by Liza Cody
Back he went. Slowly. Ever so careful. He didn’t want to jog the knife.
It would’ve been all right.
I know it would’ve been all right. Except for fuckin’ Mandy.
She came from behind me. She’d got to her feet. She’d found her handbag somewhere.
‘AAAARGH!’ she went. And she clattered him on the side of his head with her handbag.
His head hit the knife. It wasn’t me. Honest.
I wasn’t going to cut him ’less he made me. For true.
His head hit the knife. The knife sliced clean through his cheek.
First there was this thin black line from his eye to his jaw. Then the slit opened up and I could see his teeth. Just like in my dream. And then the blood began to pour.
His hand went up. His eyes went glassy. And then he fainted dead away.
He crumpled down.
And that left us with three bodies on the floor.
There was Stoat. There was the one with the squelched knob. And there was little Monkey Wrench, all of a heap. Three.
But I counted wrong. There was four.
There was Stef. I hadn’t even seen Stef, but I’d probably trod on her.
Me and Mandy and Justin stood there with our gobs hanging open, looking at the pile of human parts on the floor. What a total, mega wreck.
And I’d forgotten Bella and hairy-arse upstairs.
Do you know who hairy-arse was? Can you guess? Well, can you?
Hairy-arse was Pete Carver. Pete fucking Carver!
I couldn’t believe it. I really couldn’t. No.
What a mind-blowing, bloody, shite-hole of a shambles!
Pete Carver walked in, still buckling his belt and hitching up his trousers.
‘Farkin’ell, Eva,’ he said. ‘What you been teaching in your self-defence school? Farkin’ butchery?’
’Cos Stoat was flat out on the floor with his face in tatters and blood everywhere.
And Stef was a goner too, now I could see her – blood was oozing out of every opening in her body. And believe me, you could see all of them. She wasn’t wearing hardly nothing.
If you ever wanted to know how really wrecked a human body can be, you should’ve seen Stef. It’s so easy to hurt a body. ’Specially one that’s expecting love. I didn’t want to look.
‘I gotta go,’ I said. ‘I got my dogs to see to.’
Because I remembered what it was I ought to be doing. What I forgot when I nodded off. I got my own life. I got my dogs. I got duties. I’m Armour Protection. I’m in charge.
Chapter 18
I lost my lovely dinner outside. That lovely steak, the onion, mushrooms, those peas – all sicked up in the gutter.
My guts were sore. Someone had punched me there.
I didn’t remember anyone landing a punch on me. But they must of. I was sore all over.
‘Eva?’ Justin said. ‘Are you okay?’ He started to rub my back. I was still bent over the gutter. The smell of old vegetables from the market was heaving.
‘Leave off,’ I said. ‘I’m all right.’
‘Don’t go,’ he said.
‘Got work to do,’ I said. Who was looking after the yard? Who was checking on The Enemy’s properties?
‘Please don’t go,’ Justin said. ‘I think Crystal’s concussed. And we’ve got to get Stef to hospital.’
‘Why bother? She’s dead, ain’t she?’
‘No she isn’t,’ Justin said. ‘But she’s badly hurt. Please, Eva. It’s an awful mess in there. And someone has to get rid of those men.’
So I went back in. I didn’t want Pete Carver to think I’d thrown up.
The bloke with the cracked elbow had gone. I don’t know where. I didn’t see him go. Bella was crouched over Stef. Mandy was looking after Crystal.
Pete Carver said, ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got a phone. I’ll call an ambulance on my way home if you like.’ He was looking at Stoat who was still in a dead faint on the floor.
‘No ambulance!’Justin said.
‘Who’s the nancy-boy?’ Pete asked.
‘No ambulance,’ Bella said, standing up.
And Crystal mumbled, ‘No,’ too.
‘No?’ said Pete. ‘Well, you got a point. The cops’d come too, and you don’t want them knowing this address.’
The bloke with the squashed danglies was sitting up moaning and retching. ‘Jesus!’ he squeaked. ‘Not the cops! Jesus!’
Mandy went to him. She said, ‘What happened to you? You okay?’ Silly mare!
‘No I’m not fucking okay,’ he said. ‘Some bastard beaned me. And then a bus fell on my wedding tackle.’
