Monkey Wrench (23 page)

Usually, on the night after a fight, I make the night last. I go over all my triumphs in my mind – over and over – so I can hear the oohs and ahs when I pulled off something really stunning. That handstand escape I brought off in spite of Olga from the Volga being such a vegetable – usually I would've done a slowmo replay of that, again and again. But I couldn't.

When the blokes came to work, and I penned the dogs and went to bed, I tried to replay my handstand escape. But every time I shut
my eyes I saw Pete Carver's hairy arse. I saw Stef on the floor. And I saw Stoat's cheek flopping open. My eyelids would fly open and my heart felt like a rubber ball bouncing in my chest – bounce, bounce, bounce.

But time passed, and I must've slept because Crystal woke me up. She banged on my door and when I staggered out to open it I saw a piece of paper on the floor. I picked it up and opened the door.

Crystal's eyeballs looked like raw eggs. In fact, Crystal looked like I felt. I wasn't pleased to see her. If you must know I'd rather of seen giant spiders.

I said, ‘What you doing here?'

‘Came to see you.'

‘Came once too often,' I said. I would've slammed the door in her face but she squirmed in.

‘I'll put the kettle on,' she said, as if that made everything all right.

‘You'll put nothing on,' I said. ‘What you'll do is fuck off out of here. You've screwed my life, and I ain't had any kip yet.'

‘Yes you have,' she said. ‘I came round two hours ago and knocked. You never answered but I could hear the snores from outside. I'll make us both a cuppa. We got to talk.'

‘We don't gotta do nothing,' I said. But she lit the gas and filled the kettle. And I did fancy a cup of tea. My mouth felt like something crawled in it and died.

I should of slung monkey face out on her little monkey ear, but I read my bit of paper instead. It was from The Enemy. It said, ‘Dear Eva, Thanks for the good work you did this week. I have now made permanent arrangements for the two properties in question so you won't have to bother with them this weekend. But don't worry, I think there will be something else next week.

‘I need to speak to you urgently on another matter. So, when you come to the office for your money, please make sure I know about it. If I'm out,
wait
. Anna Lee.'

Typical. Typical polizei. Typical Enemy. She came round to see me. She could of brought my money. She could of slipped it under
the door and saved me the bother of going to her office to get it. But did she? Oh no. She never does nothing to suit me. All I get is another one of her stupid notes giving orders. If I want my money – what I worked for, what's due me – I have to suit
her
. Typical.

‘What's up?' Crystal said. ‘Bad news?'

‘Business,' I said. ‘I got business and it's nothing you can stick your hooter in.'

‘Oh,' she said, and gave me my tea. She gave me this woeful look over the rim of her mug.

‘What?' I said.

‘It's Dawn,' she said.

‘No,' I said. ‘I've had it up to here with slags. I don't want to know.'

‘You promised,' she said.

‘I never,' I said. ‘What did I promise?'

‘You said if I ever found out who did for Dawnie, you'd help me to kill him.'

‘I fucking did
not
!'

‘Don't shout,' Crystal said. ‘You was standing right where you're standing now.'

‘Was not!'

‘Was. Don't shout.'

‘Not
shouting!'

‘You said, “You find 'em, I'll kill 'em.”'

‘Fuckin' did not!'

‘Did,' Crystal said. ‘It was right after Dawnie died. The night after. You was stood right there. I told you about her and me when we was little. About the bloke with the red car and the fancy suit. And you said, “You find 'em, I'll kill 'em.” You
did
.'

‘Not!' But it was coming back to me. I remembered Dawn's story. Some of it. And Crystal moaning on about the blokes who tap-danced on Dawn's teeth. And I s'pose I said something. Well, I must of, mustn't I? You don't just stand there like a parking meter when someone's lost a sister, do you? Even if the sister's only Dirty Dawn. So I must've said something, y'know, out of sympathy, but I wouldn't never of said I'd kill someone. Not over Dawn. I'm just not like that.

So I stood there with my mug of tea. And Crystal stood there with hers, looking woeful.

Then she said, ‘It's 'cos of Dawn, isṉt it?'

‘'Cos of Dawn what?'

‘You never liked Dawn. What you got against prostitutes?'

