Darkmans (76 page)

‘You’re
barkin
‘!
’
Harvey repeated. ‘Lester says you think I’m havin’ an affair with your missus…’

Kane’s eyes widened.

Dory stopped smiling. ‘Lester’s lying,’ he snapped.

‘Bollocks!’
Harvey snarled, darting forward and placing a tentative hand on the scaffolding (as if half considering scrambling straight up it). ‘Lester wouldn’t lie. Not to me. Not about somethin’ like that.’

‘Take care, there,’ Dory warned him, ‘the scaffolding’s quite unstable. My builder’s a complete imbecile…’ He shrugged, regretfully. ‘That’s why I had to sack him.’

Harvey stepped back again, enraged. ‘I want my bloody money,’ he snarled. ‘I ain’t leavin’ here till I get it. You owe me six an’ a half grand – an’ that’s just for materials…’

‘Well you’re in for a
very
long wait, my friend,’ Dory grinned, removing three tiles from the roof behind him, tossing them into the air, and proceeding to juggle with them.

Kane’s jaw slackened, in awe, as he watched this artful performance from the car.

‘Well
here’s
the thing,’ Harvey hissed (refusing to be impressed), ‘either you fork up the first instalment,
pronto,
or I’m gonna
double
the overall amount by suing your tight, Kraut arse for wrongful dismissal.’

Dory gave this threat a few seconds’ consideration, and then,
‘Arse,’
he suddenly exclaimed, ‘accidentally’ dropping the first tile.
‘Arsus…’
he expanded, dropping the second,
‘Arsio,’
he chortled, dropping the third.

‘
Oi! Oi!
’ Harvey leapt back, startled, as the tiles rained down around him. ‘Are you off your bleedin’
head
?’

‘
Ardere,’
Dory ran on, completely ignoring him.

‘To
burn,’
Kane murmured. Then he did a sharp double-take –

Eh?!

Dory clapped his hands together, delightedly, emitting a strange, high-pitched giggle.

‘What the fuck are you
on?’
Harvey demanded, plainly somewhat shaken by this extraordinary display. ‘Lester
said
you was a fruit-loop, an’ he weren’t far wrong, neither…’

Kane peered up at Dory, to gauge his reaction. He blinked. Dory suddenly seemed…uh…
different.
Tighter. More intense, more…more
compressed,
somehow.

‘While we’re on the subject of Lester,’ Dory observed sardonically, ‘and this
fine
relationship you both share, I don’t suppose he happened to mention that I’ve been subsidising his money each week, in private, just to bring it up to the level of a Minimum Wage?’

‘What?’

Harvey seemed thrown off his stride by this piece of information. ‘I’ve been subsidising his money,’ Dory repeated. ‘So how’d you fancy sharing
that
with an independent tribunal?’

‘But I pay the kid a small fortune,’ Harvey exclaimed, hurt.

‘The sad truth about Lester,’ Dory confided, ‘is that if he’d spent even a
fraction
of the time actually working that he spent telling tales on you, he could’ve single-handedly rebuilt our home by now…’ he paused. ‘Although that’s probably just wishful thinking on my part,’ he conceded, ‘your average five-year-old probably understands more about basic construction techniques than that Cabbage-head does.’

‘BOLLOCKS!’
Harvey exploded, leaping forward again, grabbing a hold of the scaffolding and shaking it, violently (as if the scaffolding was a pear tree and Dory the ripened fruit hanging tantalisingly in its boughs).
‘MY SON AIN’T NO CABBAGE-HEAD!
COME DOWN
HERE
AN’
SAY THAT
! I
DARE
YA!’

‘Your
son
?!’

Now it was Dory’s turn to look astonished. Harvey took a quick step back, panicked, as the scaffolding shifted a mite more readily under his influence than he might’ve expected it to.

‘But you never said he was your
son…’
Dory babbled.