Something was wrong.
I said, ‘Ain’t you with Stoat?’
‘Who’s Stoat?’ he said.
Mandy said, ‘He’s all right. He’s my … What did you say your name was, dearie?’
But Dearie didn’t answer. He groped his way to his feet and lurched out bent double.
‘Well, well,’ said Pete. ‘They don’t call her Handy Mandy for nothing. You ain’t losing your, ho-hum, grip, are you, darlin’?’
‘Shut up,’ screamed Bella. ‘Just shut up All you’re good for is a dirty joke. If you’d got up when I told you, none of this would’ve happened.’
‘Get up?’ said Pete. ‘You don’t interrupt the vinegar strokes. I got what I paid for. And now I’m going home.’
‘No you fucking ain’t,’ said Bella. ‘You’re taking this sod with you.’ And she kicked Stoat with her pointy little shoe.
‘We can take care of our own,’ she said. ‘But you get this bastard out of here or I’ll find your fucking wife.’
Which amazed me. I didn’t even know Pete was married.
‘And you!’ She turned on me. ‘You’re so fucking clever – you get us some wheels. Now!’
I was stone chuffed to go, I can tell you. It was a stinking, dirty mess. It made me feel little and weak and sick. Like I felt when Ma locked us in the cupboard under the stairs. And we heard her. And Simone said, ‘What’s she doing? What’s he doing. He’s hurting her!’ But when Ma let us out again she seemed glad of it, even when it hurt. And Simone and I didn’t understand. Except after the fire. Ma wasn’t glad then. They took her away to hospital then. And the social workers took Simone and me into care.
I let the dogs out. They were ever so pleased to see me. They charged around, stretching themselves. They were hard and glossy and clean. All full of muscle and hard clean bone. And their eyes were shiny and they didn’t have no dirty thoughts. Except Ramses who’s always waiting for me to crumple.
‘Wait on,’ I said to Ramses. ‘I’m not like the rest of’em. I’m the London Lassassin, me. I’m still top dog, and don’t you forget it.’
But I didn’t sound like the London Lassassin. My voice sounded little and weak. I expected Ramses to notice, but he had his ears pricked. He’d heard something more important.
‘Ro-ro-ro,’ went Ramses, and he galloped off to the gate.
‘Rap-rap-rap,’ went Lineker and charged off after him.
‘Eva!’ shouted Justin, from the gate. ‘Where are you? Have you found a car?’
‘Piss off and leave me be,’ I said. ‘I done my bit. You’re on at me and on at me – you and monkey face. Fuck off – you’re doing my head in.’
He climbed up on the gate, and he would’ve come over if Ramses and Lineker wasn’t circling around, like sharks in the water, waiting to take his legs off.
‘Please, Eva,’ he said. ‘I know you’re upset …’
‘I ain’t upset,’ I said, ’cos I wasn’t. I was just choked they kept taking me for granted. I came when Mandy screamed, didn’t I? I stopped the bastards hurting her. What more did they want? Did they say, ‘Thanks, Eva, nice job?’ No they did not. They just wanted me to stick around and get my head done in some more.
‘We can’t manage without transport,’Justin said. ‘You said you’d get us some. We’ve got to get Stef to hospital. She’s hurt.’
‘She ain’t hurt,’ I said. ‘It’s only smoke.’
‘Smoke?’
‘From the fire,’ I said. I couldn’t breathe either. That’s what fire does.
‘I don’t understand,’ Justin said. ‘Help us take Stef to hospital, Eva. We need you. We need a car.’
‘Oh,’ I said.
Then I said, ‘What d’you think this is? A rose garden?’
‘What?’
‘It’s a breaker’s yard,’ I said. He was so dim. ‘And what do they break? Motors.’ He was so thick, he didn’t see transport all around him.
But it wasn’t reliable transport. I know that. I’m not braindamaged.
I did what I’ve never done before. I took wheels from the second-hand lot. I took a minibus the manager rebuilt to sell. I never do that. It’s too risky. But I did it that night because I wanted Justin, Bella and Monkey Wrench off my back. I never wanted nothing to do with them ever again.
Crystal wasn’t hurt. She was only shook up and lazy-eyed. When the time came she refused to go into the hospital.
