Читать книгу Even the Dogs - Jon McGregor - Страница 8

Two

They carry his body through the city at dusk and take him away to the morgue.

And we see Danny, stumbling away from the garages at the back of the flats, tumbling down the hill like he’s about to fall, rubbing at his cheeks with the backs of his hands in great angry gestures which look almost like punches, wiping at the tears which haven’t yet fallen from a face still twisted with fear. Einstein beside him, snapping and whining and trying to keep up, held back as always by the weight of her broken

Had to find someone and tell them was all he could think. Had to find Laura and let her know, had to find Mike. But tell her what, him lying on the floor like that, one leg bent wrong under the other and one hand over his mouth like he could smell himself beginning to rot. Tell her what, he died peacefully, they took him in and did everything they could but in the end there weren’t nothing to be done. He didn’t suffer. Couldn’t tell her that. Didn’t know much about it but knew it weren’t nothing like that. He had all his friends around him when fuck

Through the darkened windows of the van we watch him, slipping and hurrying down the hill to the main road and the underpass and through the darkened windows we see the city passing us by, whole streets abandoned to the cold, faint shadows moving behind curtains backlit by a flickering pale blue. Christmas decorations dip and swing between telegraph poles and skeletal trees, hang from garage doors, trail from the lids of bins spilling over with crumpled paper and packaging foam. Coloured lights snap on and off in front-room windows, and around shop-front displays, and we follow him down to the bottom of the

Danny, were you the last one to see him?

Fuck should I know.

Was anyone there when you found the body?

Don’t know I didn’t hang around.

What did you do? Where did you go?

Fucking ran what do you think. What would you

He’d been away was what he’d tell the police. He decided. If they came looking for him, if they had a reason to come looking for him, which if he kept his mouth shut why would they. Unless some cunt. He’d been out of town. He’d gone to his brother’s house, for Christmas, he’d got the idea into his head that they could have a like a family thing for once. Danny and his brother Tony and Tony’s new wife and them two kids which weren’t even Tony’s. Weren’t much of a family. Weren’t much of an idea anyhow because Tony kicked him out on Boxing Day, like gave him a cold turkey sandwich and told him to fuck off but that was where he’d been and that was what he’d tell the police. If they showed up, if they took him in and asked him questions like

We’ve all known people dead but aint many ever seen it. Thought he’d look asleep or something but weren’t nothing like that at all. Was more like, what. Flies and maggots and stuff leaking over the floor. And the smell of it. Churns in your guts and comes pouring out your mouth like

Two days to get back from his brother’s, two days of walking and hiding in train toilets and jumping over barriers and sleeping in carparks and walking some more and carrying Einstein when her leg got too bad. Big fucking dog to carry but what else could he do. When it was his fault about the leg anyway. And this was the welcome he got, no cunt anywhere and Robert laid out dead and no clue what’s going on at all. Had to find Mike was the thing, Mike would sort it, Mike would know what was going on and what to do. But had to find Laura as well, had to tell Laura before some other cunt got there first. Like Ben or some cunt like that. Had to find somewhere to score. And his own brother had shut the door on him, had said

The driver talks to the policeman in the front, and for the first time we can hear what they say. Is this your first one, he’s asking, and the policeman says Yes, just about, first proper one like this, and the two men laugh and say You’ll soon get used to it, chap, it’s a busy time of year. We follow Danny down to the bottom of the hill, trailing his blankets, tripping over the sodden ragged hems of his jeans, turning to call and hurry Einstein along. The van sweeps up the sliproad at the interchange, and we lose sight of him for a moment as he stumbles down into the underpass, the weight of Robert’s body shifting in the bag between us as we turn on to the exit road and see Danny climbing the steps back up to the street. We see him shaking his head, taking off his glasses and wiping them clean across his coat, looking around for anyone he knows. But there’s no one. Only Einstein, sitting at his feet and panting hard, standing and following as Danny strides away again, the way he always walks, swinging his arms too hard like he’s struggling up a steep hill or something, off towards Barford Street and the markets, turning to look at us for a moment as we drive past and leave him behind, as we weave smoothly through empty one-way streets past loading bays and bus shelters and somewhere out beyond, accelerating away up the steep ramp of the flyover towards the bruise-dark clouds of the blackened

