Дэвид Муди - Hater

Spencer lifted the lump hammer and brought over a kilogram of metal smashing down into the middle of the other man’s face, caving in his forehead and the bridge of his nose and killing him almost instantly. He lifted the gore-covered hammer and bludgeoned what was left of his face another five times, leaving his head virtually concave, hollowed out like a deflated football.

Spencer got up and stood breathless over the corpse before being thrown off balance again. Jackie, wailing like a banshee, ran from the front of the house and shoved him away from the body of her son. She screamed and dropped to the ground when she saw the hole in his head and the mass of splintered bone and pulped flesh where his face used to be. She looked up at Spencer but all she saw was the bloodied edge of the lump hammer as he swung it towards her.

6

‘We’re going to be late,’ Lizzie grumbles. I know we are, but there’s not a lot I can do about it. If she’d given me more notice that we were supposed to be taking Edward to a friend’s birthday party then we would have been fine. Half an hour to get the kids ready and out isn’t enough. Part of me wishes she’d forgotten about it for another hour. I want Ed to have a good time and enjoy himself of course I do, but I’m not looking forward to spending the next couple of hours sitting in a kid-friendly and adult-unfriendly ‘fun-barn’ attached to the side of a pub. It’s not how I’d planned to spend my Saturday afternoon.

‘We’ll get there when we get there,’ I tell her. ‘Getting wound up about it isn’t going to help.’

‘I’m not wound up,’ she snaps, proving that she is. ‘I just don’t like being late, that’s all.’

‘We won’t be late. We’ve got a few minutes yet. The pub’s only round the corner.’

‘I know but look at the traffic.’

‘There’s probably been an accident or something,’ I tell her, sitting up in my seat and craning my neck to try and see further down the road. ‘I think there’s something going on at the top of the hill. Once we get past that the traffic will clear.’

I hear a muffled thump and a yelp from behind me. I glance over my shoulder and glare at the kids who are crammed shoulder to shoulder on the back seat. They hate being in the car nearly as much as I do. It’s too small for us all to fit in but what can I do? I can’t afford to change it so they’ll just have to put up with it for now. We all will. Lizzie looks at them and then leans closer to me.

‘We’re going to have to feed them,’ she whispers, keeping her voice low so they don’t hear.

‘Ed will eat at the party, won’t he?’

‘Yes, but…’

‘We’ll get the other two a packet of crisps or something,’ I say quickly before she gets any ideas. I think I know where this is heading.

‘They’ll need more than that,’ she says. ‘We’re going to be out for a couple of hours. Why don’t we just make it easy for ourselves and have a meal.’

‘Because we can’t afford it.’

‘Come on, Danny, we might as well. We’re going to be sat in the pub anyway.’

‘We can’t afford it,’ I say again. How much clearer do I need to make it? ‘Look, we’ll drop Ed off then go back home and have some dinner. I’ll come back and pick him up again after the party.’

‘Is it worth all the hassle and the extra petrol? Let’s just stop and have a meal and we can…’

‘We can’t afford it,’ I snap for the third time as we reach the top of the hill and pass whatever it is that’s been slowing down the traffic. I look into the rear view mirror and see that the kids are pressing their faces against the glass, trying to see what’s going on. ‘Don’t stare,’ I shout at them. I can’t help but look myself. Looks like the police have sealed off the entrance to one of the roads which leads off Maple Street.

‘Twenty quid,’ Lizzie continues. Bloody hell, she’s not going to give up. ‘Are you telling me you can’t find twenty quid to feed your family?’

‘Yes,’ I answer, trying hard not to get annoyed, ‘that’s exactly what I’m telling you.’ I’m determined she’s not going to get the better of me today, no matter how hard she tries. ‘I haven’t got twenty quid and even if I had, why should I spend it on a meal when we’ve got a freezer full of food at home? At home we can eat twice as much for half the cost.’

‘When was the last time we ate out?’

‘When was the last time I had enough money to take us out?’

‘Come on, Danny…’

I’m not even going to answer. I’ll keep my mouth shut and concentrate on driving. She does this to me too often. She’s like a dog with a bone. She won’t let go. She just keeps nagging and piling on the pressure until I relent just to shut her up.

Not today.

I caved in. I’m disappointed with myself but it was inevitable. She just wouldn’t stop. She kept on and on at me all the way here. I figured I could either relent and take the hit to my wallet or I could stand my ground and risk a whole weekend of grief and her not talking to me. When I walked into the pub and smelled the food and looked at the menu my resistance crumbled. Pathetic really.

We’ve been waiting for our dinner for almost half an hour now and I’m starting to think they might have forgotten our order. We’re tucked out of the way in a corner of the main dining area and the place is heaving. It’s Saturday lunchtime so I expected it to be busy but not like this. The long, horseshoe-shaped bar is surrounded by a crowd of bodies several drinkers deep. I should have seen it coming really. There’s a football match on this afternoon. It’s a local derby between two teams at the bottom of the table and there’s a lot at stake for both sides. The ground the match is being played at is only fifteen minutes walk from here. Most of the people crammed in here seem to be supporters enjoying their traditional pre-match drinking session. I bet the place will empty after kick-off but we’ll be long gone by then. The supporters from both sides seem to be tolerating each other but the noise in here is deafening and I feel uneasy. Maybe I’m just on edge after what happened at the concert last night. I’m worried that there’s going to be trouble. Lizzie’s thinking the same thing, I can see it in her face. She keeps looking around the crowd and frowning. She’s noticed that I’m looking at her now and her expression has suddenly changed.

‘Okay?’ she asks, trying to sound relaxed and happy but failing to convince me.

‘Great,’ I grunt. ‘No food yet and I can’t hear myself think.’

Ellis reaches across the table and tugs at my sleeve.

‘Don’t do that,’ I snap.

‘When’s dinner coming?’

‘When it’s ready.’

‘When will that be?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Just be patient,’ Liz tells her. ‘As soon as they’ve cooked it someone will bring it over to us.’

‘I want it now,’ she states, not interested in any excuses or explanations. ‘I’m hungry.’

‘We’re all hungry, love. As soon as it’s ready they’ll bring it over to us and…’

‘Want it now,’ she says again.

‘Did you hear what Mum just said?’ I hiss at her, my patience rapidly wearing thin. ‘Just shut up and wait. Your dinner will be here when…’

I stop talking. Smashing glass. There’s a sudden roar of noise from deep within the crowd around the bar. I stare into the mass of faded denim and football shirts looking for trouble. I can’t see anything. I’m relieved when I can hear laughs and jeers amongst the noise.

‘What’s up?’ Lizzie asks me.

‘Nothing,’ I answer. ‘Can’t see anything…’

A very drunk, beer-soaked football fan staggers past our table on the way to the toilet. A member of the bar staff carrying a dustpan and brush passes them going the other way. Looks like it was a spilled drink, nothing more serious.