Million Pound Appointments

by Higgins, Malcolm

  Larry's painkillers are working, so he decides to go to his hideaway, a place where he can turn off his mobile and retreat into another world. A world you enter through Old Jerry's garden shed. At the back of the shed is another door, which Larry keeps hidden and padlocked. The door opens onto a small patch of ground, eight foot by nine foot, which is totally secluded by two overhanging willow trees. There is one recliner chair, one nine inch ceramic flower pot, and one upside-down black plastic bucket, covering a bottle of Gin and a bottle of Tonic from the elements. The only colour in Larry's sanctuary, are bright red, light green, pale yellow, soft blue, and powder pink ribbons, all of various shapes and sizes, that Larry has tied between the willow branches. There used to be several plants but very little sunlight gets through to Larry's hideaway, so they would always wither and die. When Larry is relaxing on the recliner with a Gin and Tonic in one hand, and a cigarette in the other; which he'll have no more than one or two puffs on before stubbing it out on the side of the ceramic pot, he squints his eyes, and the ribbons transform into beautiful little blue and green humming birds, yellow Amazon canaries, or red breasted bee-eaters. All swooping through the branches snatching flying insects. If he drinks just enough of the Gin he can hear Mary. Feel Mary. Sense Mary. Mary the woman that could and should have made his life so different. No harassment, no money laundering, no being the go-between when Ken has pissed off one of his rivals and he has to sort it out. When Larry was with Mary, he was a different man, and when Mary was with Larry, she was a different woman. She asked nothing of him or he of her. Four years twelve weeks six days they were together. He can still recall the day they first met, the first time they held hands, their first timid kiss, their first embarrassing sexual liaison, the first time they looked into each other's eyes and didn't have to say anything because their eyes said it all for them. They were in love. You couldn't call their relationship a sexually charged one; once every six to eight weeks seemed to be the norm for them, which was absolutely fine, it wasn't about sex, it was about a man and a woman being loved, appreciated, longed-for and wanted. All things that they had never felt before, even though they'd both been in other relationships. They both knew it was a genuine love. They liked walking hand in hand on the pebbled beach in Brighton sharing fish and chips, watching the tied come in or out, or spending an entire Sunday afternoon in the bird house at London Zoo. 'When are you going to marry the bloody woman? Ken would tease; even he could see they were good together. 'Make an honest woman of her. I'll pay' Larry must have heard that line from Ken a hundred times, and when he's in his safe little haven, with the humming birds, bee-eaters, and canaries, he still hears it. Larry loves the smell of Gin; he doesn't much care for the taste of it though, he drinks it for the smell, and only in his hideaway. Gin and Tonic was Mary's drink. He would often rib her about her lack of alcohol tolerance. She could make a single glass of Gin and Tonic last an entire evening, but when they were at a party or just felt like it, she would have two or three. After the second, she'd want to sing; sing anything, it didn't matter. After the third; dancing, and if you happened to be in arm's length, then you were going to be her dance partner. And no one in 'arm's length' ever complained, because Mary had natural rhythm; this woman was a born dancer, she just needed Gin to bring the dancer in her to the fore. Larry loved watching the intoxicated Mary having fun with younger guys. If he didn't have two left feet; and he does, he'd be out there dancing with her himself. So the smell of Gin is as tangible to him as holding her hand would be; and, all he has left of her now. Mary's mother adored Larry, and whenever she saw him she would put her hands on his face and say 'You're such a kind thoughtful man' because Larry always took her a dozen orange roses, bought from a proper florist, not at a set of traffic lights. Mary's mother died of cancer two years into Larry and Mary's relationship. She had ignored a lump for over a year, hoping it would go away. She kept telling herself 'I'll be fine, it's probably nothing' but when she did finally go to the hospital, she was diagnosed and dead in eighteen weeks. Mary spent the last six weeks by her mother's side watching her waste away. Watching her eyes sink further and further back into their sockets. Watching her skin turn different colours. Watching the nurse having to give her more and more pain relief to do the same job. On June 14th eleven years ago, Mary made herself a cup of milky Horlicks, placed a letter on the pillow next to hers; the pillow Larry laid his head on when he came over, then got into bed, and fell asleep. Forever. The Horlicks was laced with thirty-one sleeping tablets. The letter was Mary's suicide note…

