‘Don’t worry.’ Barry looked sly. ‘I’ll take it out of your wages.’
‘What wages?’
‘There’s loads of work on at the moment. Me and Geoff could do with another pair of hands.’
Jim started to feel the dizzy anger again. He didn’t understand what was going on. ‘What?’
‘Well, you’ll need a job, and we’re your mates. It just makes sense.’
‘Don’t fuck me around, Baz. I don’t know anything about bricklaying.’
‘You don’t have to know anything. We just need a labourer. Think about it. We’ve got loads of work. You’d be well sorted.’ Barry spoke casually, but his eyes were fixed on Jim. Jim stared at the tabletop and pushed grains of salt around with his fingernail. Barry watched for a few seconds and then asked, ‘What else are you going to do for money?’
Jim muttered, ‘I don’t know,’ and he really didn’t. He had no plan at all.
Barry spread his hands and said, ‘Well then,’ as if it was all settled.
Jim looked up and couldn’t find any comfort in Barry’s smile.
—
Back in the car, Barry chatted at Jim and told him things he already knew from Barry and Geoff’s occasional visits – that he didn’t have to worry about the Scrutons because they’d moved away, that Martin was with a different crowd now and had no interest in opening old wounds, that Geoff still lived with his parents and was fatter than ever, that Mac ‘the gobshite’ was in Spain building hotels, that Barry couldn’t understand how the council had buggered up Jim’s housing, because no fucker else wanted to live in the village anymore.
‘Thanks for letting me stay with you,’ Jim managed to say. ‘They might have kept me in otherwise.’
‘Least I could do. But tread carefully, ’cos wor lass is pregnant and that pisses them off.’
‘Congratulations.’
Barry just sniffed. ‘Stupid cunt messed up her pills.’
‘Oh.’
‘Never mind. It has to happen sooner or later,’ Barry said with a sigh, and fumbled to light a cigarette. He took a couple of heavy drags and wound down the window. ‘Look, have you heard from your uncle?’
‘No. You saw him at mam’s funeral. He wouldn’t even look at me. Thought it was my fault. You know, that she didn’t have the strength to beat it.’
Barry nodded, thin-lipped. ‘So he didn’t tell you.’
‘Tell me what?’
‘He packed up, Jim. Took his family to live in Australia. They’re gone.’
‘Right. I see.’
So that was it. Jim did not have a single blood relative left to call on. And he saw what Barry had really meant by ‘What else have you got?’ Then, as if he were reading Jim’s thoughts, Barry said, ‘Don’t worry – me and Geoff will look after you.’
Still Barry did not take Jim home. Instead, they drove deep into a grid of terraced houses just outside the centre of Middlesbrough. ‘You should get yourself a woman: it helps calm you down. You could do with a bit of calming down,’ Barry said.
Jim ignored him. He let his head loll over the back of the car seat and stared at the roof, but then Barry was braking, veering to the right, and winding down the window all at the same time. Jim looked to see. The car drew level with a black man who was walking down the street. Barry took a last, deep drag of his cigarette and flicked it hard out of the window. It hit the man in the side of the face. Barry sped up again and through a cloud of smoke said, ‘Fucking niggers. We’re being over-run.’
Jim scrambled to look out of the rear screen; the man was staring after them, with his hand to his face. Then they turned a corner, and Jim slid back into his seat. ‘Are you trying to get me sent down again?’
‘Relax.’
‘Don’t fucking tell me to relax. Where are we going?’
‘You’ve never had sex before, have you?’
Jim twisted in his seat. ‘Are you looking for a smack in the mouth?’
‘All right, all right. I’m just making conversation.’
‘I don’t want a fucking conversation.’
‘Aye, I can see that. Anyway, we’re here.’ Barry pulled over and turned off the ignition.
It was just a narrow, terraced street, identical to the ones they’d been driving through. Some of the houses were boarded up, others were obviously lived in, and the rest fell somewhere in between. Here and there the road revealed great patches of cobbles where the tarmac had broken up. The lamppost at the corner listed dangerously, and about four feet up it in white marker someone had scrawled, ‘NF.’
