Darkmans (29 page)

‘
I’m
paying her,’ Tom said, ‘and that soup is
ice
cold.’

Pat stood up. ‘Should I call her in and tell her to heat it up?’ ‘Good heavens, no,’ Beede tried to grab his bowl back, ‘just finish your meals. I’m
enjoying
the soup. The soup’s
fine
…’

‘It’s the
principle
, old boy,’ Tom told him.

‘But I just…I
don’t
…’

‘I mean how long does it take to slam a bowl of soup into the
microwave
?’ Cheryl asked.

‘
Emily?
’

Pat left the room, holding the offending bowl aloft.

‘Imagine,’ Tom said, fishing a prawn out of his own soup and devouring it, ‘if we were in the Sahara Desert, Beede – a family of
nomads – and Emily was our cook, and you arrived – at the last minute – and we were suddenly obliged to cater…’

The sound of raised voices emerged from the kitchen area.

‘Oh dear,’ Beede said.

Charlie finished his soup and threw down his spoon, with a clatter.

‘Right,’ he said, pushing back his chair, ‘fag break.’

He glanced around the table. ‘Fag break, anybody?’

‘Good idea,’ Tom stood up.

‘Cheryl?’

‘Gasping,’ she said.

‘Laura?’

‘Is it still raining?’ Laura asked.

‘Jesus
Christ
, woman,’ Charlie bellowed, ‘where’s your spirit of adventure?’

‘Beede?’

Laura looked over at him. ‘Smoke?’

‘No, I…’

‘Sixty-seconds,’ Tom promised him, as they all trooped out.

Beede sat alone in the dining-room. He gazed, somewhat distractedly, at the partially eaten portions of soup, the cutlery, the settings, the rolls. He took a sip of his wine and then a sip of his water. He stretched out his legs and was surprised to feel his feet making contact with something soft and tactile –

A cushion?

A handbag?

He leaned over, flipped up the cloth and peered under the table. There he saw a cat – a Siamese cat. It gazed up at him, unblinking.

‘Well
hello
,’ he said, the top half of his torso disappearing from the cat’s eye-line for a moment, then quickly reappearing, his hand pinching something, seductively, between its thumb and its forefinger, ‘Fancy a bit of lovely, fresh seafood, do we?’

It was almost dinnertime. As he picked a careful route along the ward (avoiding the hordes of stony-faced kitchen staff who were furiously shunting a series of heavily laden metal trolleys around) Gaffar was piqued to discover that Kelly already had a visitor –

Eh?!

A girl. A voluptuous girl; tall but very pale, with a mess of wiry, black hair. On drawing closer (approaching from the rear) he saw that her hair wasn’t naturally dark. Her roots (more than an inch past showing) were actually a fine, copper brown.

She was visiting Kelly but they weren’t conversing. The girl was staring off blankly into space while Kelly struggled to adjust the ringtone on her new phone.

‘Bloody
hell
, mate,’ she murmured, glancing up, distractedly, at his tentative approach, ‘ain’t you got no home to go to?’ Before Gaffar could muster up a response she held out the phone, proudly. ‘
Hey!
See what Geraldine brought me…’

Geraldine turned to appraise him.

‘Yah!’

Gaffar leapt back, with a holler. Geraldine’s mouth had been neatly sewn up with a piece of black string.

Kelly gave no appearance of having noticed his reaction – or if she had, then she’d plainly resolved to just let it pass. ‘Gerry…’ she graciously undertook the formal introductions, ‘this here is
Gaffar
, Kane’s little Turkish whore. Gaffar, meet my gorgeous cousin, Miss Geraldine Broad.’

‘Not Turk,
Kurd
,’ Gaffar modified Kelly’s introduction slightly, offering Geraldine a friendly hand. Geraldine inspected his hand, then inspected her own hand, then lifted up her own hand, limply, then seemed to forget what she’d lifted it for.

Gaffar moved forward, grasped her hand, and shook it, warmly.