  My darling Larry, my sweetest love. I know we said we would get through this thing together, and that you would help me, comfort me, when my time comes. But I must spare my dearest love, my only love, that torture. You are too kind, too gentle, too loving a man to put you through that, and I won't let you. My affairs are in order, and I am sure Mr. Webster will let you keep our beautiful wedding ring as a memento. The four years I have known and loved you, have been the best years of my life. You must be strong my handsome man. My final thoughts will be of you, my lovely Larry Lawrence. Until we meet again my darling. xxx

  'The difference between that one, and the one you want to buy, is only three thousand quid. I'm paying aint I? If you're going to stick a wedding ring on the woman's finger, make sure it's a proper one, you only get married once man.'

  Larry looked at Mary, shrugged his shoulders and said… 'Ok, if you're sure Ken, then we'd love to accept your offer' from that moment, Mary knew she had to do something that she had been putting off for over a year, through dread and fear. Dread due to her nana's death eight years ago. Fear due to her mother's death two years ago. She knew it would be malignant. She knew she would never see Larry slip that ring on her finger. Never allow him to sit and watch her waste away as she did with her mother. Larry booked the registry office, and hand wrote the one and only invitation…

  Mr. & Mrs. Webster.

  Are warmly invited to attend the marriage of

  Mr. L. Lawrence & Miss. M. A. Hennessey

  at Chelmsford Registry Office.

  Mary was right; it was cancerous. It had spread to her liver and spine, which meant it would inevitably spread to her brain. She was told that there wasn't anything they could do for her now. Larry tried to give the wedding ring back to Ken, but he refused to take it, and made the excuse that he had something in his eye, and left the mortuary holding back tears. He waited for Larry in the car. Larry didn't keep the ring because he did manage to proudly slip it on Mary's finger. Mary wears it to this day. The visits to her grave in Brighton are becoming less frequent now. Not due to any waning of his love; that's as strong as ever. But because it still, to this day, eleven years on, takes him over a week to recover from a visit.

  Larry is about to enter the shed. He has his usual little plastic bag with him, containing a few ice cubes. Ken puts his hand on Larry's shoulder stopping him.

  "Where are you going?" Asks Ken, who then looks curiously at the ice cubes.

  "Nowhere."

  Ken nods to Larry to look up the garden. On the lawn are dead and dying birds.

  "Ken."

  "It's not me. I didn't do it."

  Larry looks at the birds with a puzzled look on his face. He knows he more than likely won't be sipping and smelling Gin and tonic tonight, and empties the ice cubes onto the grass. Ken looks at the ice cubes on the floor, and then looks through the shed window.

  "You got a bottle of Malt in there or something?"

  "No."

  Ken tries to read Larry's face but can't this time. He turns his attention back to the birds.

  "Six pigeons, two seagulls. I lost count of all the sparrows."

  "It must be a fox."

  "Yeah? Well its one tense one if it is."

  Larry half-laughs. Ken doesn't. He's still annoyed with him for allowing Craig to beat and batter Amir.

  "Get rid of them." He says coldly.

  As Ken walks towards the house, he takes out a gun and holds it
by his side, clearly he wants Larry to see it; and he does.

  "Jesus, now what's he going to do?" Larry says under his breath stepping back on the ice cubes.

  Rajeev is lying on the bed. His legs and shoulders bandaged, looking very nervous. Ken walks into the room still holding the gun in his hand. He walks over to Rajeev and points it at his head.

  "I will ask you questions and you will answer them straight away. Do you understand?"

  Rajeev nods yes. He understands.

  "Right. What's going on with your brother?"

  "I'm not sure."

  Ken pushes the barrel of the gun hard into Rajeev's forehead, cutting the skin. Blood trickles down the side of his temple and into his ear. Ken pushes harder and the tear in Rajeev's skin widens.

  "I am so past caring with you two now." Says Ken ominously.

  Rajeev has to think. Think fast. He knows Amir can't help him if Ken decides to put a bullet in his head.

  "I think he's changing somehow." He says quickly.