‘This is a fucking shithole. Why are we here?’
‘She’s waiting for you,’ said Barry.
‘Who?’
‘In there.’ Barry nodded at the house they were parked outside. The paint on the door was blistered; the brown curtains were drawn; the downstairs window was broken at the corner and patched with cardboard and electrician’s tape.
Jim felt the sickness return, and with it realization. ‘Have you paid a prostitute?’
Barry smiled. ‘No money has changed hands. I’ve just called in a favour.’
‘I’m not doing this.’
‘Don’t be stupid. Every man needs to fuck and you’ve waited longer than most.’
Jim was still and silent for a moment. He thought of the women on the street and in the café, the hairspray and eye shadow, and the plump waitress with her top buttons undone and her tits cupped in a red bra. Then he scrambled for his seatbelt. ‘Fine, I’ll do it. Satisfied?’
‘Good lad.’ Barry grabbed Jim’s arm. ‘Look, you’re not going to regret this, take it from me. Don’t let the state of the house put you off – she’s a good-looking young lass.’
Jim could tell that Barry wasn’t lying about this, at least, so he just nodded and got out of the car. He stood on the pavement for a little while and breathed fresh air until he heard Barry’s muffled voice behind him. ‘Go in!’ Jim walked to the door and opened it.
There was darkness and a strong odour of damp. Jim saw that he was at the bottom of a staircase and that there was a door immediately to his left. It was very quiet. He went through the door and found himself in what might have been a living room. There was a little more light there. It came through the curtains, and from inside Jim could see that they were made of sacking. At the back of the room was another doorway, slightly ajar. The only furniture was a broken-down sofa covered with a twisted heap of blankets.
‘Is that him?’ a man’s voice came from the room behind the door. He sounded sharp and angry. Jim lifted his hands, ready to make fists.
‘What?’ A low voice was there in the room with him. Then movement, and what Jim had thought were just blankets on the sofa resolved themselves into a person. Jim could only see half her face, the other half was covered by her hair. She squinted at him for a few moments, and then whatever fear or curiosity had motivated her to move seemed to slide away and she sank back into the cushions without saying another word.
‘Ignore them. You’re looking for me.’ Another voice.
Jim turned round. It was a young woman. She wore a thin dressing gown. She had blonde hair and was barefoot. Jim had never seen a prostitute before, and despite what Barry had said, he’d expected someone older. He didn’t know what to do, or even how to speak to her.
‘Follow me.’ It didn’t occur to Jim not to obey her, and she led him upstairs and into a bedroom. It was fresher and lighter than downstairs. The sheets looked almost clean.
‘Sit down and get ready. I’ll be back in a minute.’ Then she disappeared, closed the door behind her.
Jim was alone in the room. He sat on the edge of the bed. What did ‘get ready’ mean? He thumped his leg. ‘This is fucking ridiculous.’
After a few minutes, she came back, raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Are you going to get undressed?’
There was nothing to say, so he did it. Then she dropped her dressing gown and she was naked. She climbed onto the bed with him. Jim grabbed
a fistful of sheets. Her hands were very cold.
—
‘Jesus Christ!’ Barry tapped the clock on the dashboard. ‘I expected you to be in and out within ten minutes. What the fuck did you do to her?’
Jim shrugged.
‘You didn’t ask her to talk, did you?’
‘No.’
‘Good. How do you feel?’
‘Just drive, would you.’
‘Suit yourself.’
They drove in silence for a few minutes, until Barry punched Jim on the shoulder. ‘You’re not feeling guilty, are you? You’d better not have caught fucking religion.’
‘Of course I haven’t.’
‘Well then, smile, you twat. You’re a man now.’
‘I didn’t ask her what her name was.’
‘Does it matter?’
Jim shrugged again.
‘She wouldn’t have told you her real name anyway.’
‘Right.’
‘Look, do you want this job or not?’
‘Aye. All right, then.’
‘That’s the spirit. Let’s get you home and get you drunk.’