He saw Sammy, down on the corner of Barford Street and Exchange Street. Saw him from the top of the road but he knew it was him, weren’t no one else it could be. That great long beard and the screwed-up eyes and the way he shuffled around like his feet were chained together or something. Called out as soon as he saw him. Sammy, Sammy mate, Sammy, near enough running down towards him in his usual spot on the corner with the benches and bins and flowerpots and that sculpture of fuck knows what. Sammy mate. Sammy. His voice ragged and breathless with the pace he’d kept up since climbing out of the window at the flat. Sammy pissing into a bin, waving fuck off over his shoulder. Sammy, mate, I’m looking for Laura, have you seen her, do you know where she is? Sammy turning and putting his knob away, wiping his hands on his filthy trousers. Staggering with the effort of focusing on Danny, his mouth opening and closing like he’d already forgotten the question. Danny kept moving, kept walking, couldn’t stop, looked away up Barford Street and back the way he’d come, headed off up Exchange Street and away towards the Abbey Day Centre. Not seen no cunt for days, Sammy called out, and Danny turned back to listen, walking backwards for a moment to see if there was anything more. Not seen no cunt for days, Sammy said again, almost to himself, sitting down heavily and reaching around on the floor for his bottle while a pigeon circled in from a rooftop, settled on the edge of the bin, and pecked at a sodden kebab. You can fuck off an all, Sammy said when he heard it, spitting in its general direction, the phlegm trickling through his beard as the pigeon flew up over the marketplace, the station, the multi-storey carpark and the office block and the long dwarfed spire of the

It was the wife was the problem. Tony’s wife. She had a long memory was the problem. Tony had been all right before. He’d let Danny stop round there sometimes. He’d sorted him out. They went back a long way and they had a what, they had a way of dealing with things. Like an understanding. But then he’d met that woman. Nicola. Nicolah-di-dah. Danny had turned up one time, hadn’t been there for months on account of some previous misunderstanding which would have been forgotten by then if it was down to Tony, but now it was different because she was there, Nicola, his new wife, and it was obvious she thought she knew all about him. Grabbed hold of her kids and took them upstairs, didn’t even say hello or nothing, left him standing there in the lounge thinking what the fuck have I done this time. Tony said Sorry but she’s just kind of nervous and that, with the kids and everything, you know how it is. Nervous was right. The way she swept them off upstairs like that she must have thought he was like what, infectious or something. Like he could pass on all the troubles he had as easy as sneezing. Aint that simple, Nicolah. Aint that simple at all. Takes years of

Had to find someone and tell them. Jesus, what was it, what had happened. Leave town for a week and you come back and he’s dead and everyone else vanished like a fuck like a puff of what like a giro cheque. Passed a phonebox on Exchange Street and thought about calling the police from there and telling them about Robert. Found some fag-ends on the floor outside and put them in his tin. Got as far as opening the door before he changed his mind because what was he going to say, what was

Where did you go when you left the scene?

Ran down the hill, went under the underpass, went into town.

Why did you run?

I didn’t run but I was like scared and that.

Scared of what?

Don’t know, I was just scared.

Where did you go?

Was looking for someone.

Where did you

Through the market, down past the Lion and the newsagent’s and the bookie’s. Straight over the main road and across the roundabout and round the side of the old boarded-up warehouse to the hostel where he’d seen Laura that last time. Buzzed at the door but no one answered. Looked up at the windows but couldn’t see no one there. Pints of milk keeping cold on the windowsills, trainers and boots hanging out to air, but the curtains all shut and no sign of anyone awake. Looked in through the office window and saw that what’s her name Ruth on the other side of the bars, clicking away on the computer with her face all lit up by the screen. Banged on the window but when she looked up she only pointed back at the door. Fucksake. Buzzed at the door again and some other bloke’s voice came out the speaker going Sorry, mate, we’re not open yet, usually you’d have to come back at five but we’re full tonight, is there anything we can help you with? I’m looking for someone, Danny said, I’m looking for a friend, she’s staying here, I need to come in and talk to her. Bloke goes What’s her name and when Danny said Laura he didn’t say nothing for a minute then he said She’s not here. She was here a few days ago, Danny said, where’s she gone. Bloke said I can’t tell you that I can’t help you, mate. Danny said It’s fucking cold out here will you let me in so we can have a proper conversation or what, like she must be here, she was going to stay another couple of weeks at least. I need to talk to her. Bloke said I can’t help you, mate, sorry, and if that’s your dog we don’t let dogs in either, and then he didn’t say nothing else even though Danny kept buzzing and buzzing and shouting into the speaking grille. Banging on the office window didn’t help neither, the glass was all toughened and anyway the bars were there and Ruth didn’t even look she just kept clicking away on that fucking computer and what the fuck was she looking at that was so interesting anyway and why wouldn’t they tell him where the fuck Laura had

