Bucket Nut (7 page)

‘Oh Lord, I don't know,' she said to the ceiling.

‘Come on!' I said. I was beginning to feel a bit miserable myself. I thought I'd done her a favour but she wasn't happy about anything.

‘Don't shout at me,' she said. ‘I feel awful.'

‘Drink your tea,' I said and got up to go out. ‘There's a bus stop at the bottom of the road. When you're ready I'll take you there.'

‘Are you throwing me out?' she asked in a very small voice.

‘Ain't you got a home to go to?' I asked, a bit sarcastic. ‘My drum obviously ain't good enough for you.' I spoke rough just to show her I wasn't good enough for her either.

She stared at me.

‘I got to protect myself,' I explained. ‘I don't want the polizei glomming round here. And that's what you done. You brought them right to my doorstep and you don't have the decency to tell me for why.'

She burst into tears.

‘Oh dry up,' I shouted.

I hate it when women cry. I never cry myself. I threw her a towel to blow her nose on and went out to make some more tea. Really, I wanted a beer, but someone who's having trouble with her abdominal muscles should lay off the beer. Beer and abs are deadly enemies.

The kettle was already steaming away. I'd put it on to heat water for Goldie to have a wash and then forgotten about it.

‘Fuck it,' I said, and got a can of Hofmeister out of the cupboard. I opened it and plonked myself down on the sofa.

She came in a moment later. She was wrapped in a blanket and looked like one of those Help An Orphan posters.

She said, ‘I'm sorry, Eva, really I am. I didn't know.'

‘About what?'

‘About the police.'

I said nothing, and she sat down beside me.

After a minute she said, ‘I owe some money. I've got debts.'

‘The polizei aren't interested in your debts.'

‘No,' she said, ‘but when you get into debt you get into other trouble too.'

That's the truth. ‘Go on,' I said.

‘I don't want to get you involved,' she said. ‘All you did was help a stranger.'

That was the truth too. I was beginning to like her again.

‘The real problem is that I lost my bag at the club,' she went on. ‘The police will have found it.'

‘Yeah?'

‘Well, so they'll know who I am, where I live and what I was carrying.'

‘What were you carrying?'

She sort of swayed. She was pale as milk.

She said, ‘You don't want to know that, Eva. Look, if I could just use your phone, I could ask someone to pick me up. I can't go home, but I have friends who might help.'

‘No phone.'

‘What?'

‘I don't have a phone,' I said.

She stared at me, open mouthed. Nothing had amazed her more than the fact that I didn't have a telephone.

‘There's one near the post office on Kipling Street,' I said helpfully.

‘I don't believe this,' she said. ‘You can't really live by torchlight, with no hot water and no phone. No one lives like that.'

‘Well, I do,' I said. ‘You're the one in debt. You're the one can't pay her bills. You figure it out.' I was quite proud of myself really. She was so astounded.

‘Why don't you eat your soup and have a wash?' I was feeling pretty kind by now. ‘Then we'll work out what to do.'

She looked almost guilty.

‘What's wrong?'

‘Nothing.'

‘Go on. What's wrong?'

‘I hate tomato soup,' she muttered, looking at the floor. ‘And your soap … well, it's the kind which irritates my skin. And the loo paper is hard.'

‘Anything else?'

‘I knew I'd hurt your feelings,' she said, looking mournful.

‘I don't have feelings about “loo paper”,' I said.

‘Honestly, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It's just that I have this awful skin.'

Her skin looked like cream. But I supposed that was what made it different from mine.

‘Make a list,' I said. ‘I'll get what you need at Hanif's. He's open all night.'

‘I've no money,' she told me, as if I didn't know. It made me feel good. She looked like a film star and talked poncy, but I had the dosh. I had the power to say yes or no.

She made a list, and I warned her not to go out because of the dogs.

Walking up the road though, I realised she hadn't told me diddly-eye-die about anything I wanted to know. I thought she did because she had this soft confiding manner. But she didn't. I would have to be a bit tough with her when I got back.

