of us. And while we’re there he teaches me The Secret Eastern Method of Ultimate Strength which he is only allowed to tell someone as worthy and pure as what I am.
And that’s how – at the Albert Hall, in front of millions of punters and viewers – I meet California Carl in a Titanic Struggle. Axl Rose is there in person, and the Royal family, and I see them standing up and hissing California. But they’re cheering for me.
I’ve never actually been to the Albert Hall so I don’t know what it looks like, but I expect it’s all gold and red. I’d be in black, so I’d really stand out under all them spotlights. And I’d have a black and silver satin cloak made specially for the occasion. And Harsh would hold it for me when I stripped down in the ring.
Oh, I was in a lovely mood when I went to bed that morning. A good mind-movie can keep you going for hours if you’re lucky enough to get one.
The other bit of luck was that I didn’t have any erk or bim spoiling it. I did my rounds, and went to The Enemy’s places without seeing a single soul.
So I woke up feeling exactly as I ought on the day of a fight. Fight days are special days. I suppose they wouldn’t be if I was on as many bills as the blokes are. But I’m not, so they are. A fight day is my day. Like a birthday. So I’m very particular about it. I’m particular about what I eat and how I train.
I had a few banana sandwiches and tea for my breakfast and then I went to the Premises to work out. All I need is a spot of light training. I don’t want to tire myself out or cop an injury, but I want to be toned and sharp. And I want my brain to run on the right road. Harsh says if you can imagine moves right, you’re halfway to doing them right.
The first thing I saw when I got to the Premises was Crystal with her stall parked outside the door like yesterday. The second thing I saw was Crystal had a face like a funeral.
Straight away she says, ‘Queenie died.’
‘Thought she would,’ I said. But it was a pity all the same.
‘Justin doesn’t know,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t tell him.’
‘But you could tell me,’ I said. ‘Great.’
‘She ain’t your dog. And then there’s her babies.’
Why can’t she use the right word for things? Calling pups ‘babies’! She just makes things worse than they are.
‘Pups,’ I said. ‘They’re puppies. Not babies.’
‘They ain’t doing too good neither. The vet says we may lose both of them. The littlest one’s in a bad way.’
‘What you telling me for?’
‘The vet says it’s ’cos Queenie was old, and when she mated, she mated with a big dog with a big head. Like a boxer or a … a Rot-something.’
‘Rottweiler.’ Ramses has a lot of Rottweiler in him, so I know.
‘So it killed her,’ Crystal said. ‘Who’d be female? Eh, Eva? If you don’t get a hammering one way you get it another.’
>
First she muddles up puppies and babies, now she was muddling up bitches and women. She probably still had Dawn on her mind. She was spoiling my special day.
‘I got to go,’ I said. I hate it when Crystal gets soppy.
‘So I was thinking,’ she said.
‘No,’ I said.
‘I was thinking, could you …’
‘No!’
‘Oh all right,’ she said. ‘But would you be nice to Justin?’
‘I’m always nice.’
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘But extra nice. ’Cos, like, he’s got bad news coming. When I get round to telling him.’
I went indoors and started warming up. The place smelled like hair spray from the women, but I took no notice and soon all I could smell was me working.
I don’t know why soppy eejits like Monkey Wrench think hard news will be softer if you have a nice day first. What was she going to do – take him to the zoo? Cook him chicken and chips? Let him watch his favourite programme on telly? And then say, ‘Oops, sorry, Justin, your dog died’?
Life’s hard. You got to be in training for it. If you’re expecting life to be hard you won’t go all to pieces when your dog dies. Having a nice day at the zoo won’t make it any better.
I was skipping up a storm when Justin himself walked in. I didn’t stop, so he lolled against the doorframe watching.
He said, ‘You’ve got really neat feet, Eva. It’s deceptive. You look so big and heavy, but you’re incredibly fast on your feet.’
