Bang (24 page)

‘Excellent, we can bake,’ said the money man. ‘Fire up
the money ovens.’

‘Now hold on just a minute,’ interrupted Cagee,
stepping forward again, something his twitching knees had been striving to do
for the last few minutes, ‘it most certainly is
not
a deal. The janitor
must come to the new school. She is the janitor and this is her first day at
work. I am the headmaster and I will not have her gallivanting off with the
likes of you to hobnob over coffee and biscuits with her lawyer. It is out of
the question. No, no, no.’

‘It is important that I see my lawyer
this morning
,’
announced Delilah, strongly.

One of the officers said, ‘Her lawyer does not like to
be kept waiting, either.’

‘Look, I’ve heard just about enough of this infernal
lawyer,’ said Cagee. ‘I’m the headmaster and what I say around here goes, got
it?’

‘The lawyer in question, Headmaster, is Lawyer Poy
Yack.’

Cagee gulped. ‘Lawyer Poy Yack the killer prosecutor
Lawyer Poy Yack? Oh.’

‘The same. And I’d say you’re treading on dangerous
ground.’

His words clearing through their mumble, Cagee became
coherent as he was saying ‘… and, um, in those circumstances I’m prepared, on
this occasion, to, er, acquiesce to your demands.’

‘NO NEED,’ called a voice. ‘No need at all. Hello!’
Lawyer Poy Yack walked speedily up. ‘Morning, all. Lovely day, isn’t it? Hello,
munchkin.’ He squeezed Delilah’s upper arm. ‘Mind your back, my little
precious.’ He gently moved Delilah out of the way of four workman passing with
a large rectangular object under a blanket, which judging by the blanket’s
stains had collided with a few walls wet with paint on its journey. ‘I was down
this way anyway,’ he said, ‘thought I’d come chat with you before you start
work. Wonderful it is, your procuring this new janitorial job, it’ll really
help sway the Superintendent. Given your case a real boost, I’d say, no doubt
about it. Can’t wait till court, I’m terribly confident. We’ll win, don’t let
anyone tell you otherwise. Not even me. A legal battle awaits, certainly, but
it is you,’ he raised Delilah’s hand with his own, ‘and
I that shall be
victorious!’

‘What is the date,’ asked Delilah, ‘the court date?’

‘Pop-pop-popkin, don’t you worry about the date. You
must have a thousand things on your mind, you mustn’t concern yourself with
details as trifling as your court date, leave all that to me.’

Delilah said, ‘This man needs to know, it’s really
rather important. I importune you, Lawyer Poy Yack, to tell him.’

‘Importune me, hey? I’ve been importuned, fancy that.
Well, well. Then, my chirpy child, it would be my pleasure, and once I get back
to my office I’ll find it and Life it to him straightaway. Is that okay?’

It wasn’t, but Delilah didn’t have much choice. The
question instead was answered by the money man, who said, ‘Quite satisfactory,
I’ll await your message, Poy Yack. Now, Delilah.’ He approached her with his
ear and placed it against her mouth. His ear hairs tickled her lips when she
whispered the line. She remembered all her most contemptuous remarks concerning
the Authority. What Delilah muttered in the cage and repeated now was: ‘If the
Authority owes the bloody language I’m surprised it doesn’t sell it off,
privatise it, it’d make a fortune. It’s sold off everything else. It’s the next
step. Bloody Authority. I
hate
this cage.’

The money man was ecstatic. ‘Genius. Genius. I knew
it, I knew you were brilliant. And so you are. Sell the language! What a woman.
Now, if you don’t mind, and don’t think me rude, everybody, but I must rush. I
have a very important meeting on 102. I bid you farewell.’ And the money man
was gone.

‘Just the five of us, then,’ said Lawyer Poy Yack as
four more workman passed with another large rectangular and blanketed load,
slim like the last one, and lilac-stained. ‘What shall we do now?’

Cagee said at once, ‘We shall proceed to the new
school, forthwith. The janitor needs to take a look around, familiarise herself
with the layout, chose herself a staff locker, bagsy an armchair in either the
staff room or the teachers’ lounge, depending upon which she prefers. We’ve got
both. This way.’

