The Black Pathway

by Mark C Sutton

  ***

  My cousin Howard intensely disliked Alex Crennell. He never really told me about the ins and outs of why he had such disdain for Alex… I know that they were friends once, a long time ago, in their early years at school. I knew Alex from when he was a little kid. He was always a bit precocious, but I’ve seen a lot worse over the years. By the time that he was in his late teens, he’d turned into an arrogant little fucker, truth be known. Not that he was a total arse-hole… violent, or anything like that… he was just, I don’t know, a snide, sarcastic shit who enjoyed nothing more than taking the piss out of other people. He never quite knew when to keep his mouth shut, and it’d gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion in the past.

  A couple of years ago, one of my friends, Mike Norton - he’s a mechanic, and runs the only garage in Coldsleet - well, he had a bit of a run-in with Alex Crennell and one of his cronies. Mike had been working in the garage, when he heard a banging on one of the walls outside. He went out, took a look around, and at the side of his property was Alex Crennell and some other guy, booting a football up against the wall. Mike politely asked them to cut it out, and to go and find somewhere else to kick their ball around. Instead of just being, you know, courteous, respectful, and doing as Mike had requested, Alex started taking the piss out of him. You see, Mike, he lost most of his hair, years ago, whilst he was still in his early twenties, and he’s always been a bit sensitive about that. So that’s exactly what Alex homed in on… he had a knack for finding people’s weak spots. He started calling Mike the usual sort of stuff; ‘slaphead’, ‘Kojak’, ‘egg-head’, all pretty banal and predictable piss-taking, but it really got to my friend. Like I said, Mike can be very touchy about that particular subject, and the occasion when Alex Crennell and his fellow goon were taking the rise out of him was no exception.

  Not really wanting a confrontation, Mike tried to appeal to Alex’s better nature, asking him to just stop the name-calling, and leave, but the teenager just ignored him, and continued with the piss-taking. At some point, Mike snapped; he grabbed hold of Alex by his shirt collar, and threw him up against the wall that he’d been bouncing the ball off. As soon as things turned ugly, Alex’s companion did a runner. Now Alex was all alone, and facing the wrath of Mike, who was severely hacked-off. From what Mike told me, once he’d grabbed hold of him, then Alex instantly shut his mouth.

  “Come on, man, I was only joking around.” He’d said to Mike, whilst suddenly looking like he was about to piss his pants.

  “Well, I don’t find your jokes very funny.” Mike had growled back at him. Even though he’d lost his temper though, Mike knew the score; if he lamped

  Alex, or took things any further, then the little blonde weasel would almost certainly go running straight to the coppers. So Mike gave him a warning instead. “You ever, EVER, make any comment about my hair again, and I’ll put you in Knighton hospital.” He said. Alex nodded, almost on the verge of tears. Mike let the kid go, and he went running off, like the little shit-bag that he was. Obviously, in a town the size of Coldsleet, we all run into each other from time to time. Mike encountered Alex Crennell on many occasions afterwards, but he never got any lip from him after that run-in at the garage.

  I know that Alex used to snipe and get at Howard from time to time, during their school years… that much my cousin did tell me. But, from what I gather, it was all pretty low-level stuff, and Howard would generally just shrug it off. Knowing what I know about my cousin now, I often wonder why Howard didn’t lose it on those occasions, and really mess Alex up… he was certainly more than capable of doing just that… I think that there was a sentimental streak running right through Howard, and that, somewhere deep down, he hung onto the times when he was very young, when he and Alex were really good friends. I reckon that Howard cherished those days, even though he’d never admit that to anyone. I know that what Howard ended up doing, up there on the Black Pathway, was horrendous, but even so, there was a side to him that could be nice… and by nice, I mean, you know, genuinely nice, not fake, put-on. Sure, Howard could be a manipulative little bastard at times, and was certainly capable of putting on false platitudes when he was after something or other, but then, can’t we all, sometimes? I know that I’ve behaved like that in the past. I reckon that most other people have, too, if they’re honest with themselves.