‘Well I never said he
weren’t,
neither,’ Harvey shrugged. And then – seconds later –
‘Ha!’
he chortled. ‘Seems like that sneaky, little twat’s been havin’ the best of
both
of us!’

A proud grin slowly enveloped his face. ‘Lester
Broad
!
’
he cackled. ‘Who’d’ve thought the little turd had it
in
‘im, eh?’

Dory didn’t respond, he simply reached into his back pocket, withdrew something, unfolded it, and stared at it, morosely.

‘What’s that?’ Harvey asked, his mood quite restored.

Dory held up the Missing Dog poster. ‘Recognise this, by any chance?’ he asked.

Harvey barely even glanced at it.

‘Nope.’

‘Well have another look,’ Dory suggested.

Harvey squinted up into the grey sky. ‘It’s gonna rain,’ he sniffed, wincing as a stray drop landed on the pristine fabric of his puffer jacket. ‘You must be freezin’ your bags off up there. Why don’t you come down an’ we’ll deal with this situation like two proper
gents,
eh?’

‘This is a picture of Michelle,’ Dory said, still holding up the poster, refusing to be railroaded.

‘Who?’

Harvey dusted the raindrop from his jacket.

‘This is Michelle,’ Dory repeated. ‘This is a photograph of our spaniel, Michelle.’

‘Yeah?’
Harvey rolled his eyes, indulgently. ‘
Aw
…How
cute.
’

‘Although she isn’t actually
our
spaniel,’ Dory expanded, ‘as I’m sure you already know.’

‘You’re off your rocker, mate,’ Harvey scoffed.

‘She’s actually…’ Dory peered down at the poster, ‘according to the information printed here – she’s actually the property of a Mr Garry Spivey.’

Harvey stiffened at the mere mention of his rival’s name.
‘Who?’
(This was more of a challenge than an enquiry.)

‘A Priori,’ Dory leaned forward, with a grin (taking up the challenge, quite happily). ‘First in the book, apparently.’

‘If you
must
know,’ Harvey suddenly blustered, ‘I
didn’t
try it on with your wife – she ain’t really my
type –
but that sure as hell didn’t stop her from tryin’ it on wiv
me,
though. Keen as
mustard,
she was…’

Huh?!

Kane’s grip tightened on the door handle.

‘It took quite a while, I admit,’ Dory continued, perfectly unflustered, ‘but then I suddenly
remembered
…’

‘What the fuck are you goin’ on about?’ Harvey demanded.

‘I remembered how I knew you, Harvey. I remembered where we first met.’

Harvey scowled, suspicious. ‘How d’ya mean?’

‘We worked together.’

‘Bullshit!’

Harvey’s reaction was instantaneous. ‘That’s
baloney
!’

‘Yes we did,’ Dory insisted. ‘Years ago. Very briefly. I was an exchange-student, earning some extra cash during my summer holidays. And you were older, temping – just for a week or so. We were guarding the same site together. In Newington.’

‘Nah.
You got it all wrong, mate,’ Harvey tried his best to fob the German off. But he was starting to look uneasy.

‘I don’t think so. It suddenly all came flooding back. I remember it very clearly, in fact, because it was the same week that consignment of tiles went missing.’

‘What?’

‘The tiles. Antique tiles. Tiles from the old mill. They went missing.

And I was held partially responsible…’

‘Really?’ Harvey seemed delighted by this news. ‘Get the boot, did ya?’

‘No. I mean
yes.
I mean I was very lucky. My boss –
our
boss – Tom Higson, was extremely reasonable about the whole thing…’

‘Yeah,’ Harvey sniggered, ‘very good of ‘im, weren’t it?’

‘So you
do
remember, then?’ Dory cut in.

‘Nope.’

‘Well I was sacked from the job, officially,’ Dory explained. ‘TML forced Higson’s hand. But then he still kept me on with the firm; moved me to a different project – the Park Street Sainsbury’s. They were expanding it at the time…’

‘So what’s the big problem?’ Harvey demanded.

