‘Yeah, but what they didn’t know was that this old mate had given the church the flick for good and it sure as hell wasn’t bloody Bible class Mum got to go to on the Saturday and Sunday she was down here. Reckon it was party party party. Reckon Mum found out she liked it, too!’
‘Well, people do like to let their hair down occasionally. Little harm in it,’ said Esther.
‘Yeah? Not in my mum’s family, or so she says. A fun night out for those sods was usually something as hot and hopping as a quiz about what happened in some bit of the Bible!’
‘There are worse things,’ said Esther.
‘Like what?’ asked Damon. ‘Can’t be many that are worse when you’re fifteen turning sixteen!’
‘I see your point, boy. Maybe not too lively.’
‘About as lively as a side of mutton,’ said Damon. ‘Anyway, you’re getting me off the track. She got to go to this wild party with her mate. Mind you, if you ask me, probably wasn’t all that wild, not back then in the almost-olden days. Her mate found them a guy each; couple of young juicy Greeks off some ship. Mum says that her one, my Dad, who probably wasn’t called Dimitri, probably wasn’t from an olive orchard, he was about eighteen. They did the wild thing. It changed her life.’
‘Obviously,’ said Esther.
‘She was so thick, was my mum, she didn’t know she was knocked up until only a couple of months before I was born.’
‘Not unheard of,’ said Esther.
‘What isn’t?’
‘That a young and naive, well-sheltered girl is blind to the facts of life. It’s not unknown.’
‘If you say so,’ said Damon. ‘The shit hit the fan, as the saying goes, when her olds spotted she was putting on weight in all the wrong places. They hauled her up, her very own parents hauled her up, in front of this whole church audience. She was made to feel more like shit than she already did and they chucked her out. You wouldn’t believe it, would you?’
‘I think I may,’ said Esther.
‘Like, not only did she get chucked out of that bloody church but she got the boot from her own family because that’s what they’re told to do by the church bosses. Mum has never seen them ever again.’
‘That is very sad for all of them,’ said Esther. ‘She must be a strong person your mother. Not only cast out, alone, to give birth to you – little more than a child herself – but also to keep you and rear you and care for you…’
‘Dunno about strong. She’s pretty straight, is Mum. Pretty honest in what she says to me. She told me, so’s she could keep me, that she lied, she cheated and she stole anything that wasn’t nailed down.’
‘Needs must when the devil drives,’ Esther said, softly.
‘Who you callin’ a devil?’
‘Not you, boy. Not your mother, either.’
‘Just as well,’ he nodded. ‘Yep. She lied, she cheated and she stole – all just so as she could keep me. Made me feel pretty good to hear that,’ said Damon. ‘Well, in a way it did.’
‘I understand what you mean,’ said Esther.
‘Never ever seen any of them again. Not ever. Good bloody riddance is what I say.’
‘I understand how you feel,’ said Esther.
‘I don’t reckon you could,’ said Damon. ‘How could you?’
‘Believe me, I do.’
‘If you say so. There were two times after my accident that Mum did get a bit of money. Wasn’t very much but it did help. Funny, really. It got shoved under our door. Each time it was in plain envelopes. No note. Nothing with it to say where it came from.’
‘What are you saying, boy?’
‘Mum says that she thinks it could have been her old lady, my Grandma. Mum’s old lady was dead scared of Mum’s old man.’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘First off, Mum’s mum didn’t have very much money of her own so that explains it not being big amounts. Second off, Mum says that at that time none of her own mates had much that they could spare so that even if they had wanted to help out they couldn’t have. Dunno, really. Guess we will never know.’
‘Well, whoever,’ said Esther. ‘It was a kindly act at the right moment.’
‘Not a very big kindly act,’ said Damon. ‘Still, it paid the rent. You’d like my mum. I reckon it’d be a good idea for you’n her to… No. Maybe not.’
‘So? What d’you reckon is a kindly act at the right moment?’ asks Good Face.
‘Dunno, do I?’ says Bad Face. ‘Knockin’ off the old girl’s cat? Sure save a bundle in catfood and good steaks – even if they are nicked!’
