Future Queens of England (53 page)

His victim fell backwards onto the cold hard floor clutching at his face.  He felt the warmth of the blood as it dripped from his nose into his hands.

Tony decided that he couldn’t stand by and watch this and so he stepped forward.  “Oi Rob, how’s it going?”  He strode confidently across the street towards the gang.

The gang turned to see who was calling them.  Rob squinted as Tony approached, “Tony?  Is that you, you old bastard?”

Tony nodded, “Of course it fucking is.  Who else did you think it was?”

Rob regarded Tony suspiciously.  “I can hardly recognise you ... you’re a different shape … and what the fuck have you done to your hair.”  He leant forward and studied Tony’s head.  “What are they?  Highlights?”  As he leant closer to Tony he caught the scent of something, “And what’s that poncey smell?”  His nostrils flared and his eyes darted rapidly from left to right in total confusion.  “Is that fake tan that you’ve got on?  You look like a fucking oompa loompa!” 

Tony shifted uncomfortably under the microscope.  “I’ve smartened myself up a bit.  The birds love it, I’ve been up to my nuts in guts recently.  I’m beating the bitches back with a shitty stick!”

“Where’ve you been for all these months, we ain’t seen hide nor hair of you.”

Tony realised that he needed to change the subject quickly, he pointed at the man on the floor, “Who is this then?”

Rob peered down at the man lying there and gave him a sharp boot into his abdomen.  “Oh, just some faggot.  He was having a tiff with his boyfriend, so, we’re trying to take his mind off the end of his love affair.”  He laughed and nudged Tony.  “You should give him a smack too.”

One of the gang, who was taking the last swig from a bottle of beer, interrupted.  “Hey Rob, I’m next.  Tony can’t just rock up after all these months and jump the queue.”

“Alright, alright,” Rob said, “keep your fucking hair on.  Go on then, smack him over the head with that bottle.”

Tony looked down at the man lying on the floor, their eyes made contact and Tony almost fell over in surprise.  “It’s you, isn’t it?”

The magistrate, who had sentenced Tony, looked up at him in absolute despair.  “Please help me!” he begged.  “Get a
charpering omi!
”

“There aren’t any around,” Tony said, quickly and quietly.

“What are you two whispering about?  Hey!  Do you know this woofter, Tony?” Rob growled.

“What do you think?”

Rob shrugged, “Yeah, well, it sounded like you knew each other.”

“I’ve never seen him before in my life.  Anyway, I think that this poor bastard has had enough for one night, don’t you?  Come on, let’s go to the
bungery
,” he said, trying to lead Rob away.

Rob stopped and looked at Tony.  “You what?  A
bungery
?”

Tony kicked himself, “I meant pub, come on, let’s go to the pub.”

Rob shrugged him off, “There’s plenty of time for that.  I’m not going anywhere until we knock this fucker unconscious.”

“Nah, leave it,” Tony said, “I’m gagging for a pint.”

“Hey, you don’t tell me what to do anymore, Tony.  You can’t just swan up here and order me about,” Rob said angrily.  “Like I said, we’re not going anywhere whilst this bent bastard is still conscious.”  He pointed at the gang member holding the bottle, “Do your worst.”

Tony watched as the bottle was raised ready to be brought down on the man’s head.  He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before making up his mind.  Suddenly, Tony threw his fist forward with all his might, directly into the attackers face.  His attacker’s nose appeared to explode and he dropped the bottle. 

The rest of the group took a couple of steps back, totally unsure of what just happened.

Tony bent down and grabbed the magistrate.  “You’d better run.  Go on, get out of here go!” he screamed at him before turning and landing a blow onto Rob’s right eye. 

Rob stumbled back, but then balanced himself.  “So, Tony, I knew there was something different about you.  He cracked his knuckles and curled his lip.  “Turning on your own is a serious offence where I’m from.”  He took a few steps toward him.

Tony puffed up his chest, “Come and have a go, if you think you’re hard enough.” 

Rob thumped his right fist into the palm of his left hand, “Oh, I’m hard enough.”  He gritted his teeth and without any more small talk, he bellowed, “Get him!”

Fists rained down from all sides onto Tony’s head.  He bounced this way and that, fighting to stay upright.  He swung a punch and caught one of the gang in the face, but he couldn’t see what the result was. 

Then he felt a sharp pain as one of the gang kicked him in the back of his knees.  He fell forward and grabbed at them, trying to stop himself from falling.  He knew if he fell then it was game over for him.  The next thing he knew was the feeling of concrete under his knees, he lifted his leg instantly and tried to push himself back up to his feet, but another kick to his back sent him facedown onto the cold, hard pavement.  His head began to spin as they kicked and stamped on him, he tried in vain to lift himself up, but there were just too many of them.  He could feel the dizziness overtaking him and as Rob’s foot came crashing down on the back of his head.  Finally, his eyes closed and he slipped out of consciousness.

Chapter Twenty
Seven

Uwe walked down the long corridor, his shoes squeaked on the disinfected floor with every purposeful stride.  He stopped at the vending machine, inserted the correct change and thumped a large lit button with the side of his hand.  The machine whirred into life; he waited for the clang of the plastic bottle to drop down and then removed his water from the compartment.  He opened his man bag and nestled the bottle next to the newspapers before continuing his journey.  Uwe made his way to the ward entrance and pressed the buzzer.  He tapped his foot impatiently while he waited for a response, finally a crackled voice spoke.

“Yes, hello,” it said wearily.

