Deadfolk

by Charlie Williams

  She weren’t anywhere in the room.

  Hang on, I thought, scratching my head. I know what she went and done. She went to pick us up anyhow, even though I hadn’t called her back. She went to get us so she can lay into us, bitter and enraged as she were.

  ‘Ah, fuck…’ I says, downstairs again now, glancing outside at the warm glow over Hoppers. It were a clear night. Stars in the sky, full moon. Smoke billowed up like a grey genie out of a dirty old beer bottle.

  My throat already knew the feel of cold steel. My old man used to threaten to slit it on a regular basis. Just verbal threats at first, little reminders that one day he’d cut my neck open and hang us up over a tin bucket. After a while I noticed a pattern—the threats’d come when I looked happy, when I walked around the house whistling or bouncing on my heels. Then I started coming home with birds. Hiding em from Dad, course. But he always knew. He’d get the family silver out soon as she were out the door. ‘Thinks your life’ll turn out just how you wants it, don’t you,’ he’d say, throat rattling with all the fags and whisky. ‘Reckon it’ll be nice and happy, eh? Well forget it. Didn’t turn out that way for me, did it? And I’ll make sure it don’t for you neither, you little bastard.’

  ‘Shift,’ says Jess, nodding at the controls and sliding the blade off my skin.

  I knew he’d nicked us. I could feel the drop of blood reaching into my chest hairs and tickling us. But I didn’t wipe it away. I got the motor started and put her in gear. ‘Where to?’ I says as we joined an empty Friar Street.

  ‘Strake Hill.’

  ‘Car park?’ I looked in the mirror and saw his nod. Weren’t much else about him I could see besides his big silhouette. Reminded us of Baz. I’d never thought em alike before. ‘Been puttin’ on weight there, Jess?’ I says.

  He didn’t move. Or his silhouette didn’t. He just sat tight, filling my mirror. A car turned up ahead and flashed headlights in his face. I looked away. I liked the silhouette better.

  ‘Whereabouts, Jess?’ I slowed down, seeing the turn-off up yonder. ‘What we goin’ there for?’

  He leaned forward and rested his knife hand by me right shoulder.

  I pulled into the car park and straight away spotted the Meat Wagon parked in the far corner. Everyone in Mangel knew the Meat Wagon. No one seemed to know for surely why it were so called. Not even meself, and I’d been quite close to the Munton boys in the past. From the moment Lee were big enough to drive one, they’d driven around in a white van known as the Meat Wagon. And before that Tommy Munton used to drive one, also known as the Meat Wagon. But I hadn’t ever met a soul who could tell us for surely why. Weren’t like they was butchers nor nothing. Most folks wasn’t interested in the why anyhow, long as they never ended up riding in the back of it.

  Jess pointed a sausage-like finger at the van.

  ‘Look, Jess…’

  With his other hand he twocked the back of the blade across my head, which weren’t nice.

  I rolled up to the Meat Wagon nice and slow, trying not to wake it up. It were solid as a Sherman tank and had no windows besides them up front, which was blacked out anyhow. I says it were white, but it weren’t white right then. It were plastered in shite and crap and couldn’t have been cleaned in a year. I pulled up next to it.

  What if I makes a break for it here? What are the chances of them having guns? I ought to outrun Jess, big feller as he were. And Lee never ran. Lee never done any kind of legwork. Aye, it were a good plan. Open the door and peg it like billy-o…

  I felt Jess’s hot breath on the back of my neck. ‘Try it,’ he says, in a voice coming from somewhere between Norbert Green and the bowels of hell itself, which ain’t too far separated, I shouldn’t think.

  The passenger door opened.

  Lee got in.

  He were dressed same as he always were: black leather coat, black boots, blue jeans. There were no hairs on his head besides a neat beard that covered up some of the scars he’d earned as a youngun. Other facial scars was visible and all. There were no hiding the deep groove that started on his right cheekbone and went through his nose like a mountain pass. But some scars you don’t want to hide. Some scars is a part of your character, and say more about you than any pissed-up pub tales.

  ‘All right, Blake,’ he says.

  ‘All right, Lee.’

  One thing were in my favour: they couldn’t do it here. Not in this car park in the middle of town. Their style were more out in the sticks, Hurk Wood in particular if rumour had it right. They was always careful in their enforcing, even if they didn’t know shite about running a business. That’s why they was so legendary. All them stories about em, no convictions.