  ***

  Howard Trenton walked through the alleyway where he had earlier encountered the mugger, this time without incident. He emerged from the alleyway, then turned left, past a small row of bungalows. At the end of the bungalows was a low brick wall, with a small patch of wasteland behind it. As Howard walked past the wasteland, he heard somebody call his name.

  “Howie! Howie! Hey, Howie… look lads, it’s Howie.” Said the male voice. Howard spun around. Three youths stood around on the wasteland, sharing a spliff between themselves. Two of the youths were dressed up in punk garb, with one of them sporting a long, blue mohican. His name was Gary Ackley, and was a couple of years older than Howard. The second punk, who wore unfashionable, John Lennon-style spectacles, sported a bizarre hair-cut, shaved completely bald on one side, but worn long on the other, his blue-black locks flowing over his right shoulder. Howard knew him as Neil Luskin. The third youth was more conventional in appearance. He had dirty blonde hair, and was wearing his trademark fake leather jacket. It was Alex Crennell.

  “Hello Alex… Gary… Neil.” Replied Howard Trenton. The two punks nodded at Howard. Alex walked towards him. He held out the joint to Howard.

  “Want some?” Asked Alex.

  “No thanks.” Replied Howard. “I don’t smoke… especially that sort of stuff.”

  “Oh, go on man. Just have a little blast. It might loosen you up a bit, stop you from being such a fucking stick in the mud.” Cracked Alex.

  “I don’t want to loosen up a bit. I’m fine, thank you.” Said Howard, in a stern voice. Alex held up his hands in a surrendering gesture.

  “Okay, man, okay. Keep cool. I just thought that you might like to join us in a little…”

  “Well you thought wrong, Alex.” Cut-in Howard.

  “That’s cool, Howie, that’s cool.” Said Alex Crennell, and he turned his back on Howard then walked back over to his two friends.

  Howard was just about to carry on with his walk back home, when Alex called him again.

  “Say Howie? Can I ask you a question?” Said Alex. Howard sighed.

  “What is it, Alex?” He replied, with weariness in his voice.

  “What's the deal with you and Miss Williams?” Alex asked, referring to the middle-aged careers advisor who was based at Elman College.

  “What are you talking about, Alex?” Howard responded. Alex sniggered.

  “Word around the college is that you’re always sniffing around her… are you trying to get into Kate’s knickers, Howard? Isn’t she a bit old for you, Howard?” Sneered Alex.

  “Shut your mouth, Alex.” Snapped Howard, angrily.

  “Or what? What are you gonna do, Howard? What are you gonna do if I decide that I don’t wanna shut my mouth?” Asked Alex Crennell, challenging Howard.

  “Just drop it.” Muttered Howard, and he turned away from Alex and began walking towards home. Alex Crennell continued to shout after him.

  “Urgh! Howard Trenton’s been getting inside Kate’s crusty old knickers! How does she like it, Howie? I bet that the dirty old fucker takes it up the shitter, yeah? Is that what you do with her? Do you put your dick up her smelly brown arse-hole, Howie?” Jeered Alex Crennell. Howard didn't answer; he just continued to walk away from Alex’s abuse. He turned right, into the road where he lived.

  “One day, Alex,” he said quietly, to himself, “I’m going to kill you. I don’t want to, but you just can’t stop yourself from pushing it and pushing it, and you’ve been getting away with it for fucking years.” Howard walked up to the front path of his home. “You’re making a big mistake, goading me all the time, Alex Crennell… you’re cr
ossing the line.” He whispered, before disappearing through the front door of the house.

  Chapter Seven

  Alfie Whitehouse sat on the small, low wall outside the front of his home, puffing on a cigarette. For the thousandth time, he looked first up the road that he lived in, and then down it, carefully scanning both directions, searching for any sign of his beloved pet cat, Buttons. Lucas Trenton, who had been washing his car, noticed this. He crossed the road and approached Alfie.

  “Still no sign of the cat?” He asked the old man.