“I’m here to see Tony Horwood.”

“Are you immediate family?”

“Yes.”

“What’s your relationship to the patient?” the voice inquired.

“I’m his fiancé,”

The voice sighed, “Really?  You’re the fifth fiancé to visit him in the past twenty four hours.”

“Are you suggesting that I am a liar?” Uwe replied coldly.

“No, I’m just stating that the patient has a lot of fiancés.”

Uwe thought for a moment, then spoke, “Yes, that would be right.  We’re Mormons.”

“You’re Mormons!” the tinny voice repeated.  “Gay Mormons?  Are you serious?”

Uwe leant toward the intercom and spoke slowly, “Did I detect a hint of homophobia in that response?”

There was a pregnant pause while Uwe waited for an answer.

“Well?” Uwe drawled.

“No Sir, please come in.” 

The buzzer sounded and Uwe smiled to himself.  He pulled the door open and stepped into ward.    He made his way to the end of the room and pushed open the door to a small, private side room.

“
Guten
Morgen
, Gareth.   Has he woken up yet?”

Gareth got up from his chair.  “He’s showing signs of coming to.  The doctors said the general anaesthetic should wear off soon.  I’m going to head off home now, but will you call me when he wakes?”

Uwe nodded, “No problem.  I’ll speak to you later,
hau
rein
!”  He walked across and sat down next to Tony’s bed.  He looked over at Tony who was snoring loudly, he tutted and took a book,
The Roads to Sata
, from his bag.  Uwe nestled into his chair and opened the book, he smiled to himself and began to read.  After a few lines he began to frown, as he tried to concentrate on the words amidst Tony’s snores.  After reading the same paragraph four times he slammed the book shut and glared at Tony.  He surreptitiously looked over at the door to make sure no one was looking; once satisfied,  he then reached over and gently pushed Tony’s mouth shut and pinched his swollen nose with his thumb and forefinger.  After a few seconds Tony’s mouth and eyes opened quickly and he gasped for air, Uwe quickly sat back in his chair again and pretended to read his book.

“Where am I?  Am I in heaven?” Tony said groggily.

“You’re alone in
a
room with a bed and have me for company,” Uwe said nonchalantly, “it’s the closest to heaven that you’ll ever get.”  He chuckled to himself.    “So, this is the glorious NHS, is it?”

“Uwe?  Is that you?” Tony slurred, he tried to rub his eyes.  “What the fuck?  Why can’t I move my arms?”  He looked down at himself and gasped.

“Both of your arms are broken.  They’ve been put into a cast.” Uwe explained.

“What happened?” Tony said, trying to come to terms with his predicament.

Uwe frowned again, “Don’t you remember?  You got the shit well and truly kicked out of you.”

“So, where am I?”

“Where do you think you are?  You’re in hospital, you idiot.”  Uwe tutted and shook his head.  “I see they didn’t knock any sense into you.”

“What’s the damage?” Tony said, attempting to look down.  He winced in pain as he tried to lean forward.

“It’s not too bad, you’ve got two broken arms, a couple of broken ribs, your nose is pretty swollen but not broken.  You’ve got a lot of stitches in your ear from where they glassed you and your back is black and blue with bruises,” Uwe said, listing the injuries.  “Oh, and they’ve had to hook up a catheter to your little
schwanz
,” he pointed at the drainage bag by the side of the bed filled with dark, yellow liquid.

Tony tried to peer over the side of the bed, but every time he moved, the breath was taken out of him.  “How long have I been out?”

Uwe thought about this.  “You were unconscious when they brought you into the hospital.  They checked you over for brain damage and you appear to have been very lucky.  Then once you came to, they took you to theatre again and patched you up.  So, I guess you’ve been out of it for two days now.”

“Huh,” Tony said, trying to make sense of this.  “Have they removed my electronic tag?”

Uwe leant over and lifted up the bed sheet to check.  “Unfortunately not,” he said simply.

“Ah shit, so everyone in here knows I’m a criminal then.”

“Apparently so, hence the private room.  But forget about that, there is something else that you need to know about.” 

“Oh, what else?”

Uwe opened up his man bag and took out the newspapers.  He unfolded them carefully and began to read.  “It seems that the British press has had a field day with this.  You’re on the front page of every paper.”

“What?”

Uwe smirked, “Shhhh.  Let me show you.”  His eyes lit up as he held up the first newspaper, he read out the headline dramatically, “Homo Protectus.”  He took a moment to repress a giggle.  “Ex-thug, turned homosexual saves magistrate from gay bashing.”  He stopped to take in Tony’s look of horror.  Satisfied that he had the reaction he’d expected, he then continued, “Recently converted homosexual, Tony Horwood, single-handedly took on a gang of thugs to protect fellow homosexual and county court magistrate from a vicious homophobic assault.  In an amazing twist, the man he saved had previously sentenced Mr Horwood to an academic year at the controversial school for Future Queens of England.  It is believed that during this time Mr Horwood had given in to his latent homosexual desires and come out of the closet.”  Uwe lowered the paper for a moment, “Should I go on?”

“They think I’m gay?”

Uwe nodded, “So, it would appear.”

“Shit!” Tony said slowly.

Uwe put the paper down, picked up the next one and read out the headline, “Bender Defender,” he said, emphasising each syllable.  “That one has a nice ring to it.”

Tony began to stutter, “I can’t believe this.”  He stared at the headline and repeated the headlines, “Homo Protectus and Bender Defender.”