‘Believe,’ I said, stone chuffed. Maybe the lad wasn’t such a ninny after all. Or maybe he wanted something.
‘What you want?’ I said.
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Just watching. If you don’t mind.’
I didn’t say anything, but with training, someone watching helps. With someone watching, you don’t skimp. You want to look good, so you do good. When you’re on your own all the time you can get a bit blue about the hard work and wonder why you bother. As soon as you start wondering why you bother, you stop bothering.
So I worked and he watched, and after a while Crystal popped in and said, ‘You sure you’re well enough to stand around in the cold, Justin?’
Justin said, ‘I’m feeling a lot better, thanks, Crystal.’
She said, ‘You’re looking better.’
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ he said. ‘It must be freezing out in the market.’
Crystal sort of blinked at him in surprise.
He said, ‘Are you ready for a cup of something hot, Eva?’
And I sort of blinked at him too. What with all the girls fussing round him like they was, it never occurred to me he could do anything for himself. That and his ninny voice made him seem like everyone’s baby.
He went out to the kitchen.
Crystal said, ‘Have you told him?’
‘What?’
‘About Queenie.’
‘Fuck off.’
‘Coffee or tea?’ Justin called.
‘Tea,’ Crystal said. And I started skipping again so Crystal couldn’t talk to me.
After a bit, Justin came back with a tray. A freakin’ tray! He’d got three mugs, milk, sugar in a bowl, teaspoons and biscuits. The biscuits were all arranged in a pretty pattern.
‘Poop in the soup,’ I said. ‘This is better than the caff.’
‘I like things nice,’ Crystal said sadly.
‘Have a chocolate biscuit,’ Justin said. ‘I know you like chocolate.’
I put my sweat shirt on to stop me cooling down too fast, and we sat on the mats drinking tea and noshing chocolate biscuits. Or rather, Crystal ate the chocolate ones. I ate the plain ones ’cos chocolate makes me spotty, and no one wants to be spotty in a leotard.
How did Justin know Crystal liked chocolate? I didn’t know that. I knew Dawn did, but Crystal just ate what she could get. Like me. It was the way he said, ‘I know you like chocolate,’ that made me think maybe she’d changed. Then I looked at her sitting cross-legged on the mat gripping her mug with her grubby little paws. Same old monkey face. She never cleaned her fingernails, and they were bitten down to the quick. Crystal would never waste her dosh on nail scissors.
After the tea, I didn’t have the time to start work again because Mandy came in with her blaster. She gave me a leery look, and said, ‘It ain’t going to be me you pick on all the time today, is it?’
Justin said, ‘She’s got to pick on someone. That’s the only way.’
And Mandy said, ‘Oh hello Justin. You’re looking better.’
‘I am better, thanks very much.’
‘You joining in today?’ Mandy said. And she did a girly little giggle which almost made my breakfast hit the back of my throat.
Crystal said, ‘Maybe he could do the warm-up, but he doesn’t want to tire hisself out.’
‘Is it okay if I just start and see how I feel?’ Justin said to me.
‘Suit yerself,’ I said, ‘but I ain’t running no playgroup.’
‘Don’t you go picking on him,’ said Mandy.
‘I’ll pick on who I like,’ I said, ‘till one of you stands up and stops me.’
And then the others raggle-taggled in looking like rejects from the Fun-Runners Ball, and Mandy put on a Michael Jackson tape.
It was a bit like the day before. I watched them flopping around, giggling, and trying to balance on one leg, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I mean, what do women think their bodies are for? You couldn’t blame anyone for thinking this bunch had been built just to stuff food in one end and men in the other.
I suppose, years ago, they must have been little kids who could run and jump and hop and skip. So what happened? Why can’t they do it any more? Why did they let themselves get into the sort of state where they can’t do it any more? It’s a mystery to me.
Didn’t they ever run and run and run for the sheer buzz of it? Didn’t one of them feel, if only she could get her little legs pumping fast enough she’d be able to take off, like a plane on a runway, and fly away from all the crap kids have to go through? Or was that only me?
