by Liza Cody
‘But Mr Deeds…’
‘You tell Mr Deeds a good villain’s born, not made. You can’t be a villain ’cos someone tells you. You got to want it.’
That fight with Olga had been better than cash in my pocket. That fight showed Olga she couldn’t have what’s on my plate. She couldn’t have what I wanted. She didn’t want what I wanted.
I could’ve told her, but she wouldn’t of believed me. So I had to show her. I express meself best out there in the ring. And out there in the ring I showed her she couldn’t have what was mine. She wasn’t up to it.
I won by being disqualified.
Maybe, when Mr Deeds saw Olga in her veggie patch he said to himself, ‘She’s big. She ain’t pretty. I’ll train her up and she’ll do as a villain.’
Maybe he thought, ‘I’ll use her as a stick to beat Eva with.’
Wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong. I showed him how wrong he was. And I showed Olga how wrong he was.
I won.
I was going to tell her the difference between villains and blue-eyes but just then we heard a great kerfuffle in the corridor. It sounded really interesting, so I opened the door.
The corridor was full of St John Ambulance men faffing around, telling each other what to do. They were carrying a stretcher but I couldn’t see who was on it. I didn’t know if someone was really hurt, or if someone had pulled a gag. I thought what a perfect night it would be if California Carl slipped on an ice cream cone and broke his neck.
But it wasn’t California on the stretcher. It was Bob ‘Hacker’ Smith.
When the corridor cleared Flying Phil came over. He said, ‘Shit, Eva, poor old Bob. He’ll be on the dole for a few months.’
‘What happened?’
‘California Carl,’ Phil said. ‘He went crazy. I don’t know what actually happened – maybe Bob said something – but Carl lost his rag. Bob’s got a torn groin and a broken leg. He’ll be out for ages.’
Chapter 17
When everything was all over I went out into the night. There was a bunch of fans waiting by the door, and some of them had come to see me. Crystal and the gang were there too – but I didn’t mind any more. I was glad they were there, ’cos they had to wait, see. They had to wait and watch me sign programmes and pictures.
Nobody bothered to ask Olga for her autograph. But they asked for mine. And bloody Bella saw them asking. That way she knew how important I was. So next time she thinks of some sarky thing to say, maybe she’ll think twice. Because now she knows I’m someone who signs autographs, and I’m not to be pissed around with.
A little kid tugged my sleeve. She didn’t say nothing – she just gave me her pen and programme. She was a wiry little thing with wanty blue eyes. I almost took her for a boy, but the bloke with her said, ‘Get a move on, Peggy.’
I signed her programme with a flourish – making sure Crystal and Bella could see. The little kid didn’t go away. She stood there wanting more. But she never said nothing.
‘Come on the bloke said. But she never, and I got on with a couple of other fans.
‘Do what you’re told!’ the bloke said and made a grab for her. But she dodged round the other side of me, and there she stayed till I was ready to go. She didn’t say nothing, she didn’t ask for nothing but she definitely wanted more. I know that look. ‘More,’ it says, ‘there isn’t enough!’
Well, there isn’t, is there? ’Specially when you’re a kid. You got to get big and strong and shout very loud if you’re going to get more. No one just gives it to you.
I snatched her programme back and I scribbled, ‘Stay bad,’ under where I’d wrote my name. Then the bloke grabbed her and dragged her away. I could see him giving her a right verbal. And I could see her not listening.
‘What did you write?’ Olga said. She’d been hanging around breathing down my neck although she was in my way and ought to be gone home.
‘That’s private,’ I said. Then I said, ‘I told her to be good.’ And that was my secret laugh.
Then Crystal said, ‘Kath’s Billy brought everyone in his van. Want a ride back?’
So we all piled in his old Ford Transit and left Olga waiting for Mr Deeds outside the sports centre. Gruff Gordon and Pete Carver watched us go. They were still poncing around for the fans. They’re a terrible pair of diddleoes but the fans don’t know that, and they’re a lot more popular than they deserve.
‘You were monster,’ Kath with the bosoms said to me. ‘When you came in a little kid near me wet hisself. I mean really wet.’