‘There isn’t one,’ Dory shrugged, ‘I just remembered you, that’s all. I just remembered your face. I remembered that night – how you came to ask for my help after a group of protestors broke into your section of the site…’

Dory smiled, dreamily. ‘Although when we actually went down there – to take a proper look – we couldn’t find any evidence of a break-in, because the cruel irony was – as I’m sure you already knew – the
real
break-in was going on elsewhere…’

Harvey glanced off, sideways. He didn’t comment.

‘…but I kept my mouth shut,’ Dory shrugged, ‘I took the brunt of it. If I remember correctly you weren’t long out of prison and expecting your first child…’

A long silence followed, punctuated by the gentle pitter-patter of rain.

‘So…’ Dory eventually broke the silence between them, ‘the fates have finally seen fit to draw us back together.’ He held his hands up to the sky, catching the raindrops on his open palms. ‘And for some, strange reason,’ he grimaced, ‘you just couldn’t resist the idea of mugging me for a second time.’

Harvey scowled. He didn’t speak.

Dory sighed, almost forlorn now. ‘But that’s where you made your fatal mistake. You got too cocky, too smug. And somewhere along the line you forgot the single, most important rule of Cheat’s Law…’ Dory shook the rain from his hands and leaned forward, his voice almost dropping to a whisper…

Over in his car, Kane rapidly suspended his breath, determined to hear:

‘Never kid a kidder.’

Eh?

Was that…?

Kane grimaced, frustrated, not sure if he’d…

Did he just…?

And then –

‘HAAAAAARVEY!’

Kane’s head snapped around as a scooter roared on to the road, at break-neck speed –

Kelly?

‘HAAAARVEY!’
Kelly was screaming, her arms gesticulating wildly.
‘LOOOOK OWWWWT!!’

Harvey turned – confused – taking a single, tiny, almost
mincing
step towards her, as the air around him suddenly resounded with a most deafening clamour.

‘He had three visions –
three
of ‘em – all different…’ Kelly’s speech was garbled, her wide, brown eyes were bulging from their sockets, her hands were flying around, ‘and the first one was about
Paul,
see? Which came true. And then the second one was about the
roof
fallin’ down…’

She paused, scowling. ‘No, I mean the second one…’

‘Just take it easy,’ Beede murmured, patting her on the shoulder, then pulling off his crash helmet and resting it, carefully, on the seat of his old Douglas, ‘you’re probably still in shock.’

‘…The second one was about a
house
fallin’ down, but then after the ceilin’ collapsed – last night, on the ward…’

‘Ah yes…’ Beede smiled at her, sagely, ‘I think I may’ve caught wind of that incident on the hospital grapevine…’

‘Yeah, well I thought that was
it,
see?’ Kelly interrupted. ‘I thought that was the vision come true, cuz the Rev weren’t actually
hurt
or nothin’…’

‘Hang on a minute,’ Beede frowned, concerned, ‘a doctor
has
formally discharged you?’

‘What?’

‘From the hospital? You have been discharged? Formally discharged?’ he paused. ‘And while we’re at it – should you really be resting so much weight on your bad leg yet?’

Kelly gazed down at her plaster-cast. ‘Uh…Yeah…’ she slowly shook her head, and then – quite out of the blue – ‘Oh my
God
!’ she gasped, panic-stricken.

‘What’s wrong?’ Beede asked, alarmed.

‘I’ve only gone an’ lost the bloody
Bible
!’

Kelly patted frantically at her skirt pockets (on the improbable tip that the volume in question might’ve been miraculously condensed, reduced and then secreted inside one of them). Next she peered down the front of her skimpy top.

‘Shit!’
she scratched her head, confused. ‘What the hell did I do with it?’

‘So your uncle wasn’t hurt?’

Beede tried to refocus her.

‘Huh?’

‘Your uncle?’

