Musclebound (6 page)

‘I’d love to come,’ she said. ‘Of course I would. Oh, Eva, don’t get so excited. Of course I’ll come. It’s all right. It’s all right, really.’

‘’Course it’s all right,’ I said. ‘It’s just… it’s just I made something of meself, Simone. I did.’

‘Of course you did,’ she said. ‘And I’m proud of you.’

There. She said it. What I wanted to hear. ‘I’m proud of you.’ Just like that.

‘You want another one of those whatsits?’ I said, and I went back to the bar.

This time it was the landlord’s missus serving. I chucked back another dark rum, and she said, ‘You want to watch that, Eva. You make a scene like you did last week and you’re out of here. I mean it. My old man’s keeping an eye on you.’

‘What scene?’ I said. ‘Your old man can keep his eye on the noodles growing out your arse for all I care.’

‘Don’t be so bleedin’ lippy, Eva. I got more time for you than most round here. If I hadn’t, you’d of been barred months ago.’

‘You can’t bar me,’ I said. ‘My money’s as good as anyone else’s.’

‘An’ that’s another thing,’ she said, ‘where …?’

But I didn’t want to hear her other thing. There’s always another thing from those dried-up old quackers, always,
always
another thing.

When I got back to the table I found my seat taken by the bloke who sells china in the market. He was putting the move on Simone. Which was no more than you’d expect, but it narked me, and I said, ‘Fuck off, arse-sniffer. Time for old men like you to go home to the wife.’

He said, ‘Where didja find a sister like this, Eva?’

I said, ‘Hit the road, humpity-back.’ But I was quite chuffed actually, because Simone had owned up to me. If she’d of taken after our ma she’d never of done that. Ma
never
owns up to me if she can help it.

‘Men,’ Simone said after he’d slid away. ‘Always want something.’

‘Are you married?’ I asked. I don’t know where that came from. Fancy not knowing if your own sister’s wed.

‘Well …’ she said, and I held my breath. I didn’t want her to be wed. I did not.

‘I was,’ she said, ‘but it didn’t work.’

That was a relief, I can tell you. I didn’t want to get her back just to find out she was someone else’s. She didn’t ask me if I was married.

‘It only lasted a couple of months,’ she said.

‘What happened?’ I said.

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘It was a mistake. I’m not cut out for keeping house.’

‘What
are
you cut out for?’ It was so weird. When we was together I wouldn’t of had to ask. She was cut out for something big. Everyone liked her. She could of been anything except maybe a brain surgeon – we was neither of us much good at schoolwork.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘I tried a lot of things. But it was hard, though. My other family …’

‘What about them?’

‘Take it easy, Eva,’ she said. ‘It can’t be helped. You know it wasn’t down to us. We were just kids. You know we had to go where we were put.’

‘You didn’t have to get yourself adopted,’ I said. ‘You didn’t have to make it fucking permanent. No one
forced
you.’

‘There’s force and there’s force.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Oh, Eva,’ she said. ‘Don’t shout. Please don’t shout. I hate it when you shout.’

True. She cried when she got shouted at. That’s why she never got the strap half as much as me. They only had to shout and she cried.

‘You didn’t have to make it permanent,’ I said.

‘They had carpets on the floor,’ she said. ‘And central heating. They gave me my own room. They wanted me. They gave me a home, Eva.’

‘
I
wanted you,’ I said. ‘You
had
a home.’

‘No,’ she said.

‘You
did,’
I said.

‘I didn’t,’ she said. ‘And nor did you. Be honest. And don’t shout at me. If you shout at me I’m leaving.’

‘We had each other,’ I whispered. It had been enough for me. Why wasn’t it enough for her? I didn’t need fitted carpets when I had her.

‘We were always in trouble, always on the run.’

‘But we was together. It was OK when we was together.’

‘Shshsh!’ she said. ‘You were tougher than me.’

‘Yeah, an’ who looked after you?’

‘You’re shouting again.’

‘
Not
shouting!’

‘I’m leaving,’ she said. And she left.

I couldn’t believe it. One minute she was there, and then she wasn’t. Blink, I had a sister. Blink, she was gone. Just like that.

I stood up.

The landlord came over. He said, ‘Pick that bloody chair up, Eva. You can’t just waltz in here and throw the bloody furniture around.’

‘Tell you what,’ I said, ‘you find a dog and get dog-knotted.’

I’m not quite sure what happened after that, but I found myself outside in the rain, in the gutter. Come to think of it, I’d spent a lot of the last couple of days on my arse. There was a bunch of blokes by the Fir Tree door and they was all cackling.

