Nicola Barker - Darkmans

Beede cringed at the undiluted volume of her recollection.

‘I see.’

He dragged his eyes away from the Mercedes and turned back to face her. ‘I see…And then the scaffolding…’

‘Yeah. It fell. KA-BOOM! ’

‘Gracious.’ Beede reached up a tentative hand to massage his aching shoulder. ‘Well that certainly sounds quite…That must’ve been extremely…’

‘He took a tiny step towards me,’ Kelly continued, ‘as I yelled. Just one, tiny, little step, yeah? An’ the metal bars fell every side of him— CRASH! — with only millimetres to spare. Didn’t hurt a single hair on his head, though. It was a miracle. Took him a full five minutes to climb his way out of there — I was goin’ nuts all the while, obviously, ’cos if we hadn’t turned up when we did, if I hadn’t screamed, if he hadn’t taken that tiny, little step, he’d’ve been a goner, for sure. No doubt about it.’

‘He was incredibly lucky,’ Beede confirmed.

‘It weren’t luck ,’ Kelly snapped. ‘It was an Act of God. Like I already told you…’

‘Whatever it was,’ Beede said, ‘your uncle was extremely…’

He paused for a second, unwilling to use the word ‘lucky’ again (toying with the word ‘fortunate’ instead).

‘Your hand’s all knackered,’ Kelly mused.

‘Pardon?’

‘Your hand.’

He inspected it himself. ‘Uh… Oh. Yes.’

‘An’ you’ve got…’ she pointed, ‘all these marks. On your lip, on your neck. An’ a couple more — over there — on the side of your…’ Beede moved his hand to his neck.

‘ Scratches . On your cheek. Not…’ she impatiently repositioned his hand for him ‘…on the other side.’

‘I was uh …’ Beede cleared his throat and then glanced around him, looking for a quick get-out. ‘Should your uncle really be doing that?’

Harvey was attempting to reverse his Toyota from under a section of the collapsed scaffolding (with the able assistance of Gaffar who was providing directions from the road).

‘Dunno,’ Kelly shrugged.

‘Good Lord! ’ Beede exclaimed (pulling an old, cashmere scarf from his coat pocket and winding it, rapidly, around his throat). ‘Gaffar looks like he’s been in the wars…’

‘Urgh…’ Kelly growled. ‘Scrappin’ , more’n likely. In some filthy gamblin’ den or other. He went to Readin’ last night — supposedly to sit wiv’ Paul — an’ that’s how the little chancer came back.’

As Kelly spoke, her conversation was neatly punctuated by her uncle’s repeated honking of the Toyota’s horn. When the honking stopped it was followed by a loud and ferocious string of expletives.

Kelly chuckled, indulgently. ‘He loves that stupid car. He nearly pissed his damn pants when he saw the windscreen was smashed…’ Kelly snorted. ‘I honestly think he’d’ve rather the scaffoldin’d landed on him . Silly sod.’

As if on cue, Harvey popped his head out of the passenger window. ‘There ain’t no point in all your blabbin’ ,’ he harangued the Kurd, ‘if I can’t understand a bloomin’ word of it. Speak in English, mate. Ingleesh . In English we say left …’ he waved his left hand, ‘an’ we say right… ’ he waved his right. ‘Ya followin’?’

He scowled over towards his niece. ‘Where’d you pick up these retards?’ he asked. ‘Is there a special store or somethin’?’

Beede took a quick step forward. ‘Uh…Excuse me? Hello…?’ He waved. ‘…Mr Broad?’

Harvey began to withdraw.

‘ HAAARVE! ’ Kelly bellowed. ‘The old boy’s tryin’a speak to ya!’ ‘Huh?’

Harvey paused for a second (looking Beede up and down, irritably).

‘I just wondered whether it might not be a good idea,’ Beede cautiously suggested, ‘to wait for professional help before attempting to move that?’

‘ Professional?! ’ Harvey spluttered, enraged. ‘What d’ya mean , “professional”?! I am a professional, you idiotic turd .’

He disappeared from view again. Ten seconds later he accelerated forward. The Toyota wouldn’t budge, so Harvey accelerated harder — then still harder — until a plume of smoke began pouring from the exhaust.

Gaffar yelled and gesticulated wildly over the roar of the engine. A terrible, creaking noise issued forth (followed by a loud crash, followed by the brutal sound of tearing metal), and then suddenly the vehicle jerked forward, casting off its heavy wig of scaffolding (like a care-worn barrister after his final day in court).

The assembled party watched on, in astonishment, as the Toyota shot down the street, free at last, but completely stripped of its upper half.

Gaffar strolled over to Kelly, with a shrug. ‘Your uncle’s a monkey’s arse,’ he said.

‘Think he’s all right?’ Kelly wondered, as Harvey performed a high-speed u-turn and then roared back past them (chin held aloft, refusing all eye contact), driving doggedly on (and away) as if nothing was remotely wrong.

They stood together, in silence, heads cocked, listening to the Toyota’s over-revved engine negotiating a path through the remainder of the estate.

‘ Well …’ Beede shrugged, once an atmosphere of quiet had finally been restored.

‘Would you ever?’ Kelly murmured.

Gaffar slowly shook his head and then sucked on his tongue, ruminatively.

‘I s’pose we’d better be puttin’ our skates on, Gaff,’ Kelly finally broke the silence, proper, ‘an’ head back to Malcolm Sargent Road. I forgot the stupid Bible ,’ she explained. ‘I left it wiv’ Gaz. The Rev’ll go nuts if we return wiv’out it.’

‘Oh. Okay. Sure .’

Gaffar walked over to where he’d parked the scooter, pulled on his helmet, kicked the scooter from its stand and pushed it towards them. He helped Kelly on board and then climbed on in front of her.

‘Are you certain that’s a good idea?’ Beede asked, horrified.

Gaffar started the engine and revved it up. Kelly grabbed on to his waist. Then–

‘Hold up a sec,’ she said, noticing the brown envelope still protruding from Gaffar’s back pocket. ‘This is yours, ain’t it?’ She pulled the envelope free and passed it to Beede with an apologetic grin. Beede took it, confused.

‘The bloke what wrote that’s actually my great-great-great-grandad,’ she swanked (almost — Beede felt — by way of an excuse), then, ‘ Tally-ho! ’ she slapped Gaffar on the shoulder and off they sped.

Beede inspected the envelope (his eyes watering slightly from the scooter’s emissions), then he winced, reached up his hand to his neck again and massaged it, distractedly, while glancing over at the house. He took a couple of halting steps towards it, then quickly changed his mind and limped slowly down the road towards the parked Mercedes instead.

On reaching the car, he peered in through the window and saw (much as he’d suspected) that Kane was lying, flat-out on the back seat, covered in his grey crombie.

‘Kane?’

Beede knocked on the window–

No response

Beede tried the door, found it unlocked, and pulled it open. ‘Kane?’

Kane didn’t budge.

Beede reached out his hand and yanked off the coat. Kane lay there, perfectly still, his eyes closed.

‘ Kane? ’ he repeated, an edge of concern entering his voice. He gave his son a peremptory shake.

At last Kane stirred. He yawned, then he stretched himself, then he opened his eyes and stared around him, dopily, finally focussing in on his father. His eyes widened, in surprise. ‘Beede?’