‘My uncle? You mean
Harve
?! Nah. I mean
yeah…’
Kelly glanced around her, slightly paranoid. ‘I told him to stay put. He rang me an’ I just…I had this
feelin
’. It came over me really, really
strong
while I was talkin’ to the Rev…But then we got lost – me an’ Gaff – on the way over to…’

She fell quiet for a moment, chewed on her lower lip (with an expression of intense concentration) and then, ‘That’s
it
!’ Her face broke into a beatific smile. ‘Garry’s got it! I gave the Bible to
Garry
! I got him to hold on to it for me while I was…an’ then I…’

She silently re-enacted the scene in her head.

‘So when you finally arrived here,’ Beede pushed on, regardless, ‘your uncle was just standing there – perfectly alone – in the middle of the garden?’

He indicated towards the scene of unalloyed carnage which had once happily passed as Elen’s front lawn.

‘Uh…’ Kelly scratched at her head again. ‘Yeah.
Yeah.
He was just standin’ there, an’ we was comin’ down the road…’ she pointed ‘…on the scooter…’

Beede automatically followed the line of her finger. As he gazed down the street he detected a slight movement from within a parked car just two doors down. He focussed in on it. The car was a beige Mercedes. He frowned.

‘And then I just…’ Kelly drew a long, shuddering breath, ‘I just…I had this
feelin
’ again, kind of like a…’ she grimaced, slightly bashful ‘…like an
orgasm,
really. But not…Not
dirty
or nothin’…’ she shrugged,
‘you
know. So I just called out – at the top of my lungs. I just
screamed.
I went
HAAAARVEEEEY!’

Beede cringed at the undiluted volume of her recollection. ‘I see.’

He dragged his eyes away from the Mercedes and turned back to face her. ‘I see…And then the scaffolding…’

‘Yeah. It fell.
KA-BOOM!’

‘Gracious.’ Beede reached up a tentative hand to massage his aching shoulder. ‘Well that certainly sounds quite…That must’ve been extremely…’

‘He took a tiny step towards me,’ Kelly continued, ‘as I yelled. Just one, tiny, little step, yeah? An’ the metal bars fell every side of him –
CRASH!
– with only millimetres to spare. Didn’t hurt a single hair on his head, though. It was a miracle. Took him a full five minutes to climb his way out of there – I was goin’ nuts all the while, obviously, ‘cos if we hadn’t turned up when we did, if I hadn’t screamed, if he hadn’t taken that tiny, little step, he’d’ve been a goner, for sure. No doubt about it.’

‘He was incredibly lucky,’ Beede confirmed.

‘It weren’t
luck,’
Kelly snapped. ‘It was an Act of God. Like I already told you…’

‘Whatever it was,’ Beede said, ‘your uncle was extremely…’

He paused for a second, unwilling to use the word ‘lucky’ again (toying with the word ‘fortunate’ instead).

‘Your hand’s all knackered,’ Kelly mused.

‘Pardon?’

‘Your hand.’

He inspected it himself.

‘Uh…
Oh.
Yes.’

‘An’ you’ve got…’ she pointed, ‘all these
marks.
On your lip, on your neck. An’ a couple more – over there – on the side of your…’ Beede moved his hand to his neck.

‘Scratches.
On your cheek. Not…’ she impatiently repositioned his hand for him ‘…on the other side.’

‘I was
uh…’
Beede cleared his throat and then glanced around him, looking for a quick get-out. ‘Should your uncle really be doing that?’

Harvey was attempting to reverse his Toyota from under a section of the collapsed scaffolding (with the able assistance of Gaffar who was providing directions from the road).

‘Dunno,’ Kelly shrugged.

‘Good
Lord!’
Beede exclaimed (pulling an old, cashmere scarf from his coat pocket and winding it, rapidly, around his throat). ‘Gaffar looks like he’s been in the wars…’

‘Urgh…’ Kelly growled.
‘Scrappin’,
more’n likely. In some filthy
gamblin’
den or other. He went to Readin’ last night – supposedly to sit wiv’ Paul – an’ that’s how the little chancer came back.’