Through the alleyway past the memorial gardens, looking for fag-ends among the rosebushes and cider bottles, round the back of the council offices, checking the parking meters all down past the tyre fitter’s and the sofa warehouse and then up the ramp to the wet centre. Which was shut over Christmas and had a sign on the door saying where else the regulars could go for help if they needed it. Only most of them didn’t want to go nowhere else and were just sitting it out in the doorway until it opened again. Knew one of them, Bristol John, and asked him if he’d seen Laura or any of the others and he thought about telling him what had happened to Robert. But it was too late in the day to get any sense so he turned and kept going, past the council offices, the housing office, the shops on Exchange Street and the tiny almost hidden doorway of the Abbey Day Centre. Didn’t look like no one was there except Maureen and Dave and that bloke who’s always in the corner and never says a word except Cheers when they give him a cup of tea. Maureen looked pleased to see him. She always looked pleased to see anyone. Looked like someone’s auntie or granny with her cardigans and her white hair and her glasses on a chain around her neck but she never took grief from no one. I’ll have none of that from you she said, if anyone tried anything on, and that was usually enough to do the trick. Made Danny a cup of tea without asking, and started on talking about Christmas and New Year and where had everyone got to, her words coming out in one mouthful the way they always did like she was scared that stopping for breath would give someone the chance to turn away. Which they often did. She was all right but she had a lot to say. Danny didn’t sit down. He couldn’t. He looked in the games room, the laundry room, the toilets, the computer room, and he paced back through the lounge each time to make sure, like maybe this was all some game, some trick they were playing, and they were going to jump out and go ta-dah and all that. But there weren’t no one there and no one jumped out and no one said nothing. Maureen said There’s been no one in all day, love, there’s been no one here since Christmas Day. She said We had a bit of trouble here on Christmas Day mind you, we had a couple of girls overdosing in the toilets, the ambulance men came and sorted them out but still it doesn’t look good does it? They should have known we don’t have any of that sort of thing here. It gave us all quite a fright, really. So perhaps everyone’s just keeping out of the way after that, do you think, Dave? We had the police in asking questions and everything, I mean. Or maybe they’ve all just gone off to that new winter shelter, maybe they’ll be back when that packs in. Maybe the tea’s better there, she said, looking down at the tea she’d put on the table for Danny, wondering why he hadn’t drunk it yet. Danny taking off his glasses to fiddle with the tape on the broken arm, smearing them clean again and Maureen going Have you not had those seen to yet, love? You want to get them fixed up, they’re half falling off your face. Bloke in the corner just watching them both, his eyes half closed, his head wobbling like it was balanced on a plate and being carried aloft through a crowded room and Dave in the kitchen calling out Now then, Mo, no one does better tea than you. But no one there. Not Mike. Not Laura. Not Heather or Ben or Steve or Ant or any of that crowd. Just Maureen waiting for him to drink his cup of tea, and fetching a bowl of biscuits to take out for Einstein without waiting to be asked. Saying if I didn’t know better I’d be worried, only it’s like this sometimes, some days you can’t move for folk and other days you’re sitting around wondering what to do with

And if he found Laura what was he going to say. It’s about your dad. You’d better sit down. The thing is. And what was he thinking, like she’d be grateful or something, like she’d be pleased he was the one to have told her. Like that was going to make things easier. When she was all mixed up about him anyway, from not seeing or knowing him all those years, from her mum giving her all horror stories that she never knew were true or not. What’s it called. Conflicted. Said she hadn’t been able to remember what he looked like until she found some photos her mum had kept hidden, and then when she met him he looked all wrong. Told him about living with her nan, and then later just with her mum, and not knowing what to say when kids at school asked about her dad. But, fucksake. She can’t have been the only one whose dad weren’t around. He told her that, Danny did. One time when they were waiting together for a kid to show up with the gear. She said she’d always kept wondering about him and all that, hoping for a birthday card, thinking one year maybe he’d turn up on Christmas Day for a surprise. Her mum told her she wouldn’t let him in the house if he did. But, fucksake. The way she went on about it. One out of two aint bad. Should try living in a children’s home and see how fucking conflicted you end up then, he told