‘Me bra hurts,’ said Kath with the bosoms.
‘I’m sweating. Yeugh!’ said Stef.
And I thought, you can’t help having bosoms but, if you’ve got them, what’s to stop you buying a bra that fits? And I thought, what’s wrong with sweating? You can’t help that either. Whoever it was who started the rumour about sweating being wrong for women was a fuckin’ genius. He must’ve made a fortune, and I hope he died in pain and went to hell.
‘We’re finished,’ Mandy said, all pink and proud. ‘How did we do?’
‘Well,’ I said. ‘At least you know what you’re trying to do even if you can’t do it.’ I thought they needed some encouragement.
‘Sod you too,’ said Bella.
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Lynn.’
‘Not me,’ Lynn said. ‘I’m off.’ And she made for the door.
‘You,’ I said. And I caught her by the arm just above the elbow.
‘Get off!’ she said, pulling away. I just stood firm and hung on.
‘Don’t you want to learn no self-defence?’ I said. ‘You want to learn something. You can’t even get out this door without I allow you to.’
‘Gerroff!’
But I jerked her in, and as she fell towards me I let go of her arm, wheeled round the back of her and got an arm round her throat. I wasn’t squeezing or nothing, but she made the classic mistake of trying to pull away. Then she grabbed my arm and tried to haul it down. When that didn’t work she tried to reach back over her head. And it was only when she found she couldn’t reach me that she tried her elbows.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Twist a little and then slam back.’
She twisted a bit and then drove with her right elbow. I let her hit me a glancing blow. I could tell she enjoyed it because she started to yell.
‘Yaaagh!’ she went. And because she’d remembered to yell, I let go and stood back.
‘I
did it!’ she said. ‘I did it.’
‘Yeah,’ I said. And I rubbed my ribs like I was hurt.
‘It’s your own fault,’ she said. ‘You shouldn’t be so rough.’
‘But you can be as rough as you like,’ I said. ‘Now, Bella …’
‘What?’
‘Get behind Lynn and put an arm lock round her throat like I did.’
‘Why me?’
‘’Cos I say so. I want to show her something.’
‘Can I stand on a chair?’ Bella said. ‘She’s taller than me.’
‘Who isn’t?’ I said. ‘Use your imagination. Grab her by the waist or something.’
So Bella went behind Lynn and put her arms round Lynn’s waist.
‘Ooh lovely,’ Lynn said. And all the others started laughing.
‘Shut up,’ I said, because I had a plan and I didn’t want them all gooey and giggling.
‘You got four weapons,’ I said. ‘What are they?’
‘Two arms,’ Lynn said, in a kiddy sort of voice, like she was at school and I was the teacher. ‘I got two arms, one leg and me voice.’
‘Right. Now, don’t pull away. ’Specially if someone’s got you by the throat. If you pull, you’ll only throttle yourself and make his job easier. Step back into him so you know where he is. Go on, Lynn, step back.’
So Lynn stepped back into Bella’s arms.
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Now. You know where his feet are, don’t you? And you know where his legs are. Right?’
‘Right,’ said Lynn.
‘So you can stamp on his foot or hack him in the shins. Right?’
‘Right,’ said Lynn.
‘Do it,’ I said. ‘Slowly.’
And Lynn trod back on to Bella’s foot. As soon as she made contact she got off again.
‘Now,’ I said. ‘Kick back like a horse. Gently.’
And Lynn kicked back and found Bella’s kneecap.
‘Good,’ I said. ‘Let go, Bella.’
Bella let go.
‘Now,’ I said. ‘Let’s make it more real. Stand with your back to the rest of us, Lynn, and shut your eyes. You’re out on your own in that alley. Right?’
‘Right,’ said Lynn.
‘Someone’s going to come up from behind and attack you. You don’t know who. You don’t know when. Right?’