I got up and went home.

I couldn’t believe it – she blew. Just blew without leaving no forwarding address.

I didn’t shout at her. Did I shout at her? Well, maybe just a tiny rant, but that ain’t shouting. What’d she want – blowing out like that?

There was no Renault Clio sitting by the kerb. It was like I’d made it all up in my head.

But I didn’t. Simone
was
here. She was.

The dogs were going crazy, and I remembered I forgot them. So I let them out.

Ramses was so disgusted he took a lump out of my padded jacket. I had to keep him off with my boot or he’d of had a lump out of me too. Lineker just sneered.

‘Fuck off,’ I said. ‘You don’t understand. I don’t know where
to find her. You’re just bloody hounds, you don’t know what it’s like.’

‘Herf?’ said Milo.

‘Shurrup,’ I said. ‘I don’t want you neither.’ And I didn’t. I didn’t want no half-grown pup. I wanted Simone.

‘Hip,’ said Milo, and Ramses took a lump out of him too.

‘She’s too sensitive,’ I said. ‘She always was too sensitive.’

‘Hip?’

‘I gotta find her. She’s too sensitive – she can’t look out for herself.’

‘Hip-herf?’

‘Shurrup,’ I said. ‘Stop interrupting. I
never
shouted. She just
thought
I shouted.’

Milo ran away.

‘Go on,’ I said. ‘You blow too. All of you. See if I care.’

I was holding Ramses off with a broom handle. He had his back up and his head down. He looked mean enough to spike kittens and then start a world war for dessert.

‘You want my throat,’ I said, prodding him back. ‘You always want my throat. Well, you ain’t having it tonight. Hear me?’

He heard. He backed off and then lunged away, bloodhounding over to the gate. He was restless and frustrated and hungry. So was I.

I went to the Static and rummaged but I couldn’t lay my hands on any food. Maybe I forgot to buy any or maybe I mislaid it when I was turning the place over looking for my toothbrush.

I sat on the bunk and wrapped the sleeping bag round my shoulders. I couldn’t find
anything –
not my food, not my toothbrush, not my sister. A lesser woman would of wept.

Next thing I knew the dogs were barking hard enough to give themselves sore throats and there were cars honking and hooting outside the gate.

It was bloody morning. And it really was a bloody morning. I penned the dogs and then opened the gate for the men. But
were they grateful? They were about as grateful as school kids with homework.

‘You stupid cow,’ the foreman said. ‘We’ve been out here yelling and hooting for half a fuckin’ hour.’

‘I got the flu,’ I said. ‘I’m a sick woman.’

‘Oh you’re sick all right,’ he said. ‘You been “sick” for weeks and it’s the sick you find in a bottle. You want to buck your ideas up or I’ll report you.’

‘Report your own haemorrhoids,’ I said, and I went to feed the dogs.

At least
they
had some food left. But it turned my guts over, dolloping it out for them, so maybe I really did have the flu. I had the sweats too and someone was driving a nine-inch nail through my skull. I went back to bed for five minutes.

Well it seemed like five minutes. And then someone knocked on my door. Now, maybe I told you, maybe I ain’t, but a knock on my door is a major event, and it usually means bother. I get visitors like a super-model gets spots, and that’s hardly ever, but when it happens there’s trouble.

So I pulled the sleeping bag over my head and lay doggo.

But after a while the rat-a-tat turned to whump-a-thump. I thought, Simone! She’s come back to ‘pologise. I went to the door and squinted through one of the spyholes.

It wasn’t Simone. All I could see was a tobacco-coloured eye squinting back at me and I thought, Harsh!
He’s
come back to ‘pologise.

So I opened the door. But it wasn’t Harsh. I didn’t know who it was but he looked familiar.

‘Yo,’ he said. ‘Remember me?’

‘No,’ I said, and tried to close the door.

‘Keif,’ he said. ‘Yesterday.’

‘What about yesterday?’

‘We met yesterday. With Phil Julio. You said you was looking for a personal trainer.’

‘Yeah?’

‘So here I am. Yours for the asking.’

‘Wha’?’

‘Shit,’ he said. ‘Do you or do you not want a sodding personal trainer? Or am I getting wet in a fuckin’ junk-yard for sod-all?’

‘I din’t ask you – I asked Harsh.’

‘Harsh ain’t available,’ he said. Raindrops were sliding helter-skelter down his corkscrew hair. ‘Do you want what’s on offer or not?’