Off again past the back of the council offices, Einstein not wanting to leave the food behind but limping along beside him all the same. Past the alleyway down to the back of the shopping centre and through the multi-storey carpark and there still weren’t no one there. Could have told Maureen. She would have told the police for him. Out on to the Royal Square. Could have asked to use the phone and done it himself. They’d have to be told. What the fuck was he thinking. Couldn’t just leave Robert lying on the floor. Couldn’t just wait while someone else climbed in through the window or broke the door down and found him lying there like that. Tripped on the kerb by the taxi rank and fell on his knees, but so what if anyone saw. Einstein nudging at his ear to see if he was all right. Barking at him to get up. Had to tell someone else first, before he told the police, had to find out if anyone else knew, had to get things straight, things were all too fucking fucked up. Getting up again and stumbling past the office block with the indoor waterfall and that security guard who comes out from behind his desk as soon as anyone catches his eye. And if he found Laura what did he think was going to happen. She was going to cry on his shoulder or something. And then what. Kept walking because what else can you do. The underpass at the end of Station Street. Found some more fag-ends there. The steps. The canal towpath. Probably she wouldn’t even let him speak to her after last time after what happened the

Mike would know what to do. Danny thought. Mike might know who those two girls were who’d gone over at the Abbey. Wouldn’t be Laura though else Maureen would have said. Mike would know. Hard work hanging out with Mike sometimes but at least he generally knew what to do, in a situation, in a situation like this. Except they’d never been in a situation like this. Fuck. Thing to do now before anything else was find Mike, up at the Parkside squats where they’d been sleeping lately and find him there he must be there. But Laura. But needing to score. But Mike might have some would he fuck would he

If he hadn’t gone to his brother’s. If he hadn’t said all that to Laura. If he’d stuck with Mike. Then none of this would have

Bunch of people outside the Catholic church but it weren’t going to open for another hour or something and he had to get sorted first. They did a good lunch, but food weren’t important now. Wouldn’t keep it down anyway the state he was in. Looked to see if there was anyone he knew. Maggie, and Jamesie, and that girl Charmaine with the baby, standing there pushing him backwards and forwards in the buggy to get him back to sleep. Fucksake, when she first turned up on the scene. Weren’t long before she got a place in this mother and baby hostel but before that, Jesus. She’d told Laura about it. Left home because her mum was giving her a hard time about the baby, not giving her no help except a mouthful of You’re doing it all wrong and then her mum’s bloke said If you don’t shut that fucking kid up I’ll fucking shut it up for you. Which like she knew what he was capable of with her mum. She told them all this down the Housing, but all they heard her say was I left home, which meant they could give it all I’m sorry, love, you’ve made yourself intentionally homeless there’s very little we can do. Told Laura she spent three days and nights after that just walking around town. Specially at night, she said. Didn’t want to sleep nowhere, in case someone took little Ryan, you get me? What would I have done then? Just kept walking and walking until something worked out, getting all blisters and sores, tucking little Ryan into his buggy under blankets and coats and hushing him to sleep and wiping his tears away. Nicking jars of babyfood for him until she got arrested and someone got on her case and got this place in the hostel sorted out. I lost it a bit them nights though, she told Laura, I don’t know what I was up to really, I weren’t thinking straight or nothing. But you go different when you’ve got a kid though, know what I mean? Get like you’d do fucking anything for it. Three days and nights she just kept walking, singing like lullabies to little Ryan and walking all night and nobody noticed a thing. Even outside the Catholic church now she was standing a way apart from the others, pushing the buggy backwards and forwards and looking around in all directions, like standing guard or getting ready to

Climbed across the lockgates under the flyover, the black timbers glassed with ice, the canal water tumbling into the empty lock with a sound like the blood rushing in his ears. A few caravans and trucks parked up under the flyover, some kids burning cables on a bonfire but no one he knew so he climbed back across the canal and called Einstein and carried on along

Mike had told him hadn’t he, Mike had said he was better off not going, said there was no way his brother would let him in the house. So if he’d listened. He should have listened. Seemed like Mike was talking bollocks half the time but then he turned out right. Which was why he’d stuck with him. He’d helped out when Danny first showed up in town, when he’d got taxed for asking someone where he could score. Come up afterwards and offered Danny halves on a ten bag in return for a split on Danny’s next giro, helped him get the giro sorted and get a new address for it and all the rest. Waited three days while the giro came through and that was enough to set them up as partners, three days of thieving and begging and scoring just enough to keep from getting sick while they waited for the giro to come in. Which all went at once on the dark and the light and they got through it quick before anyone could find them and take it off

