Deadfolk

by Charlie Williams

Plim started fiddling with the huge wart on the side of his face. It were about twice the size of how it had been at school. ‘Juss got a question or two for you,’ he says.

  ‘Ask way. Milk and sugar?’

  ‘Milk. Ta. Jonah…P.C. Jones, that is…has milk an’ four.’

  ‘Sweet tooth.’

  ‘Aye. Look, seen Baz Munton of late, have you?’

  I busied meself with Jonah’s milk and eight sugars, thinking it over. This weren’t what I’d expected at all. The body must have turned up somewhere. I might have knowed it. Folks don’t just swipe corpses for a laugh. They do it to get someone into bother over it. ‘Depends what you means by “of late”, don’ it.’

  ‘When were the last time you seen him?’

  ‘Couple of days. Seen him outside Hoppers.’

  ‘Two day ago, you says?’

  ‘Reckon so. No. Three. Aye, three.’

  ‘And what’d you talk about with him?’

  Jonah came back in the kitchen and sat down. I put his mug in front of him.

  ‘Ta,’ he says.

  ‘Pleasure.’

  ‘Eh, Blake?’ It were Plim again. ‘What’d you talk about?’

  ‘Who says we talked?’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Well, aye. Chatted about this an’ that. Can’t recall zackly what.’

  Jonah took a sip. ‘I heared you an’ Baz had a row,’ he says, grimacing.

  ‘Who telled you that?’

  ‘Half a dozen witnesses is who.’

  ‘Oh aye?’

  ‘Aye.’

  I drank some tea. It were too hot still and burned me tongue and lips. I drank some more. ‘So?’

  ‘Blake,’ says Plim, showing us his palms. ‘We’re just establishin’ facts is all.’

  ‘He’s givin’ us aggro,’ I says, pointing at Jonah.

  ‘Come on, Blake. Jonah don’t mean it that way.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘All right. Me an’ Baz had a…dispute.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Footy.’ I drank some tea and looked shocked at their reaction. ‘Woss funny?’

  ‘If you an’ Baz was rowin’ over footy, then I’m a…’ Jonah looked confused for a second, like the feckless streak of piss he’d been at school and still were. Then he got angry with himself. ‘Never mind what I is. You weren’t fightin’ over no footy match.’

  ‘Says who?’

  ‘Says I, is who.’

  ‘I never says it were a footy match.’

  ‘Fuckin’ did an’ all. Just now you did.’

  ‘Says footy, didn’t I. Don’t mean a match.’

  ‘Oh aye? What do it mean then?’

  ‘Anythin’. Footy rules. Footy players. Tactics an’ that.’

  ‘Bollocks.’

  We batted it back and forth like that for a while, him getting more aggro and me more relaxed. I were starting to enjoy it. Then Plim stepped in with: ‘Where was you lunchtime two day ago, Blake?’

  ‘Havin’ lunch.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Paul Pry.’

  Well, it came out just like that. Like if it were true. And I knew they believed us cos I’d said it so innocent and matter-of-fact. But in that moment I felt the kitchen walls closing in on us, and saw bars growing up out of the window sills, and heard the teeth of Lee and Jess Munton snapping at my arse like two hungry bull terriers. I’d lied. And it wouldn’t take em but a couple of hours to smell it.

  Unless I could hide the hum, course.

  ‘And what’d you eat?’ says Jonah.

  ‘Pie and chips, I reckons. Far as I knows thass all you can eat down the Paul Pry.’

  ‘Heh heh, ain’t that right,’ says Plim shaking his swede. But Jonah weren’t laughing. His bonfire had been well and truly pissed on.

  I laughed. I laughed and laughed, looking at Jonah the whole time. By the time I noticed that Plim had shut up and were looking at us like I were a mong, I couldn’t remember what were so funny.

  ‘Right, then,’ says Plim, slapping hands his knees and hauling upright. ‘Thass that then, I reckons.’

  Jonah gave us his look for a while longer, then got up himself.

  ‘Ta for droppin’ by, lads. Nice to see you again. We’ll get together some time eh? Sink a few an’ talk about old times, like.’

  Neither of em replied, which were just as well. Soon as I heard their motor running I got on the blower.

  ‘Hello. Paul Pry. Fine selection of ales and—’

  ‘Nathan?’

