Bucket Nut Page 8

  ‘How much?’ I asked, and then I had a thought. ‘Would I have to take my clothes off?’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘Fuck off.’ I said. I grabbed Goldie’s elbow and made for the door.

  She said, ‘I knew a sculptor once. He talked too much too.’

  ‘Sport!’ I said. ‘Physical fitness! It’s all bums and tits to them. Ever seen anyone train without their clothes on?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘There you are then. He’s just another grimy old perve.’

  He caught up with us on the street.

  ‘At least come and see my studio,’ he said, gasping for breath. For a guy interested in physical fitness he had a lot to learn. ‘Come with Harsh. He’s thinking about it.’

  ‘He is?’ I stopped.

  ‘Bring your friend if you’re worried.’

  ‘I’m not worried,’ I said. ‘I could throw a guy like you over a number 3 bus.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it,’ he said, and I thought he looked sincere.

  ‘I’ll consult my advisor,’ I said, feeling a bit pleased. I walked off fast. Goldie had to trot to keep up.

  ‘Slow down,’ she said. ‘Who’s your advisor?’

  ‘You are.’

  She burst out laughing. ‘You really do speak your mind,’ she said.

  ‘I can’t speak anyone else’s.’

  I still had Dave de Lysle’s catalogue in my hand so I gave it to Goldie. We turned the corner into a side street, and I had a good look up and down. There was no one interested so I unlocked the Cortina and got in. Goldie got in beside me.

  She said, ‘That’s weird.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I sort of remember your car as smaller.’

  That gave me a bit of a jolt. I thought she was completely brain-dead in the Fiat Panda the night I rescued her.

  ‘Why didn’t we drive to the gym in this?’ she asked.

  ‘I only just picked it up,’ I said. ‘There was someone else driving it.’ I believe in telling the truth. Especially when lying my head off.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Home. I’ve got to see to the dogs. And if you’re staying with me you’d better get to know them.’

  She liked the dogs. I made her wear my jacket so that she smelled like me as well as like her, and after a while they seemed to accept her. She fed them some of their biscuits out of her hand.

  ‘They’re not bleeding pets,’ I said. ‘You got to be careful.’

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘My father has working dogs too.’

  Lineker was nuzzling up to her and she stroked his head. I’ve always had my doubts about Lineker. Given half a chance he’d lick your hand and fetch sticks. He’s a bit young and he needs Ramses to keep him up to the mark.

  You can’t afford to let a dog go soft – not if he’s got a job to do. That goes for humans too. Take it from me. It’s a tough old world but you’ll get by if you don’t weaken.

  ‘You won’t bite me, will you?’ Goldie said to Lineker.

  ‘It’s not you I’m worried about,’ I said. ‘It’s him. Don’t pet him.’

  ‘But he likes me.’

  ‘So what? If he goes soft he gets put down. Because he’d be no use on the job. But no one in their right mind would want him for anything else. See?’

  ‘You’re so hard, Eva,’ she said.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m softer than you. You want him to like you. You aren’t thinking about him at all.’

  She looked at me and her eyes filled with tears. Which made me feel dead choked so I went and emptied the chemical toilet because that needed to be done, and I was right and she was wrong.

  When I got back to the Static she had lit the torches and the fire and it was warm and cosy in there. All the same, it felt as if we had quarrelled. I was uneasy.

  But she said, ‘What do you do alone at night? I don’t suppose … no you can’t have.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Television.’

  ‘Hum,’ I said, thinking about it. I wanted to give her a telly because I didn’t like feeling we’d quarrelled.

  ‘I can rig one up,’ I said. ‘A little one. Black and white.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Car battery.’ As I thought about it I remembered that the Owner had a really little one which he could plug into the cigarette lighter of his motor. He took it to the races with him so he could watch the golf while he was at the track.

  Outside, it was cold enough to see your breath. I was thinking about how I could get into the main office without breaking anything when all at once I thought about the artist bloke and how he said I would be ‘perfect’. It was such a queer notion that I stopped dead. I couldn’t think why he said it, and I couldn’t think why Harsh was taking him seriously. Maybe I was missing something.