Jesus. Could do with some gear now. Would help. Would help him think a bit straight. Got his script from the chemist as soon as he got to town, before he went up to Robert’s, but that was hours ago now and it weren’t nearly holding him. Yawns coming on already and the rest would follow soon as. Had just enough for a bag from what his brother had given him when he’d slung him out of the house. When he’d said Danny take this I can’t have you here no more, not in your state, not with Nicola and the kids and everything, I’ve given you a chance but she’s had enough she’s all on edge. You understand don’t you, mate. Boxing Day. Nice one. You know how it is, with the kids, but take this and get yourself sorted. And happy fucking Christmas to you an all, brother. There’d been a bit of a scene then, shouting, banging, kids crying in the house and Nicola’s little red car getting its windows broken again but only once he’d taken the money. He was proud but he still needed the money. Found somewhere to score before setting off back. Not hard when you know what you’re looking for and it don’t take long. Scored just enough to hold him while he got to the chemist’s, and kept enough money back to sort him out after that. His own brother and he wouldn’t let him in the house. And if he had he wouldn’t have been the one to find Robert like that. Would have been one of the others and it would be them staggering around town now going mental with the sight of it instead of him. It was always, why was it always

Couldn’t get his usual man to answer the phone and he’d been trying all day. Cunt was probably still in bed. No one around to ask for another number but if he didn’t get sorted soon he was going to start getting sick he was going to

Down the steps by the locks beneath the railway bridge. The water dark and still and rainbow-slicked with oil. The railway arches fenced off to keep them out but he knew a way through. Dark inside, and a stink of piss and shit and soot but no one there. A heap of rotting blankets, a pair of split boots, cans and bottles and scraps of foil and card, an old paperback book ripped apart at the spine. But no one there. Something scratching and moving

Three days before Christmas Danny had last seen everyone. Up at Robert’s flat and everything had seemed fine back then. No one had much gear, there hadn’t been much gear around for a while, but there was plenty of benzos and jellies going around, plus the scripts. Nothing to get excited about but enough to keep anyone from getting proper sick. Plus some more drinks than usual and

Walked along the towpath looking in at the water, wondering where to score and wondering where to go for a dig when he did. Rolled a fag from the ends he’d found but he knew it wouldn’t do much good. A heron standing watch up ahead, shoulders hunched over, looking in at the water. Heaving into the air on its big baggy wings when Danny got too close, Einstein chasing on ahead and Danny thinking about the works in his bag. The note in his sock weren’t worth nothing if he couldn’t find no one selling. The heron settled on the opposite bank a hundred yards ahead, folding its wings and hunching its shoulders and dipping its ash-white head towards the water as Danny called Einstein back and scrambled away up the

Only one chair in the room and that was Robert’s. Everyone else sat on the floor. Leaning up against the wall which meant Robert was always sat at the centre of things with everyone around him. All his things in easy reach. His cans, his papers, his tobacco. Good job because it took him a lot of time and trouble to stand up and someone mostly had to help him. Big man like that. Drank all day and didn’t do anything else. Seemed like the deal was if people brought him food and drink they could hang out in his flat, and it seemed like a good enough deal. Brought him plenty of food enough. Never asked Danny no questions the first time Mike took him up there, and that was the way he liked it. Just about the only one who didn’t do gear, but never seemed bothered what anyone

Jesus though. A man like that. Didn’t look ill the last time Danny had seen him. But the others must have seen him after that, must have noticed something was wrong. Had to find them and ask them, had to make sense of all

Weren’t like Robert didn’t have people looking out for him. He did, he had all of us. Not like some of these other cunts, these ones who’ve got no one and are always looking over their shoulders. Like the old man in the wheelchair, getting taxed near enough every time he comes out the post office. Like that one that turned up at the soup run a couple of times, no one knew his name and he never spoke to no one and word was he was sleeping out in the woods. Wouldn’t catch Danny going out in the woods in the daytime let alone at night. Never know what’s going off in the woods, it’s all shadows and hiding places and furry fucking creatures running around after dark. Anything can happen. But some cunts have got no one and they’ve got to find somewhere to hide. But Robert had no one to hide from, he had all us lot looking out for him. It was a what was it an understanding. Weren’t it and