  ‘Aye. Who zat?’

  ‘Blake. You on yer tod?’

  ‘Aye. Why?’

  ‘Well, you knows you done us that favour t’other day, regardin’ Baz an’ that? I needs summat else from you along same lines.’

  ‘Oh aye.’

  ‘Aye. Needs you to back us up on summat this time, that I had me lunch down the Paul Pry that day.’

  ‘But you never. You popped in before—’

  ‘I knows I never. That ain’t the point. I needs you to make out like I did.’

  ‘But you never.’

  ‘Nathan, I’ll make it worth yer while. Same as last time.’

  ‘You can’t get us that way, Blake.’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘Fifty pound I charged you. Fer a pint o’ lager. Keep chargin’ them prices an folks’ll stop suppin’ here.’

  ‘All right, Nathan. What’ll it take?’

  ‘I happens to know you can afford a fair bit more’n fifty pound, today.’ I could picture him there with a smirk playing under his sparse tash. ‘I happens to know you got a little bonus from yer boss early this mornin’. Without his say so.’

  I were clutching the phone so hard I could feel me fingernails loosening. Why had I given Nathan as my alibi? Why the fuck hadn’t I said Sal? ‘You’re wrong, Nathan. I never got no bonus.’

  ‘Then my memory can’t be jogged, then. Can it.’

  If the coppers was fast they’d be getting to him in ten minutes. But they might radio someone over quicker, just to piss us off. ‘Nathan, I’ll give you whatever you wants.’

  ‘Oh aye?’

  ‘Aye. Name yer price.’

  ‘I wants what you pulled from Fenton’s safe last night, is my price.’

  ‘Eh? The money? I ain’t got it. Ain’t got none o’—’

  ‘Not that safe. T’other un.’

  I frowned, wondering how the fuck Nathan had come to know about that one. But there were no time for asking him about that. And this were Nathan after all, who knew everything.

  But still, I didn’t have what he were after. I didn’t even know what it were. And I told him as much.

  ‘No good, boy. There’s only one item I’ll take in return fer this particlier favour. Thass the contents o’ that there safe. Former contents, I should say.’

  ‘Telled you already, ain’t got it an’ can’t lay me hands on it. How about my Ford Capri?’

  ‘The contents of the safe, boy. An’ I’ll give you a while to get it. A day, let us say.’

  ‘Iss a classic, Nathan. Two point eight i. The genuine article. Only one own—’

  ‘I’ll cover fer you, Blake. You heared the terms. Agree to em, does you? Or shall I tell these here coppers comin’ up the path the truth?’

  ‘All right. I’ll get you yer…thing.’

  ‘Consider yerself covered, Blake. For now.’ And he hung up.

  Trouble with whisky is once you sits down to it you can’t pull yourself up again. I can’t anyhow. Well, perhaps I can at a push. But it’s fucking hard. And it leaves us feeling unsatisfied and up in the air like. In fact the only place I can haul meself after getting on a whisky one, if I can be arsed, is me pit. And that’s the only place I wanted to be after sitting there at the kitchen table for two solid hours and then finding the bottle to be empty.

  But there’s summat inside of every man, I reckons, that spurs him on at such times. My arse were heading for jail. And it’d be lucky to reach that far without the Muntons
chomping off a cheek apiece. I could sit on it until such a fate came to pass. Or I could get off it and do summat about it.

  And I knew just what to do.

  I went into the living room, sorted things out with the telly and video, and plonked meself down on the couch. Soon Rocky Balboa were on the screen, dancing around as Clubber Lang showered his rage down on him. Rocky were a bit ragged, which were a fair description of how I felt right then. But he got out of it. He stood back and bided his time. And when it came, he nailed it hard. He beat the odds and came out of it the bestest fighter in history.

  He showed how it were to be done, for any folks who’d care to pay attention.

  And that were all I needed.

  Not that Rocky III gave us any bright ideas nor nothing. I’d be the first to confess I wouldn’t know a bright idea if it did a shite in me pocket. But I had a plan, of sorts. And I were tweaking it over in my mind as I bombed across town.

  I parked a couple of streets away and walked the final few yards. There were no one about, but you never knew in this part of town. I told you a bit about Norbert Green already, so you pretty much knows your way around the place by now. But what you wouldn’t know is how many eyes is peeking out at you through them net curtains as you strolls past. Most every house has a couple of folks inside it who stays in all day and keeps watch. That’s how it works in Norbert Green. But I were all right.