As Kelly spoke, her conversation was neatly punctuated by her uncle’s repeated honking of the Toyota’s horn. When the honking stopped it was followed by a loud and ferocious string of expletives.

Kelly chuckled, indulgently. ‘He
loves
that stupid car. He nearly pissed his damn
pants
when he saw the windscreen was smashed…’ Kelly snorted. ‘I honestly think he’d’ve rather the scaffoldin’d landed on
him.
Silly sod.’

As if on cue, Harvey popped his head out of the passenger window. ‘There ain’t no point in all your
blabbin’,’
he harangued the Kurd, ‘if I can’t understand a bloomin’
word
of it. Speak in English, mate.
Ingleesh.
In English we say
left
…’ he waved his left hand, ‘an’ we say
right
…’ he waved his right. ‘Ya followin’?’

He scowled over towards his niece. ‘Where’d you pick up these retards?’ he asked. ‘Is there a special
store
or somethin’?’

Beede took a quick step forward. ‘Uh…Excuse me? Hello…?’

He waved. ‘…Mr Broad?’

Harvey began to withdraw.

‘HAAARVE!’
Kelly bellowed. ‘The old boy’s tryin’a
speak
to ya!’ ‘Huh?’

Harvey paused for a second (looking Beede up and down, irritably).

‘I just wondered whether it might not be a good idea,’ Beede cautiously suggested, ‘to wait for
professional
help before attempting to move that?’

‘Professional?!’
Harvey spluttered, enraged. ‘What d’ya
mean,
“professional”?! I
am
a professional, you idiotic
turd.’

He disappeared from view again. Ten seconds later he accelerated forward. The Toyota wouldn’t budge, so Harvey accelerated harder – then still harder – until a plume of smoke began pouring from the exhaust.

Gaffar yelled and gesticulated wildly over the roar of the engine. A terrible, creaking noise issued forth (followed by a loud crash, followed by the brutal sound of tearing metal), and then suddenly the vehicle jerked forward, casting off its heavy wig of scaffolding (like a care-worn barrister after his final day in court).

The assembled party watched on, in astonishment, as the Toyota shot down the street, free at last, but completely stripped of its upper half.

Gaffar strolled over to Kelly, with a shrug. ‘Your uncle’s a monkey’s arse,’ he said.

‘Think he’s all right?’ Kelly wondered, as Harvey performed a high-speed u-turn and then roared back past them (chin held aloft, refusing all eye contact), driving doggedly on (and away) as if nothing was remotely wrong.

They stood together, in silence, heads cocked, listening to the Toyota’s over-revved engine negotiating a path through the remainder of the estate.

‘Well…’
Beede shrugged, once an atmosphere of quiet had finally been restored.

‘Would you ever?’ Kelly murmured.

Gaffar slowly shook his head and then sucked on his tongue, ruminatively.

‘I s’pose
we’d
better be puttin’ our skates on, Gaff,’ Kelly finally broke the silence, proper, ‘an’ head back to Malcolm Sargent Road. I forgot the stupid
Bible,’
she explained. ‘I left it wiv’ Gaz. The Rev’ll go nuts if we return wiv’out it.’

‘Oh. Okay.
Sure.
’

Gaffar walked over to where he’d parked the scooter, pulled on his helmet, kicked the scooter from its stand and pushed it towards them. He helped Kelly on board and then climbed on in front of her.

‘Are you certain that’s a good idea?’ Beede asked, horrified.

Gaffar started the engine and revved it up. Kelly grabbed on to his waist. Then –

‘Hold up a sec,’ she said, noticing the brown envelope still protruding from Gaffar’s back pocket. ‘This is yours, ain’t it?’

She pulled the envelope free and passed it to Beede with an apologetic grin. Beede took it, confused.