5
July 1996
Jim slept badly and his dreams were weird. They jolted him awake in the early hours and he couldn’t sleep again. He’d get up and clean, read, smoke, do press-ups – anything to clear his head – and in the morning he went to work.
Work was where he lost himself. Work and drinking after work. Jim took to it. He wasn’t skilled like Barry or Geoff, but he was strong and reliable, and he could handle the labour. Barry was the leader now. He bullied and cajoled the other two and usually got his own way. Geoff and Jim just got on with the job. Now and again, Jim would catch Barry watching him as he humped buckets of mortar or swept up. Barry looked satisfied. Jim didn’t care anymore.
Out in the village, Jim kept his head down and tried to ignore the human shapes that flickered in his peripheral vision. Even so, he couldn’t help finding himself face to face with people he used to know. Geoff’s family looked right through him; they blamed him for getting ‘their boy’ involved in all that ‘nastiness’. His old neighbours smiled sadly. Barry’s big brother, Martin, gave him one solemn nod and never acknowledged him again. It was always hate or pity, and Jim didn’t want either. One day in the pub, though, Mac’s dad said, ‘Welcome home, son.’ Jim accepted a pint.
Old school friends were the worst: they asked Jim questions, but he didn’t want to talk about any of it. Some of them had good jobs, a few were starting families, and one or two had even been to university. Sometimes when they talked to him, Jim felt anger welling like hot vomit in his throat and he had to turn on his heel and walk away before a fight happened. Eventually, he shaved his head and then fewer people recognized him. And that was better.
When he talked to his probation officer, Jim smiled nicely and told him everything was going well.
That summer, Jim passed his driving test and bought an old car. He opened his UK road atlas and looked at the country. It was all made of places that he’d never visited. He thought about going somewhere, Scotland maybe. He planned a route and he could imagine himself driving it, but after that all he could see were the things that might go wrong. Truth was, he had no idea where to start. No idea how to find rooms, or campsites, or any of the other things he would have to arrange. Christ, he’d barely managed to arrange furniture for the house: one dining table, two dining chairs, and a sagging armchair were the best he could do. Upstairs, he was still sleeping on a mattress on the floor. His mother would have called the place ‘a bloody shambles’ and told him to pull his socks up.
Worst of all, if he went away, he would be alone. Alone in all those places where everyone else would be together. Jim closed the atlas and went out for a walk.
—
Later, Jim was walking across the park when he saw a familiar figure coming his way. Jim stopped and smiled. The surprise of smiling made him smile even more. At first, the man didn’t see Jim, because he was staring at the ground. The day was warm – Jim was in his shirtsleeves – but the man was wearing a duffel coat, buttoned up all the way. He still hadn’t seen Jim, but then he looked up and stopped too. They faced each other for a few seconds.
‘Joe!’
‘Howdy, partner.’
‘“Howdy, partner”? It’s been years! How are you?’ Jim felt a bizarre urge to hug Joe, but fought it and put his hands in his pockets for good measure.
‘I’m magnificent.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. Have you been hiding? I haven’t seen you at all.’
‘No. I’ve seen you. You didn’t notice me.’
‘Shit. I’m sorry, Joe. I’ve had my blinkers on.’
‘Your what?’
‘Since I got out. Eyes front. I only see in corridors.’
‘But we’re in the park.’
Jim laughed. ‘Yeah, we’re in the park. So how’s your mam getting on? Are you still up at that house?’
‘Aye. She says it’s falling down around our ears.’
‘It can’t be that bad.’
Joe looked at his toes. ‘I’m going back now. Do you want to come for a cup of tea?’
Jim scratched the back of his head and sighed. ‘I don’t think your mam would be glad to see me, Joe.’
‘She won’t mind.’
‘Another time maybe.’
‘Suit yourself. See you later, alligator.’
Jim watched Joe shuffle away, across the park and down the road. He hadn’t changed a bit. ‘Daft bugger,’ Jim muttered to himself, but he was still smiling.
