to do something.
Billy obliges. ‘Fuck off, Professor. Closing time.’
George’s mouth quivers. He turns to Raj. ‘Want me to punch him, son?’
‘No, George. I’ll set the dog on him. See you tomorrow.’
At last. At fucking last Stupid Club George fucks off out of the fucking shop.
‘Fancy a half, Billy?’
‘A
pint
, Raj.’
Raj raises his eyebrow. Never seen Billy like this before. In fact, his pal looks like he’s swimming in the insanity lane. Worst of all, he’s playing with a little mushroom. Keeps transferring it from one palm to the other, like he’s thinking something through. Raj tries to keep an open mind. Okay, so what’s the big deal about using vegetables in unpredictable ways? Why not carry a carrot in your pocket for luck? Why not hang a broccoli floret around your neck to ward off the evil eye? He takes out a packet of bacon from the fridge and throws it to the Alsatian, whocatches it between his sharp crusted fangs. Dog saliva dribbling down his mangy black gums. Raj switches off the lights and locks up the shop.
‘Good boy. Don’t forget to say your pork prayers.’
Chapter 3
‘What’s up then?’
Raj is patient. Just sits there drinking his third pint of strongest draught lager, waiting for when Billy’s ready.
Billy strokes his mushroom with the ball of his thumb and then shuts his eyes. For a long time. Three pints’ worth of time.
‘Did you know that Girl’s real name is Louise?’
‘That’s a lovely name.’ Raj smiles. ‘Suits her.’
‘What would you say, Raj, if I told you that Louise set fire to my dad?’
He’s still got his eyes shut.
‘Set fire to him?’
‘That’s what I said. Burned up his face so he had to have a new one grafted on. The skin from his chest put on his face.’
Raj is feeling dizzy. It really has been a hard day. Truth is, he feels like sobbing into a cash ’n’ carry Kleenex. What with Stupid Club George and now Billy with his fire stories, Raj can’t walk. He staggers to the bar and orders another pint and a half. Zigzags back spilling beer on the carpet.
‘Why did she do that then?’
‘Cos Dad tried to kill me.’
Raj suddenly wants to go home. To sit at the kitchen table and eat a tasty chicken curry. Drink a mug of milky tea. Watch TV with his father and little brother and ask his mum what she wants for Christmas. In fact Raj bursts into tears. Lays his head on the table and sobs, cheek pressed into a beer mat.
‘It’s all right, Raj. Was a long time ago.’
Raj shakes his head, searching for words to slur and slide into each other. Drunk. Bloody legless. ‘I just can’t take any more of Stupid Club.’
Billy chucks his mushroom under the table. It’s an effort to open his eyes, it really is.
‘Listen, Raj. You’re the best thing England’s got. Don’t give up hope.’
Raj lifts up his head and vomits over the table.
Billy just can’t believe how unhelpful his pal is being. He’s going to have to carry him out of the pub. Billy, who’s not supposed to be there in the first place. Billy, who only comes up to Raj’s belt buckle. Stupid Club are really doing Raj damage. Cos what they do, Billy reckons, is dump their collective pain on Raj, in the shape of Quaver and sell-by-date talk. Look at him. That’s what comes of being an unpaid pain counsellor. What a day. Billy stands up, grabs hold of Raj’s arm and flings it over his weedy shoulder. Starts to drag him across the balding carpet, past the jukebox, past the builders staring at him with cement in their nostrils.
Outside in the cold, Raj sobers up, loosens his shirt buttons and wipes his mouth.
‘If your dad tried to kill you, then Girl saved your life.’
‘Maybe.’ Billy’s turning blue again. ‘I don’t think she remembers what she did.’
‘Probably a good thing.’
Blueness sliding into Billy’s cheeks. He looks tiny out in the fresh air. Shrinking or something. He’s beginning to look like a plastic toy in a cereal
Billy obliges. ‘Fuck off, Professor. Closing time.’
George’s mouth quivers. He turns to Raj. ‘Want me to punch him, son?’
‘No, George. I’ll set the dog on him. See you tomorrow.’
At last. At fucking last Stupid Club George fucks off out of the fucking shop.
‘Fancy a half, Billy?’
‘A
pint
, Raj.’
Raj raises his eyebrow. Never seen Billy like this before. In fact, his pal looks like he’s swimming in the insanity lane. Worst of all, he’s playing with a little mushroom. Keeps transferring it from one palm to the other, like he’s thinking something through. Raj tries to keep an open mind. Okay, so what’s the big deal about using vegetables in unpredictable ways? Why not carry a carrot in your pocket for luck? Why not hang a broccoli floret around your neck to ward off the evil eye? He takes out a packet of bacon from the fridge and throws it to the Alsatian, whocatches it between his sharp crusted fangs. Dog saliva dribbling down his mangy black gums. Raj switches off the lights and locks up the shop.
‘Good boy. Don’t forget to say your pork prayers.’
Chapter 3
‘What’s up then?’
Raj is patient. Just sits there drinking his third pint of strongest draught lager, waiting for when Billy’s ready.
Billy strokes his mushroom with the ball of his thumb and then shuts his eyes. For a long time. Three pints’ worth of time.
‘Did you know that Girl’s real name is Louise?’
‘That’s a lovely name.’ Raj smiles. ‘Suits her.’
‘What would you say, Raj, if I told you that Louise set fire to my dad?’
He’s still got his eyes shut.
‘Set fire to him?’
‘That’s what I said. Burned up his face so he had to have a new one grafted on. The skin from his chest put on his face.’
Raj is feeling dizzy. It really has been a hard day. Truth is, he feels like sobbing into a cash ’n’ carry Kleenex. What with Stupid Club George and now Billy with his fire stories, Raj can’t walk. He staggers to the bar and orders another pint and a half. Zigzags back spilling beer on the carpet.
‘Why did she do that then?’
‘Cos Dad tried to kill me.’
Raj suddenly wants to go home. To sit at the kitchen table and eat a tasty chicken curry. Drink a mug of milky tea. Watch TV with his father and little brother and ask his mum what she wants for Christmas. In fact Raj bursts into tears. Lays his head on the table and sobs, cheek pressed into a beer mat.
‘It’s all right, Raj. Was a long time ago.’
Raj shakes his head, searching for words to slur and slide into each other. Drunk. Bloody legless. ‘I just can’t take any more of Stupid Club.’
Billy chucks his mushroom under the table. It’s an effort to open his eyes, it really is.
‘Listen, Raj. You’re the best thing England’s got. Don’t give up hope.’
Raj lifts up his head and vomits over the table.
Billy just can’t believe how unhelpful his pal is being. He’s going to have to carry him out of the pub. Billy, who’s not supposed to be there in the first place. Billy, who only comes up to Raj’s belt buckle. Stupid Club are really doing Raj damage. Cos what they do, Billy reckons, is dump their collective pain on Raj, in the shape of Quaver and sell-by-date talk. Look at him. That’s what comes of being an unpaid pain counsellor. What a day. Billy stands up, grabs hold of Raj’s arm and flings it over his weedy shoulder. Starts to drag him across the balding carpet, past the jukebox, past the builders staring at him with cement in their nostrils.
Outside in the cold, Raj sobers up, loosens his shirt buttons and wipes his mouth.
‘If your dad tried to kill you, then Girl saved your life.’
‘Maybe.’ Billy’s turning blue again. ‘I don’t think she remembers what she did.’
‘Probably a good thing.’
Blueness sliding into Billy’s cheeks. He looks tiny out in the fresh air. Shrinking or something. He’s beginning to look like a plastic toy in a cereal
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