‘Shut your half of the cake-hole and think. Think of a decent kindly act at the right moment.’
‘Not me, mate,’ says Bad Face. ‘I’m buggered.’
‘You can say that again,’ says Good Face.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘That coat you got in your window? Is it a good warm one?’ Damon asked.
‘It should be, love,’ said the woman in the shop. ‘Very last of our winter line. Beautiful, isn’t it?’ the woman walked over and stroked the fabric as if stroking the fur of some pet animal. ‘Gorgeous colour, don’t you agree?’ she looked at the boy and her brow wrinkled. ‘It is a woman’s coat, dear. You do know that?’
‘Of course I know that,’ said Damon. ‘Like, you’ve got a woman’s shop, haven’t you? Says on the outside. Don’t want it for me. What d’you think I am? Want it for a friend.’
‘Girlfriend?’ the woman asked.
‘Sort of,’ said Damon.
‘That’s lovely. Lucky lucky girl. Burgundy her colour? It is very dark for a young… still, these days we seem to wear anything and everything, don’t we?’
‘Do we?’ asked Damon.
‘It is rather, well, a little on the pricey side, love,’ the woman sounded doubtful. ‘Even at our very special sale price.’
‘I can see that,’ said Damon.
‘We do have a less expensive budget line over on this rack… lovely garments…’
‘I want that one,’ said Damon. ‘Anything more off for cash?’
‘It’s going out at half price now, love. Almost below cost…’ she looked at Damon, staring as hard as she could into the impenetrable darkness of his glasses. ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do… someone as young as you, thinking of a girlfriend… quite charming. We’ll make it one-third of the original marked price,’ she smiled softly. ‘And let us both pray like hell that my boss doesn’t give me the sack for my generosity.’
‘Don’t see as he should. It’ll still cost an arm and a leg.’
‘She’s tall?’
‘Who? Your boss?’
‘No, silly. Your girlfriend, dear? It is for a tall slim woman this model.’
‘Don’t worry. She likes ’em flapping all round her legs like some sick flag,’ said Damon.
‘Goodness,’ said the woman.
‘Thank Christ it’s got buttons,’ said Damon.
The woman raised pencilled eyebrows almost to her hairline. ‘I hope so, dear. Most winter coats do, you know.’
‘Not some I’ve seen,’ said Damon.
‘Really? A lovely belt, too,’ said the woman. ‘So snug.’
‘Hold it for me for half an hour and I’ll be back with the cash.’
‘We do take cash cards, love,’ doubtful again.
‘Yeah, you might, but I don’t have one,’ said Damon. She looked at him again. ‘Half an hour, young man, and not a moment longer. Only just gone in the window and it’ll go like a hot-cake at reduced ticket price. Half an hour.’
‘Back in ten,’ said Damon, and he was.
‘You got no electrics,’ said Damon.
‘No. I think my days here may be numbered,’ said Esther. ‘It was cut off today. Not that I should have had it that long, the cut off man said.’
‘It’s still too cold for your park bench,’ Damon shivered. A couple of candles lit the room and a Primus stove heated tea water. ‘Still, you could be here a couple more weeks. Th
ey’re working bloody slow, those demo guys. Reckon it’s the wet weather,’ he looked around him, nodded at the candles. ‘Still just about as bright as your one light bulb,’ he said, truthfully. ‘This is for the cat,’ he handed over a paper bag. ‘This is for you,’ he presented Esther with the fancily wrapped dress shop box. ‘Hope you like it,’ he watched as the old woman unwrapped and then opened up the box.
‘Such finery…’ she whispered. ‘Such…’
‘Put it on,’ he said, gruffly. ‘Go on. Put it on. I’m goin’ outside. Need a smoke.’
‘You may smoke in here if you will,’ said Esther. ‘The candles…’ she gestured towards the guttering flames. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Nah. I’m considerate,’ he said. ‘I’ll go outside,’ knowing that his consideration was more on account of his uncertainty as to what, if anything at all, she wore beneath her old coat than in not wishing to smoke inside Esther’s room.
