Nicola Barker - Darkmans

Elen poured the milk. ‘But it’s not…’ she interjected, helpfully, ‘it’s not the best phone?’

Harvey smiled and grabbed a hold of the mug’s handle. ‘ Good girl . I think we’re finally gettin’ somewhere…’

He sat down and toasted her with his tea, still smiling. Then his smile faltered for a second. ‘Unfortunately, though, your hubby …’ He rolled his eyes.

Elen frowned, panicked. ‘Has…has Dory…?’ ‘Upset me? Nah .’

Harvey shook his head, gazing down into his steaming mug with a look of profound anguish.

‘Well that’s…’ She was confused. She bit her lip.

‘Let’s just say,’ Harvey volunteered, ‘that your husband was… uh …a little “inappropriate” with me when I first came around.’

Elen’s neat nostrils flared slightly. This was three weeks ago. A whole life -time of dripping and misery and scaffolding. An agonising infinity of Fleet on the sofa-bed and Lester at the delicatessen counter. She pulled out a chair. Whatever else happened, this simply had to be made better.

‘I mean I ain’t gonna sit here at his table, drink his tea, speak with his lovely wife, eat his funny-lookin’ German biscuits…’ Harvey reached out for a biscuit ‘…an’ rip into the man. But the fact is that he made it very clear — during our initial meeting — that I wasn’t his first choice for the job. He effectively told me — to my face , Helen — that I was second best. And nobody — no body —who takes pride in what they do, enjoys hearin’ that.’

‘But are you sure?’

Elen was appalled.

‘He made no bones about it, my love.’

She was silent for a moment.

‘ Damn ,’ she eventually murmured.

‘I mean,’ Harvey bit into the biscuit, ‘I’m perfectly willing to believe that I might’ve contributed to the problem in some way — without actually realisin’. Because I’m a sensitive man, Helen, an emotional man. I feel things very deeply…’

He sighed (as if greatly moved by the thought of his own impetuosity). ‘Perhaps I didn’t get him down quite right, perhaps it’s a German thing…’

Elen lunged for this straw. ‘Dory can seem a little abrupt sometimes…’

Harvey acknowledged this declaration with a slight (almost indifferent) shrug of his shoulder.

‘…a little…a little abrasive , even…’

She stalled, then drew a deep breath. ‘…But Abacus were definitely our first choice. Dory was dead-set on it. In fact he had to convice me . He thought you were an amazing find. He even said that. He said, “Harvey’s an amazing find.” He really did.’

‘Bull shit .’

Harvey was implacable. ‘Dory wanted Garry Spivey. He wanted A Priori.’

A Priori?

Elen blinked.

‘No. No , I don’t remember that at all…’ ‘First in the book, he said.’

Elen blinked again–

Which book?

Harvey’s voice suddenly grew strident. ‘I mean to actually say that, Helen — to me of all people. First in the bloody book!’

‘A Priori?’ Elen frowned, trying desperately to catch up. ‘ First? Are you sure?’

‘ Sure? Am I sure ?’ Harvey inadvertently spat out his mouthful of biscuit across the table-top. ‘Of course I’m bloody sure! Of course I am! Garry Spivey is a cancer , Helen! He’s a disgrace , a shit-heel, a bird-turd. I mean you don’t know the half of it. You couldn’t . The man is pure vermin . He has single-handedly dragged the East Kent building industry through the bloody sewers . He’s a thorn in our side, Helen. A blight, a pest . He’s a total fuckin’ liability…’

During the second half of Harvey’s impassioned declaration, Lester drifted past the open doorway. He was holding a small dog under his right arm — a dopey-looking spaniel. Elen had absolutely no idea where it had come from or what he was doing with it. Lester paused for a moment at the sound of Harvey’s raised voice, half-smiling (seeming to effortlessly gauge the complex, emotional scene as it unfolded before him), then he shook his head, pityingly, and wandered off.

‘The thing is, what your husband doesn’t know,’ Harvey was speaking again, and with great intensity (having taken a few quiet seconds to gather himself together), ‘is that Garry Spivey and me go way back. We have what you might call “history”. I had AAA in the yellow pages for twelve years. He was Alisdair Spivey and Sons. Worked with his dad — also, coincidentally, a tragic, fuckin’ arse -wipe — an’ everythin’ was hunky-dory. But then, when his dad finally passes — lung cancer, may he rest in peace — he gets all up himself. He changes the company name. An’ he bribes the twat who compiles the local Pages to give him first dibs. A Priori . Two words. Just out of spite. Sheer spite. And that’s exactly the kind of grubby, petty, stupid little twat…’

Elen pulled out a chair and sat down.

‘Maybe I’m being a little slow here,’ she murmured, ‘but AAA would come before A Priori, surely?’

Harvey sprang up (as if perched on the other end of a time-delayed see-saw). ‘That’s what I say. That’s my whole point , Helen. Of course it bloody does!’

‘So it’s just…’ Elen gradually worked it all out, ‘it’s just…just wrong , then?’

‘It is wrong,’ Harvey bellowed, ‘it’s bloody wrong!’

‘Well…’ Elen frowned, trying desperately to keep a lid on things, ‘have you perhaps spoken to them about it?’

Harvey took a step back, blinking rapidly, as if in total astonishment at the naivety of this question. ‘Have I…? Have I spoken ? Who the hell do you think I am ?! I’m Harvey fuckin’ Broad , woman! I have two bloody restrainin’ orders out on me!’

‘Oh…’

Elen tried not to appear even remotely alarmed by this information…‘I see.’

‘I mean this is my livelihood , Helen. It’s my life. My reputation. My passion .’

He gazed at her, panting slightly. Elen carefully knitted her hands together. ‘So…so what they’re saying, effectively, is that a single “a” comes before everything else?’

Harvey nodded. ‘But the killer punch is the Latin. The Latin’s the key. Latin always comes first , they say.’

‘It does?’

Elen frowned.

Harvey sat down again. ‘In the Oxford English , yes, okay, I can accept that. In the old version. Fair enough. But these are modern times, Helen. In the Collins I got at home they don’t even mention any of that Latin stuff. In the Collins , AAA gets its own listin’ : Amateur Athletics Association. It comes straight after AA: Alcoholics Anonymous. An’ this ain’t just no piece of old shite. This is the Collins Modern Dictionary of the English Language .’

Elen nodded. ‘I do believe it’s a very…a very respectable dictionary.’

Harvey suddenly leaned across the table, conspiratorially. ‘I mean you’re a doctor, aren’t you?’

She flinched, somewhat taken aback by his unexpected change of tack. ‘Well, uh… no , not…’

‘But you’re familiar with all that Latin shit?’

Elen paused. ‘Well, yes . I know a little. But I’m just a podiatrist, Harvey. I’m a foot doctor. It isn’t quite…’