‘No way,’ she said. ‘They kill you in there if you’re not dying already.’ Which went to show she wasn’t concussed.
So Bella and Mandy went in with Stef. Justin, Crystal and me waited round the corner in the minibus.
‘What fire?’ Justin said, at last.
‘What about a fire?’ Crystal said.
‘There weren’t no fire,’ I said. ‘What you on about?’
‘You were talking about smoke and a fire.’
‘Was not,’ I said. ‘Clean yer ears out. There weren’t no fire.’
‘Oh,’ said Justin. And we sat silent till Bella and Mandy came back. And that gave me time to think.
But the more I thought, the more narked I got. And when Bella and Mandy came back I was seeing scarlet.
I said, ‘You think I’m stupid. You think I’m thicker than a bricky’s lunchbox.’
‘Don’t shout,’ said Crystal. ‘My head’s splitting.’
‘Let it split,’ I said. ‘You’re using my gym for a knocking shop.’
Nobody said nothing, so I knew I was right. I remembered the bathroom. I ought to have known when I saw all that perfumed bubbly stuff. Who did they think they was fooling?
‘Who do you think you’re fooling?’ I said.
‘Don’t shout,’ Crystal said, in a wobbly monkey voice.
‘Please, Eva,’Justin said. ‘Let’s go home and talk about it later.’
‘There you go again,’ I said. ‘Expecting favours. You turn my gym into a slut’s rogering parlour and you expect me to fucking drive you home. Dream on!’
I was waiting, just waiting, for Bella to stick her spiky oar in. But she didn’t. She just sat there looking about fifty years old with her make-up smeared and her hair all rat tails.
‘Y’know, Eva,’ Mandy said, ‘you was so right. About the shouting and kicking. I’d of been mince meat, like poor Stef, if I hadn’t remembered shouting and kicking. And then you came. It was like on telly, when the cavalry rides over the hill. You was Joan Ranger or Dirty Harriet.’
‘The cavalry?’ I couldn’t help laughing even if I was narked bad.
‘You were brilliant, Eva,’Justin said.
‘Brilliant,’ mumbled Crystal.
So that was all right, and I drove them back to Mandala Street. It was only Bella said nothing. But she always was a right prickly little witch, and three out of four of them grateful was a pretty good number where I come from.
I took the minibus back to the yard and parked it in the exact same spot I borrowed it from. It’d be a fine thing, really typical, if the owner caught me borrowing without permission. He’d give me the old heave-ho, and that way I’d lose my home as well as my job. And it’d all be Crystal’s fault. Just like it was her fault I was in the sewer with Mr Deeds and the gym.
If she hadn’t got her monkey wrench clamped on me about self-defence classes for the girls, if she hadn’t gone conkers about Dawn dying, none of the strife would’ve happened. And I’d be living and fighting peaceful, as per normal.
It wasn’t, none of it, my fault. Yet if any sucker got the blame it’d be me. That’s what comes of standing out in a crowd. Anyone who looks different gets shot.
So I was extra careful when I parked the minibus and did my rounds. I didn’t want anyone picking holes in my work. Pick-pick-pick – that’s all some people do.
It was morning – almost too late to matter – when I went round with the dogs. They were grizzling and griping because they’d had their routine screwed. I couldn’t fault them. I didn’t like it either, and I grizzled and griped back at the dogs. All three of us was in a foul mood.
I kept thinking – what’s Pete Carver going to say back at the gym? He seen me in a knocking shop. He’d tell Gruff Gordon, and Gruff Gordon can’t keep his mouth shut without three rolls of sticking plaster and half a pint of super glue. He’d tell everyone – ‘Eva’s knocking around in a knocking shop.’ So Harsh’d know. Everybody’d know.
And who would they all laugh at? I ask you.
They wouldn’t laugh at Pete for bonking witchy bitchy Bella, would they? No. That’d be just another blokish trophy for the stud, wouldn’t it? All the sniggers and pointed fingers would be aimed at yours truly. Me.
And what had Pete done with Stoat? Stoat needed stitches. What was he going to tell the hospital and the polizei? He wouldn’t say Mandy swiped him with her handbag, would he? He’d say I knifed him.