‘All right,’ I said. ‘But not today. I got flu. An’ I ain’t had no breakfast.’

‘Breakfast?’ he said. ‘It’s teatime. And you’ve got flu like I’ve got lace undies.’

‘Teatime?’ I peered past him and, too true, it was getting dark. The men were beginning to pack up and go home. I felt queasy and I didn’t have the beans to keep him out no longer so he came in.

‘Well, blow in my ear and call me Mary,’ he said, looking around. ‘Have you had burglars or what?’

‘Burglars?’ I looked around too. I couldn’t think how I’d made such a mess and not noticed. Then I remembered the toothbrush. ‘I was looking for something,’ I said. But the more I looked the messier it seemed and I suddenly thought about going out with Simone to the Fir Tree. I forgot the dogs, din’t I? And if the dogs weren’t out protecting the yard, anyone could of walked in and pinched my wad.

I rushed outside into the rain. I was in a panic. My wad was mine. I didn’t want to be poor again before I’d had a chance to get used to being rich. But the dogs were all snarly from being woken up too early and there, nailed to the wall, was the Puma bag – all safe and sound. I goosed it and unzipped it just to make sure.

And then I thought, who the fuck cares if someone got in last night? If the dogs were penned up they were penned with my pennies. So I hadn’t been a doodle for forgetting them, had I? I’d been smart. So suck on that. Which made me pretty mellow walking back to the Static.

‘Why you always so vex?’ Keif said. ‘I never knew a girl so scratchy.’

‘I ain’t vex,’ I said, ‘cos I wasn’t. ‘If you can’t take the heat …’

‘Oh I can take the heat,’ he said. ‘Question is, can you?’

‘Forged in the furnace, me,’ I said, ‘cos I was.

‘You really want to get fit?’ he said. ‘For true?’

‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘but I got …’

‘Bollocks,’ he said, ‘you’re hung over. Don’t look at me like that – ‘s true.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘I didn’t come all this way for you to chat me down.’

‘Then you can bloody go away again,’ I said. ‘Why did you come?’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘I like a burly girly an’ they don’t come burlier than you. You got potential. ‘Sides, you said you’d pay.’

‘Now
that
bit’s for true,’ I said. ‘
That
bit I believe. You’re after my wedge.’

‘Which d’you think I am?’ Keif said. ‘Cheap or free?’

‘I don’t care what you are,’ I said. ‘I told Harsh I’d pay him. Not you.’

‘We been there already,’ he said.

‘Well, I know Harsh is worth a bundle,’ I said. ‘What do I know about you?’ Crafty, see – stone crafty.

‘Pedigree? OK. My dad was a boxer. When he retired he trained the youth section at the Ring O’Bells gym. You heard of that, encha?’

‘S’pose so,’ I said. Everyone’s heard of that – it’s where loads of London fighters hang out.

‘Well, he trained me too.’

‘For a boxer. Big deal.’

‘What d’you care what for? You want to be a wrestler?’

‘I
am
a fuckin’ wrestler. Who the fuck you think you’re talking to?’ I was really narked. ‘I’m the fucking
London Lassassin.’

He ducked. ‘Too slow,’ he said. ‘Listen, stupidy. You want to
get back in the ring you got to get back to basics. Basics is what it says – like what everyone has to do – from the ground up.’

‘You can take your basics and shove ‘em up your base,’ I said, ‘from the ground up.’ He backed off. ‘Who the fuck you think you calling “stupidy”? I ain’t stupid.’

I could of mashed him against the door – I was that roiled up. But I kept remembering the rent man – I took a shot and he decked me. S’pose I took another shot at Keif and instead of dodging he decked me? S’pose that’s what happened? I could of mashed him. I
should
of mashed him. But my brain got in the way.

‘I got a headache,’ I said.

‘What?’ he said. ‘I can’t hear if you don’t shout.’

‘Deaf as well as dumb,’ I said. And then someone else knocked on my door. Jeez, what a day.

Keif was backed up against the door. I was going to tell him not to open it, but he opened it before I could get the words out. And a good job he did, ‘cos there in her long slick raincoat was Simone again. She came back. She came back. She came back.

She said, ‘I came to see if you’d like a drink. I didn’t know you had company.’

‘He ain’t company,’ I said. ‘He’s my personal trainer. Like I said. Remember? You din’t believe me. But here he is.’

‘We was just going out for a run,’ Keif said. Can you believe the nerve of the man?

‘Tomorrow,’ I said.