Nicola Barker - Darkmans

‘You wore a bra when you were a kid?’ Kane said, struggling to get this all straight in his head.

‘When I was twelve, thirteen , stupid! My first bra. He used to love takin’ the piss.’

‘Right.’

‘An’ stop raisin’ your fuckin’ brows like that!’

‘I wasn’t raising my brows, Kell…’ Kane lowered his brows. ‘You’re obviously very upset…’

‘I need someone to sit wiv’ him, Kane.’

‘I already said — they’ll probably have a priest…’

‘They won’t have no priest. They don’t give a shit !’

‘Or if not a priest, then one of the nurses who looked after him on the ward…’

‘ BALLS! ’

(More hushing.)

‘They keep tryin’a shove a load of tablets down my neck…’

‘Ask for a Sinequan …’

‘FUCK OFF, KANE!!!’

‘I’m just…’

He tried to think on his feet.’…I suppose I could get Gaffar …’ he murmured. ‘Uh…Did you speak to Gaffar yet?’

‘ What?! Why the fuck would I wanna speak to him ?!’ she yelled.

Kane smiled. ‘So you did speak to him?’

Pause

‘Yeah.’

‘Was he helpful?’

‘What does he know?! He’s just a little, Turkish DICK .’

‘A Kurd . A Kurdish dick.’

‘WHATEVER!’

(More hushing.)

‘Look. I’m in my car. I’m on the Romney Marsh Road. I’m right in the middle of something. D’you have the number of the hospital on you?’

Kelly blew her nose, noisily, then she cleared her throat. ‘I got it on my phone.’

‘Right. Find it — quick as you can — send it to me, and I’ll sort something out.’

‘I just don’t want him to be on his own , Kane…’

‘That’s fine. That’s fair enough. I’ll sort something out. I’ll go myself or I’ll get Gaffar…’

‘Whoever goes, I want them to light candles and say a little prayer. I want it like Paul Burrell did for Diana, yeah?’

‘Who?’

‘Paul Burrell. The butler. He went an’ he sat with her. An’ he lit candles . I want candles…’

‘Okay.’

‘You promise?’

‘Yes. It’ll be fine. I’ll ring Gaffar now. I’ll order a cab. He’ll be there in a couple of hours…’

‘Thanks…’

She sniffed, poignantly. ‘An’ I mean that.’

‘It’s nothing. It’s the very least I can do.’

Half-way through saying it, Kane realised that he meant it–

Huh?

‘I’m sorry,’ he added (quickly glancing over his shoulder — as if the truth was a cruel assassin which was slowly and methodically tracking him down).

‘Yeah, yeah,’ she sighed.

They both rang off.

He dialled Gaffar’s number. Gaffar answered immediately.

‘Yah?’

The line was terrible.

‘Gaffar?’ Kane shouted. ‘It’s Kane.’

‘So?’

‘Can you hear me?’

Kane winced as a large cargo of static came slamming into his ear.

‘Man…’

He opened his car door and clambered out–

Holy Fuck—

It’s freezing out here

‘Gaffar?’ he grimaced against the cold.

‘Kane?’

His voice sounded clearer.

‘You spoke to Kelly?’

‘Sure.’

‘Her brother died.’

‘Sure. I speak Dina. Then I ring.’

‘How was she?’

‘Dina?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Is okay.’

‘Well I need you to do me a huge favour, man.’

‘Huh?’

‘I need you to go up to Reading. Reading, yeah? Where the brother is? At the hospital? Call yourself a minicab. Call Simo. Ask for Simo. He’ll cut you a deal. The journey’ll take about an hour and a half. Be sure and get a quote up front, though…’

‘Sure.’

‘I need you to sit with the body tonight.’

Pause

‘Sure.’

‘Will you do that for me?’

Even longer pause

‘Sure.’

‘Okay. Call the cab now. Wrap up warm. It’s fuckin’ freezing outside. Take plenty of cash. I’ll text you the address just as soon as I have it. You’re gonna have to bullshit the people at the morgue that you’re related. A step-brother or something. Paul Broad, his name was. Okay?’

‘Sure.’

‘You wanna write that down?

‘Sure.’

(No sound of any attempt being made to write it down.)

‘Or I can text that through if you prefer…’

Silence

‘And Kelly wants candles. Try and get candles.’

‘Sure.’

‘Thanks, man. You’re a brick.’

Kane hung up.

He stood in the darkness for a second, shivering slightly, staring at his phone, and then–

Thwack!

A large, frozen object plummeted down from the heavens and crashed into the roof of his car.

‘He has some kind of a feud under way with the local vet…’ Beede explained as Peta knelt over the bitch and gave her back-end a cursory inspection. ‘He doesn’t have the first idea how to cope. This whole situation has taken him totally by surprise. He’s a wreck — began shaking like a leaf when I threatened to leave…’

‘How mortifying,’ Peta drawled.

‘He’s just a little… well …’ Beede frowned and glanced nervously over his shoulder.

They were standing in a filthy, brightly lit double garage on the outskirts of Beckley.

‘And he lives in this place you say?’

Peta’s keen — somewhat mercenary — gaze slowly took in the single camp-bed, the Calor Gas heater, the ill-concealed, heavily stained chamber pot, the bizarre array of antique army boots, the ancient wardrobe with the badly hung door and broken mirror, the collection of magazines about oriental weaponry, the bales of hay, and the strange combination of furniture, old junk and animal cages lining the walls.

‘His mother owns the house, but they barely speak. He has a key. He comes and goes as he likes. Apparently the bitch belongs to her. She’s insanely protective of the animal. He said she’ll go crazy if she finds out what’s happened. And in the wood of all places.’

‘Well at least it’s warm in here,’ Peta muttered, straightening up and shoving her hands into her coat pockets. ‘Is the box a good size?’ Beede enquired.

She inspected the box. ‘It’s perfect. And there’s plenty of newspaper, which is ideal.’

‘She’s stopped bleeding now,’ Beede observed. ‘Do they usually lose that much blood when they whelp?’

‘Not that I’m aware of. Perhaps one of the pups was in breech…’

She peered over at him as she spoke, with a frown. ‘You’ve bitten your lip. Did you realise?’

‘Uh…Yes.’

He touched his lip, self-consciously.

‘Does it hurt?’

‘No.’

‘And your shoulder?’

Beede’s mouth twitched. ‘That’s nothing. It’s fine…’

He seemed embarrassed by her attention.

‘But you’re holding it differently — stiffly…’ she maintained, ignoring his pique. ‘Isn’t it bothering you?’

‘No. Not at all.’

She walked over and calmly placed her hands on to his shoulder. He flinched at her touch but she persisted. ‘Where’s the source of the discomfort? Is it the side of the neck?’

‘It’s honestly not…’

She pulled back the collar of his coat and loosened his scarf, then slipped her hand into the gap and applied a light pressure with her fingertips.

‘There?’

He grimaced. She’d hit the spot.

‘Is that terribly tender?’

‘No…’ he used the sudden, keening wail of a car-alarm outside as an excuse to move away and readjust his scarf. ‘Is that your car?’