The Bombs That Brought Us Together (12 page)

‘You have many word for stupid people in Little Town, Charlie.’

‘That’s because Little Town is full of them, Pav.’

A crash course in synonyms could be just what the doctor ordered.

I knocked twice on the door.

Two dinky knocks.

‘Come in!’ a voice boomed.

On the first
come in
we hesitated. Pav looked at me for guidance. The second
come in
sounded as if whoever said it was totally peed off about something. Probably with us. The tone pricked my ears. This voice didn’t help with the fear. Pav nodded for me to advance. Chalk-white face, sweat-soaked body and googly eyes, I opened the door and entered the room. If I was to ever smuggle suitcases of Class-A drugs from one country to another I’d be caught before reaching the check-in desk. Mum called me an open book of a boy. I just didn’t have the face for a life of crime.

The room was rank and bare. The carpet was so knackered that it was all leather in parts after years of feet beating. I kept my eyes on the floor.

‘Here they are, my two favourite numpties,’ The Big Man
greeted us. He was sunk into a figure-hugging leather chair, flanked by two bruisers like columns in a Greek temple. Ugly Greek columns. This time round there was no phone, no big swing chair, no desk and no computer that my eyes could see.

‘The driver and the guy on the landing said you wanted to see us, Big Man,’ I said.

‘You have our stuff?’ Pav butted in.

‘Wow, wow, wow. Hold them horses, Duda,’ The Big Man said. He was neither smiling nor snarling. Then he snarled, ‘I don’t know if you’re aware or not, but we’re in a war zone right now and all you’re interested in is a couple of bloody chairs.’

‘No … he … didn’t mean …’ I tried to say.

‘Don’t you be his mouthpiece, Law. That’s not cool.’ The Big Man pointed up at me from his seat. ‘This little skinny arse here knows exactly what he’s all about.’ The Big Man fixed Pav with a hard glare. ‘Don’t you?’

Pav didn’t answer.

‘We just thought that when you wanted to see us it was to do with the stuff we asked for, Big Man, that’s all,’ I said.

The Big Man’s full lips and mouth softened.

‘Look at the state of you two.’ Me and Pav looked at each other. We were clean and I’d shampooed two days previously. It’s not as if we’d been cutting around like Huckleberry Finn and the Artful Dodger. I didn’t know what to say. ‘You’re like
a couple of butcher’s pencils standing there. When was the last time you had a proper feed?’

‘Ages I no eat,’ Pav said.

‘I can see that, Duda. I can see that,’ The Big Man said. ‘What about you?’ he said to me.

‘I eat what I can, which isn’t much.’

‘You’re like a flick knife, Law. How the hell are you going to carry these chairs I’ve got for you into your block, eh? I’ve seen more beef on a dog’s cock.’

‘So you have stuff?’ Pav said. The Big Man glared at him.

‘When The Big Man says he’ll get you something, he means he’ll get you something,’ he said.

‘Thanks,’ I said.

‘No need for thanks, Law. The world is full of thanks; what I’m looking for is action.’ I didn’t know what he meant by this. Pav was totally lost. ‘But first things first.’ The Big Man rose. He stood bigger than the two columns. ‘I think it’s time you lads had some decent scran inside your bellies. What do you think?’ We nodded. Of course we nodded.

He went over to one of the columns, very close. So close we couldn’t hear what he was saying.

‘You eat meat, Duda?’ he said.

‘I eat.’

‘What about you, Law?’

Weeks ago I was seriously considering life as a veggie, but with all this carnage in Little Town I’d have happily munched
on a scabby dog or my own arm if there was any chance of meat being on it. It’s amazing how quickly principles get chucked out of the window when needs must.

‘Yes, I eat meat.’

The Big Man pointed to Pav.

‘Burger?’

‘Burger, yes.’ Pav’s eyes were like two plates.

‘With cheese?’

‘With cheese, yes.’ Two dinner plates.

Then he pointed to me.

‘Burger?’

‘I will, thanks.’

‘Same?’

‘OK.’

He flicked his head to one of the columns, who did what any thick bruiser would do: he followed orders without uttering a word.

It wasn’t any of my business how The Big Man managed to get his mitts on a pair of burgers; I was just salivating at the prospect of attacking it. I was too scared to ask that question. Not Pav though. He was in like Flynn.

‘How you get burger?’

‘You mean, how do I get my hands on a couple of burgers when no one else can?’ The Big Man said.