‘The bloke what wrote that’s actually my great-great-great-grandad,’ she swanked (almost – Beede felt – by way of an excuse), then,
‘Tally-ho!’
she slapped Gaffar on the shoulder and off they sped.

Beede inspected the envelope (his eyes watering slightly from the scooter’s emissions), then he winced, reached up his hand to his neck again and massaged it, distractedly, while glancing over at the house. He took a couple of halting steps towards it, then quickly changed his mind and limped slowly down the road towards the parked Mercedes instead.

On reaching the car, he peered in through the window and saw (much as he’d suspected) that Kane was lying, flat-out on the back seat, covered in his grey crombie.

‘Kane?’

Beede knocked on the window –

No response

Beede tried the door, found it unlocked, and pulled it open.

‘Kane?’

Kane didn’t budge.

Beede reached out his hand and yanked off the coat. Kane lay there, perfectly still, his eyes closed.

‘Kane?’
he repeated, an edge of concern entering his voice. He gave his son a peremptory shake.

At last Kane stirred. He yawned, then he stretched himself, then he opened his eyes and stared around him, dopily, finally focussing in on his father. His eyes widened, in surprise.

‘Beede?’

‘What on earth are you playing at?’ Beede demanded, not taken in for a second by Kane’s pathetic little act.

‘Uh…’ Kane pulled himself into a sitting position. ‘Sorry,’ he blinked, ‘I must’ve just nodded off. I was waiting for an Estate Agent…’

He inspected his watch.

‘She’s actually very late…’

He picked up his phone, with a scowl, to check his messages.

‘An Estate Agent?’ Beede scoffed. ‘Why?’

‘Why?’ Kane glanced up. ‘Because I wanted to take a quick look around…’

He pointed towards the house.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Beede snapped. ‘You already have a perfectly good home.’

‘As an investment,’ Kane persisted, staring back down at his phone, ‘to rent out.’

‘You’re parked in,’ Beede informed him.

‘Am I?’

Kane glanced over his shoulder.

‘Yes. And that’s Dory’s car.’

‘Is it?’

‘
Yes.
Yes, Kane. It is.’

Beede’s tone was bordering on the vitriolic.

Kane reached for his cigarettes.

‘Hang on a minute…’ Beede’s sharp eyes had alighted upon Isidore’s diary. ‘What’s this?’

He scooped up the black jotter from the back seat, then winced at the intense pain this quick movement afforded him.

Kane lit his cigarette, irritated.

‘Is your shoulder still bad?’ he asked.

‘No.’

Beede threw the envelope down (his one hand was so weak now that he found it almost impossible to manage both objects in conjunction).

Kane gave the envelope – then his father – a searching look before reaching into his coat pocket. ‘You’re obviously still in pain,’ he observed, ‘and I can give you something to relieve it…’ he felt around for his stash, ‘but you should definitely see a doctor at some point…’

‘It’s fine,’ Beede snapped,
‘I’m
fine. I don’t need your pills…’ then he paused, churlishly. ‘No.
No.
What I mean to say, Kane, is that I don’t
want
your pills.’

Kane withdrew his hand. ‘Don’t mince your words, eh?’ he smiled, obviously hurt, but trying to make light of it.

‘I won’t,’ Beede growled. ‘There’s already been far too much of that.’

‘Really?’ Kane looked intrigued. ‘From whom?’

‘From me, of course.’

‘From
you?’

Kane almost laughed out loud.

‘Yes.’

Beede was indignant.

‘Wow…’

Kane slowly shook his head, amused, as he inhaled on his cigarette.

‘You still haven’t answered my question,’ Beede continued (infuriated – as always – by his son’s trademark combination of charm and cynicism).

‘Didn’t I?’ Kane shrugged, vaguely.

‘No.’

Kane inspected his phone again.

‘Would you put that infernal thing
down,’
Beede snarled, ‘and just try and be straight with me for once?’ He brandished the diary like a Methodist minister preaching fire and brimstone from his roadside pulpit.