  Ken can't be bothered to tell him to continue, so gives him another hard poke with the gun. The barrel of which is now touching bone. Rajeev finally cries out in pain.

  "He can also take life."

  And in just thirty seconds, Ken has all his answers. He takes the gun away from Rajeev's head and places it on Rajeev's chest. Rajeev swallows hard.

  "Aspel kept that bit quiet didn't he. Has he been killing the pigeons and sparrows?"

  "Yes."

  "How?"

  "With his mind. He does it with his mind."

  Ken wasn't expecting that.

  "His mind?"

  "Yes."

  "Can he kill a person?"

  "I don't know. Possibly. He killed a Tiger..."

  "What? I haven't got a Tiger, what the fuck are you on about."

  "No. In India. An injured Tiger too weak to hunt, came to our village for the goats."

  "Shut the fuck up." Shouts Ken. "I don't want to hear about Tigers. I need to know if he can kill a man, can he kill a man?" He shouts.

  "I'm sorry. I really don't know."

  "Well we need to find out don't we. I can't have clients thinking they're coming here for cures, and your brother goes and kills them. What would they think?"

  Ken leans on the windowsill and sighs with frustration. He looks out into the garden and notices all the dead birds are still on the lawn, and there's no sign of Larry.

  "Bastard, where's he gone now?"

  He opens the window.

  "Larry." He shouts. "Where are you?"

  But Larry won't hear him. He's deaf to the world at the moment. Larry has his eyes squinted. Gin rubbed under his nose, and an un-smoked cigarette in his hand, as he spends a few minutes with his dearly beloved Mary. Ken slams the window shut, goes to the bedroom door and opens it.

  "Craig, get your fucking arse up here now." He shouts.

  Craig does hear him though, and as soon as he can pull his 'fucking arse' away from the toilet, he'll get it up there.

  "You mustn't hit him anymore." Says Rajeev. "It is making his dark side stronger."

  Ken closes his eyes and laughs through his nose. "Now, I find out he's got a dark side. Dark as in evil?"

  "Yes."

  Ken sighs and plonks himself down on the end of the bed.

  "For fuck sake."

  An uneasy silence starts. Five minutes later it's still going strong. Rajeev searches for something to say.

  "How is Mr. Lawrence? Is he part of your family?"

  Ken's totally fed up and knows that Rajeev is no threat to him. Even if he went for the gun that's still on his chest he wouldn't be able to pull the trigger; not with his injuries. Ken sighs; he needs to take a moment and drops his guard.

  "Sort of." He says. "He was my dad's right-hand man. Not muscle. Kept his books, that sort of thing. Now he's my right hand man. I deal in a lot of dodgy cash." Ken stops and looks at Rajeev.

  "Do you know what dodgy means?" He asks.

  Rajeev nods. Yes.

  "Slot machines. Cigarette machines. Condom machines. Moody cash machines." Ken stops and looks at Rajeev again.

  "Do you know what moody means?"

  Rajeev shakes his head. No.

  "You stick your card in and ask for ten pounds, and it gives you ten pounds; a counterfeit one. But, it also gives me your bank account details. Then two very nice women, called Maureen and Frieda, look for various spending patterns in your transactions. And once a week they'll take out an odd some of money; twenty pounds fifteen pence, one week. Fourteen pounds sixty pence, the week after that. Eighteen pounds ninety nine pence the following week, and so on and so on. They've been doing that for me ever since cash machines first appeared. Bless em."

  Larry is crying like a baby. Crying real heart wrenching tears, and he likes it. He welcomes it. He wants it. It keeps him alive; keeps Mary alive. It grounds him. Makes him normal in his un-normal world. Love touched him. But it was just a brush on the cheek. A brief encounter. But Larry felt its power none the less. So he sits between the willows crying and squinting at ribbons, remembering their times together in the bird house at London Zoo. Anyone that has ever loved a man or woman the way Mary and Larry loved each other, would have their equivalent of, Gin and tonic rubbed under their noses, ribbons tied in the trees, and a cigarette they have no intention of smoking in their hands. And just like poor heartbroken Larry, they too, would be balling their eyes out. Love is a wonderful thing.