  I wondered how much ‘standard rates’ was and whether it was worth associating with such a grimbo for the sake of my teeth. I am a martyr to my teeth, and sooner or later I will have to do something proper about them.

  I want to have the front ones capped because they are a bit chipped and uneven which means I can’t smile in photographs. When I was getting my London Lassassin poster done the photographer told me to keep my mouth shut. He was a bit rude about it in the end because I kept forgetting. That was what decided me. If I was going to have a career I ought to have a good set of gnashers, like Harsh.

  The main office doors were locked tighter than a fish’s arse. But someone had left the window to the ladies’ lavatory ajar. It was Mr Gambon’s job to lock up the main office and he’d cocked it up. I was pleased for two reasons. One – I could get in without smashing a window. Two – Mr Gambon was such a snotty bastard it would give me great pleasure to tell him he’d cocked up.

  I pinched the little telly with no trouble at all. The trouble came with the battery. You wouldn’t think, in a place chock full of cars and car parts, I’d have trouble finding a battery but I did. The good ones were all shut away in a shed which had no windows. No one had forgotten to lock that.

  I could have nicked one out of one of the second-hand motors on the lot, but that was too risky. You never knew which were going to be taken out and driven.

  In the end I let myself out of the yard and went to find a battery on the street.

  I don’t know about you, but I make it a rule not to get up to anything hooky too close to home. But it was a cold night, and rules are made to be broken. I wanted to get back to the Static quick. I wanted to see Goldie’s face when I presented her with her own little telly.

  It’s when you are thinking too far ahead that trouble creeps up on you.

  I found a nice Volkswagen not a hundred yards from the main gate, and it only took a couple of minutes to get inside and unlatch the bonnet. I took the terminals off the battery and I was just lifting it out when a hand landed on my shoulder and a voice said, ‘You’re coming with me.’

  I swear my heart stopped, I was that scared. I whipped round. I was still holding the battery. There was this dark figure of a man with his arm raised.

  I threw the battery at him.

  Well, I wasn’t to know, was I? A person shouldn’t scare the brown stuff out of another person late at night, should they?

  You probably already know it, but a car battery is a big hard heavy thing and not many people, male or female, can throw one far. This one landed somewhere between the knot of his tie and his trousers. He went down like a shot deer, and just lay there.

  ‘Eva?’ he said in a funny woozy way. ‘What you done, Eva?’

  He was Chinese. That was all I could see in the dark. So I said, ‘You from Mr Cheng?’

  He didn’t say anything at all. His eyes were closed and his breathing was all wispy.

  ‘Shit in the shallow end,’ I said. Because I’d forgotten I’d promised to go and see Mr Cheng. I was beginning to feel really bad about it.

  I thought the man would die and I didn’t know what to do. He shouldn’t have come up behind me in t
he dark, but I shouldn’t have thrown a battery at him without checking whether he was someone I knew.

  I picked the battery off his chest and I knelt down beside him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t know it was you.’

  But having said that, I realised I didn’t actually know his name. He might have been the bloke who came the night before, but on the other hand he might have been someone else entirely. And really, if you’re going to kill someone you ought to know his name. It’s a matter of respect.

  One way or another it seemed best not to let him die on the pavement, so I picked him up and put him on the back seat of the Volkswagen. Then I picked up the battery and fitted it back in the motor. I wired it, started it, and drove away.

  I drove him to St Thomas’s Hospital on Lambeth Palace Road. It was the only one I could think of with a big accident department. While I was driving I worried about him dying, and I worried about Goldie all by herself in the Static, and I worried about what Mr Cheng would think. I mean, he wouldn’t take too kindly to me clobbering one of his waiters with a car battery. It was a good thing the battery was all right or we’d never have got to St Thomas’s.

  I decided I’d better go and sort it out with Mr Cheng.

  The Beijing Garden was closed but someone came down to let me in. Everyone was upstairs in a private parlour. Some of them were playing that weird Chinese domino game and a lot of money was going round.

  As soon as she saw me, Auntie Lo left her game and came over.

