Martin Amis - Lionel Asbo

Lionel stood; he tasted his tea; with an unusually graceful movement he slipped off his jacket; he reversed his chair, and sat. He placed a thick-fingered hand on his nephew’s nape. He spoke softly.

‘You tense, Des. I can feel you tension. Crouched behind that wheel. Diston traffic. That’s a killing job, that is. Even for a young man. You do that and you be dead by thirty. You shouldn’t be out there, boy. Should be studying. With you books. Jesus. You shoulder’s like rock. You neck — there’s no give in it … The dogs, Desmond. The dogs. They never had a chance. You fucked them up when they was just pups .’

Des could feel Lionel’s newly metallic breath on his cheek.

‘I go away for a while. I return. And they both lying on they backs and wagging they tails! They like poodles … I only asked you to do three things. One, two, three. One. Two. Three.’

Tabasco. Special Brew. Harsh and regular use of the training tools.

‘Uncle Li, I tried. But it’s not — it’s not in my nature.’

‘… Your nature? What about they nature? They meant to be hard. That’s why they were born .’

His fierce gaze never wavering, Lionel reached to his right and swung open the cupboard door. There for all to see: the untouched case of red-pepper sauce, the untouched six-packs of malt lager, the untouched training tools — break stick, lunge pole, the ethnic mannequins.

‘You was saying?’

‘… You don’t need them hard any more. You’re not going to be out collecting debts now , are you.’

‘Ah, but that’s to be wise after the event. You flash little cunt. And I’ll always be needing hard dogs. For why? For me security.’

‘All right. I’m very sorry, Uncle Li.’

‘All right. You sorry about that. Try being very sorry about this. You statement in court. I died a thousand deaths as those words left you lips. A thousand deaths.’

‘Which bit?’

… I have known Lionel Asbo all my life. And after my mother passed away, when I was twelve, he became more like a father than an uncle. He has always treated me with kindness, understanding, and generosity. I took my mother’s death very hard, and I think it’s fair to say that I wouldn’t have got through it without Uncle Lionel’s love and care … Everyone knows that Uncle Lionel has a dry sense of humour. And all right, his speech at the wedding reception could be regarded as contentious. But I confirm, under oath, that Lionel Asbo did not land the first blow .

Then who did land the first blow? Is that man in court today?

… ‘Which bit ?’ said Lionel. ‘When you pointed you finger! When you named him.’

Des gave a silent sigh. His statement did no more than corroborate the testimony of eleven waiters, four hired musicians, three Dragos (Dejan, Oreste, and Vassallo), and two of Marlon’s own brothers (Troy and Yul).

‘What should I have said?’

‘Same as John, Paul, and George! That you never saw nothing! You was looking the other way!’

‘… Marlon grassed you up. For Gina.’

‘No he didn’t. All in me own head, that was. See, this is what girls do to you, Des. They make you mad.’

Lionel lit a fresh cigar (and proceeded to smoke it as he would a Marlboro Hundred, with long drags and emphatic inhalations). The room darkened another shade. With a wistful smile Lionel asked quietly,

‘Remember Rory Nightingale, Des? Course you do, course you do. He said something, Rory. Before they uh … He said something. Something about you … Des did … did it and all! Stressful moment for the boy, of course,’ Lionel conceded (and momentarily raised his chin). ‘They was gagging him. About to take him off. Des — Des did it and all . Now why’s that stuck in me mind? That’s what I want to know. Why’s that stuck in me mind? Look at me, Des …’

For one minute, two minutes, three, Des laid himself open to those small mobile eyes. And so, perhaps, it might have gone on, and on, for ever and ever … But at last he heard the jolts of the locks, the jink and scuffle of the dogs.

‘Up you get, boy. We got work to do.’

As Des slid to his feet the tank gaped open.

‘… You been sitting on it.’

Lionel changed into sweatpants, trainers, and mesh vest. Then the two of them spent three and a half hours ferrying packing cases, tea chests, and cardboard boxes from Lionel’s lock-up in Skinthrift Close to Lionel’s bedroom at Avalon Tower — which, by the time they were done, was an impenetrable mass of stolen property. They couldn’t even get the door shut.

‘You be all right,’ said Lionel. ‘Just squeeze round it.’

‘ I can. But what about you? How’ll you get out?’

Fuming, glowing, throbbing (they had relied on the Ford Transit and the stunted lift), Lionel surged into the kitchen and toppled on to the couch.

‘You look downhearted, girl. Now why’s that? Here, Des. Seen the brothers at all?’

Sitting at the table with Dawn’s hand on his shoulder, Des looked up as he wiped his face with a paper towel. ‘They’re ill. All five of them. I saw Uncle Paul.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. Uncle John’s been served with an Order of Distraint. They’ve seized his flat. And they’ve gone and repossessed Uncle George’s —’

‘Yeah. Well I made me contribution.’ He gave one of his masterful sniffs. ‘If it wasn’t for me they’d still be inside.’

‘They wouldn’t’ve been inside in the first place,’ said Dawn, ‘if it wasn’t for you.’

‘Dawnie …’

‘Don’t worry, Des, I won’t take offence. I’m uh, immune. See, that’s what happens when you win a hundred-odd million quid. You go numb. Not happy. Not sad. Numb . … Here. Jon and Joel. Cost a fair bit to feed.’

‘Well yeah. They do.’

‘Okay. I told you I’d relieve you financial situation. And I’ll be as good as my word,’ he said, rising. ‘I’m taking the dogs off yer.’

‘But Dawn loves the dogs!’

This weak cry, with its leapt octave, came from Des (who of course loved them too). Dawn sat down suddenly and said,

‘What you going to do with them?’

‘Cut me losses. I got a buyer. Four hundred quid. Think youself lucky, Des. No more shelling out for they Tabasco.’

Now Lionel bathed (causing a not very serious flood in the passage). Ten minutes later, they heard a mighty uprush and downflow of water; and then with a towel round his waist he squelched into the kitchen.

‘I don’t understand how you can live in these conditions. And there’s nowhere to change . Go on. Get the dogs in.’

Dawn gave Des a meaning nod and he said, ‘We’ll match it, Uncle Li. We’ll match the four hundred.’

Lionel squelched out again. ‘Get them in.’

Jon and Joel were coiled up under the table. They were painfully aware that they were the cause of a dreadful misunderstanding — which, surely, would very soon be resolved. Leaning forward, Dawn was stroking them with purposeful fingers, as if kneading hope into their harrowed brows.

When Lionel re-entered he was knotting his tie. He said,

‘Fair enough. How can any reasonable man refuse?’

Dawn said, ‘Oh thank you, Lionel. Thank you, thank you.’

‘You welcome. Let’s have it then. Four hundred … Oh. You haven’t got it on you?’ he said. ‘Oh dear. How unfortunate. See, Des, I need the cash tonight.’ He threw on his jacket and held out his hand. ‘The leads. Come on, yer … Come on, yer fucking little wankers. Come on, yer fucking little slags.’

The dogs lay on their sides with their forepaws bent as Lionel hooked them to the steel hawsers. They rose and their leg muscles stiffened; and there was a terrible minute while they cowered and wheeled. Des half turned away from their beseeching smiles.