Lynda Plante - The Talisman

Opening what looked like a cupboard, Alex revealed a small sink and drainer and a tworing gas cooker. The only glasses were two thin, polished tumblers. He put them carefully on the table and unscrewed the cap of the bottle, poured two measures and replaced the cap.

‘Rum.’

Edward picked up a glass and held it. Alex offered no toast, just gulped at the rum. It burnt the back of his throat and he coughed. ‘I don’t drink.’

‘Nor do I.’ Edward tossed his down and it burned. They both coughed, put the empty glasses down on the clean table. There was a gaping void between them. Alex topped up the glasses and they drank again.

‘We’ve got to talk, Alex.’

Alex was aware of his brother’s deep aristocratic tones. He chose to speak badly, as if separating himself from his brother. ‘Oh, yeah? I’ve got nuffink ter say ter you.’

They drank again, emptying their glasses and putting them back on the table. Edward could feel the booze beginning to take effect. He reached for the bottle and poured for them both.

The suit, the posh voice, the style, brought Alex’s anger rushing up, like vomit. Edward knew his brother was working up to something, and did not try to stop it. They finished the bottle and Alex put it away carefully. The rum was having the desired effect, and he eased up.

‘What do you want?’

Edward thought about it, licked his lips. ‘I owe you, and I’m here to... to... settle.’

Alex gripped the edge of the table. He was trying to stand up straight but the floor moved.

‘I’m a rich man.’

‘So what, so am I.’

‘But I’ll make you richer.’

‘You got nuffink I want.’

Edward gripped the other side of the table, half rose, and the floor moved under him, too... ‘Your floor’s uneven.’

‘Nuffink wrong wiv my fucking floor.’

Edward stood and swayed on his feet and Alex stood opposite him and swayed. ‘We’re drunk.’

‘I’m not.’

‘Yesh you are.’

‘I bet you any money I can walk dat edge of de carpet.’

Edward turned his back and walked to the carpet edge. Alex slid open the kitchen drawer and took out a knife. He had found it in a drawer at the club. It had belonged to Johnny Mask, and was razor sharp, an old stiletto, a gyppo’s cut-throat razor.

Alex watched as Edward moved very carefully to the edge of the carpet and balanced on the fringe, his arms out like a trapeze artist.

‘One million I can make it from here to there... you on?’

Alex swayed, nodded his head... he glared as Edward began his balancing act... midway along he wobbled, one foot edged off the fringe of the carpet.

‘Well, thassit, I owe you, one million...’

He slapped his chequebook on the table, fumbled for his pen, scrawled out the cheque...

‘Very funny.’

‘Not a joke, Alex, cash it, you’ll see.’

Alex moved like lightning and held the knife at Edward’s throat. This was it, the moment he had dreamed of, lain awake planning. Now it was here — he could kill Edward. But the face that stared back at him wasn’t Edward’s, it was his father’s, with the same dark eyes. Alex froze, unable to use the knife, then in a fury he hurled it across the room. Edward let out a hiss of breath, put his hand to his throat as the knife hit the cupboard door and sliced into the wood. ‘Jesus Christ.’

Edward tried to rise to his feet but Alex, having missed his long-awaited chance of revenge, felt his rage unleashed, like water bursting from a dam. He grabbed Edward by the hair and yanked his head back so hard he heard a crack. ‘You take yer fucking cheque, you cunt, and stuff it up yer arse, eat it, eat it!’

Alex began to stuff the cheque into Edward’s mouth, and Edward kicked him in the groin. Alex buckled up and backed away — then he straightened and began to roll up his sleeves. Edward slipped his tie off, broke the gold cufflinks as he too began to roll up his cuffs. Alex gestured with his hands, snarling. ‘Come on, come on then... come on, pay me, pay me for the years, Eddie, pay me.’

The two brothers fought like boxers to begin with, throwing punches at each other, punches that found their mark and hurt. They were one and the same, they were out in the back yard but this time there was no Freedom to yell instructions, no mother standing at the back door shouting for them to stop. They boxed, sparring, jabbing at each other until Alex smashed his fist into Edward’s face and his nose began to bleed... Alex then fought dirty, kicking, lunging, throwing any article of furniture close to hand. The chair crashed down on Edward’s head, and Edward hurled his body at Alex and they fell on the table, smashing it in two beneath their weight... They rolled on the floor, biting, slapping, kicking, shouting and screaming abuse at each other. They made so much noise that the old woman from the flat above began banging on the ceiling with her cane for them to shut their racket, but it went on and on... A chair was hurled through the window, smashing on to the street. Edward ran at Alex and caught his arm on the jagged glass, blood sprayed over the wall, and like a mad bull Alex charged, head down, butting Edward against the door... It splintered, and Edward hammered blows into Alex’s stomach... Alex brought his two hands, clasped together, up under Edward’s jaw and sent him reeling, sprawling backwards.

Alex threw himself on top of him, holding him up by the hair with his left hand, his right fist crashing again and again into Edward’s face. Edward’s head jerked from side to side as he caught blow after blow, and neither of them even heard the police siren, the screaming neighbours shouting that someone was being murdered.

The banging on the door as the police pounded against it, tried to force it, brought Alex to his senses, and he hauled his brother to his feet. Edward’s face was covered in blood, his shirt drenched with it, his eyes puffy and already swelling. The door burst open and the police officer gaped at the two bloody men. ‘Iss all right... is all right, officer... we’re brothers.’

Alex had to hold Edward up on his feet, hands beneath his armpits. The police officer looked around at the wrecked room, the broken windows, gave them a lecture about disturbing the peace and told them to clear up the mess in the road.

Left alone, Alex let Edward slither to the floor, ran water in the sink and splashed his face. The blood streamed from his nose and mouth and he was heaving for breath as he leaned against the wall. Edward staggered to his feet and fell down again. Alex took him a wet cloth. “Ere, wipe yer face.’

Edward held the cool cloth to his bleeding face.

‘Get out, Eddie, we’re quits.’

‘I’m going nowhere without you.’

‘It’s too late, Eddie, you’re too late, go away.’

‘I’m rich, don’t you understand? I’m rich!’

Alex dunked his head in the water and stood up, shaking the drops around him. ‘So am I... I don’t need you, I don’t need yer money, I don’t need nuffink, nobody.’

‘You married?’

‘Noooo! Fuck off!’

Edward picked up the remaining chair, set it down carefully and sat on it, folding his arms. ‘Will you just hear me out before you throw me out?’

Alex sighed, and at that moment the chair collapsed beneath Edward and he landed in a heap at Alex’s feet. Alex swore and hauled him to his feet yet again, and they caught sight of themselves in the mirror and started to laugh. Alex left his arm around his brother’s shoulders and they laughed, laughed at each other... and their roaring laughs turned into sobbing tears. They clung to each other like lovers, holding each other, afraid to let go. With tears streaming down his face, Edward held his brother’s broken and bloody face between his hands, kissed him, and Alex buried his head in his big brother’s neck.