by Gary Davison
He took his time and let the reel out first, just enough, he said, to tire the fish out, but not too much to let it get downstream to the reeds under the tree. ‘If they get in there,’ he said, ‘I’ve no chance of getting them in. I’ll have to cut the line.’
He pointed upstream where he had been casting his float and said the fish came down on the inside of a tree that was out in the water. Said it was a slower current there and the pool that opened after it, close to the side, was slow and a great feeding place for trout.
‘Not daft, the trout. You can’t just drop it in on their heads. Not these lot here, they know what’s what. You got to send it on the outside, slowly drawing it in, only slightly against the tide and bring it into the pool that way. The fish see it bouncing off logs and watch it in. That’s when you strike and hook ’em. Decent catch up here. Best spot on the river, but keep that to yourselves. Let them all go up to Wylam and Ovingham in the pure waters. Bah, there’s nowt up there. The crafty ones make it all the way down here. Salmon and all.’
We watched, amazed, as Stan kept the fish under control, bringing it in slowly then letting it out, then in a bit further. When his rod wasn’t so bent over and the fight looked to be out of the fish, he went a little closer to the bank side and landed it into the net. And what a whopper it was. Vin and me were right behind him but he shushed us back out of the way and lay it down still in the net.
‘What do you say to that, boys?’
‘It must be twenty pounds,’ Vin said. ‘What is it?’
‘That’s a rainbow trout. Look see, along its belly there, all pink. Rainbow, be about four, five pounds. Good enough for my tea tomorrow.’
Stan dropped it into a keep net in the river and rebaited his hook and cast out. Vin and me were sat a bit closer to him now and Vin had a go at making a roll-up, which had Stan laughing. Thought it was real hilarious and said it looked like a banger that had gone off.
He took the pouch from Vin and expertly made one with one hand. So cool, even though his fingers were so big. One swift lick and it was made. He nipped the end of and passed it to us. Vin lit it, coughed, and lit Stan’s for him. I had a couple off and coughed like mad. Stan laughed at that too, saying we’d get the hang of it soon. Everyone did.
‘Do you live out here?’ I asked. ‘I mean, if you don’t mind me asking?’
He waved the apology off. ‘Bah, I’m past caring about most things, son. Since that wife of mine tried to take everything I got, I’m past caring.’ He cast his rod out again, smoke climbing up his face. ‘Bills, idiots on motor bikes. Can’t be on with any of it. Used to come out here now and again, get away from it. One day I never went back. Been back a couple a times in the last six months. Don’t even know why. She can have the house and everything in it. No one bothers me out here. Not the council, old enemies, no one. Mind if they did, I’ve still got a few rounds left in me.’
Stan smirked and clenched his fist which was the size of a cabbage. A cabbage without leaves, or even a cannon ball. It had had writing on the knuckles and a swallow between the thumb and index finger. ‘I only stopped rolling around myself two years back. Was still cutting it with forty year olds then an’all. Teeth out, head in,’ he said chuckling, ‘and I was still up there.’
Stan went quiet and we all watched his black and orange float bobbing down the water and Stan drawing it into the pool at the bottom. I lay back on my side and Vin and me had another go at the roll-up. Still coughed, but I took a smaller draw, to see if I could stomach it. Couldn’t be that bad for you if people like Stan smoked it and lived to a ripe old age.
I felt safe around Stan. If D’s dad showed I think we’d have a chance. The three of us could give him a go. I think Stan could still give the best of them a go. The size of him, until they put him on the ground he’d be a force to be reckoned with.
Stan started talking about D. Derek, he kept calling him, and it sounded strange, like someone we didn’t know. He told us that he was an Armstrong, through and through. All his mother’s side, like Stan and his brothers. Stan’s brothers were all older than him, except one, who was dead. He said the whole family was in uproar when his sister married D’s dad. Said they knew he was from bad stock but his sister wouldn’t listen. He said his sister was loved by them all, protected her whole life because they we all so much older than her.
‘Elsie the Accident we called her, but our mother called her Little Miss Miracle. Came from nowhere when our old man was getting ready to pick up his pension.’
A lot of the family refused to attend the wedding, Stan said. They couldn’t get away with D’s dad. He was a roamer from out of town with no real job. It didn’t bother Stan and them one iota that he was a bit of a hard man and D’s dad was put right in his place by Stan.