I copped time in solitary once, for knifing. It wasn’t me that time either. I was in one of them units where all the bad girls get sent. And there was a sort of fashion for razor blades – small pieces of razor blade. A razor blade can be broken in small pieces. The trick is to wedge a little bit of razor blade under your thumbnail with soap. The sharp edge hardly pokes out at all – you can barely see it – but it can slice rotten. And because it’s such a tiny weapon you can hide it or dump it really quickly.
Anyone who’s been in a secure unit knows there’s all sorts of gang stuff going on. You’ve always got to be on one side or another, even if you don’t care bloomers for any of them. And you got to protect yourself from all of them. So if there’s blades about, you better find yourself a blade double quick. And you better tell everyone you got a blade. If you don’t, you’ll be grated cheese before long. Usually, you find if everyone’s got one, no one uses them much. Except if someone goes bonkers.
I don’t know how it all started. I can’t even remember which side I was supposed to be on – but five of them trapped four of us in the lawies, and all hell let loose. I’ve got two long white scars on my left forearm and one on the back of me neck as a keepsake. But, y’know what? I never cut no one myself. Not a single girl got sliced with my bit of blade. And y’know for why? I’ll tell you. It was when I took a swipe at the first girl to come my way. She dodged me, and I hit the wash basin. And the blow forced my bit of blade right up under my thumbnail. It bled like a stabbed hog. And it hurt. Oh boy, did it hurt!
So when the screws turned up to stop the fight everyone dumped their blades in the lawies or washed them down the drain. All except me. Mine was driven up into my thumb and I couldn’t get it out.
Mine was the only blade the screws found. Everyone was cut, including me. But mine was the only blade. So them geniuses decided it was me who done the cutting. No one bothered to ask who cut me. I suppose they thought that was me too – me having a fine old time slicing meself.
See what I mean? If there was a prize for always copping the blame, I’d cop that as well.
I was feeling pretty moody, and the dogs was feeling pretty moody. And I didn’t do a check on The Enemy’s property because I didn’t want to leave the yard or the dogs. But I should of, ’cos all we did was sit around and snarl at each other. And that way, Friday night turned into Saturday morning.
Usually, on the night after a fight, I make the night last. I go over all my triumphs in my mind – over and over – so
I can hear the oohs and ahs when I pulled off something really stunning. That handstand escape I brought off in spite of Olga from the Volga being such a vegetable – usually I would’ve done a slowmo replay of that, again and again. But I couldn’t.
When the blokes came to work, and I penned the dogs and went to bed, I tried to replay my handstand escape. But every time I shut my eyes I saw Pete Carver’s hairy arse. I saw Stef on the floor. And I saw Stoat’s cheek flopping open. My eyelids would fly open and my heart felt like a rubber ball bouncing in my chest – bounce, bounce, bounce.
But time passed, and I must’ve slept because Crystal woke me up. She banged on my door and when I staggered out to open it I saw a piece of paper on the floor. I picked it up and opened the door.
Crystal’s eyeballs looked like raw eggs. In fact, Crystal looked like I felt. I wasn’t pleased to see her. If you must know I’d rather of seen giant spiders.
I said, ‘What you doing here?’
‘Came to see you.’
‘Came once too often,’ I said. I would’ve slammed the door in her face but she squirmed in.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ she said, as if that made everything all right.
‘You’ll put nothing on,’ I said. ‘What you’ll do is fuck off out of here. You’ve screwed my life, and I ain’t had any kip yet.’
‘Yes you have,’ she said. ‘I came round two hours ago and knocked. You never answered but I could hear the snores from outside. I’ll make us both a cuppa. We got to talk.’
‘We don’t gotta do nothing,’ I said. But she lit the gas and filled the kettle. And I did fancy a cup of tea. My mouth felt like something crawled in it and died.
I should of slung monkey face out on her little monkey ear, but I read my bit of paper instead. It was from The Enemy. It said, ‘Dear Eva, Thanks for the good work you did this week. I have now made permanent arrangements for the two properties in question so you won’t have to bother with them this weekend. But don’t worry, I think there will be something else next week.
‘I need to speak to you urgently on another matter. So, when you come to the office for your money, please make sure I know about it. If I’m out, wait. Anna Lee.’