‘Splendid,’ said Poy Yack. ‘You two go on ahead, the
officers and I will grab coffee and biscuits and meet you there. Right oh.
Jolly good. And Dear Delilah, you’re looking terribly well, as always. See you
in ten. Gentlemen, the cafeteria.’ Poy Yack thrust out his elbows and shifted
off quickly, the two officers in the tow of his legal tailcoat, which today he
adorned in preference to his smart suit, for some reason.

15
– A
Defacement

Cagee led Delilah away. ‘What’s this?’ he asked,
reaching the school door.

Delilah, really not interested in becoming the new
school’s janitor, far more preoccupied with worry that Poy Yack would forget to
Life the money man the date, wasn’t listening – one reach of her thoughts.
The other was more gut-felt, a terrible and almost unbearable excitement:
should this deal go through, and it wasn’t
that
complicated (just
getting the special waitress to attend only a lunch party, meaning Delilah’s
court date would have to be in the
morning
), Delilah would, with Poy
Yack defending not prosecuting her, be out of the System by lunchtime of her
court date, up in Authority Welcome collecting her temporary Life, soon back on
the moving floors with the pale populous. Returning to the same old problems,
the less-than-effective health system, the at-times dangerous infrastructure
(which allowed roof parts to fall from time to time, often fatally), and all
the other inconveniences – a result of, or anyway always attributed to, an
underfunded Public Body. But what inconveniences to have, what problems! She
couldn’t wait to get out of here. She felt naughty with excitement.

‘Janitor. Listen to me,’ demanded Cagee. ‘Stop
drifting about like that!’

Delilah returned to the System, not happily. ‘Yes,
what?’

‘Tell me what you make of this.’ Cagee pointed a
feather duster glove at the note hanging from the door handle of the former
Remand 111, which read,
Morning lessons cancelled. Pupils to return at 12
noon or risk punishment. Defacement of this note will be dealt with SEVERELY.
Signed, the Headmaster.

Delilah gave Cagee short shrift, ‘Why did you bring me
all this way if you’ve closed the school for the morning?’

But the deformed man was terribly disappointed. His
face darkened, tears pushed, his under lip quivered. ‘Oh no,’ he said. ‘Oh no,
no. I don’t remember putting it there. I don’t remember at all.’ Tears welled
and he wiped at them, clogging his feather-duster gloves’ fine feathers, even
wicking out their dye. ‘Oh, this is awful,’ he said tearfully. ‘I’m sure I
would have remembered.’

Something occurred to Delilah about Cagee and it
wasn’t his odd name. She said, ‘Then maybe you didn’t.’

‘Didn’t what?’

‘Didn’t put it there.’ She pointed at the note.

‘Didn’t I? Why not?’

‘Because you couldn’t.’

Cagee raised his eyebrows and clogged gloves in a
questioning manner, one that led Delilah to be wary.

‘Well it strikes me that … that …’ she said,
faltering.

‘Strikes you that what?’

Delilah asked simply, ‘Can you write?’

‘What do you mean!’

‘I mean with your … er … like that, your
arms.’

‘How dare you, Evil Woman. Hasn’t anyone ever told you
to be tactful when asking such question of the physically impaired? Do you
think I
enjoy
having no hands? It is not a hobby, you know, being
handless. Can I write? What a question. It is like asking a man without any
legs if he can run. It is an insult. Or asking a woman without any arms if she
can sew up the man’s trouser legs now he no longer needs them. You should be
ashamed of yourself.’

Delilah exhaled, calming herself. ‘It’s a reasonable
question, surely. You people can be hypersensitive, you know. I’m only asking.’

‘You people?
You
people? What am I, from
another world?’

‘No, that was the wrong thing to say. Now you’ve got
me all on edge. I didn’t mean to upset you, I apologise. But the plain fact is
that you haven’t got any hands, and if I can’t ask whether you can or cannot
write, how can I help establish whether you did or did not write the note?’

‘Of course I can write, you insensitive wench.’

Delilah looked doubtfully at the v-sign of feather
duster gloves on each arm.

‘I have a gadget.’ He pulled off his right arm’s
gloves with his teeth and fished in his pocket for the gadget and it came out
attached to his v-sign stumps complete with pen. ‘See?’ he said, threatening
Delilah with it. ‘This is my gadget.’