‘Yeah,’ I said. Maybe Kath wasn’t as daft as she looked.
‘I’d forgotten what it was like,’ Stef said. ‘I ain’t been to the wrestling for years.’
‘It’s a good night out,’ said Kath, nodding. ‘Takes you out of yourself.’
‘That California Carl’s a gorgeous animal,’ Mandy said. ‘A real animal. The way he threw that Hacker Smith out of the ring! It made my hair stand on end.’
‘What happened?’ I said.
‘Didn’t you see?’ Mandy said. ‘Well, there was a lot of needle. You could tell they hated each other. Old Hacker was really winding Carl up.’
Which is what Hacker’s paid for.
Mandy said, ‘And then the time came when Carl couldn’t take no more. He’d been a real gent up till then – y’know, taking the abuse and the cheating. So he picks Hacker up and held him way above his head.’
‘We was all cheering and shouting,’ Stef said.
‘And then he threw him right over the ropes,’ Mandy said.
‘And he sort of caught one of Hacker’s ankles as he was flying out the ring.’
‘So he flew out like a starfish,’ Stef said. ‘It was ever so dramatic. It looked like his leg was getting tore off. I swear I could hear something tearing – even where we was sat.’
‘Bollocks,’ said Bella. ‘It’s all a fix. They learn all that in wrestling school. Don’t they Eva?’
‘No they bloody don’t,’ I said.
‘You can’t kid me,’ Bella said. ‘That Hacker’s at the pub right now sinking pints and swapping dirty jokes with California Carl.’
‘No he ain’t,’ I said. ‘They took him down the hospital in a frigging ambulance.’
‘There!’ said Mandy to Bella. ‘I told you.’
‘You’re so naive,’ Bella said to Mandy. ‘He’s no more hurt than I am.’
‘He was,’ Mandy said. ‘Wasn’t he, Eva? I saw with my own two eyes.’
‘He’s got a broken leg and a torn groin,’ I said. ‘He’ll be out of the game for months if not for ever.’
‘Told you,’ Mandy said.
‘You’re plain daft.’
‘Not!’
‘Shut up,’ said Crystal.
I said nothing. The trouble with outsiders is they can’t tell fact from fancy. I wasn’t going to put them straight, ’cos it’s an unwritten rule with insiders that you’re not to. Let them believe what they like, so long as they believe. There’s lots of fact, and there’s lots of fancy in wrestling, and I’m not saying more than that. If you want to know which is which, go and see for yourself. Don’t expect me to do your seeing for you.
‘Anyway,’ Mandy said, ‘that Hacker got what was coming to him. California Carl’s a real hunk.’
And then she and Stef started talking about what a hunk he was, about all the things he probably never showed off even at his Boy Beautiful contests. Which surprised me – I’d of thought they’d be clagged up with men’s bodies, seeing as it’s men’s bodies they do for a living.
Kath’s Billy stopped at the Full Moon at the top of Mandala Street and everyone got out. I could’ve done with a beer but I was choked off with them all by then – there’s only so much you can take about California Carl’s mustard bum. Besides, I was more hungry than thirsty, so I trekked off to the nearest burger bar.
But Crystal caught me up. She said, ‘I didn’t want to say in front of the others, but Justin’s got some food in for you.’
‘For me?’ I said, and I stopped in surprise. ‘What for?’
‘Well, see, he wanted to,’ Crystal said. She blinked her little monkey eyes like it was the most normal thing in the world. ‘Y’know, for letting him join in the self-defence. He’s strapped for cash – what with being sick and the vet’s bill an’ all. He thought you could do with something hot after your fight.’
‘He did?’
‘’Course, he wanted to come to your fight but he still ain’t got all his strength back.’
‘Oh,’ I said. I was stone mystified and I couldn’t think what else to say. No one ever cooked my dinner for me. Ma sometimes brought in takeaways, but she never cooked. I was never at her place much anyway, and you don’t count the food you get in homes and secure units. They may be homes, but you don’t get home cooking there.