Laura she couldn’t she said but

Had to find

Fuck

The van drives quickly now, the men in the front run dry of conversation and impatient to be done, to be home, to be off the streets on a wind-cold empty day like this, and through the darkened windows we watch the city pass us by; long dark streets splashed with light, empty parks and flooded playing fields, boarded-up shops and fenced-off factory ruins, and we see Steve, almost, dimly, we see the place where Steve’s been staying, a boarded-up room above a shop with the birdshit and feathers scraped out and a mattress from a skip hauled in and the walls whitewashed with a tin of stolen paint. A light and a television running on power cut in from downstairs. The room kept tidy, always, and no rubbish left lying around but thrown out through the window into the yard. The yard full of cans and bottles and batteries and bits of scrap he’s brought back because it might be useful, because he’s got a plan to do the place up and claim squatter’s rights and make something of it. Car tyres and bike frames and planks of wood. Plant pots and cable and window-frames. A crowd of pigeons picking around in the corner of the yard, shifting at the sound of footsteps and flapping into the air as Danny pulls himself over the wall and falls awkwardly to the floor. He gets up again, wiping the filth from his hands and his coat, and he shouts up at the first-floor window. Steve! Steve! The pigeons swoop and circle overhead, settling on the sagging roof as Einstein barks and claws at the other side of the wall and Danny keeps shouting up. Steve it’s me! It’s Danny! Are you there, are you fucking there? His voice cracks, and he bends forward to hack and spit on the ground, his long bony hands resting on his knees, and he stays bent over like that for a moment, a long string of bile swinging from his mouth to the floor, and he straightens up and calls Steve’s name again. Steve where the

None of the others ever knew where Steve stayed, apart from Ant who stayed with him now and again. Only reason Danny knew was he’d helped Steve back there one night, dragging him along the towpath when he should have known better and left him lying in the bushes until morning. One time when Ant was in the cells. Not that he would have been any use anyway. Steve’s weak leg wet with piss and drink and his arm clamped round Danny’s shoulder. Only helped him out because he owed Steve from the last giro day, and when they got over the wall into the yard Steve sobered up enough to turn and hold him by the throat with his good hand and say You tell any bastard where I’m staying and I’ll murder you I’ll rip your bloody head right off. His voice quiet and slurred, his thumb pressing between the cords of Danny’s neck like a fishmonger finding his way to the bone. Which wasn’t what

He shouts again, his fists clenched by his side and his whole body straining up towards the window. Steve! Are you there are you fucking there? He picks up a handful of stones and throws them at the window, and they go arcing through the empty window-frame before clattering into the room where Steve lies, laid out neatly on his bed, a ghost of a smile twisting across his face and his eyes closed and Ant laid out against the opposite wall, the pigeons on the roof leaping up at the sound and scattering westward across the alley and the canal and the reservoir, climbing higher over the wooded hillside of the park and the dual carriageway beyond, their underbellies catching the last faint light of the day as we peer from the darkened windows of the van to watch them passing overhead, as we look down at the zippered bulk of Robert’s body between us and we remember he remembers we we

The ground a long way off and the branch in your hand a useless piece of dead wood and you’re falling through the

His brother still owed him from when they were kids, and he knew it. Danny had always helped him out back then, when he could, when they’d still been placed together, when it had been just the two of them against everyone else. Sitting in their room at night, whatever room they happened to be in that night because it kept changing. Talking about ways to get out and ways to find their parents and ways to go and live on their own somewhere with no care workers telling them what they could and couldn’t do. And every now and then when things had been bad his brother saying What were they like can you remember can you tell me what they were like? Which he couldn’t but he’d make out like he could, he’d say They were tall and Dad had red hair and sometimes a beard but then he got it shaved and Mum was a bit fat and she was always baking cakes she used to let us help and they had loud voices they both did a lot of shouting. His brother didn’t know better. He’d only been a baby when they’d been removed. Might have been true he could hardly remember himself but so what. He could remember the house sometimes but so what. Thick brown curtains in the front room and he could only ever remember them being shut. But so what. Red rug on the floor where he used to play with these wooden bricks and they were the only toys he could remember being in the house. Ants on the kitchen floor. Everything quiet one day, no one around when normally there were crowds of people in and out the house stepping over and around him and shouting and laughing and saying Will you get that fucking kid to bed. Putting one brick on top of another until the whole pile falls over. Door bangs open and people everywhere. Shouting and crying and footsteps up and down the stairs and someone picking him up and she smelt different she didn’t smell right. His brother didn’t know about that, he’d never asked and he’d never been told. No one had ever asked. And if they had. If they’d asked him how it felt. He’d say It’s like when you’re climbing a tree and the branch breaks off. You’re still holding on to the branch but you’re falling through

Why didn’t you contact the police immediately?