‘I don't like anyone,' I said. Which is true. Except for Harsh. ‘I've got nothing against … them other girls.'

‘You have,' Crystal said. ‘You're always rude to them.'

‘That's 'cos they're fuckin' stupid.'

‘No,' she said. ‘It's more than that.'

‘What do you know about it?' I said.

‘Don't
shout
,' Crystal said. ‘Why're you shouting?'

‘Who's going to look after Stef's kid while she's in hospital?' I asked. Because Stef was one of the ones who had kids.

‘What do you care about Stef s kid?' Crystal said.

‘I don't fucking care about Stef's kid. No more than she does.'

That shut her up. She stood there drinking her tea, looking at me. Then she put her mug down.

‘Buy you breakfast,' she said.

‘No,' I said. ‘I know your game.'

‘What game?'

‘You're always trying to play pinball with my head.'

‘Am not,' she said, and without any warning at all, she burst into tears. Which really took me by surprise. Crystal is not a crier. Crystal's like me. She'd rather die than cry.

I could only gape at her, and she ran out of the Static slobbering all over her sleeve.

I suppose you think I should've run out after her. I suppose you're the type who goes all weak and woolly when someone breaks down and blubs in front of you. Well, more fool you! You don't know Monkey Wrench the way I know her. She'd try anything to make me do what she wanted – including pretending to cry. She's a lying little madam.

Once I knew she was only pretending, I forgot about Crystal and decided to go and get my money off The Enemy.

Don't get me wrong – I wasn't broke. I had money in my pocket from the self-defence classes, I had wages coming from looking after the yard and Mr Deeds owed me for the Lewinsham fight. But the self-defence dosh wouldn't go far, and being owed isn't the same as having a big wad in the hand. I like to keep my wad where I can see it. Owed money is no money at all until you get your fist round it. Take my advice – if you're owed any ackers, you go out and grab it fast before the bim who owes you spends it on himself.

But by the time I got to her office The Enemy was out and the old secretary-bird was packing up to leave.

She said, ‘Anna told me to ask you to wait.'

‘Where's my money?' I said.

‘It's all ready,' she said.

‘So am I,' I said, and I held my hand out.

‘Anna locked it in her desk,' the secretary-bird said. ‘She won't be gone long.'

‘Not long's too long,' I said. ‘It's owed me and I want it
now
.'

‘Please,' she said, ‘don't thump the fax. You'll break it.'

‘Now,'
I said. See what I mean? That old secretary-bird would rather part with her knickers than part with dosh that was already mine.

She said, ‘Please, Eva, calm down. Why don't you make yourself comfortable? Anna's coming shortly. You could read a magazine while you wait.'

And then The Enemy herself walked in. She said, ‘Bleeding hell, Eva, why're you throwing magazines round the room?' And the secretary-bird scuttled out like she had a fuse lit under her heels.

‘I don't want to talk to you,' I said. ‘I don't want to talk to her. I don't want to wait and read a poxy fucking magazine. I want my money.'

‘Keep your hair on,' she said, and unlocked her private door. ‘Come in.'

‘I don't want to come in,' I said. ‘You're all jerking me around. You all want me to do things. And you're holding my money ransom so I'll do what you want.'

‘Take your money,' The Enemy said. But she took her time unlocking her desk, and while she was at it she said, ‘I just wanted to pass on a warning, that's all.' She handed me my money.

While I was counting it she said, ‘I had a visit from the police this morning.'

‘I don't want to know,' I said, and I stuffed my dosh in a back pocket.

‘I know,' she said, ‘but I think you should.'

‘Who're you to tell me what I should know?'

‘Why are you so upset today?'

‘Not upset.'

‘Okay,' The Enemy said. ‘Okay, okay. But all the same you
should know that the police say that a brothel has been opened on Mandala Street at that property you and I would have taken charge of if we hadn't found the squatter.'

‘What?'

‘For God's sake, Eva, don't shout at me. You're splitting my eardrums. Don't rush off. Talk to me.'

‘You don't want to talk to me,' I said. ‘You just want to tell me what to do.'

‘Have it your own way,' she said. ‘But you'll look pretty silly if the police charge you with keeping a disorderly house or living off immoral earnings.'

‘What?

‘And I'll look bleeding silly for employing you.'