We walked down Mandala Street to the Premises. Crystal didn’t say much, and I kept looking at her out the corner of my eye ’cos I thought she must be up to something. But when she let us in I could smell onions frying, and my mouth started watering so I couldn’t be bothered to find out.
Justin popped out of the kitchen and said, ‘Go on up and make yourselves comfortable. I won’t be a tick. There’s beer upstairs.’
So we went up to his room. I had to stop in the doorway. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The last time I was up there, when I went to look at Queenie, there was a mattress on the floor and that was all. Now it was all pretty colours and lamps with lampshades on, and little rugs, and chairs with material thrown over them. And there were dark red curtains and pictures hiding the stains on the walls. He’d made a proper nest of it.
Crystal wasn’t surprised so I guessed she’d kitted him out with all her spare bric-a-brac. But it didn’t look like her room. Her room looks like a stockroom for her stall. This looked like home, like Justin lived there permanent.
Crystal poured beer into mugs. We didn’t drink it out of the cans. And there was a plate of little cheesy things. You needed about five of them to make a mouthful, but they tasted nice.
And another thing – the place smelled sweet. The rest of the Premises ponged of mouldy damp. Justin’s room smelled lavendery and cedary.
‘Don’t just stand there,’ Crystal said. ‘Park your arse.’
So I sat in one of the chairs. What I couldn’t get out of my brain-box was the picture of when me and The Enemy bust in on Justin the first time we saw him. Him squatting on a pile of rubbish downstairs, with his little gas camping stove and his sleeping bag. And Queenie panting in the corner. He didn’t have a pot to piss in then. That was hardly a week ago. Now look at him!
He came up then, with a big tray. He said, ‘Crys said you’d like steak.’ And he gave me a plate, and a knife and fork wrapped in a red paper napkin.
There was steak, and onion rings, and little mushrooms, and fried potatoes, and peas.
‘Dig in,’ said Justin. ‘You must be starving.’
And I was, so I got stuck in, and it was the most dynamite dinner I had in my life. If someone asked me, ‘How do you like your meat done, how do you like your spuds cooked?’ I’d say, ‘Just like this.’ But Justin hadn’t asked. He’d done it like he already knew.
Every so often I’d sneak a look at Crystal, and she was noshing away too, like there was no tomorrow. And every so often I caught Justin sneaking a look at Crystal and me noshing, and he had a little curly smile on, like he was our mum or something.
‘All right?’ said Justin. But I couldn’t answer because I’d just wiped my plate with the last chunk of potato and stuck it in my gob.
‘Magic,’ said Crystal.
‘Mmm,’ said I.
‘Pudding?’ said Justin.
He brought up a huge dish of sweet dark chocolate pudding, and he spooned dollops of it into bowls for Crystal and me. I still couldn’t say a word ’cos my mouth was always full of pudding.
He made tea and put a tape in his tape deck. And then he said, ‘What was the wrestling like?’ And Crystal started to tell him.
It was like seeing it again at the movies. Crystal told him all about it – all the people, like Gruff and Pete and Harsh, and Phil and Hacker and California, sounded like characters in a movie. Me too. I sounded like The Terminator. And I wanted to say, ‘Tell it again, Crystal. I want to hear that part again.’ But my mouth was full of sweetness and I started nodding off.
Because there’s nothing like it, is there? Sitting in a comfy chair, too full to move, hearing someone talk about you like you’re the heroine in a movie. I could bottle that and take it in little sips every night of my life.
When I opened my eyes a little later on Crystal was curled up in her armchair and Justin was stretched out on the bed. It couldn’t of been much later, ’cos the light was still on and the room was still full of music and the smell of chocolate.
I sort of thought I shouldn’t be there. There was something I ought to be doing. But my eyelids dropped like fat cushions over my eyes and I nodded off again.
And then I was dreaming about something horrible. I was looking in a mirror only the face looking back at me wasn’t mine. There was a thing in a black mask looking at me, so I couldn’t see what it was except the eyes were blood red. I struggled to tear the mask off because I couldn’t breathe. But I wasn’t wearing a mask. The thing in the mirror was wearing the mask. It pulled its mask off, and underneath was this deformed face with blood red eyes. One side of its cheek was ripped open and there were hundreds of maggots crawling between sharp dog’s teeth. The thing reached out and tried to drag me through to the wrong side of the mirror. I kept trying to make the sign of the cross because that always works in Dracula movies. But the monster didn’t take a blind bit of notice, and it kept dragging me. It was much stronger than me.