Don’t know, I was just, I was in a state.

Where did you go?

I went everywhere, I was looking for someone.

Where did you go?

I went to the Abbey Day Centre, and the Sally Army, but there was no one there.

And then you went to this squat, to your friend’s squat.

Yeah but he weren’t there.

And after that you went to

Went to Heather’s place, the supported-housing place, but she never answered the door. Kept buzzing her but she didn’t answer. Walked round the block and came back and buzzed again and kept buzzing and shouting up at the window. All the curtains shut. Buzzed all the other flats and got no reply. They couldn’t all still be in bed but cunts never answered the door. Walked round the block and came back and buzzed again and shouted up at her window and

She was older than all of them, older than Robert by a few years maybe, and this was the first time since she was a teenager she’d had a place of her own with an address of her own and a proper lock on the door. Weren’t allowed visitors but she’d told them so much about it they might as well have been on a tour themselves. Coathooks by the door, a table and chairs and a bed by the window, a shower and a toilet and a sink and a cooker and a fridge. And everything so clean, everything painted white and the furniture brand new almost and all that light pouring in through the windows. Weren’t allowed visitors and weren’t allowed drugs and they checked up on that so she still spent most of her time at Robert’s. But even so. It’s somewhere to go though Danny, she told him. It’s somewhere safe to keep my stuff and listen to my music and sort of look out the window and think about what I’m going to do next. Didn’t like thinking about that too long so she was always back at Robert’s soon enough. But she weren’t there now and she weren’t

Found a phonebox by the King George and tried calling his man again from there. Nearly out of shrapnel but there was no credit on his phone so it was all he could do. And still no cunt answering the phone. Just voicemail, like anyone was going to leave a message. Always hard to get them out of bed before dinner time, cunts always making the most of their own supply late into the night before, but this was something else, it was late in the day and someone would always be on it by now. Halfway out the box and he thought about phoning the police again. Got as far as some woman going What service do you require before he banged the phone down, didn’t make sense what did he think he was going to say

I found this body but it aint nothing to do with

I climbed in and out the window but I aint done

I don’t know

And still the van drives on, and the men in the front seats talk about what they’ll be doing for New Year, and the policeman asks his radio for confirmation that the photographer will be in attendance, and Robert’s bagged and rotten body lies between us, limp and heavy, like a roll of carpet being trundled out to the city dump. Shouldn’t be like this. Should be different, should be like it would have been in the old days, like we should be carrying his body ourselves, like bearing him high on a what on a bier of broken branches, hurrying him out to the burying ground. Burning bundles of herbs and that to hide the smell, and people coming out of their houses and lowering their heads and going Sorry for your troubles la, if there’s anything we can do. They should be closing the streets. There should be a piper or a fucking what a Sally Army band or something, TV cameras, helicopters. We should stop the van now we should climb out the van and fucking raise him up on our shoulders with our boots clattering in slow fury along the barricaded streets the traffic-jammed junctions and all the drivers getting out their cars and a big fucking crowd behind us as we turn off the main road and cut through that new business park with all them office workers coming out in their white shirtsleeves to watch us pass and all the drinkers outside the King George pouring their beer at our feet as a like sacrifice or a what a tribute to a life fully lived and then all the women stood along Forest Road like a guard of honour in their short uniforms and polished boots stepping out into the road to stuff folded twenty notes into his burial shroud as we keep walking carrying him high carrying him past the church and right through the gates of

The van turns into Forest Road, and the men in the front seats fall silent at the sight of the women stationed at intervals along it. We see someone talking to one of them, a red-haired woman in a black leather skirt and boots, and as we pass by we see that it’s Danny again, his head lowered, trying to roll a cigarette, his hands shaking and the scraps of tobacco spilling out as we