  “Nope. It’s been a week now. I just don’t know what’s happened to him.” Replied Alfie, his voice, and face, full of sorrow. Lucas placed a comforting hand on the old man’s shoulder.

  “Man, that’s tough. Everyone in the street has checked their out-buildings, stuff like that… there’s been no sign of your cat though. I still think that he’s just wandered off somewhere, got lost… if that’s the case, maybe he’ll somehow find his way back home. It happens.” Said Lucas, with optimism. Alfie shook his head.

  “I don’t think so, Lucas, I don’t think so. I can just feel it in my bones… something bad has happened to Buttons.” He responded.

  “Hey, come on man, you don’t know that. My dad, he had a cat once, when he was a young lad. Get this… it went missing for six months, and then just turned up one night, completely out of the blue. Everyone had long since thought that the little furry shit was dead, but no, it just reappeared from out of nowhere.” Lucas told Alfie.

  “Really? You’re not just making that story up in order to try and make me feel a bit better?” Asked Alfie.

  “Of course I’m not making it up! I’m being straight-up with you, man! Cats, you know, they’re weird little fuckers at the best of times… they go off, do their own thing, get up to all sorts of shit… trust me, Alfie, I reckon Buttons will be showing back up here again before long.” Smiled Lucas.

  At that point, Howard Trenton came walking up the road. He had been into Coldsleet town centre to visit ‘Steve’s Vinyls’, on a record-buying binge. He was carrying a blue plastic bag and listening to music on his earphones. When he noticed his cousin talking to Alfie Whitehouse, Howard struggled to suppress a smirk. He approached the pair. Lucas was the first to notice him.

  “Hi Howard. Did you get what you was looking for?” Asked Lucas. Howard nodded.

  “Yeah, plus Steve’s got some good deals going on at the moment. I bought six cd’s.” Advised Howard.

  “Six?” Lucas turned to Alfie. “This one’s music mad.” He told the old man. Alfie didn’t respond. Instead, he gave Howard, who he didn’t like, a long, hard stare. Howard sneered back at the old man.

  “Found your cat yet?” He asked, with a smirk on his face. Alfie didn’t answer him.

  “No, Buttons still hasn’t turned up, but I was just saying to Mister Whitehouse here that I think that he will, sooner or later.” Said Lucas.

  “Yeah, I bet he does.” Grinned Howard. “Oh well, I’m off to listen to my new music. Catch you both later.” He added, before crossing over the road and disappearing into the family home.

  “I’d better get back to finishing off this bloody car.” Said Lucas to Alfie. “Keep your chin up mate, Buttons will be back soon, you mark my words.”

  “Cheers, Lucas.” Replied Alfie. He watched Lucas walk back over the road, towards his vehicle, then got back to dwelling over his missing cat.

  Alfie Whitehouse remembered the first time that he had ever clapped eyes on the stray animal that was to become his long-term companion. It was thirteen years ago, just after Alfie had lost his wife, Marge, to cancer. He had been doing some weeding in the back garden, when a desperate, high-pitched noise caught his attention. Alfie looked for the source of the noise; at the bottom of the garden, near to the fence, was a small, malnourished, black and white kitten. It sat in the grass, staring at Alfie, meowing with hunger.

  “And who might you be then? I haven’t seen you around here before.” Said Alfie to the animal. He reached out with his hand towards the kitten. “Come on, come here.” He beckoned. The cat stood up, and, for a moment, it looked like he was going to run away, but then, cautiously, he approached the old man. The animal reached Alfie’s hand, and allowed the old man to give him a fuss. “My word, just look how skinny and tiny you are… you’re starving, aren’t you champ?” Said Alfie, stroking the kitten’s head. “How say I go inside and see if I can find you something nice to eat? Would you like that?” He asked. The cat purred heavily. Alfie gave the kitten a tickle on its chin, and a long-term friendship was born.

  ***

  Alfie looked up and down the road again; just as he expected, there was still no sign of Buttons.