  No, if they was planning on doing us in they’d take us outside of Mangel town. And that meant more opportunities to escape. That’s what I kept telling meself anyhow.

  Lee wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and coughed up some phlegm, then swallowed it loudly. ‘Got some things to discuss, ain’t us, Blake?’

  I couldn’t help but feel like a farmer who’d fell in his own slurry pit. ‘Aye,’ I says, letting the slurry swallow us up. There comes a point where all you can see is brown and all you can smell is shite. And when you reaches that point…Well, there ain’t no more struggling. ‘I reckons we has.’

  Lee gave us a funny look. One of them looks that you feels rather than sees. ‘You does, does you? Well, all right.’ He shifted in his seat to facing us. I didn’t move. I’d rather be hit on the ear than the face. ‘So what d’yer think? Reckon it’s a goer, or what?’

  ‘Eh?’ I says.

  ‘How much homework you done?’

  ‘What?’

  He laughed. ‘Hear that, Jess? Some things never changes, does they. Moon keeps comin’ up, river keeps on flowin’, an’ Blake keeps on playin’ the twat.’

  I looked in the mirror. Jess weren’t moving.

  Lee went on: ‘All right, Blake. I’ll play. I can see yer angle. You works there, so you gotta play thick, right? Just in case. Well let me get things started so’s you don’ have to. Your boss. Fenton. Poncey little arse bandit. How much you know about him?’

  Well that’s interesting, I were thinking. I reckon I’ll go along with this. Long as we’re singing this song we ain’t singing no other one. And there was a nasty little song we could have been singing, if only Lee and Jess knew the tune. ‘Fenton? Well, like you says, he’s me boss. Poncey, aye. Arse bandit? Quite possibly. That hair of his…’

  ‘Tellin’ us nuthin’ new there, Blake.’

  ‘All right. So, er…What is it you wanna know? Can’t say as I’ve peered too closely at his affairs, like.’

  Lee shifted in his seat. His leather jacket creaked like an old barn door on a quiet night. ‘I’m talkin’ business. You knows what I’m after. When do he bank his cash? Where’s his safe? Any peculiar security arrangements an’ that? Woss his weak spot? Shite like that. Come on. Spill.’

  I looked at him. ‘You wanna do the place over?’

  ‘Eh,’ says Lee, turning to Jess and creaking some more. ‘Did I say this feller were a twat? Do us a favour, Jess. Slap me wrist. Go on, slap the fucker. Slap it hard.’

  I could feel my shoulders loosening up. I could almost remember times when I’d had a laugh with these two cunts. ‘All right, lads,’ I says, laughing a bit meself. ‘Knock it off.’

  ‘Aye, we wanna do the place. And when I says “we”, I means us and you.’

  ‘Me? Fuck off, mate. Ain’t doing it.’

  ‘Why.’

  ‘Why should I? Me fuckin’ job, ennit. I likes me job.’

  ‘We’ll give you a job,’ he says. ‘Proper job. Legal an’ that.’

  ‘You? Doin’ what?’

  ‘Can’t say yet. Secret.’

  ‘Ain’t interested. Ain’t interested in doin’ over Hoppers neither.’

  Lee looked at Jess and shook his head. Then he says: ‘By the way, Blake, seen Baz?’

  My shoulders froze up again. ‘Baz
?’ I made a clueless face and started shaking my head. Then I remembered what the whole town knew: Baz had given us a hard time only the night before. They’d know about that for surely. ‘Oh, aye, he were round Hoppers last night. Last time I seen him, that were.’

  ‘Aye, we heared about that one. You’ll have to excuse our young brother. Blows a bit hot and cold like. Once he gets idea into his head, he ain’t liable to shake it. But we admires that trait, don’t us, eh, Jess?’

  ‘Bit hot and cold like,’ says Jess.

  ‘But not in this case.’ Lee lit a fag without taking his eyes off us. ‘This time he came close to lettin’ the cat out the fuckin’ bag, I hears. But he didn’t, did he. He just about kept the bastard in there.’

  As it happened a dirty old tomcat were mooching around just then in the one corner of the car park where my eyes was focused. Dirt had spilled over from surrounding borders, which was filled with more pop cans, fag packets, and used johnnies than flowers and shrubs and what have you. The cat circled four times, then arched up and laid a big one. ‘What bastard?’ I says, wishing I were a cat.