  See, I were wearing a wig.

  It were a smart one all right. Curly brown locks coming right down over me ears and eyebrows. And it covered up the bump on my head, which were a bonus. I’d had the wig for years. Found it in some house I were doing over and took a fancy to it. It’d been a bit baggy at the time, but I knew I’d flesh it out one day. Funny how your swede keeps on growing for a bit after your height stops. Well, the idea back then were to disguise meself in case anyone seen us popping in or out of a house. And it done the trick. My burglary arrests dropped off like a leper’s toes. Course, I hadn’t used it in years. Burglary were summat I’d grown out of, like sniffing glue and swinging cats. Only I seemed to be getting back into it a bit, of late.

  I rang the bell and stood there, adjusting my dark glasses and looking down at me togs. I were wearing a red tracksuit with white piping, and a pair of black footy trainers with white stripes down the sides. All in all I didn’t look a bit like meself.

  Through the wobbly glass in the door I could see someone coming. A bird by the looks of her. Bollocks, I thought. I’d been banking on this being the one house with no one in it right then. I thought about running away, but that’d be asking for trouble. No, I had to bluff me way out of it. Least it weren’t one of the Munton lads. The door opened.

  I stood and gawped for a bit. She were Mandy Munton, younger sister to Lee, Jess, and Baz. And she’d grown up a bit since I’d last seen her.

  ‘All right, love,’ I says, changing my voice a bit. ‘I were wondering if you’d give us some directions, like.’

  She glared at us for a while. I glared back, wondering behind me dark glasses if she knew what I’d done to her brother. But I knew she couldn’t know. Didn’t even know I were meself, did she? Not with the disguise. ‘Hiya, Blake,’ she says.

  I started to say summat else, pretend it weren’t us, but thought fuck it. If she’d recognised us there were nothing I could do about it. ‘All right, Mand.’

  ‘When’d you start wearin’ the hairpiece?’

  ‘This thing? Oh, aye. Look, Mand. I were just—’ But she’d walked back into the house leaving the door open. I followed her in and shut the door.

  Like I says, I hadn’t seen her in a few years. Most folks in Mangel didn’t even know the Muntons had a sister. Stayed inside all the time, she did. Afraid of the outdoors. That’s what Lee told us anyhow. Turned that way not long after the last time I’d seen her. Must have been twelve back then, tops. Looked a lot older, mind. Looked sixteen if you caught her in a certain light, with that silky dark hair and black eyes and perky chest of hers. And she looked same now. Only more so.

  ‘Tea?’ she says, filling the kettle. She were wearing one of them tight vest things that birds was partial to wearing at that time and fellers was partial to looking at. Her tight jeans barely came up over her hips, leaving a strip of white skin and a belly button exposed to the elements, such as they was. I thought it a mite odd for her to be dressed up so, her being a hermit and all. Why bother tarting up with no fellers to appreciate it? But it were none of my business.

  I looked at summat else. ‘Aye. Tea’d be nice. Look, Mand—’

  ‘You want us to keep quiet.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘About you comin’ here. S’what you was about to ask, right? Only you never was one for comin’ out with it, was you.’

  ‘Well, I reckon not,’ I says, wondering what she were getting at but wary of getting into any deep conversations, her kinfolk being liable to turn up any moment and all. I grinned.

  She opened the fridge door to get the milk out. I noticed the piles of raw meat inside, meat being all the Muntons ever ate besides beans. Then she plonked a mug on the side near where I were stood. ‘Milk and two, ennit?’ she says. ‘Less you’ve changed yer ways.’ She leaned on the counter and looked us up and down. ‘You can take off yer hairpiece now.’

  ‘Look, Mand,’ I says, leaving the hairpiece on. ‘I’m in a hurry, like.’ I weren’t sure what I were getting at, but I had to get at summat. This were my one chance. I were in the Muntons’ house, fuck sake. I could hardly climb into the dragon’s mouth without making a grab for one of his gold teeth. ‘There’s summat—’

  ‘What happened, Blake?’

  ‘Wha? When?’

  ‘With us.’ Her face were down, but them dark eyes peered up at us through long black lashes. ‘What happened with us?’