  “You’re not coming back… I know that you’re not. I don’t care what Lucas says… you’re gone for good.” He said to himself, quietly. Alfie finished up his cigarette, and threw the butt onto the pavement, before getting off the front wall. A car pulled up on the other side of the road, and Mister and Mrs Hedgeshaw, an elderly couple, climbed out of the vehicle. They both saw Alfie, and gave him a wave. He returned the greeting, and then the Hedgeshaws disappeared into their home. It was then that Alfie noticed something. He looked across, to the Trenton’s house. He could see the young lad, Howard Trenton, upstairs, in his bedroom. He was standing at the window, staring directly at Alfie, with a large, filthy, smirk across his face. Alfie scowled at the youth, before turning away and heading down his front garden path. Just before he opened up the front door, Alfie looked back again at the Trenton’s home; Howard hadn’t moved, and was still wearing the same grin. If I ever find out that you’ve got something to do with my cat going missing, I’ll break your fucking neck, thought Alfie, before disappearing into his house.

  ***

  I remember one afternoon, I think it was a Saturday, when Howard came storming into the house. He looked totally and absolutely pissed off about something or other. I was sat in the living room, watching some football on the television. In came Howard. He took his coat off, and threw it onto the armchair, which was really unlike him. Then he walked straight across to the living room window. I noticed that Howard was shaking.

  “Hey, what’s the matter?” I asked, realising straight away that something wasn’t right.

  “It’s that batty old cunt, Alfie Whitehouse… the stupid fucker.” Swore Howard. I was shocked. I rarely heard Howard swear.

  “What, Howard? What’s wrong?” Howard turned away from the window and looked at me. He was practically frothing at the mouth.

  “He’s just practically accused me of kidnapping his stupid cat! Like I’d go and do something like that!” Howard half-shouted, outraged.

  “What did he say to you?” I wanted to know.

  “Oh, I can’t even remember. The stupid old shit-head just…”

  “Hey, come on, Howard, don’t call him things like that.” I interrupted.

  “Why not? He’s just implied that I took his cat… what would I want with that flea-ridden fucking thing?”

  “HOWARD!” I had shouted. “Just calm down.”

  “I don’t want to calm down. I’ve just been accused of kidnap!” Argued Howard. He took a couple of steps toward me. “You need to tell him… you need to tell that old bastard that I’ve got fuck-all to do with his missing scrag-end of a pet! And you need to tell him that I don’t take kindly to being accused of stuff that I haven’t done.” Screeched Howard.

  “Okay, Howard, okay. I’ll have a word with him.” I promised. This seemed to calm my cousin right down.

  “Well, make sure that you do.” He said, and then off he went, out of the living room, and up to his bedroom.

  As it goes, I did have a word with Alfie Whitehouse on Howard’s behalf, the next day. He apologised for implying that Howard might have taken his cat.

  “It’s just that Howard is always smirking at me, especially when Buttons is mentioned.” Explained Alfie.

  “Yeah, I don’t know why he’d do that, to be ho
nest, Alf… I don’t mind admitting that Howard can be a little, well, strange at times… but what I do know is that he’s not the type to go harming animals… or anything, come to that. It’s just not in his nature.” I told my neighbour, who seemed to accept what I was saying. It wasn’t very long until I discovered just how wrong I was. I’ll say one thing for my cousin; he had us all fooled, he really did. I guess that was what made him so dangerous; people just never saw him coming, not until it was too late. Mind you, having said that, Alfie Whitehouse might have just been the exception to that rule; he sensed something very bad, so very wrong, with Howard, and ultimately, the poor old man ended up paying the price for it.

  A week or so later, Howard Trenton looked out of his bedroom window, across to Alfie Whitehouse's home. The old man was sitting on his front wall, still keeping up the vigil for his missing cat, who had now been missing for just over two weeks. Howard's attention drifted away from Alfie for a moment, and he gazed up at the late afternoon sky, above the rooftops. It was filled with dark, leaden clouds.