The light at Hanif's was dim and brown. Hanif does not like to spend money on electricity any more than I do, but he must. You never see his wife – she lurks somewhere in the storeroom – but you hear her. Their little boy follows customers round the aisles, his big eyes peeled for anyone boosting the odd packet of biscuits. He is almost as good a watchdog as Ramses.

I was embarrassed. Soft bog rolls, clear soap and cream of asparagus soup were not what Hanif expected to see in my basket. I threw in a few batteries so he wouldn't think I'd gone bonkers. He never says much to me anyway. The first time I went in there he called me ‘sir', and he has never quite recovered.

It started to rain while I was in Hanif's and the little boy only followed me as far as the door. Sometimes he follows me fifty yards down the street before his father calls him back. I don't know why.

I walked quickly. After a long dry spell the rubbish on the pavement was turning mushy and the rain gave the road a ripe smell like a meat pie on the turn.

At the corner where the yard fence began I saw a motorbike propped in the gutter. It was a Kawasaki, a big one. I went across to look. It was wet, but the saddle was nearly dry. The rider had only just dismounted, but there was no one in the street.

I let myself into the yard. To my surprise the dogs did not come to greet me. But as I got closer to the Static I heard them – Ramses' bass wo-wo-wo, and Lineker's rap-rap-rap. I dropped the shopping on the Static steps, grabbed the torch and a crowbar and ran to the far side fence to join them.

I was just in time to see a feller in motorcycle gear pull away from the
wire and run down the street. The dogs hared off after him. I followed the dogs. We were all running parallel – him on his side of the fence, us on ours. I made as much noise as they did, yelling, ‘Oi, ball-bonce,' and banging on the fence with the crowbar. Silent and deadly is not my way at all. I always make a big production, and it seems to work.

Because of the dark and piles of car parts I was slower than the man and the dogs so I didn't get too close. But I heard the Kawasaki start up – varoom – and I saw its tail-light disappear round the corner.

The dogs were excited. They crowded me against the fence, jumping up and snatching at my jacket. I shouted them down. But when they were calmer I made a fuss of them. They had done their job.

We went back to the place where the bother had begun. The fence was in perfect nick, but the man had dropped a set of wire-cutters on the pavement outside. I brought them in. I was pleased with myself. Chalk up one more success to Armour Protection.

There was music coming from the Static. I had forgotten about Goldie, but I picked up the shopping and went in.

‘Haven't you got anything but Metalica and Bonnie Raitt?' she said. ‘What was all the noise about?'

She was playing Real Man and she'd nicked one of my black Guns N' Roses sweatshirts. It came nearly down to her knees and looked nice.

‘Intruder,' I said and started to unpack the shopping on the counter. ‘We saw him off.'

I found myself wanting to tell her about it but she took the soap and shampoo and shimmied away to the bathroom.

When she was all clean and shiny she came back and made asparagus soup, and it was really nice sitting there by torchlight, just the two of us. I fixed a new gas cylinder to the fire so that she could dry her hair. She did not seem inclined to talk, so I had to prod her.

‘It's a long story,' she said.

‘I don't mind,' I said, and it's true. I like stories.

‘I left home about this time last year,' she told me. ‘I was having trouble with my father. Well, you know what fathers are like.'

Actually, I don't. If there's one thing I know nothing about, it's fathers, but I didn't say anything.

‘I was sharing a flat with a couple of other girls. I wanted to be a
model, and I did get some work, you know, catalogues and things but it was never enough. So I did waitressing and reception, all that stuff where they just need a face. But I was always behind with the rent. The other girls were the same. It's awful. By the time you've bought the clothes and make-up you need, there's never enough for the electricity bill. In the end they cut off the phone and the power and the landlord got really nasty. So we did a flit.'

She sighed. ‘The other two gave up and went home,' she said. ‘But I was too proud or something.' She sighed again. ‘Too stupid I suppose. While I was in that reception job, I met a guy who worked for a record company. So I moved in with him. And he got me a couple of gigs on pop promos. But I couldn't really sing or dance. Just a face again. So I thought I'd better get some lessons.