‘Yes, how you get hands on this burgers,’ Pav asked.

I was willing him to rap it, but at times Pav liked nothing
more than diving in at the deep end, with concrete slippers on.

‘Christ, Duda, you need to brush up on the lingo if we’re going to be seeing more of each other.

‘There is nothing I can’t get in Little Town, Duda. Even with those dirty, rotten Old Country bastards thinking that they now run the place. I can still get my paws on anything I want.’

‘Well, that’s good news for our stomachs,’ I said with a chuckle. Nobody else chuckled. The Big Man certainly didn’t chuckle; he shot me a look which sent shivers up my spine. He took two steps closer. I smelt stale fags, booze and fried food.

‘I have a bone to pick with you, Law.’ My nose hardly reached his chest. My heart sped up.

‘What … have I … erm … done?’

‘I’ll tell you what you’ve done, fannyman. Shall I?’

‘Erm … please.’

‘It’s come to my attention that you have been pilfering stuff that belongs to me.’

Pav looked at me as if I’d let him down. How did he know what pilfering meant?

‘Pilfering? You … erm, mean …’

‘Apples, Law. You’ve been blagging bloody apples.
My
apples.’

‘Your apples?’

‘If you nick anything from Little Town shops you’re nicking stuff from me, clear?’

‘I didn’t … erm … know that the apples were yours.’

‘Well, you know now.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Everything you see, Law, belongs to The Big Man. Everything. This Old Country invasion changes nothing.’

‘It won’t happen again, Big Man, promise it won’t,’ I said.

The Big Man stepped back, scanning us both.

‘So, you’re a thief, Law,’ he said to me. ‘And you, Duda, you’re from Old Country, which makes you all sorts of things.’ He then grinned from ear to ear. ‘You know what I call that, chaps?’

‘No, what?’ I said.

‘It’s an asset, that’s what it is,’ The Big Man said.

‘What is asset?’ Pav asked.

‘Something that will benefit The Big Man, Pav,’ I told him.

‘Like talent?’ he asked.

‘Exactly, Duda. You and Law here are a uniquely talented pair of eejits who can help me. No. You can help the people of Little Town.’

‘Help how?’ Pav asked.

‘A few odds and ends now and again. Think of it as doing a civic duty.’

‘That’s all?’ I asked.

‘Oh, I’ll need to think about that, but the way I see it, you
owe me for the kind gesture of providing the furniture for your doll’s house and for being good-hearted enough not to break Law’s sticky little fingers for tea-leafing
my
stuff in
my
town.’ That’s when my sphincter opened and closed again and again like a camera shutter. ‘I’d say you two owe me big time, but to show that I’m actually a humanitarian deep down, the burgers are on the house.’

I wanted to swear out loud. Shout obscenities at Norman. Skelp myself in the chops. Burn down the shed. Get the flock out of Little Town.

We stood there, feet nailed to the bogging carpet. Two numb numpties. The Big Man flopped back down on his chair. Folded his arms.

Soon after the door flew open and one of the columns thrust greasy big burgers into our hands. Piping hot, they smelt like a trip to paradise. The Big Man gestured for us to sit and enjoy. The burgers eased the fear.

The thought came to me as I chewed my burger in silence. If The Big Man was right, if there was nothing he couldn’t get in Little Town, then maybe, just maybe, he could help Mum get her hands on some inhaler medicine. I was about to jump up and ask him there and then if he could. Lay it on thick. Tell him that Mum’s life depended on it, that her fight for breath was a constant battle. That me and Dad were at our wits’ end with worry. But I didn’t want Pav to hear. He shouldn’t be involved in this request. This was purely a private matter.

A beep beep sound came from one of the column’s pockets. He took out his mobile phone, looked at the message before showing it to The Big Man.

‘Right, there’s a van waiting downstairs for you.’

Pav, still ploughing through his burger, stopped munching and raised his eyes towards me. It was his you’d-better-say-something-fast look.

‘To take us where?’ I said. The fear kicked in again.

‘Home, Law. Home.’ The Big Man noticed my chest heaving with relief. The penny dropped. ‘Where else would you be going. Eh?’ Then the penny dropped again. Much harder this time. ‘What do you think I am, Law? What do you take me for, some Old Country barbarian?’ He looked at Pav. Pav poked the remaining bit of his burger into his mouth. ‘Do you think I’d ever lay a finger on two nothings like you?’

‘No, I just thought –’

‘Never mind what you thought. Just get your arses downstairs to that van or else you’ll be walking home.’