  ‘The bastard about you toppin’ yer wife.’

  I looked at Lee. Then Jess. Then Lee again. ‘What?’

  ‘Bastards,’ says Lee. ‘We’ll talk about bastards a bit more, shall us? See, this is your bastard, Blakey. You fathered it when you sent Beth down Hoppers that night to burn. And now the bastard’s comin’ home to claim kin. Now’s time to face up to yer fatherly responsibilities an’ that. What you reckon, Jess? Blake oughta do the right thing by his bastard or what?’

  ‘Aye. Fuckin’ bastard.’

  ‘What about you, Blake? Gonna be a good father?’

  The cat strolled off up the car park. He didn’t even kick any dirt over his business. There’s summat wrong with cats these days. None of em bothers to cover up their muck. ‘Who told you all this?’ I says.

  ‘So you admits it?’

  ‘No. Just wanna know who’s been spreadin’ muck.’

  ‘Don’t matter who spreads it. Muck’s there. Stinks.’

  ‘Ain’t true.’

  ‘Stinks though.’

  I stared Lee right in the eye. ‘It fuckin’ ain’t true.’

  ‘So you’d be happy if I pops in to the copper shop to spread it a bit further? Tell em what I heared, like? Won’t mind if they hauls you in and takes a close look at you? Sure you didn’t send Beth to her death, Blakey boy?’

  The cat stopped when it got to my Capri. It nosed the air a bit and had a good gander through the windows. Then it made up its mind about us and hared off. I closed my eyes and saw Baz’s dead body propped up in the corner of my cellar. ‘Woss yer problem, Lee?’ I says as calmly as I could. ‘Why give us this shite?’

  Lee gave us the eye for a few seconds. ‘Less juss say this: you’re in a position to repay your debt to us.’

  ‘What fuckin’ debt?’

  ‘The one you rung up when you turned a little accidental fire into a murder inquiry, which had the coppers snoopin’ a bit closer than normal and callin’ it arson. The debt you got into when the insurance cunts refused to pay out.’ He grabbed me collar and twisted, putting his screwed-up face up against mine. ‘You fucked us, you fuckin’ bastard.’

  ‘Shall I kill him, Lee?’

  ‘Leave it, Jess. We does it my way.’

  ‘I’ll kill him.’

  ‘You fuckin’ will not,’ he barked at the back seat. It were nice to have his face out of mine. ‘Every man deserves a chance to repay his debts. Even cunts like him.’

  ‘But it weren’t me,’ I says. ‘I didn’t kill her. I dunno what she were doin’ in there, an’ it weren’t…’

  ‘Weren’t what?’

  ‘You know. She were inside and…I were…’

  ‘Ah, save it. You’re gonna help us out and you knows it. Come on, Jess.’

  They got out and stomped over to the Meat Wagon, Jess walking to the right of and a bit behind Lee. When all three brothers was together, Baz’d be on the other side, slightly lagging. They wouldn’t be doing that no more, and I felt quietly proud to see their little V-shape spoilt so. Before he reached the van, Lee turned and shouted: ‘That exhaust of yours needs fixin’ by the sounds of her. Get down the Munton Motors why don’t you. Baz’ll get it done while he’s doin’ yer tyres. He’ll be back on the morrer, like as not.’

  They got in and slammed the doors. Lee swung the van out with the recklessness of one who wants every fucker in town to know how good at reversing he is. Then they bombed into the road.

  I sat where I were for a while, tapping me fingers on the wheel. I lit two fags, one after the other, and smoked em. When I were nearing the end of the second one, the cat jumped on the bonnet and glared at us. It settled down, legs tucked under, never losing eye contact. I turned the key and gave the throttle a good dose. The cat jumped in the air, did a bit of a somersault, then pegged it back into the bushes. I went home.

  When I got there I went to bed.

  8

  Phone woke us next morning about ten. I picked it up and says: ‘What time of the bastard night does you call this?’

  ‘Ain’t night. Mornin’, ennit.’

  ‘All right, Finney.’

  ‘All right, Blake. Out for a drink the night?’

  ‘Nah.’

  ‘Come on, feller’s gotta keep his strength up.’

  ‘Nah, mate. Workin’, ain’t I.’

  ‘Ah, right. The morrer, then?’

