The Dirty South (27 page)

She kissed me again. She didn't understand what I meant but she seemed so happy that I was with her. I wanted so much to be honest with her but I didn't want to fuck up the moment or the vibe by admitting I was losing my mind 'cos I feared she might be merked. So I laid back down, hugged her tight and pressed my cheek against hers. I wished I could stay like this for ever. I wished Noel was by my side on my mission. With him it would be easy.

The following Sunday Mum roasted a big leg of lamb and cooked rice and peas. She also prepared side dishes of salad and shit, bought some wine and invited Auntie Denise, Uncle Everton and the twins over. We dined on plates and drank from glasses that Mum normally had displayed in the front room cabinet. She even made an attempt to make Granny's rum punch and I had to admit it wasn't that bad. Paps said it was excellent but he had Brownie points to gain. Mum ignored Paps and everybody else as she catered for all my needs. Davinia, smart as she is, noticed this but didn't say anything. Mum was being so nice to me it was embarrassing… Paps and myself were hardly on speaking terms but that was all good. It meant I wouldn't have to suffer another interrogation for the time being.

As Mum was serving the dessert of apple pie and custard I
received a text. It was from Gloria. All it read was
got it, can you talk
? Gloria was always cautious like that. I excused myself from the table and went to the toilet. Our toilet was so clean and smelled so good you could invite your complaining fussing auntie in for a chat and not feel bad.

I called Gloria. ‘Can I pick it up now?'

‘I'm at the South Bank,' Gloria said.

‘Can't we link up? Now like?'

‘If you have to, Dennis.'

‘OK, where you wanna link?'

‘Well, I've got to drive home and pick up your goods. Give me an hour and I'll meet you in the Sainsbury's car park in Nine Elms.'

‘Shizzle my nizzle!'

‘You what?'

‘Oh, nothing. Just something that Noel used to say. It means everything is cool…'

‘OK, Sainsbury's car park.'

‘Be there.'

I killed the call, flushed the toilet and when I returned to the front room, I wolfed down my apple pie and custard like I was Homer Simpson.

Mum was vexed about me leaving when guests were here but I just wanted to take ownership of the gun. I still heard her nagging when I shut the front door behind me. I didn't care.

Gloria was five minutes early and when she spotted me she even left her ride and climbed into mine. She had never done that before. She was carrying a shopping bag and when I looked inside it there was something bulky wrapped in kitchen foil. She took off her sunglasses and looked at me. ‘I didn't expect to be delivering this kind of thing when I started in this game,' she said… ‘But this is your property now. If you use it or don't use it, you have to get rid of it.
Properly
. I don't want you ringing me up saying that you wanna give it back. Dryneck told me to make that very clear…'

‘I hear you. Everything there? Instructions and shit?'

‘Everything is there, Dennis.'

She opened the passenger door and prepared to leave. But she
thought about something and sat back down, pulling the door closed. ‘Would it sound racist if I said I hate those fucking Muslims? You know, the ones that wanna kill white people? 'Cos that's what they mean when they say they want jihad against the west. Is it my fault that my race has had the better of it in the last few hundred years?'

‘Look, Gloria,' I replied. ‘Don't really want to get in this argument again. All I know is that I have to deal with Courtney Thompson… Simple as. This ain't no religious mission I'm on. I ain't no
raas
Crusader and I ain't doing my mission for Christian kind and shit like that. I still think of Thompson as the ugly motherfucker in school who didn't have no bredrens and loved his fried chicken and crisps… Thompson and his crew merked my best friend and threatened to duppy my girl. His reasons were stone-cold money and rep. So I'm gonna merk Thompson. Call it personal, simple as.'

‘Then know this, Dennis. If Dryneck didn't hate those Muslims so much then he wouldn't have got you what's in that bag. He was totally against getting you the gun.'

Gloria opened the door and was gone. She didn't even look back and her steps were no longer elegant or sexy but angry. I nodded. At least she was honest.

She had placed the shopping bag in the feet position for the passenger seat. I crouched and started to unwrap the kitchen foil. And there it was. A black gun. It looked new and it felt greasy to the touch. There were instructions with it in English and in German. Stapled to the instructions was a polythene bag that contained seven bullets. A chill went down my spine as I realised the seriousness of what I was about to do. But my resolve hardened when I remembered the suffering wailing of Cara at Noel's funeral. Courtney Thompson has to ketch a fire, as Granny would have put it.