‘OK, Big Man,’ I said. ‘Come on, Pav. We’d better go.’

‘We leave?’ Pav said.

‘Go! Get the hell out of my sight,’ The Big Man said.

‘Thank for burger,’ Pav said.

‘Get your arses out of here.’ With a nod The Big Man asked one of the columns to escort us down the stairs to the van. I pretended to be getting my jacket on and sorting myself out; I waited until Pav was through the door.

‘Are you deaf, Law?’ The Big Man said.

‘I just wanted to ask you a favour, Big Man.’

‘What? Another one?’

‘I’ll be quick.’

‘Make it.’

‘Well, you know the chemist has been bombed.’

‘Right. So?’

‘So, the thing is …’

‘Get to the damn point, Law.’

‘My mum used to get her inhaler medicine from there and now she … erm … It’s serious, Big Man. She’s really struggling. She needs it.’ The Big Man’s palm stopped me.

‘You want me to get her medicine, Law. Is that it?’

‘Erm … I suppose so … yes.’

The Big Man glared. Stared. Flared his nostrils. ‘OK, give me the details. I’ll see what I can do.’

‘You will?’ I said, wanting to hug him.

I wrote down the details on a piece of paper, which he looked hard at.

‘
Inhaler medicine for Mrs Maggie Law
?’

‘Right,’ I said.

‘OK, now get the hell out of here.’

Mum would go off her nut if she knew The Big Man had her vitals. Maybe I should have said the inhaler was for me. Kept Mum out of this mess.

*

We didn’t speak too much on the quick trip back from The Big Man’s place. The taste of succulent burger still coated my mouth. Most importantly, my belly was full, as was my mind. A part of me wanted to run into my house and tell Mum that I’d soon get her medicine, that she’d be OK from now on, that I’d look after her. But hearing The Big Man’s voice saying my mum’s name made my stomach clench. As the van trundled towards our block we looked out at the deserted streets. I could tell that Pav was going over what had happened; his face had that scrunched-up appearance. Confusion. Intrigue. Fear. Excitement.

As the van hit a particularly dark spot I saw my own reflection in the glass; my face looked the same as Pav’s. One part of the brain was delighted that The Big Man had come up trumps with our goodies, meaning Erin F would definitely be getting invited to our luxury shed. The other part of the brain was wondering what we’d agreed to do for The Big Man. What we’d agreed to become. Had we agreed to be his lackeys? His errand boys? His new young bucks? Vital cogs in his inner circle? I just didn’t have a clue. All I knew was that The Big Man had gone out of his way to scratch our backs and now he was feeling the itch himself.

When the driver got out of the van, he was acting as if he was an international spy; this was a man who clearly didn’t want to be seen outside his zone, especially with two boys handling some second-hand furniture. He gave us a hand
carrying the stuff to the shed, before bolting. Me and Pav flopped on a chair each and released the air that was trapped in our lungs.

‘God, I’m glad that’s over,’ I said.

Pav shook his head, despairing of me.

‘It no over, Charlie. This is the begin.’

‘Yes, the beginning of our independence in here,’ I said, gesturing around the shed, changing the subject. ‘Think about it: we could create a library and other cool things in here.’

‘No, Charlie, this the begin of you and me being danger men.’

‘In danger, you mean?’ I said.

‘Exact.’

I knew he was right, of course; I knew he was. I was trying to block everything out but that bloody cheeseburger kept repeating on me, transporting me back to The Big Man’s. Back to his clutches. To his new-found control over us. I wished I’d refused that bloody cheeseburger. I wished I’d left those bloody apples alone.

‘It’ll be OK, Pav. You’ll see,’ I said, but I think I was trying to convince myself more than Pav.

‘What we do, Charlie, eh? What we do?’

‘We enjoy our new shed, that’s what we do. We invite some people around and maybe have a shed opening. Erin F can be our first visitor.’ Pav sat shaking his head. ‘We do
nothing, Pav. Just keep our heads down and do nothing. There’s too much going on in Little Town for him to worry about us two.’

But what would happen to Mum if The Big Man did forget about us? Sitting there in my comfy chair, I imagined her in the house, wheezing, famished, trying to ration her inhaler puffs, limiting herself to short bursts of breaths. If I’d sold our souls to The Big Man for the sake of a couple of chairs, I might as well make sure something good came out of it. My family badly needed inhalers. The Big Man had Mum’s last breath in his hands.