The Crimes and Punishments of Miss Payne (6 page)

“Ten minutes. Then she'll be gone. All you gotta do is watch out for anyone who might be suspicious and let me know. I'll only be in there ten minutes. Piece of cake.”

“Yeah,” I said, “and just how am I supposed to let you know if someone does get suspicious? Set off fireworks, use a bullhorn, assemble a marching band?”

Kiffo narrowed his eyes further. God, I wished I could do that. I made a resolution to practice. He kept silent for a while, and with one of those horrible sinking feelings, I realized that this was something he hadn't given much thought to. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised.

“You'll think of something,” he replied finally, showing more faith in me than I could summon. “Anyway, quiet. Here she is.”

I wasn't encouraged by the fact that she was eight minutes early according to Kiffo's calculations. Maybe he wasn't too
fussy when it came to setting his watch. Maybe he couldn't tell the time. Not that it mattered. I watched as the Pitbull opened the front door of her house and came out, trying to restrain the biggest dog I had ever seen in my life. I mean, this thing was
huge.
And it looked as bad-tempered as hell. So would I if I had to share living space with the Pitbull. Even so, this was clearly a dog with limited things on its mind. Like ripping people to shreds, for example. It strained at the lead as if anxious to find someone in need of shredding, its bulging muscles gleaming in the porch light. By now, the evening had settled and the dark was profound. There was nothing behind us except a sports oval and I knew that from the Pitbull's point of view we would have been lost in the gloom beneath the tree. I was worried about the dog, though. Maybe it would smell us. Hell, the way I was sweating, Miss Payne could have smelled me. I nudged slightly closer to Kiffo as the Pitbull struggled with the gate. The dog was so keen to get out for a walk that it nearly pulled her arm through the chain links. I smiled as Miss Payne swore, but the smile froze on my lips when she smacked the dog around the head with one huge fist. The poor old pooch damn near collapsed. You could see the stars circling around its head. Now, this dog looked like it could savage and eat an entire army battalion and still have room for dessert, but it was clear who was the boss in the household. The dog whined and cowered as the Pitbull raised her voice.

“Down, Slasher, down. Blast you.”

Slasher! Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. I felt
hugely sorry for the hound then. Even though it was as big as a truck, it stood no chance against the Pitbull. I knew how it felt. Kiffo and I crouched together and watched as the two brutes thundered down the road. The last I saw of the dog was when it bulldozed around a corner, under a streetlight, almost leaving gouges in the pavement. Kiffo had been cupping his cigarette in his hand, shielding the glow. Now he took a final drag and threw the butt onto the road. He stood up and pulled the balaclava over his head. Normally I would have considered this a blessing. Kiffo's face was not exactly a thing of beauty and a joy forever. But now there was something extremely menacing about him. I felt scared. Of him, of the dark, of what we were about to do. I wanted to turn and run, but it was too late. Kiffo pulled me closer to him and whispered urgently.

“Keep an eye out. I'll be ten minutes, tops.”

And he was gone. He slipped into the dark and across the road and was through the Pitbull's gate before I could say anything. I caught a quick glimpse of his small figure as it moved around the side of the house. I realized that I had been holding my breath and I let it go in a long, slow exhalation.

To be honest, I was panicking. It might sound like an easy job, just standing under a tree looking around, but I felt the eyes of the world upon me. What would I do if a police car pulled up? What excuse would I have for standing under a casuarina tree in a quiet residential area? I know it's not a crime, but it's a strange thing to do, isn't it? I tried to get farther into the shadow, but I was also conscious that I needed a clear view of the road both ways. I was starting to wish I had
put on a different pair of glasses. Were these ones luminous? I couldn't remember, but they certainly felt like they were glowing. I could imagine curious neighbors ringing the police and saying, “Please come at once. The casuarina tree across the road is wearing glasses and it's starting to spook me.”

I needed to empty my bladder as well. Could I risk it here? Knowing my luck, I'd be caught with my knickers around my ankles and that
would
be a hard one to explain away. I swiveled my eyes from one side of the street to the other. The least movement made my head snap around. I was starting to get dizzy and I felt sick. How long was he going to be in there? I glanced at my watch and saw that he had been gone for exactly a minute! The whole concept of time was messing my head up.