The following Thursday night, the day before I planned to merk Thompson I arrived at Cara's flat at just after 10 p.m. Cara herself opened the front door. She was wearing a sky blue dressing-gown. Her hair was all over the place. Her eyes were half-closed and I couldn't tell if she had been drinking or if she was tired…

She let me in and I have never seen the place so clean. There was a whisky bottle and a lemonade bottle on the coffee table and a pint glass that Noel had kidnapped from a pub. The ashtray was full of big-head butts. I could hardly sleep without thinking of Noel so what must it be like for her?

‘How you doing, Dennis?' she asked.

Many people had asked me that question since Noel's death and in reply I was always polite and said, I'm OK. Like fuck I was OK! But I didn't have to put a gloss on it for Cara. She knew better than anyone the shit I was going through. The lack of motivation to get up the next morning to deal with the living, the “can't be bothered” shit. I hadn't brushed my teeth for three days and worse of all, I hadn't wiped my white Nikes clean for a bitch of a long while.

‘Fucked up,' I finally answered. ‘I feel like a ghost, a duppy… Like I ain't part of the real world no more. You get me?'

I dropped myself in an armchair and looked at the TV. Cara was watching the BBC 10 o'clock news and had turned the volume down. Cara laid down on the sofa and looked up at the ceiling. ‘I dunno how I feel,' she said. ‘All I know is that it just hurts.
Fucking
hurts. People tell me I will feel better. But I don't wanna
feel
better. Fuck that! If I'm gonna grieve for the rest of my days then let it be.'

She closed her eyes and this pained expression she had made me get up out of my chair and go towards her. I squeezed her left shoulder and she opened her eyes and I guess if she had any tears left, she would have cried. Suddenly, she started singing…

‘
Love and hate can never be friends

Here I come with love and not hatred

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow I all the days of my life

There'll be no one who'd wish to be with no evil man

Cos there'll come a day they'll be whipped by the Father's hand

Live up roots children

Live up rasta children

My head is anointed and my cup runneth over
…'

Cara trailed off and opened her eyes. ‘I used to love singing in
church, Dennis. I used to love singing full stop. But when I had Noel I stopped going church. My mum was so disappointed in me. She'd thought I'd have a white wedding one day, live in a three-bedroom house, have a garden where I'd grow my own greens and cabbages, bake cakes for the church's day out to Blackpool, you know, all of that fuckery. But it didn't happen. The song I just sang, Dennis, was a big hit for Dennis Brown back in the day. Did you know you was named after Dennis Brown, Dennis?'

‘Yes, Cara.'

‘Your mum and everybody else has been brilliant with me, Dennis. So kind. But my reality is that
they
can't make me feel better. Only singing does that. My mum's gonna take me back to the church. It's where I belong. A lot of my generation has forgotten that and we haven't passed it on to our children. I'm feeling guilty now 'cos I hardly took Noel to church. I don't know what went wrong. When I was a little girl I used to be in the choir. I felt like a big star. I could play the piano too. At school me and my friends wanted to be in a lovers' rock group. Both of my parents warned me that nice Christian girls should stay away from reggae. But I didn't listen and I used to sneak out to clubs, raves and go bluesing… That was the start of my fallout with my parents. But Mum's been brilliant over the last few days. She told me to sing whenever I want to. She knows it's good for me. I bet you didn't know that old Cara could sing, Dennis…'

‘A bit. Mum said something about it a few times. Even Mum sings Dennis Brown tunes in the bath.'

For the briefest of moments there was a hint of a smile upon Cara's face. ‘Yeah, your parents loved Dennis Brown. Everyone did,' she said.

She trailed off again and this time there were tears in her eyes. For the next five minutes I hugged her and cried with her. Then I dried her tears and said, ‘If you had a chance, Cara, to face Noel's killers, what would you do? What would you do, Cara?'

She thought about it for a long time. Then Cara's sadness turned to anger and I saw her face change from being broken to one that burned for vengeance. ‘I'D KILL THEM BLOODCLAAT! THEM
KILL ME FIRST BORN AND ME BORN AND GROW AS A CHRISTIAN GIRL BUT ME COULD NEVER FORGIVE THEM. THEM FUCKING PUSSY'OLE KILL ME FIRST BORN! SO LORD GIVE ME STRENGTH TO KILL THEM TOO!'