  ‘Er…dunno about that.’

  ‘Woss matter? You always comes out drinkin’.’

  ‘Workin’, ain’t I.’

  ‘No you ain’t. Never works on that day.’

  ‘Oh, I dunno. Don’t reckon I’ll fancy it.’

  ‘Fuck off, Blake. You always comes out drinkin’ with me an’ Legs an’ thass what you’re doin’ the morrer.’

  It were too much effort to argue. Specially with sleep still dragging us down and umpteen different worries lurking behind it. ‘Ah, all right, you cunt. I’ll be there.’

  ‘Thass the spirit, Blakey.’

  ‘Bye.’

  ‘Hang about.’

  ‘What, for fuck?’

  ‘I ain’t said where yet.’

  ‘But we always drinks in the Paul Pry.’

  ‘Thass right, Blake. We always drinks in the Paul Pry.’

  I laid back on the pillow. But I knew sleep were beyond us now. Finney were a cunt. I knew he meant no harm, but he were always doing just the thing you didn’t want him to. It’d taken us all night to get to sleep. I’d finally dropped off at eight near as not. And sleep hadn’t gave us what I’d wanted of it. I wanted some time away from me woes. I got another bastard dream instead. Same shite as last time—me at the kitchen table with Beth slagging us off nearby. Only the row had moved one a mite. ‘How could you do it, Royston?’ she were yelling. ‘How could you do such a thing to yer own wife? Not that you ever treated us like a proper wife. All I ever done were try an’ make you happy. And this is what I gets. Tell you what, Royston, I deserves better’n the likes of you. I married the wrong feller, is what I gone and done.’ And it went on like that.

  So all in all I were knackered.

  I got up, had a shower, shaved, and trimmed me tash. A tash does no good when it hangs too low. All it’ll do for you is tickle your top lip and soak up beer. But a well-kept one is the mark of a proud man, a man who knows what he is and why he’s it. Then I put on me track suit and went down the stair.

  I took a long time over breakfast, even though I were only having a few bits of toast and some bangers. I were planning on going training see, and there’s nothing worse than exercise on a full belly. I rounded it off with a few cups of tea and three raw eggs. Then I went to the cellar door.

  I were doing me best, see. I were trying to sort everything out and keep atop the steaming dung heap that my life were getting to be. A man who were liable to pull wool over his eyes wouldn’t have even got as far as the cellar door. He’d
have made himself forget all about the corpse in the cellar and josh himself that life were all right and no one had carked it. I’d seen it before. We’d done a house over up in Muckfield when we was younguns. Finney, Legs, and meself. A spot of opportunism you might say. Legs spotted an old bird locking up and staggering off down the shops with her walking stick. So we went in for a gander. Looked same as any other codger’s house on the surface. Shite old furniture in every room and nothing worth robbing. Then we opened a door upstairs.

  The stink fair bowled us over. Once our eyes stopped watering we saw where it were coming from. The old feller were lying there on the bed, all mouldy and blackened. Flesh looked like it were melting off him, like he’d been left in front of the fire too long. And the bed were all dark and wet beneath him where his fluids had leaked out. It weren’t quite was we was after, all in all. But it learned us summat.

  Folks don’t want to face up to facts.

  Anyhow, that were then and this were now. I opened the cellar door and looked into darkness. Then I shut it again. I weren’t ready.

  I weren’t avoiding nothing. Honest I weren’t. I just couldn’t face it yet. I’d be all right soon. I just had to…

  I got in me car and went down the gym.

  I hadn’t been training in weeks. Months, come to think on it. There’d been a time, when I were doorman at Hoppers first time round, when I were the biggest feller in Mangel near as not. And that’s saying summat, bearing in mind folks round here is bred for the fields. Ah, them was the days. Eighteen stone and half of pure beef I were back then. Barely a bird could walk past us without squeezing a bicep and giving us that special look.

  But then Hoppers burned and Beth died.

  I were seventeen stone now. And most of that were maintained by eating and drinking alone. Besides a spot of bouncing I barely used me muscles at all. Couldn’t see the point in training no more, since Beth. Lifting’s about building yourself up to whatever you reckon you ought to be. You reckons you’re a mountain, that’s what you’ll build towards. Truth were, since Beth died I didn’t reckon I amounted to much. Seventeen stone of dormant muscle had seemed about right for us. But now I were starting to think again about that.