Esther was wearing her new coat when he came back indoors. She had brushed her straight grey hair and retied the small black bow. ‘Shit! That sure looks good. Is it comfy?’ he asked.
‘As the saying goes, it fits me like a glove,’ Esther smiled.
‘Supposed to fit you like a bloody coat, not a glove,’ again gruffly.
‘Such luxury,’ said Esther. ‘Thank you, boy.’
‘Least it’s got decent buttons. Means you can junk the old safety pins now, eh?’
‘I am sure I’ll find another use for my old pins,’ Esther smiled again. ‘Waste not, want not.’
‘Eh?’
‘A very generous thought, boy. Thank you. Thank you, boy.’
‘Do you think you could stop calling me boy all the time? I call you Esther. You told me to.’
‘I shall do my best, Damon. Thank you again. Tea?’
‘Sure. Do you like the colour?’
‘Very rich,’ said Esther.
‘Bit like dried up blood, I thought. Woman in the shop liked it. She sort of well, sort of said, that this coat was for your sort of older woman.’
‘And so it is,’ Esther laughed. ‘Let me offer you a little homily.’
‘A what?’ he looked around. ‘Don’t need anything to eat. The tea’s enough.’
‘You have… well, you had better things to do with your money.’
‘Is that right?’ he sipped his tea. ‘Well, let me tell you, woman,’ and he stressed the word. ‘What I do with my own bloody money is my own bloody business. And don’t you laugh at me. Where’s the horrible cat?’
‘Maybe he will be in, maybe not. I feel that the approach of an army of invaders to his territory may be all too much for him and he’s departed for places unknown rather sooner than I intend to.’
‘Good bloody riddance. You can eat what I brought for him. It’s meant for human beings, not cats,’ he thought about what she had said. ‘Places unknown? Are you shooting right through? Thought you said a park bench?’
‘Park bench? Well, boy, what is a park bench if not a metaphor for elsewhere,’ said Esther. ‘As my mood takes me. As the winds blow me. As, well… whatever.’
‘Where were you before you came out here? You never told me that.’
‘I don’t think you have asked me. More tea, Damon?’
‘Yeah. Ta. Well, where were you?’
‘I worked in America,’ said Esther. ‘And after that I was in India.’
‘You’ve sure as hell been around.’
‘We live on a small enough planet,’ Esther smiled. ‘At one time or another I have called all quarters of it my home. I have wandered. I have told you that.’
‘Wandered and danced,’ he looked at her.
‘You don’t forget,’ she smiled again.
‘What did you do in India?’
‘I lived in Calcutta. For some years, indeed, I worked in a home for the destitute, for the sick, for the dying.’
‘What? With old Mother Theresa?’
‘Not exactly. A similar place. And before you ask me, dear Damon, I did not run the place or do the nursing.’
‘Yeah, right. You cooked up the curry, swept the floors and washed the windows,’ Damon grinned across at her.
‘You are learning, boy,’ said Esther. ‘Something very like that.’
‘Why don’t you tell me the whole thing?’ he asked.
‘What thing, Damon? I do not know what you mean. I know that my past, a less than glorious past for the most part, intrigues you, but… I will put it simply, very briefly… I went to India for something of a reason. True to my kind, I wander. I wander and I roam. I accumulate little – certainly little of worth,’ and she smiled and stroked the sleeve of her new coat. ‘And this is for the plain reason that the possession of those objects that most people hold dear is of little interest to me. And, boy, Damon, I think maybe I have been right. I have had a long life. For the most part that lifespan has been good. A rewarding life, you might call it.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Damon. ‘And you are helluva good at getting so far off the point that you reckon no one is going to remember and drag you back onto it. Why…?’
‘Why did I go to India?’
‘Yep. That’s the bugger.’
‘It is where my kind, the Romani, are thought to have come back from in very dim dark ages and from where they have fanned out, spread, wandered, forever wandered to all corners of the earth. It was not so much that I felt any need to discover these roots. It was more that I needed to sense the place, feel the place, and maybe, just maybe, lay a small emotional claim to the place. All this I think. Think? Yes. Know? I don’t know.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You see, Damon, maybe I don’t either. Let me just finish by saying that I felt better for being there. I felt that I was in a right place for me – for quite some very long time…’
‘How long?’