—
One Friday night shortly afterwards, Geoff, Jim, and Barry went out together. It was one of their ‘big nights’. Usually they just went to the Admiral, but now and again they went into town and did a proper bar crawl. They caught a bus – nobody wanted to be the driver – and sat on the top deck. Jim looked out of the window and watched fields and villages trundle past as the other two chatted. He was nervous. Going out like this always made him feel anxious; all those people chatting and dancing and flirting and he had no idea at all how to join in. It was ridiculous; he was with Geoff and Barry. They were the same age. They’d grown up together. Jim had known the pair of them for longer than he could remember: he should feel comfortable in a pub with these men. They should be mates, out having fun together, but Jim felt like the Tin Man. Some clanking monstrosity. He thought he looked foolish to everyone, and warmed up only after a few drinks. Then he enjoyed himself, until oblivion set in.
Barry poked him. ‘Brighten up, Jim. You’ll pull no birds with that face on.’
Jim wished for a tart comeback but just said, ‘Don’t worry about me.’
‘Aye,’ said Geoff. ‘Tonight’ll be your lucky night. Finally.’
‘Piss off,’ said Jim.
The other two laughed at him.
When they eventually arrived, they found that the pubs were full way beyond the usual Friday-night crowds. Barry identified the problem immediately.
‘Fucking students,’ he said.
‘They’ll have finished their finals,’ said Jim. ‘It’s that time of year.’
‘They’re a bunch of cunts at any time of year.’
Jim went to the bar and found it at least four deep for its entire length. It was only eight o’clock and the floor was already slippy with spilled drink. He was crammed in with a group of girls in tiny skirts. He winced as his elbows unavoidably collided with their tits, but they didn’t even notice. He smiled at one of them and she smiled back. Then she turned away, but it was better than a kick in the balls and it gave him a kind of hope.
He bought bottled beer, because there was no way he’d get back to the others with pints intact. As he turned away from the bar, though, one of the girls stepped into him and knocked the bottles out of his hands. They hit the floor, rebounded like skittles, and sent up a triple fountain of foam. The girl danced out of the way, but Jim caught a jet of beer all up the leg of his
jeans.
‘Sorry,’ she mouthed, with outspread hands.
Jim just looked at her. He had nothing to say; he was still in the blank, calm time before emotions respond to events. She slipped away and he lost sight of her in the crowd. It was the same girl who’d smiled at him earlier.
‘How, watch what you’re doing. You’ve fucking soaked me.’ Some lad, shouting in Jim’s ear. Jim gave the lad a brief glance and without thinking about it reached out and shoved him off his feet.
Geoff appeared beside Jim, linked arms with him, and steered him towards the exit. ‘Let’s go somewhere else. It’s too busy in here anyway.’
They emerged onto the pavement under the summer evening sun and Barry was already there, waiting. Jim looked at his jeans and said, ‘I’m all wet.’
‘Let’s get some tinnies and sit in the park for a while. You’ll soon dry off,’ said Geoff.
Barry marched off ahead of them, setting the pace, eager to get out of the area. Geoff walked next to Jim and said, ‘You need to settle down, mate. You can’t keep doing things like that.’
Jim ground his teeth. ‘Fuck that. You saw that bloke. He was looking to start something.’
‘You have to let these things go, Jim.’
Jim turned and stopped right in front of Geoff. ‘Look at this.’ He pointed to the scar bisecting his eyebrow. ‘This is what you get when you don’t stand up for yourself. It was my first week inside and someone had a point to prove. I was so scared I just stood there and let him do it. I never let it happen again, and I’m not going to start now.’
‘It’s different out here. You’re not in prison anymore, and I don’t want to see you go back there. You need to leave all that stuff behind.’
Jim stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked at the ground.
‘Come on, Jim. It’s over now.’
‘Thanks. I’ll bear that in mind.’
—
Later that evening, they’d all had a lot to drink, and they were in a club. Jim leaned against the bar and watched as Geoff danced self-consciously. He was trying to bump ’n’ grind with the girls, most of whom looked horrified and quickly left his vicinity. Eventually, he found a fat bird who didn’t mind his attentions and soon they were frotting in a corner.
Magnificent Joe Page 4
