Nicola Barker - Darkmans

She grinned at him, sliding down still lower and obligingly hitching her skirt up.

‘Did you ever consider the benefits,’ he wondered, casually inspecting her neatly shaven muff, ‘of applying a few well-placed stitches down there?’

She yanked her foot from his grasp, pulled herself straight and adjusted her skirt.

‘I’m guessing you didn’t get around to telling Gaffar, yet,’ Kane said, pulling his phone from his pocket and checking his texts.

‘ Fuck off! ’ she growled. ‘We only just met . What kind of a moll do you take me for?’

He drew on his cigarette, gazing over at her, blankly.

‘If you must know,’ she admitted (slightly rattled by his stare), ‘it weren’t all that. He just wanked me off with his hand and then — because he did such a good job of it, as a special favour , yeah? — I let him cum in between my baps…’

She propped up her breasts and then shoved them together, to illustrate.

‘Geraldine Broad ,’ Kane chuckled wryly, ‘you incorrigible old romantic …’

‘Give me some score,’ she wheedled, ‘and you can do the same if you like.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he sighed.

She slid her hand on to his thigh. ‘Okay,’ she conceded, ‘ don’t give me no score…’

He stared down, frowning slightly, at her ring-laden fingers. ‘So let me get this straight,’ he murmured, ‘you actually, honestly believe that it’s possible to just side-step the truth — or any kind of basic, moral decision, come to that — by the simple but painful expedient of sewing your mouth up?’

She didn’t react.

‘…I mean you seriously think a few, tiny stitches ’ll get you off the hook?’

She glowered at him.

‘ Wow ,’ he shook his head, pityingly, ‘you’re really messed up.’

‘If you’re that worried,’ she sneered, snatching back her hand, ‘then why didn’t you say somethin’?’

‘What? And spoil all your fun?’

She ignored him, bending down to pick up her mug. He pushed his cigarette into the corner of his mouth and returned to his texting.

‘I shouldn’t even be givin’ you the time of day,’ she grumbled, ‘after the move you pulled on Lester.’

‘He owed me money,’ Kane shrugged.

‘He owes everyone money.’

‘D’you know anything about the job he’s on?’ Kane wondered. She stared across at him, blankly. ‘Job? Why would I?’

‘He’s over in Cedar Wood,’ Kane tried to jog her memory, ‘he’s working for a German couple there.’

‘Alls I know,’ she informed him, ‘is that if Lester’s involved then it ain’t lookin’ good for ’em.’

‘Although the woman — the wife — isn’t actually German,’ Kane corrected himself (his finger still jabbing at the phone), ‘she’s English. A chiropodist.’

Geraldine took a sip of her tea. ‘They got a kid?’ she asked.

‘A son. Yes.’

‘Well he did say somethin’ about a kid. Dunno if it’s on that job. But he loves this kid. He’s crazy about him. If the kid says jump he’s like, “Off which fuckin’ building?” Sounds like the kid’s a bit simple or somethin’…’ she rolled her eyes, ‘which means they gotta whole lot in common…’

Kane smiled, sympathetically.

Geraldine was encouraged. ‘Says they got this big castle on their dinin’-room table. Made out of all these tiny bits of wood. Matches . The kid built it. The kid spends all his time buildin’ it. Lester say’s the kid’s a real gem. Never stops goin’ on about it. Says the kid’s amazin’.’

‘What kind of castle?’ Kane asked.

‘Like some kind of religious buildin’. Like St Paul’s Cathedral, only foreign. An’ he’s built this kick-arse little city around it, Lester says. All tiny shops an’ pubs an’ shit.’

She took another sip of her tea, then clumsily adjusted her bra strap. ‘He’s been carryin’ around this old pickle jar. I asked him what it was for the other day. He says it’s for the kid. I’m like, “What’s the kid want with an empty pickle jar?” He’s like, “It ain’t empty.” I’m like, “What’s it full of then, air ?” He’s like, “No you stupid, fuckin’ whore, fleas …”’

Kane glanced up.

‘Fleas?’

‘Yeah. Fleas. He’s collectin’ fleas for the kid. I’m like, “Well I don’t know why you’re sniffin’ around near me . I ain’t got no fleas, you twat .” Mum went fuckin’ spacko when I told her. She’s like, “I don’t care what you do at work, Lester, but I won’t have you bringin’ that dirty crap back into this house…”’

She smirked, readjusting her strap again.

‘Love your tits, by the way,’ Kane muttered, in passing.

‘’Course you do,’ she smiled, ‘everybody does.’

He smiled too, still tapping. ‘So how’s Kelly bearing up?’

‘Same as always. Broke her leg. Covered in spots. Hates your guts.’

‘Good.’

She took a large bite of her toast, a mouthful of tea, reached out a greedy hand and plucked the fag from his mouth.

‘Could you squeeze anything else in while you’re at it?’ he wondered. ‘Why?’

She gazed at him, archly, as she took a puff. ‘Whatcha got in mind?’

He glanced down at his watch. ‘It’s almost nine. Don’t you have a job to go to?’

‘Nope.’

‘What about the salon?’

She blew a smoke ring then stuck her finger through it. ‘They sacked me after they found out.’

He glanced up, frowning. ‘Can they do that?’

‘Whadd’ya mean, “can they?” They already did , thick-o.’

‘But that’s discrimination,’ he explained. ‘It isn’t legal.’

‘They said I could cut myself on the scissors or somethin’…’

‘That’s bullshit. It’s not right. I can look into it for you if you like…’

‘ Aw ,’ she mocked him, ‘my hero.’

‘I’m serious.’

‘’Course you are…’ She shrugged. ‘I was sick of it anyways. That bitch of a manageress was always on my arse. I was glad to go, quite frankly.’

‘Well don’t say I didn’t offer.’

‘I won’t, matey.’

She stubbed out his cigarette on the bottom of his trainer, placed the stub alongside the toast on her plate, then took another large bite.

‘You’ve put on some weight,’ he said.

‘Yeah,’ she spoke with her mouth full, ‘it’s all the drugs.’

‘But it looks kinda hot.’

‘I know it does.’

‘So did you get around to telling your dad yet?’

‘That’s none of your damn business,’ she snapped.

‘Fair enough.’ Kane shoved his phone away. ‘Finish your breakfast,’ he said, ‘then empty your pockets and clear off. I’ve got stuff I need to do this morning.’

He bent down and retrieved his book.

‘Not much to hang around here for, anyways,’ she grumbled, grabbing her mug of tea, taking a deep draught of it, then belching so loudly — by way of vengeance — that Kane’s lank fringe rocked.

A small but ruthlessly efficient band of chainsaw-wielding contractors were savagely laying waste to a tall line of trees on the edge of the forecourt. Beede was standing by the trolleys (next to the store entrance) and absolutely fuming as he watched their steady progress.

‘I mean what’s to be gained by that?’ he couldn’t stop himself from sniping at the kid who stacked the trolleys up.

The kid shrugged.

‘They were serving a purpose : acting as a block to the motorway — countering the pollution, reducing the racket …’