‘It was okay for a couple of months. But the guy I was living with, he was in the music business, and there were lots of parties. And there were the lessons. I was supposed to be sharing the rent, and I did give him something, I really did. But he chucked me out.'

She looked ever so sad. I said, ‘Did you love him?'

‘It's not that. It's just funny. You live with a guy, and you sleep with him and all that, and then he chucks you out because you're behind with the rent.'

I didn't know what to say. She seemed such a baby. But it was weird too, listening to her story. I mean, I never would have thought girls like her had to pay the rent. Someone always looked after them. Right? And why not? Beauty is something you pay for, isn't it?

‘How old are you?' I asked.

‘Twenty.'

‘What happened then?' I asked. ‘How did you get mixed up with the Lord of the Trousers, whatsisname, Calvin?'

‘Who?'

‘Calvin?'

‘He's really going to be somebody,' she said proudly. ‘You saw him. Isn't he gorgeous?'

And then her face fell. ‘Oh God,' she said, ‘Calvin. You'll never guess what I did for him last night.'

‘What?'

That was when we heard the dogs start up again.

‘What now?' I said, narked. Talking to Goldie was an education. I didn't want to go out. But the dogs kept on and on, so I put on my coat and went.

There was an Astra parked under a street lamp, and when I got closer I saw it was Mr Cheng's Astra. I shushed the dogs and waited by the wire. A man got out. It wasn't Mr Cheng. Well, I knew it wouldn't be because Mr Cheng never went anywhere. It was one of the guys who worked at the Beijing Garden. I couldn't remember his name.

‘Eva?' he called.

‘Yeah?'

‘Got to ask you a question.'

‘Yeah?'

‘Come out.'

‘Nah,' I said. ‘I don't want to mess around with all the locks again. Come over here.'

But he wouldn't. Scared of the dogs, I suppose.

‘Mr Cheng wants to know if you went back to Bermuda Smith's club last night,' he called from his side of the street.

‘Why?'

‘Someone said they saw you.'

‘So?' I yelled. I was a bit choked. People at Bermuda Smith's had been dobbing on me right, left and centre.

‘Were you there?'

‘What if I was?'

‘Mr Cheng says come and see him.'

‘When?'

‘Tomorrow.'

‘Okay.'

He got into the Astra and drove away. I went back to the Static. I was not pleased.

‘Farkin' Bermuda Smith,' I said, shaking the rain off my coat. ‘If I never do him a favour again it'll be too soon. Last night was nothing but trouble.'

Goldie looked up. She was sitting on the floor by the fire combing her hair.

She said, ‘Do you work for him?'

‘Was helping out.' I told her about how I got involved, and about how Harry Richards used to be a wrestler.

She looked astounded all over again. ‘I never knew.'

‘What?'

‘About you working for Mr Smith … about women doing that sort of thing.'

‘If you're big enough, and strong enough, and ugly enough.'

‘You aren't ugly,' she said. ‘You're just … unusual.'

‘That's me,' I said. ‘Unusual.'

I was so pleased I had to get up and make us both a cup of tea. She sat there combing her hair, looking very thoughtful and I guessed she was thinking about Calvin.

But she said, ‘That intruder – the one on the motorbike. Do you think he was looking for me?'

I hadn't thought of that. I should have, because people thieving for motor parts don't usually come on bikes. They come with vans. And, I had to admit, I'd never had so many visitors before Goldie came along. And that made me think of the lady copper again.

So I said, ‘You'd better tell me what you did last night.'

And she said, ‘Can I trust you?'

Now you may or may not know it, but this is a very big question. People ask it and answer it without much thought. But they shouldn't. Also, have you noticed, hardly anyone ever says, ‘No, you can't trust me.' But really that's what just about everyone
should
say.

So I said, ‘I dunno. Depends on what you want to trust me with.'

She stared at me.

I tried to explain. ‘Maybe I could dob on you and get you into bother if I know your secrets. But you could land me in the shit if I don't. See what I mean?'

She looked confused.