  ‘Mr Cheng is waiting for you, Eva,’ she said. ‘You are very late.’

  ‘I’ve got a problem, Mrs Lo,’ I said. ‘The man Mr Cheng sent to fetch me is at St Thomas’s Hospital. He had a bit of an accident.’

  ‘Accident? With a car?’

  ‘Well,’ I said, breaking it to her gently, ‘it was a bit of an accident with a bit of a car. But I took him to the hospital and they’re looking after him ever so well.’

  ‘Oh dear, dear, dear,’ Auntie Lo said. She turned away, beckoned over two thin young men and spoke to them. Then, in English she said, ‘Say again where Kenny is.’

  I told them. The two men looked at each other and at Auntie Lo. All three of them left the room. I stood by the door twiddling my thumbs, feeling pronkish.

  After a while Auntie Lo came back and led me to Mr Cheng’s office. He was sitting behind his desk, and with him were the two men I had picked up in the Rover with Auntie Lo three days ago.

  The first thing Mr Cheng said was, ‘Where zastra?’

  ‘I don’t know, Mr Cheng.’ I was relieved he was asking about the car and not Kenny. ‘It’s probably near my place.’

  ‘Yoogetastra,’ Mr Cheng said.

  ‘Now?’ I said.

  ‘Now,’ Auntie Lo said. ‘Straight away.’

  ‘Whatew see Smees?’ Mr Cheng asked. ‘Whygo there?’

  So I explained about Harry Richards expecting trouble and how he’d asked me to help.

  ‘I’d finished all my jobs for you, Mr Cheng,’ I said finally.

  ‘Ha!’ said Mr Cheng.

  ‘What happened?’ Auntie Lo asked.

  I told her about the police and the tear gas.

  ‘Did you see who threw gas?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’

  I shook my head. They seemed to expect something more and I began to feel awkward. They weren’t exactly unfriendly but nobody was smiling.

  There was a silence that went on for ages, with everyone looking at me. Then Auntie Lo said, ‘Go get the Astra, Eva. Come straight back.’

  ‘Couldn’t it wait for tomorrow?’ I asked.

  ‘Gotta lil job fewva,’ Mr Cheng said.

  ‘You need money, don’t you Eva?’ said Auntie Lo.

  Suddenly Mr Cheng pointed a bony finger at me and rattled off something which started, ‘few din cummy nastra…’

  It took me a minute to work it out, and then I said, ‘I didn’t even see the Astra. I came in another car which … belongs to someone else.’

  Mr Cheng seemed to be obsessed with his Astra.

  ‘Anyway,’ I went on, because I’d had a thought. ‘Your bloke Kenny must still have the keys, so unless you’ve got a spare set I can’t very well pick the Astra up.’

  ‘Hah!’ said Mr Cheng.

  All four of them chewed on some more silence and I shifted from one foot to the other. I was tired. I wanted to go home. I didn’t want to explain about Kenny or the VW. I thought I’d got out of it rather well, but I didn’t want to be at the Beijing Garden when the two skinny guys came back from the hospital.

  All at once Mr Cheng, Auntie Lo and the other two started talking to each other. They talked for about ten minutes while I just stood there. It wasn’t very polite.

  Then Mr Cheng said, ‘Way touside, Eva.’

  And Auntie Lo said, ‘Don’t go away, Eva. We’ll need you in a minute.’

  So I went outside and sat on a chair in the passage. After a while a bloke came up from downstairs and brought me a cup of green tea and a bowl of prawn crackers which made me feel a bit better. But I still wasn’t very happy about being there. I should have been back at the yard with Goldie and the dogs. I was afraid Goldie would be worried.

  Chapter 13

  ‘Listen to me, Eva,’ said Auntie Lo. ‘This is important.’

  She was alone in Mr Cheng’s office, which was surprising because I hadn’t seen Mr Cheng and the other two come out.

  ‘Where’s Mr Cheng?’ I asked.

  ‘Eva!’ said Auntie Lo. ‘You must listen.’

  ‘OK.’ But I was puzzled because I couldn’t see a door except the one I had used.