  ‘What…’ I stopped. I were a mite confused, naturally. There’d never been an ‘us’, far as I knew. She were twelve years old back then, for fuck sake. What do you take us for? ‘Well,’ I says. ‘I don’t rightly know.’

  Her eyes stayed hard for a moment, locking onto mine like ticks on the back of an old badger. Then her face screwed up and she sobbed so hard it near knocked her over.

  ‘Come on,’ I says, putting my hand on her dainty shoulder and making an effort not to play with the thin strip of cotton that didn’t cover it up.

  She put her arms around us and squeezed us so tight I could taste me lungs. She were a strong lass, despite her lack of bulk. ‘Oh, Blake, I’m so confused,’ she mumbled into my shirt. ‘I been thinkin’ about you all the time lately. Ever since…since…’ My hands was moving around her back, fingers slipping under her top. ‘Ever since Baz went off.’

  ‘Oh aye? An’ where’d he go off to?’

  ‘Blake, I don’t know. Dunno if I care no more neither. I been doin’ a lot o’ thinkin’, Blake.’

  ‘Aye?’ Her hard little belly were grinding up against my groin area, doing all sort of things to me concentration. But I had to keep atop it. She leaned in, pulling my head toward hers. I kept my eyes open while we snogged, watching out for her tricks, her being a Munton and all. Her eyes was closed and I recall thinking how nice her lashes was, all dark and sweeping sideways like that. Her lips was lush and all, just like I remembered em. And her tongue were tearing around my gob like a Jack Russell round a rabbit warren. She were a bit of all right, you might say.

  I don’t know exactly when she took it off, but suddenly little Mandy’s kit were on the floor. I reached down her back to her arse cheeks, which I kneaded like two big lumps of dough. I brung me hands back up again and round her shoulders and started on her tits. It weren’t long before her nipples sprung up like acorns, upon which I moved south and did some work on the lawn. When the grass were good and wet I picked her up and plonked her on the counter, and soon I were giving her what she wanted.

  We slumped down panting on the floor afterwards. I closed me eyes, trolleys round ankles, shirt unbuttoned, but sleeves still down and w
ig in place. She snagged her jeans with her big toe and fished out a pack of fags. We sat there, smoking and sweating.

  ‘Woss that?’ she says.

  ‘What?’

  ‘There. Looks like a tat.’ She poked us on the forearm. It fucking hurt but I held it in.

  ‘Ah, nuthin’ much.’ I pulled me sleeve down a bit more. She’d have seen the NT but nothing else, I hoped.

  ‘Looks new. Go on, show us.’ She tugged at me sleeve.

  I went to yank her away but turned it into summat else, pulling her close and kissing her hard. After a minute or so I reckoned she’d forgot all about the tat, so I came up for air.

  She lay across my lap, looking up at us and blowing smoke rings. ‘Blake,’ she says. ‘Why didn’t you do this years ago? I knowed you wanted us. A woman can tell such a thing. But it ain’t our job to do summat about it. Feller’s job, ennit.’

  ‘Well, Mand. If I ain’t mistaken you was twelve year old back when I last seen you. That ain’t a woman in my book.’

  ‘Thirteen,’ she shouted. I put me finger to her wet lips. When she spoke again she were quiet. ‘I were thirteen. And thirteen’s old enough.’

  ‘Old enough for what?’

  ‘You know. What we just done.’

  ‘Says who?’

  ‘Says…everyone. Don’t they?’ She looked at us. She must have been nineteen by now if my sums were right. But in her eyes she were still a youngun. ‘Besides, you didn’t mind kissin’ us.’

  I lifted her off me legs and plonked her bare arse on the lino. ‘I telled you not to mention that,’ I says, standing up now and hauling up me trolleys. ‘I telled you never to mention it. Mistake on my part, wernit.’

  ‘Oh aye?’ She were getting her own kit back on now. ‘I suppose just now were a mistake an’ all?’ She nodded at the counter. ‘I’m to keep that quiet, too, am I?’

  ‘I’d be grateful if you did, as it happens.’

  She pulled her top over her head and gave us a look like she were set to flob at us.

  ‘I mean, yer brothers might take it the wrong way, like. You can see that, can’t you?’

  She softened a mite, but you could still cut diamond with the look on her face.

  ‘Come on, you was fuckin’ twelve.’