‘Okay,’ she said, ‘So is that your handwriting?’

‘Are you trying to be funny?’ Delilah realised what
she’d. Cagee angrily stammered, ‘You might as well ask, Is that your
stump
writing?
You are amazing. I’d have thought with all the disfigurement and mutation
around these days, and with more to come, probably, that you’d have learnt to
process your words more carefully.’

‘Could you have written that note?’

‘Let’s see,
shall
we.’ He copied out the note,
writing under the sentences themselves, doing so identically.

‘Yes,’ said Delilah. ‘You could have.’

‘There is a similarity.’ He took a step back for
another perspective.

‘Similarity? You’re the author. No question.’

‘Well I don’t remember. Anyway, that’s not the point.
The point is, what do we do now? I am at my wits’ end. School has been closed
for the morning and now I’m stumped. Damn. Now you’ve got me doing it.’ He
stamped his deformed feet in childish frustration. ‘Ouch. My poor feet. That’s
another toe gone. Oh dear, I really am a wreck. Just like all headmasters I
suppose. Still, at least I do not have dusty hair. My poor back aches from two
years’ standing in that cage. Are you laughing at me? I am the one with the
laugh round here.’ He laughed his laugh, over-loudly, then said, ‘Silence,
janitor, where is your broom? There is litter in the playground. I will not
have it. And a pupil has vomited behind a radiator. Don’t just stand there, go
about your – Go about your–’ With a jerk of his head Cagee began to
snore.

‘Headmaster?’

Now I should try escaping, thought Delilah.

‘Mind yourself, love,’ said one of the four workmen
exiting the door minus the blanketed load. ‘We’ll have everything shipshape for
you by noon, don’t you worry your pretty little head one bit. And ain’t it a
lovely head. Shame you’re missing a tooth but beggars can’t be choosers. Here,
you’re the janitor, right? Be a doll and sign this for us, would you? Save us
finding an officer to do it, they can be right uppity them officers. Much
obliged. One more load and we’ll be out of your hair. You wanna have a look
inside? Make sure we’re shoving everything in its proper place? Here. Follow
me.’ He held out his hand. Delilah, begrudgingly thinking she should take a
peek at this new school everyone seemed so excited about, took a step toward
the door, following the hand …

‘Morning,’ said Cagee, waking up. ‘Where am I? Who
are …?’

‘On seconds thoughts, you’d better see to your pal,’
said the foreman of the four workmen. ‘He’s looking a little worse for wear.
Been on the orange, has he? Come on, lads, this one’s not for us.’

‘Hello,’ said Cagee, in the tone of someone saying
goodbye, to the retreating men.

‘You’re confused,’ said Delilah. ‘You fell asleep.’

‘No I didn’t.’

‘Yes you did.’

‘You’re mistaken. And I will not have you answer me
back. I am the Headmaster and don’t you forget it. You are the Janitor and
you’d better remember that, too. Do we understand ourselves? I would not want
to have you punished.’

‘You,’ called a voice. ‘Yes, YOU!’

The Whipping Boy rushed up. Delilah backed away, eyes
down.

‘An explanation is in order,’ he said to Cagee.

‘What can we do for you, my dear Deputy Headmaster?’

‘Perhaps you would care to tell me who is responsible
for this?’ The Whipping Boy fluttered the door note in Cagee’s face.

‘That’s enough, Deputy Headmaster,’ said Cagee, waking
up fully now

‘Enough?’ asked the Deputy Head, who took so little
notice of Delilah she wondered if her janitorship hadn’t relegated her into the
invisible. ‘You don’t know who defaced this note?’

‘I’m very busy right now, Deputy, and didn’t we agree
you had the curriculum to be seeing to? Were we not, after all, unclear who
would be taught calculus by the pupils – you or the junkie teacher?’

‘Headmaster,’ said the Whipping Boy, ‘please do not
attempt to derail me with calculus, a sensitive issue, the issue at hand right
now is defacement, defacement of the very note that pledges severe punishment
of anyone caught defacing it. As the master responsible for punishment, it is I
who must establish whose hand wrote this. If necessary I will have the entire
school stay back after lessons and copy out the note until we find a match. I
do not care how long it takes.’