  ‘This is a very important little job,’ she said. ‘It’s because Kenny is in hospital. If not, he would do it. See?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I did feel bad about Kenny. The nurse in Casualty told me he had several cracked ribs, and I think she said he had a bruised lung, but I couldn’t be quite sure. Anyway it sounded painful.

  ‘It wasn’t my fault,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t you want to help Mr Cheng?’ Auntie Lo asked. She looked so Auntyish in her pleated skirt and grey woolly. I looked at her feet and sure enough she was wearing pink dancing shoes.

  ‘Of course I want to help,’ I said.

  ‘Good,’ she said. ‘Mr Cheng wants you to deliver a package.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘It is important. It is important that nobody sees. For your protection.’

  ‘Mine?’ I said. Auntie Lo was not smiling, and I wished she would make her joke about finding me a husband instead of talking about how important it all was.

  ‘I like you, Eva,’ she said. ‘Mr Cheng trusts you. We do not wish to get you into trouble.’

  ‘I don’t mind a bit of trouble.’ I suddenly felt very happy.

  ‘We mind. So you must be very careful. The package is for Mr Aycliffe. He is expecting it. But there are two things.’ She held up two fingers. ‘Two important things. One – you must not be seen giving it to him. Two – you must not see his face.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Mr Aycliffe is being watched by the police. They wish to catch him and put him in prison. We do not want this to happen. Mr Aycliffe is a good man who has made some mistakes but he does not deserve prison. This arrangement will protect you, and it will protect Mr Aycliffe.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. She gave me a moment to think about it. Then I said, ‘How can I give Mr Aycliffe a package if I can’t see him?’

  ‘We have thought a lot about this, Eva. And we have a plan. Mr Aycliffe works at a club near the Harrow Road. You know the Harrow Road, Eva?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘There is a front entrance – which you do not use. You do not use front door, Eva. Right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘You use kitchen door.’

  ‘Kitchen door. Right.’

  ‘The door will be open, but there will be no one in the kitchen.’

  ‘How do you know there won’t be anyone in t
he kitchen.’

  Auntie Lo looked at her watch. ‘Too late,’ she said. ‘Kitchen closed. Only drinks served from bar. Mr Aycliffe has told us this.’

  I should have thought of that. By most people’s reckoning it was nearly morning. Late night clubs were different.

  ‘This package,’ Auntie Lo went on, ‘is in a Safeway carrier bag. To look like rubbish, Eva. You walk into kitchen. You will see another door. Through that door is passage. In passage is where they put the empties. All crates, bottles, other rubbish. You put the Safeway bag with this other rubbish, Eva. You got that?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Then you walk out. When club closes it is Mr Aycliffe’s job to take out rubbish. See?’

  ‘Oh, I get it,’ I said. ‘He takes out the rubbish and takes the package at the same time. And no one will know a thing about it.’

  ‘That is correct. I see you got brains too, Eva. Not just a pretty face.’ Auntie Lo suddenly started her huff-huff laughter. And that made me laugh too. It was one of her jokes. I know for a fact that neither Auntie Lo nor Mr Cheng think I’m very smart. It’s because they are Chinese, and as everyone knows Chinese people are very smart indeed.

  So I didn’t mind very much when Auntie Lo went through all her instructions again. She practically drew me a map of how to get to the kitchen of Mr Aycliffe’s place. Then she let me go.

  It was a funny time of night – not many people on the streets. Just one or two rolling home, one or two still looking for somewhere to score and one or two off to work on the early shift. Normally I like being out and about when it’s halfway between late and early. But this time I was a bit strung out. I was worried about Goldie and I was worried about Auntie Lo’s package. Also, I was being followed. I drove in the VW but I noticed two Chinese blokes not far behind in Mr Cheng’s Rover.

  It was just like Mr Cheng to give me a job and then send someone along to make sure I did it right. But it made me tense all the same.

  Mostly, when people give you instructions about how to get somewhere they make a mistake or they leave something out. Auntie Lo made no mistakes and she left nothing out. That’s how smart she is – everything was exactly the way she said it would be.