‘I said finish,’ and she spoke with an air of finality before, yet again, spreading her hands. ‘That is it, Damon.’
‘Okay, old lady. You have it your way,’ he looked down. Then he laughed. ‘Shit, Esther. I better do something about your boots. Sure as hell they don’t go with your new coat.’
She held up a hand. ‘You will do absolutely nothing about my boots, boy,’ it was her turn to stress a word. ‘They fit me, they are comfortable, weather-proof and quite satisfactory around these old feet. They are like old friends and, as such, are fully able to accompany me for the few miles I have left to travel before I finally come to rest. Away with you now. I am tired,’ she looked hard at him. ‘Your gift to me, dear Damon, while not entirely necessary, is one that I cherish. A beautiful garment and a beautiful thought. The other gift that you have given me, boy, is of even greater value and worth.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Ahhh…’ Esther let out a long sigh. ‘Go,’ she pointed. ‘It is late. I am tired.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘How long this time, Damon?’ asked the librarian.
‘How long for what, Mrs H? Before coffee, you mean? Standard, milk and two, if you’re offering.’
‘I wasn’t, Damon, but I’ll bear it in mind. How long before it’s back to some unsuspecting and unfortunate school for you?’
‘I’m not going back, Mrs H. Got far more done here, even with you interrupting me, than I got done in my last three schools all put together. Why go back to bloody school for Chrissake? School sucks.’
‘You don’t think you’re isolating yourself, exiling yourself rather unnecessarily?’
‘From what? You know as well as I do, Mrs H., that all I ever had for just about ten years was a load of shit.’
‘Sshh…’ the librarian held up a finger. ‘Language!’
‘To hell with that, Mrs H. You’ve heard worse. There’s much, much worse written in a whole heap of your books in this dump,’ he gestured.
‘That’s as may be. Those books aren’t screaming them out at the top of their voices!’
‘Neither am I. Look, i
f I keep going at this rate, I’ll get into uni, no sweat, at the end of next year. I am getting good marks, you know,’ a measure of satisfaction.
‘That’s only part of it, Damon. You know that. What about, well, friends? As far as I know, you’ve got none.’
‘Well, I’ve got you, Mrs H. Well, I thought I had, except you are gettin’ a bit slow on the old coffee these days. Trying to tell me something?’
‘You know what I mean, Damon.’
‘Got old Mick and the other slanty-eyes down the Lame Duck. I’ve got friends,’ a little defensive.
‘From what I hear, young man, the Lame Duck is not the most suitable of places, workplaces, for a boy of your age.’
‘Why? It’s okay.’
‘I remember when they were had up in court… cats in the freezer…’
‘Best place for ’em, too,’ Damon laughed. ‘Yep. It’s my job to skin ’em for kitty fried rice,’ he laughed again. ‘Load of bull, Mrs H. Don’t believe everything you hear.’
‘I’ve got a part-time job going here.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Interested?’
‘Doing what?’
‘Shelving books. Just helping out. Wee bit of work on the desk.’
Damon turned away. ‘Thanks, Mrs H. But no thanks. Lame Duck’s cool. I’m out the back down there… no one can… besides, you couldn’t afford me. Bet it pays peanuts.’
‘Well, yes, love. That’s all any of us are paid here.’
‘Yep. What they say is right, Mrs H. Dead right. Pay peanuts, you get monkeys,’ he smiled. ‘Bet you wouldn’t keep me in cigarettes?’
‘You’re right.’
‘Well, I’m better off with Mickey. He does. Anyway, you’re far too slow with the coffee.’
‘Take the job I’m offering and you’d be making it yourself,’ said Lois Henderson. ‘Still, it’s your decision. Let me know if you change your mind. All right, all right… coffee’s coming up. By the way…’
‘By the way what?’
‘Haven’t seen your old friend for a few days.’
‘Esther? She’s around.’
Scarface and the Angel Page 6