‘Is she
problem
with this mouth?’ he asked Kelly, as he shook.

‘A problem? With her gob?
Nah.
The only real problem Gerry has is that she’s thick as shit.
That’s
why she sewed the damn thing up.’

Geraldine scowled at her.

‘
Yaag!
’ Gaffar looked appalled. ‘Is she poss for
speak
like this?’

‘Yeah. ‘Course. It’s only
cosmetic.
Fashion, yeah? If she’s got somethin’ important to say – which she never has, as it happens – then she can always pull the stitches out…’

‘But it’s nothing less than criminal!’
‘Gaffar exclaimed.
‘Whatever possessed such a beautiful girl to do something so hideous to her face?’

Geraldine stared at him, blankly.

‘Is crazy?’ Gaffar asked Kelly.

‘She’s my fuckin’
cousin
,’ Kelly scowled, ‘she’s a
Broad.
‘Course she’s fuckin’ crazy. We
all
are.’

Then she snorted.

Gaffar stared at Geraldine. Geraldine stared back at him, calmly. He thought she was quite beautiful with her skin as pale as steamed haddock and her eyes the colour of roasted aubergine. She wore a powerful perfume…Something heady and exotic. Something which smelled like jasmine. Like
chocolate.

‘I have never before
see
such a thing as this…’

He pointed to her mouth; the four tiny holes pierced above her lipline, the four tiny holes pierced below, and the neat black thread connecting them in the cruellest of zig-zags.

Geraldine raised one, slightly quizzical eyebrow (as if to say, ‘So where’ve you
been
all your life?’).

‘Turkey,’ he promptly answered, ‘Diyarbakir:
the Town of the Black Walls. A town with standards. If my sister ever came home looking like that I’d fucking kill her. Then I’d kill myself.
’

She shrugged, indifferent.

‘Although I have no sister,’
Gaffar added, as an afterthought, ‘praise Allah.’

‘She’s a Goth,’ Kelly informed him.

‘Goff,’ Gaffar repeated.

‘Go
th.
G-o-t-h. Go
th.’

‘Goth.
’

Geraldine shook her head, very firmly. Gaffar drew closer. ‘Wha’s this?’

She shook her head, again.

Gaffar turned to Kelly. ‘No. She say she no this…
uh
…“Goth”.’

‘Fuckin’
is
, mate.’

Geraldine shook her head and flared her nostrils slightly.

‘Now you make her
piss
!’ Gaffar exclaimed, delighted.

Kelly sat up straight. ‘Well if you
ain’t
a damn Goth,’ she yelled, ‘why’d you listen to Marilyn fuckin’
Manson
, wear antique fuckin’
lace
and sew your stupid
trap
shut?
Eh
?’

Geraldine shrugged.

‘And check out her
boots
for Christsakes…’ Kelly pointed, derisorily, ‘only a fuckin’ Goth’d wear boots like that.’

Gaffar looked down at her boots. They were heavy, black leather, knee-high boots with 6-inch, silver-plated, stack heels.

‘Explain for Gaffar…’

Gaffar perched on the end of the bed, facing her. ‘How you…’ he pointed, ‘how…
what’re the actual logistics of this set-up?
’

He made a sewing gesture.

‘What she does,’ Kelly helpfully explained, ‘is get a little bit of string – black, obviously, ‘cos she’s a total, fuckin’
Goth
– an’ melts some wax on the end of it so she stiffens it up a bit. Then she threads it through the piercings and sews her mouth together.
Natch!
She used to have a fella who did the same thing, but they broke up.’

‘Is so?’

Gaffar peered over his shoulder at Kelly. ‘Man do this crazy thing, too?’

‘Yeah. They think it’s
art
, mate. Or some such. Stupid
twats.
But then they
split
, see? She wore him out. He said she just never shut up.’ Kelly made a jabbering motion with her hand. ‘Much too
gobby
…’

Pause

Gaffar stared at Geraldine, quite transfixed.

‘Jesus
Christ
,’ Kelly snorted, ‘I’m fuckin’
wasted
on you lot.’