‘Knew the score,’ Stan said, checking the tension on the line. ‘And wasn’t such a hard man back then. Before the drugs and his gypo pals started arriving. We offered them all. Anyone and everyone and had our old man’s backing. We’ve laid down for no one and if you fought one Armstrong brother you got the rest for nowt. Except now,’ he smacked the fishing rod away, ‘we’re either too old or dead. I should be dead. Had me time, wish I could just go, now. Not see our Elsie like this. And little Derek. If she hadn’t screamed on we’d have taken care of business a long time back. LONG TIME BACK…’ Stan started coughing and spluttering and struggled to get his breath back. He seemed so old now as we lifted his head back and poured some water in his mouth.
‘Get off!’ he said, knocking the bottle and Vinny down the bank. He sat forward and when Vinny got back up to the top of the bank, he said, ‘Sorry son. Just an old man mouthing off. Sit down.’
We could see it was doing him no good at all talking about D’s dad and what he should have done years ago. I reckon it was the main reason he came away from town to live on the river. You could see he wanted to do something, but couldn’t. We wanted advice on how to get out of things, to escape D’s dad and all this trouble, but Stan was suffering as much as us. When we thought about it, he was in up to his neck just like us, because his sister was taking a beating and he couldn’t do nothing about it. If Stan couldn’t do anything about it, what chance did we have?
We were in no rush to go home. We didn’t know what was happening, if our parents had been targeted, my grandma, for all we knew he could have got to D and he could be dead.
‘It’s too far down the road for Elsie to leave him. He wouldn’t let her. Bastard would find her anywhere she went. And I’m too old now, so she can’t even come and stay with me, like she could before. Back then he wouldn’t step foot in my street and I didn’t blame him. Now suddenly he’s the hardest in the town because he’s jacked up on steroids. Baaaaah, he’s a phoney.’
I spoke quietly, not wanting to set Stan off. ‘But there’s no one who stands a chance against him, is there? Everyone is fighting this week and we’ve seen him – he killed a bloke from Cumbria. Well, if he didn’t kill him I’d be surprised. It was over in seconds.’
Stan’s shoulders came up around his ears and he leant forward and rolled one more. ‘It’s in here,’ he said, tapping his chest with two fingers. ‘That’s where it’s won and lost. You either have it or you don’t. And a wife beater like him ain’t got it. Not a bit. Put him in with any old timer and he’d be broken in two. I know all the families and he’s not well thought of with any. Maybe one has time for him, God knows why. They all had time for us. They had to because we could chin the lot of them. And did. On the school fields, like you boys, and in bars down town. They used to pay me not to go in the bars, just to keep the peace.’
‘What we going to do, Stan?’ Vin asked.
He shrugged. ‘Let me think.’
‘Is there no one that could teach him a lesson?’
‘There’s only person that stands a chance and that’s my son and he’s never spoken to any of us for over three years. Since he left school. Not a word.’
We waited for Stan to go on and te
ll us everything like he had before, but he didn’t. He just sat there, glazed over, watching his rod. He eventually got to his feet and went into the bushes behind us. We heard him taking a leak, some rustling, then he came out with a haversack. The cover of the haversack was painted white with a target on it and ‘The Jam’ written down the side.
‘There’s a box in here. It’s for Elsie. It’s padlocked and not for you to open. I trust you boys because you’re good pals with Derek. I’ve had mates like you right through my life. Better than family sometimes but you got to be careful with this. Take it to Derek’s mother when HE’s not around. Must be on the quiet, you understand. That’s why she sent you here today.’
‘So D knows nothing about this?’ I asked.
‘Derek’s only young, like you boys. This is proper family business, and you’re helping a great deal. Without you, the two of them could have been killed last night, from what you’ve been saying, and if Elsie’s asked for my help, it’s the final straw. That’s what we agreed after the last beating I heard about.’
‘But what about us?’ Vin said. ‘Is it safe to go home? Will he be waiting for us?’
Stan walked us along the track and when we reached the jetty he put an arm over both our shoulders. ‘You’re welcome up here anytime. Bring my nephew with you next time and keep him out of trouble. A few years’ time, if he grows or not, he’ll be the man to be reckoned with. He’s an Armstrong.’
We agreed with him totally, then I asked. ‘Is there no chance your son might help us out? You know, if he knew how bad it was? D being his cousin and everything?’
‘You can try, son, but I doubt it.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Everyone knows him as Frana. Frana Armstrong.’
And over
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