I left Cara's flat that night knowing what I had to do.

The following evening I parked my ride on Minet Road. It was about a thirty-second sprint away from the council block where Courtney's white bitch lived. It was just after 6 p.m. and even though I didn't expect Courtney for another two hours or so, my shirt was sticking to my skin and my heart was racing.

I placed the gun in my right jeans pocket. The pockets were deep so no-one would see it… I had already loaded the gun and as I climbed out of my ride I looked at the people on the street going about their everyday business. I realised they could be potential witnesses and in my head I could see Fed blue and white tape all over the damn place.

Walking over to the tower block where Courtney's ho lived I kept my eyes on the fourth floor balcony. There was no movement from the front door. I reached the block and I wasn't sure what to do with myself. There were still people about. Some were waiting for the lift and some were getting out of it. I decided to go on little walks to and from the lift but that made me too nervous. I just felt that everybody was looking at me.

In between the council blocks there were spaces of greenery. I headed to one of those and just crashed on the grass. I thought I'd relax myself by building a fat-head but I even had trouble doing that. My fingers and thumbs were shaking. Shit! It was only 6.30 p.m.

Burning the fat-head made me feel better. My hands stopped trembling but I got a sudden attack of the munchies. I had to get something to eat. The nearest shop was on Loughborough Road, about fifty yards away. But if I went inside the shop I might miss Courtney. Fuck it! I had to get something to eat.

Went to the shop. Bought two packets of chocolate biscuits. Went back to my place on the green, eyes proper checking everything. Finished the biscuits within minutes… Had the munchies bad.
Built another big-head and this time I managed to roll it to my liking.

7 p.m. Felt a bit more relaxed. Thought of good times with Noel and all the pranks we got up to at school. Then I decided I'd better move into position for when Courtney turned up. If he turned up. Do I want him to turn up? Yeah, I do… Of course I do.
Don't
pussy out now, Dennis.
Do
this for Noel and Cara. Let the game begin.

Near to the lift was an emergency staircase and I sat on the first landing of that. I could see the road because the window on the first floor of the landing was smashed and I could see anybody who walked towards the lift. My only worry was that I couldn't see people coming out from the lift. I would just have to take the chance.

7.30 p.m… My hands were proper clammy. Sweat was dripping from my forehead. I couldn't keep still and I must've sat down and stood up about fifty times in the last half an hour. Can I do this? Remember Cara. Her tears, her fury, her need for vengeance. Courtney threatened to merk Akeisha. Remember that too. God! Preparing to kill a man ain't easy. Granny would think I took a walk with Old Screwface and sold my soul. Whatever happens she must never know. Got to control my fear. Should I wrap another big-head? No, Dennis. Ready or not… Do this shit.

7.48 p.m… The blue BMW turned into the road of the white tower blocks. I could hear hip hop playing from the car stereo. My gun was in a Sainsbury's plastic bag and I took it out from my pocket. I crept down the flight of concrete steps. The BMW pulled up. A car door opened and closed. I could recognise Busta Rhymes' voice on the car stereo but I hadn't a clue what he was rapping about. Busta's rap was always too fast for my liking. I didn't hear Courtney's steps. He must be wearing trainers. But I sensed him. My eyes were darting everywhere. Beads of sweat dropped on the gun. My breathing accelerated… I heard the BMW pull away. Busta Rhymes faded.

Then I saw him amble into the entrance of the block. Right in front of me. I pointed the gun at him and he stared at the gun barrel. He stopped walking. Then he stared at me. I slowly walked towards him and he backed off. His head made a movement to
his left as if he was looking for an escape. Then his head made a movement to his right. He looked at me again. Proper scared he was. Disbelieving he was… His hands were slowly moving upwards to cover his face and then he made a rapid movement. That's when I shot him. Not sure where I hit him but he dropped to the ground. I've never heard a noise so loud. Like a firecracker it was. He was still moving on the ground and I raced up to him. I loomed over him. I held the gun with my two hands and I searched his eyes. The gun was beginning to feel heavy. Courtney's eyes were pleading, begging. The rest of his face expressed his pain. Severe pain. But he merked Noel and threatened to merk my Akeisha. I couldn't allow him to get up. I shot him twice again in the chest. There was more blood seeping from his back than his front. His eyes were now half-closing. That's what I was waiting for. Now I had to move…