‘I never see this before,’ Gaffar repeated, slowly shaking his head.

‘Is incredible.’

Geraldine looked pleased. She almost grinned, but the stitching stopped her.

‘See that?’ Kelly exclaimed. ‘She can’t even
smile
properly. It’s so fuckin’
tragic.
’

Gaffar nodded. He turned, confidingly. ‘No blow job, eh?’ he stage-whispered.

‘Get
you
!’ Kelly squealed.

Geraldine reached out a plump, white hand and softly cuffed his leg with it.

‘
Ow!
’ Gaffar yelled. ‘Is
joke
!’

‘Oh yeah?’ Kelly interrupted. ‘Like earlier? When I lost the bet? And you
seriously
thought…’

Gaffar looked indignant. ‘Of
course
I thought – was
bet
!’

‘Yeah, whatever. So’d you get the scooter yet?’

Gaffar reached his hands into his pocket and produced some keys.

‘You’ve got it for a month, mate,
tops.
’

He nodded.

‘And I ain’t
ever
gamblin’ with you again, see?’

He shrugged.

‘So was my mum there when you picked it up?’

Gaffar winced. Geraldine’s eyes widened, in horror. ‘See this?’ Gaffar said, pointing. ‘Even your
cousin
is scare of you mother.’

‘Everyone’s shit-scared of her,’ Kelly observed proudly. ‘An’ wait till you meet my
sister
, mate…Although she moved to Gillingham, so we don’t see too much of her no more.’

‘Big,
fat
…’ Gaffar said, puffing himself up, ‘
like an ox. Like a small shed draped in a huge, lard corset.
I stay there
two
hour.’

‘She make you hoover for her?’

Gaffar nodded.

‘She make you wash up?’

Gaffar nodded.

‘She make you massage her feet?’

Gaffar nodded. ‘But this is…
uh
…soft feet.
Tiny
feet. Like…’ he frowned.

‘
Nah.
Them hooves is size sixes, mate. It’s all just proportionate.’

‘
Tiny,
‘ Gaffar repeated. ‘Then I do…uh…’

He pointed to his shoulders.

‘Your shoulders?’

‘No. Is
her
…’

‘
What?!
She made you massage her shoulders?’

He nodded.

‘An’
did
ya?’

He shrugged.

‘You
did
?!’ Kelly shrieked.

He shrugged again.

‘
Fuck me!
My old ma’s got the
hots
for ya! D’ya
hear
that, Gerry?’

Geraldine nodded, gazing at Gaffar, slightly askance.

‘I mean is that
fucked up
or
what
?!’

‘I am
good
for massage,’ Gaffar protested.

‘Don’t I fuckin’
know
it,’ Kelly confirmed.

Silence

‘So’d she get you to fetch her dinner?’

‘
Yah.
Pizza. We share.’

‘You shared a pizza?’ Kelly scowled. ‘Nuh-
uh.
My mum don’t know the
meanin’
of the word.’

He nodded. ‘Was
my
pizza. I bring.’

‘
What?!
She ate
your
pizza?’ Kelly cackled.

Gaffar nodded, mournfully. Kelly fell back on to her pillow. ‘Man, what a
dick.
She walked all over ya.’

Gaffar grimaced. Geraldine stared at him, poignantly.

‘This cousin is feel sorry for me,’ he said, smiling at her.
‘You have a lovely heart, and even lovelier breasts…’
He described her breasts in the air, appreciatively, with his hands. She looked a little shocked.

‘So you fuck around with my scooter and I’ll fuck around with
you
, mate,’ Kelly informed him.

‘I won’t fuck,’ Gaffar assured her.

‘An’ you can only keep it till my leg heals up.’

‘Sure.’

Gaffar glanced over at the next bed. It was empty.

‘Where she?’ he asked, pointing.

‘What? Her next door?’

He nodded.

‘Dead.’

‘
Wha?!
’

‘Nah. Went home.
Cow.
’

She paused. ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish. So what’s up with Kane?’