I woke up with a yell. At least, I thought it was me yelling. Crystal was sitting bolt upright in her chair. Justin was halfway off the bed – his eyes out on stalks.
‘AAARGH!’
It wasn’t me yelling.
‘Wha?’ said Crystal. It wasn’t her either.
Justin had his mouth open but he never made a sound.
‘AAAARGH!’
I shot out of my chair. I was still half asleep but I flung the door open and staggered out into the hall. There was light leaking from under the next door along.
I threw it open. And saw Bella. Well, I saw her face and legs. What really caught my eye was a hairy arse bumping up and down between her legs.
‘Oy!’ I said.
‘Downstairs!’ Bella shouted. Her black-red lipstick seemed to be moving of its own accord. ‘Downstairs,’ she said. ‘They’re downstairs.’ And the hairy arse never missed a beat.
‘Gerroff!’ she screamed at the hairy arse. But she might’ve been nailed to the mattress for all the notice it took.
I couldn’t get out fast enough and I fell over Crystal on my way.
‘AAARGH!’
‘Downstairs!’ Crystal shrieked. And we stumbled to the top of the stairs.
Down there seemed to be full of people.
I raced down, Crystal behind me, through the hall and into the gym. My gym.
Except it didn’t look like my gym no more.
The hanging light bulb was shaded with a dark red scarf so everything looked dusky pink.
And the mats were all stacked up so they seemed like beds.
It was Mandy yelling.
There were three blokes.
Mandy and three blokes.
They were doing something. I couldn’t see. It wasn’t nice. It was making Mandy scream.
In my gym.
‘Yaaaa!’ I roared. And I went in with fists and boots.
I punched. I kicked.
‘Oof!’ I heard. And, ‘Ow-ow!’
I grabbed a handful of hair and smashed a head into a wall. And then Crystal came flying in with a big frying pan, and I heard, ‘Boing-boing-boing,’ so I guessed she was walloping away too.
I wished I had something to boing
with. But I didn’t, so I laid about me with feet and elbows. I hit everything that moved.
A stack of mats toppled, and suddenly we was all on the floor except Crystal who was beating seven bells out of the back of someone’s skull.
I leaped to my feet. There was a bloke lying on his back on the floor. He was struggling up. He made a grab for my ankles.
So I jumped on him.
I jumped on his knob.
Both feet. Full weight.
If you think Mandy screamed loud, you should of heard this bloke! He bellowed like a bull dying.
I didn’t care. He was one less to worry about.
And then Crystal came sailing past and landed on her back in the corner. The frying pan only just missed me.
I ducked, and the bloke who threw Crystal staggered into me.
I came up and caught his chin with the back of my head. The blow shook my teeth loose, but he went over backwards like a falling tree.
I had to get them out.
Out.
I went after the one who fell over backwards. I caught him by the foot, and his shoe came off in my hand. So I got his arm and heaved him up. I twisted his arm up his back till I heard the elbow crack and ran him out the door.
That left one.
And that was when Justin came in with a socking great kitchen knife.
‘Gimme!’ I yelled, and I snatched the knife off him.
I found the last one squashed under a mat with Mandy pinned under him.
I jabbed him in the thigh to tell him I had the weapon. I took him by the hair and yanked his head up. I stuck the knife under his nose.
‘Get up,’ I said. And I shaved his nostril.
He got up. I stuck the knife into the pouch under his eye.
‘Don’t!’ he said.
I recognised him then. In spite of the dim red light I recognised the stoat-faced pillock who’d gone, ‘Oy, Bucket Nut,’ at me from the shadows two nights ago.
I pricked him under the eye.
‘Back off,’ I said.
‘My eyes!’ he said. His breath was gob-turd.
‘Out,’ I said. ‘Back out.’
His nose was dribbling blood where I shaved it. The blood looked black in the red light.