And then I froze. I couldn't believe it. Around the corner, like a shaggy tank, appeared Slasher, followed in quick succession by the vast bulk of the Pitbull. My tongue spot-welded itself to the roof of my mouth and my legs turned to cottage cheese.

What the hell was I going to do now? For one wild moment, I thought that maybe she had gone the wrong way and was simply retracing her steps to pass the house and go in the opposite direction. Yeah, right! The streetlights etched her face in sharp relief and I shuddered. She was coming back. God knows why, but it looked like walkies was finished for today. What was it Kiffo had said? An hour and a half. You could set your watch by it. What an idiot!

The Pitbull was bearing down on me and I couldn't think of anything to do. I tried whispering “Kiffo” really quietly
until I caught myself. We were in enough trouble with just one idiot around. Why hadn't we brought mobile phones? The fact that I didn't have one and neither did Kiffo was possibly one reason, but I was still faced with the problem of contacting him. And quickly. I had visions of the Pitbull opening her front door and finding Kiffo peeing on her pet cockatoo or something. Think, Harrison. Think.

There was only one thing for it. As the Pitbull approached the front gate, as she was reaching into her pocket and extracting her house keys, I rushed across the road.

“Miss Payne!” I yelled at the top of my voice. “Fancy seeing you here!”

Slasher and the Pitbull both turned to face me, and I have to admit that I quailed. One of them growled but I'm not sure which. I tried a bright happy smile, like I was meeting my best friend, but it felt as if my face was molded from durable resin. Miss Payne's lip curled as she looked me up and down. Her expression was the same, I imagined, as if she had stood in something Slasher might have done on the pavement.

“Miss Harrison,” she said. “This is an unexpected pleasure. Goodbye.”

She turned to go.

“Wait!” I yelled. “Please don't go. I… I wanted to talk to you.”

The Pitbull looked at me.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “And what do you think we might have to talk about at this time on a Friday evening?”

I searched my brain.

“The homework. The English homework. I wanted to ask for your help. I remembered what you said about my attitude, Miss Payne, and I just wanted to show you that I was making an effort with it. My attitude, I mean. And the homework, of course.”

“I haven't set any homework, Miss Harrison.”

Crap!

“Exactly, Miss Payne. I wanted some homework and I knew you hadn't set any, not that I'm criticizing or anything, I mean you must have your reasons for not setting homework, all that experience with teaching, I can tell you know exactly what you are doing, and so no homework is probably part of the big plan, something that is good for us, I mean, so I don't want you to think that by asking for homework I'm being insubordinate or anything ‘cause that is certainly not my intention, Miss Payne, good heavens, no.” I roared with laughter, shrieking at the top of my voice. Get the hell out of there, Kiffo! “It's just that I love English, Miss Payne, and you make it so interesting that I felt it would be good, for me, I mean, to do some extra, it being Friday night and all and there being nothing I like better on a Friday than doing English homework, so I thought I'd ask you for some, homework, that is, and that's the help I referred to earlier.”

Miss Payne leaned forward so her face was within an inch of mine. Her breath smelled like a sumo wrestler's jockstrap.

“Miss Harrison, unless you go away now, I will call the police. Do I make myself plain?”

I was tempted to reply that something had indeed made her plain, and that I, personally, was inclined to blame her parents. Fortunately, I resisted the temptation.

“Well, to be honest, Miss,” I said, “I'm not altogether clear on that point. When you say ‘the police,’ do you mean the regular… well,
police
, I suppose? Or do you mean something like the CIB?”

I thought she was going to explode. A strangulated noise came from the back of her throat and her face filled with blood. In other circumstances, it would have been fascinating. I knew I couldn't keep this up for much longer or she'd kill me, so in a flash of inspiration I dropped to my knees in front of her bloody great slavering hound. The way to a pet owner's heart and all that.

