Rant by Alfie Crow Page A

Christmas. I knew we’d find a use for it somehow.’
    â€˜Stephan and Giorgio? Nice to know you’re all on first name terms’
    â€˜Now don’t get jealous. They’re not a bad lot really. Stephan wants to be an actor but apart from that he seems okay.’
    â€˜They’re not a bad lot really? What, as psychopathic killers and kidnappers go?’
    â€˜What do you mean?’
    â€˜Well, they have kidnapped you, haven’t they? Or are you just off on some kind of New Age retreat? Purging yourself by sticking corkscrews up each other’s bumholes?’
    â€˜It wasn’t in his bumhole; it was in the fleshy bit.’
    (‘What is being bumhole please,’ I heard a voice ask in the background.)
    â€˜Well excuse me, I stand corrected. Oh and did they mention? They want me to off someone for them.’
    â€˜Off someone?’
    â€˜Kill them. Dead. Shoot them.’
    That made her pause briefly. ‘No,’ she said eventually. ‘You’re making it up.’
    â€˜I assure you I’m not.’
    â€˜Don’t be so bloody silly. Have you been watching The Godfather again? And who the hell would trust you to kill somebody and get it right? You’re more likely to kill yourself.’
    I took offence at that and was about to argue when I realised that:
    (1) As usual, she was absolutely right. Given how many near-death (or near-really sore) experiences I had had in the last twenty-four hours, I could hardly criticise her judgement.
    And
    (2) It was probably better not to panic her, as God only knew what damage she’d do if she thought I was telling the truth.
    â€˜Never mind why,’ I said instead, trying not to sound too huffy. ‘They just are. That’s why they’re holding you, Anna. To make sure I go through with some stuff they want me to do.’
    â€˜I think you’ve got it muddled up, as usual. Typical of you, you always just see what suits you and lie to the rest of us to cover up how stupid you can be. They said you stole some money of theirs, you gormless effing tosspot, and they want it back.’
    â€˜Look, just let me explain— I— Oh, whatever. But listen, they said they had my child. Our child. What child is this? Who the hell have they picked up with you? And could you please make sure they’re not in the room with all that bad language.’
    I had to hold the phone away from my ear for a few moments and then managed to slip in, ‘Whose is the child, Anna?’
    â€˜ Our child, shit-for-brains. I’m pregnant!’
    That stopped me. Briefly.
    â€˜What! What do you mean? Oh my God. You never even told me.’ I was hyperventilating now, about to faint. Sam was looking a bit concerned over by the window, but he quickly shrugged it off and went back to watching out for the pizzas. ‘This changes everything. How could you not tell me?’
    â€˜What do you mean it changes everything? You mean you wouldn’t bother if it was just me being abducted by this bunch of rejects from Allo, Allo ?’
    I couldn’t think of an answer for that, so I pretended the reception was bad and hissed down the phone, to more bemused stares from Sam.
    â€˜How long have you known?’ I eventually said.
    â€˜I only knew for certain about a week ago. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.’
    â€˜About what? About the baby?’
    â€˜No, about telling you. I knew you’d overreact. Or over-act .’
    â€˜What, you can tell Giorgio and Stephan and their gang of armed kidnappers but you can’t tell your own husband?’
    â€˜You are jealous, aren’t you?’ she said in that superior, I-knew-you-fancied-me-really sort of way that she has when she’s feeling flirty. ‘Well to be honest they were a lot calmer than you usually are, so I thought I’d test it out on them first. So, what do you think?’
    Reader, to tell the truth I didn’t know what