  "I can't remember the actual figure." Continues Ken. "You'd have to ask Maureen and Frieda, but I think it's around about a thousand bank accounts I have access to now. And d'you know what? In all that time, just a handful of people have ever questioned the cash leaving their accounts; let's be honest, who's going to ask questions about an eleven pounds fifty pence debit on their bank statement, when it shows up as being debited from a shop or petrol station they use all the time. Clever or what? Joint accounts are the best though. The husband might look at it and see a debit of nineteen ninety nine, from M&S and think his wife has bought some fuck off knickers, and he's going to be in for a treat at the weekend." Ken stops and looks at Rajeev again.

  "Do you know what fuck off knickers are?"

  Rajeev shakes his head. No.

  "Do you know what horny means?"

  Rajeev nods. Yes.

  "Right. Well fuck off knickers, are horny knickers."

  Rajeev pulls a puzzled face, but not enough for Ken to notice, and he's pulled that puzzled face because Rajeev's version of horny, is clearly different from Ken's version of horny. Horny to Rajeev means, prickly.

  "If we get a big one; someone with a hundred grand plus bank account popping their card in, we'll empty it in one go seven days later. I'll give you a heads up. Don’t ever draw money out of a ATM that charges you for withdrawals'. They're all mine."

  Rajeev's beginning to wish he hadn't asked after Larry now.

  "Larry launders the money." Ken stops and looks at Rajeev again. "Do you know what launders means?'

  Rajeev nods. Yes. But he doesn't. He's in a lot of pain. Mostly earache.

  "No one's better than Larry at making an illegal business look legal."

  There is a knock on the door, and instantly criminal Ken is back. He opens it, sniffs the air, and waves his hand in front of his face.

  "You trod in something?"

  "Sorry boss, but I'm actually shitting blood at the moment."

  Ken isn't quite sure how to respond to 'Sorry boss, but I'm actually shitting blood at the moment' it's not a turn of phrase he's familiar with; so he doesn't. He lowers his voice and whispers instead.

  "Go and get his brother; bring him here. Rough him up a bit on the way."

  Ken's thoughts are this… If Amir can kill a man, then let it be Craig; that'll teach him to ogle his wife.

  "Kick him in the balls a couple of times, get him good and wound up for me. Can you do that or what?"

  Craig desperately wants to point out to Ken, that when he did that e
arlier, he got a gnome smashed over his head for his troubles. But he doesn't.

  "Can I kick that Gus bloke in the balls as well boss? He's fucking useless. I reckon he's given me the wrong shit."

  Ken stares blankly at Craig. Craig shuts up. Ken closes the door and sits on the bed; and much to Rajeev's relief, he lifts the gun off his chest and places it on the floor.

  "Craig's getting your brother…" He stops and thinks. Then asks... "What is your bloody brother's name?"

  "It is Amir."

  "Amir. Oh yeah. I'm sure that's what Larry calls him. Well I'm going to let him heal you. Is that ok?"

  "Thank you. I think if he also knew when you were letting us go…"

  "Tuesday night."

  Rajeev is taken aback by Ken's rather casual 'Tuesday night' and is dying to ask why Tuesday night, when…

  "A member of the Rolling Stones is coming here Tuesday morning. Sort him out and I'll be glad to see the back of you. To be honest with you Amir… the pair of you have been nothing but fucking trouble since you got here."

  Rajeev thinks about telling Ken that he's just called him by his brother's name, but a bead of warm blood trickling down his temple, stops him.

  "Do you like The Rolling Stones?" Ken asks nonchalantly whilst thinking 'Where the hell is Craig'

  "I don't know them." Answers Rajeev even more nonchalantly.

  Even though Ken's not really listening to a word Rajeev is saying, the 'I don't know them." statement suddenly registers.

  "What do you mean you don't know them? Of course you fucking know them. Everyone knows them."

  He looks at Rajeev expecting him to say, 'Oh, The Rolling Stones' but he doesn't.

  "Well even if you don't know them, you'll make out you fucking do, got it?"

  Jane can be heard screaming which makes Rajeev's eyes widen, not due to the screaming, but due to the big smile on Ken's face. Ken gets up and leaves his smile on the bed and replaces it with a look of contempt at Rajeev.

  "You live in India, not the other side of the world... I don't know them."