Geraldine rolled her eyes.

‘Yes. Is true,’ Gaffar sighed, ‘always this
Kane, Kane
…’

Geraldine rolled her eyes again.

‘
HELLO!
’ Kelly bellowed.

‘Kane get foot…’ Gaffar indicated towards his feet, ‘at doctor. But when he come back is…’

Gaffar pulled a face.

‘Upset?’

Gaffar nodded. ‘Go to room. Bang door.
Masturbate.
’

Gaffar made a wanking gesture.

‘
Pardon?!
’

‘Yes. But is angry. No pleasure.
Anger.
This why I come here…’

‘You’re sayin’ Kane came home from a foot doctor, then went straight into his room and
anger
-wanked?’

He nodded.
‘Wank of rage.’

He mimed wanking, fiercely.

Kelly looked stunned. ‘That’s
disgustin’
! You’re takin’ the fuckin’
rise
out of me!’

‘Kane is
man
,’ Gaffar told her haughtily. ‘What is
girl
to understand?’

‘Oh yeah?’ Kelly sat bolt upright, indignant. ‘You don’t think
girls
do anger-wanks?’

‘Never!’

‘
‘Course
they fuckin’ do!’

Gaffar snorted, contemptously.

‘Geraldine. Don’t
girls
do anger-wanks?’

Geraldine widened her aubergine eyes and slowly shook her head. Gaffar grinned.

‘Fuckin’
hell
,’ Kelly swore, ‘why’d I even
bother
?’ She paused. ‘So who
is
this geezer?’

‘For foot?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Is woman. He try find her. He no find her. For three days he say, “Is foot. Is sore foot.” But Gaffar see…’ Gaffar pointed to his eyes, ‘is not
all
for foot. Is more…’

He raised his brows at her, suggestively. Kelly seemed shocked by this news.

‘Whad’ya mean?’

‘This also
Beede
doctor. Kane want this number but he will not speak Beede for asking. Is more
secret.
He say Beede have foot the same. Verruca. The
same.
And foot doctor say is foot
from
Beede. Crazy foot.’ He shrugged.

Kelly stared at him, mesmerised. ‘I don’t have a fuckin’
clue
what you’re on about,’ she murmured.

Geraldine sighed, deeply.

‘She know,’ Gaffar said, pointing to Geraldine.

‘
Her?!
’

‘Sure.
She’s very intuitive. Very sensitive
…’

He smiled at her. She fluttered her long, false black lashes back at him.

‘Oi!’
Kelly interrupted. ‘I’m here
too
, remember?!’

‘Is same with letter,’ Gaffar continued, ‘you letter. First Kane see this letter an’…’ he pulled an explosive expression, ‘then I tell Beede, Ay! Kane read letter. Then Beede is…
Grrrrr!
Same. He say, “Is Kelly upstairs? Is Kelly in roof?”’

‘In the roof? He thought I was in the
roof
?’

Gaffar shrugged. ‘Beede is clever man. He see this
rug
is move. He is…’

‘The fuckin’
rug
again?’ Kelly exclaimed. ‘What’s the deal with Beede’s fuckin’
rug
?!’

‘I see in
dice
, yeah?’

‘
What?
’

‘If Gaffar play dice, he see…’

Gaffar pulled the dice out of his pocket and shook them, thoughtfully.

‘Is like for…’ he scowled,
‘the way they hold them, the way they throw, the way they behave when they win or they lose. It speaks volumes. Those
Scientology
nuts need 2,000 questions. I only need three or four shakes of these little babies
…Is gift.’

‘So what was actually in the letter?’ Kelly asked.

‘
You
know,’ Gaffar shrugged, ‘you give.’

‘I
don’t
know. Some black girl gave it me. I just passed it on. As a favour.’

‘Is nothing,’ Gaffar shrugged again.

‘Well it must be
somethin’.
Otherwise everybody wouldn’t be gettin’ so worked up about it,
would
they?’