I couldn't believe my ears. I said, ‘All I done was teach those slags a bit of self-defence. What fart-arse you been listening to?'

‘Just the local beat copper,' she said.

‘What did he say?' I said. ‘What does he know about me? What you been telling him?'

‘Nothing,' she said.

‘Nothing?' I said. ‘You dobbed me in.'

‘No,' she said. ‘Sit down. Calm down and shut up.'

I sat down. What else could I do? My life was turning rotten. I could smell it. I could smell the stench of a life turned mouldy, and believe me, it's a sick, rancid stench.

‘It's that turdy gnome,' I said.

‘Who?'

‘Crystal,' I said. ‘Monkey face. She done it.'

‘Crystal?' The Enemy said. And she got that puckered look around the mouth she gets when she wants you to think she's thinking.

‘It's Dawn, getting herself stiffed,' I said. ‘It tossed Dwarfs brain down the bog-hole.'

I expected The Enemy to say ‘nonsense' or ‘rubbish' like she usually does. But this time she just sat there all puckered.

Then she said, ‘I'd better have a word with young Crystal. Meanwhile, don't you take any more money from those women.
And if you're wise, you'll give Mandala Street a wide berth for a few days.'

‘Can't do that,' I said. ‘It's where I train.'

‘But I thought

‘You thought wrong,' I said. ‘You always
think
you know, but you don't know shit from shaving cream. Them premises on Mandala Street – that's my gym.'

The Enemy looked like she wanted to spit tin-tacks. She said, ‘It's the law, you see.'

‘What law?'

‘If more than one prostitute shares a place, that place is deemed a brothel.'

‘It's my gym,' I said.

‘In fact,' The Enemy said, ‘almost anything sensible a prostitute might do to protect herself – like hiring a minder or setting up in a collective – is illegal for someone.'

‘I told you – it ain't a knocking shop. It's my gym.'

‘Aren't you listening?'

‘It's you that's got bum-fluff in your lug-holes. It's my gym. I saw it first.'

‘Don't bleeding shout!' The Enemy yelled.

It was turning out to be a stone septic day – a day when you're dragged backwards into evil smelling flob. A day when everything you ever done up till now counts minus. It didn't happen, you didn't try, you're back wallowing in the cesspit where you started.

And I hadn't even had my breakfast yet. My feet were gummed to the pavement by everyone else's snot and phlegm, and, since getting up, I hadn't had time to get my gnashers round a bacon sarnie.

So I went to the caff on Mandala Street, but would you believe it – the first person I saw when the door banged behind me was Justin. Justin hunched over a table by the steamy window. Justin with his eyes all red and swollen.

‘Eva!' he said.

‘Fuck off,' I said, and I turned round and walked. ‘Out me way,'
I said to the bolly who whacked into me as I left. ‘Need the whole bleeding road?' I said to the woman who nearly ran me over in her car. Weepers, bims and bollies everywhere you looked.

I stopped looking.

When I was a kid with nowhere to go I would sometimes fetch up at Waterloo Station. It was somewhere to get out of the rain. I wasn't the only one. Lots of kids went to Waterloo. Sometimes there'd be quite a crowd and you could get quite matey – shouting at the railway police and passing round a bit of blow or a jar of cider. I never stayed long because there was always the chance of polizei, parents and social workers lolloping around looking for runners and IRA bombs.

Come to think of it, Waterloo was probably where I first ran into Crystal. Because a station can be an ace place to cadge a bob or two or a free cup of tea.

See, what happens is that your average train traveller mongs around waiting, gets bored, buys tea and munchies. Train gets called, passenger dumps tea and munchies. And someone like Crystal, after a quick dip in the passenger's pocket or purse, gets to scoff his tea too. Easy-per-deazy.

You may wonder, if Waterloo was where I first met Crystal – which maybe it was, maybe it wasn't – why I fetched up there after leaving the caff on Mandala Street. Well, keep wondering. I ain't telling you 'cos I don't know myself. It was one of those times when time eats its own tail. I went to Waterloo, and that's all I'm telling you. You don't have to know why I do every little thing, do you? Well,
do
you? You're not polizei, are you? No. So you'll hear what
I
want to tell you. No more, no less.