“What a beautiful dog!” I said, peering into its bloodshot eyes. Its breath, I noticed, was almost as foul as its owner's. “I just love dogs, don't you, Miss Payne, so sweet and …”

God knows how I would have carried on, but it was all academic since the dog, obviously mistaking me for some kind of huge doggy chew, made a lunge for my neck, its yellow fangs snapping shut with a sickening
clack
millimeters from my skin. I tumbled backward and for a moment my life, such as it had been, flashed before my eyes. Take my word for it, it was no better the second time around. Slasher was straining at the leash, his eyes pinpricks of hatred. Only Miss Payne's grip on the leash kept the beast from ripping into me. I glanced up and I swear that she was thinking about letting it go. I looked into her eyes and I know she was giving it serious thought. If
it did get loose, I was done for. One of us would have to die and there was no way I could kill that thing. Unless I got stuck in its throat, of course.

And then the moment passed. Miss Payne pulled back on the leash and raised her hand. Slasher instantly cowered. That made two of us. I leaped to my feet and tried the smile again. Even worse this time. Surely Kiffo would have had time to get out of there by now. I couldn't be sure.

“Anyway, Miss Payne, here I am prattling on about myself. That's enough about me. Let's talk about you. What do you think of me?”

“Miss Harrison, I don't know what game you are playing, but I have had enough.” Her voice was calm, but saturated in venom. “You leap out in front of me and talk gibberish. If this is your idea of a joke, then I am afraid I don't get it. I have already had cause to talk to you about your attitude and now you accost me outside my home, presumably for some stupid practical joke that shows I was right to question your behavior in the first place. I don't know how you found out where I live, but stalking is a crime and unless you leave now, you will be in more trouble than even your fertile mind could imagine. Now I am going into my home. My
home
, Miss Harrison. I don't expect to see you here again.”

And that was it, end of audience. She turned to go in through the gate and it was then, over her shoulder, that I saw the bedroom curtain twitch. That stupid bastard hadn't got out yet! Was he deaf as well as stupid? I had been making enough noise to wake my uncle Jack and he had been dead
these last ten years. Maybe I should have left him to it. I think I had done enough, I'm sure you'll agree. But it was another case of the mouth working while the brain was still having a lie in.

“I love you, Miss Payne,” I yelled. “I've fallen in love with you.”

That stopped her. Bloody well stopped me too. Suddenly I was out of words. The Pitbull turned and looked at me carefully. I tried to make a lovesick expression, but I think it just turned out sick.

“Are you serious?” she whispered.

“Never more so,” I found myself saying. “I love everything about you, the way you move, the way your hair sort of…” I couldn't think what her hair might do other than fall down like a rusty sheet of corrugated iron. “Everything,” I finished lamely. “Perhaps we could talk about it. Perhaps we could go to a café and sit down and discuss it like adults.”

Miss Payne raised her hand and pointed a finger at me. It was like a loaded gun.

“Go home, Miss Harrison,” she said. “I will be reporting this incident to the principal first thing on Monday morning. You need help and I will not speak to you further about this matter tonight.”

And that was it. She turned and, hauling the monstrous Slasher, who looked as if he still had designs on the fleshier parts of my body, disappeared into her house.

I waited around for ten or fifteen minutes, well away from the house, of course, to see if Kiffo had made it out in time.
Nothing. Either he had snuck out the back and legged it for home or he was stuck in there with the Pitbull. Whichever, there was nothing more I could do. I plodded home, feeling completely miserable. What had I done? Not only was I an accomplice in a serious crime—and if the Pitbull did catch Kiffo trashing her house then it wouldn't take her more than a microsecond to see my pathetic attempts at distractions for what they were—but even if I did get away with that, I'd be labeled a pervert, a teacher molester. It was a mess, and no mistake. And why? Because of some misguided sense of loyalty, based on the flimsy premise that Kiffo and I shared some history. That there was a bond we were both forced to acknowledge. Stuff it! Kiffo was right. This wasn't any of my concern. I resolved, there and then, to mind my own business in the future. I'd say that the whole thing was an attempt at a joke, a malicious joke intended to embarrass an unpopular teacher. I knew I'd be in deep trouble. The school authorities didn't take kindly to that type of behavior, but what else could I do?

I was so deep in thought that I was home before I was aware of it. The Fridge, for once, was waiting for me and offered to heat up some soup, but I didn't feel like talking to anyone, so I made an excuse and went to bed. She looked a little hurt and I guess I could understand why. I was constantly taking the piss out of the fact that she was absent all the time, and when she did get a chance to spend time with me, I could only slink off to bed. It was eight-thirty, for God's sake! But I was tired.