He couldn’t remember her name but he knew she knew Laura. Thought she might know something. Thought she might have seen her, said You seen Laura lately and she looked back at him and said You what? with her eyes all narrowed and dark. Stepping back and still looking up and down the street in case she missed something, and her mates further down the road looking over. He said You know Laura don’t you, I thought I’d seen you with her, only I’ve been looking for her, I’ve been looking around and I can’t find her. Something’s happened, I need to find her, I need to talk to her. Most he’d said all day by a long way and he could really feel it happening now he could feel the rattle coming on and weren’t nothing much he could do. She said What? What’s happened? He said Her dad, something’s happened to her dad, I can’t really, I mean I want to talk to her first, I need to. She said Oh fuck. She said No, love, I aint seen her. She said You need some help rolling that fag you look done in. He said You got any gear you know where I can get any gear, my man’s not answering. He said I’m fucking desperate and she smiled and backed away and said Aint we all. Ask him, she said. In that car. Bloke looked at him as he walked over, looked at Einstein, slid the window open a crack and nodded like he was giving him permission to speak. I’m after some gear, Danny said quietly. Ten pound dark. He was getting the note out from his sock even while the bloke was shaking his head. Sorry, mate, he said, I’m all out. Supply problems innit. Danny holding the money out in disbelief, Einstein lifting a foot to scratch at the car door, and the bloke going Is your dog stupid or what get him the fuck away from my car, you four-eyed

Could feel the note in his sock as he walked away, crumpled and damp with sweat and whatever else his feet were wet with. Weren’t used to having cash on him for that long. Weren’t normally a problem spending the stuff but more like getting hold of it in the first place. Begging off people on their way to work, selling the Issue, thieving razors and batteries and meat and anything else they could sell in the pub, begging again at lunchtime, keeping up with whoever was on giro day and getting something out of them. And counting the money all the time, taking care of the pennies until there was enough for a ten-pound bag to keep them going while they did it all over again. Three or four times a day, measuring out the hours, filling their pockets with shrapnel until they could change it for gear. Having a dig and a nod and then getting up and starting all over again. Full-time job just keeping the rattles off. Takes a lot of effort maintaining the thing, a lot of fucking what, resourcefulness. The girls on the road did the best, made the most money and bought the most gear, the best gear. The sight of them there and they weren’t dressed for the weather. Must be good business even today. Must be good business every single day of the year. Basic law of supply and desire and there’s always a desire for that. Don’t need no marketing and don’t never see them going short of

Wouldn’t mind a bit himself sometimes. Other priorities most of the time but just now and again. A bit of, fucking, come over here and get some, fucking, how you like that and give us your, oh, fucking

Other things to worry about now though, such as

Down by the canal and the sickness rising in him, the rattles taking hold. Cramps in his stomach, aching in his legs his back his bones. Pulling down his trousers behind a bush because he can’t keep it from rushing out, black and steaming on the frozen ground and nothing to clean himself with, nothing to do but pull up his trousers and try to do something about it later. When he gets the chance, if he gets the chance, when he’s scored and sorted and feeling able to face it. Sweating and cold and feeling it badly now and where’s Mike when you need him. Can’t get rid of the cunt most days and now he’s

Shouldn’t have gone to his brother’s house. Should have known it wouldn’t make no difference it being Christmas. If he’d wanted to play families he should have stayed at Robert’s with the others. Or he should have gone and seen Laura again and made up for the time before. Probably it was too late now. Was always too late was how it felt sometimes. Already felt too late the first time he met her. Which was when, hanging around outside the Catholic church waiting for the lunch project to open and she asked him for a smoke and he actually had some tobacco so that felt like the first thing that had gone right for days, the way she looked impressed, the way she smiled when he said Don’t tell no one and said I won’t if you won’t. Like it meant something else. Like it meant anything. Cracked red sores around her mouth which opened up when she smiled. Dark sagging skin beneath her eyes. Her face pinched and pale and her hair thin and lank but it weren’t hard to think she’d been fucking gorgeous one time but not for a while. Rolled a fag for her and she said Oh cheers mate you’re a diamond you’re a star. Bobbing up and down on her toes like she was cold but it weren’t a cold day at all. Scratching her neck and scratching the back of her head and scratching her face and when she lit the fag she sucked so hard he thought she might smoke the whole lot in one go. Obvious it was more than tobacco she had a craving for. Obvious that tobacco weren’t hardly making her feel better at all. Soon as she turned away Mike was there in his ear giving it all You don’t wanna

Left at the boarded-up petrol station with the weeds where the pumps used to be, weaving up through the estate between the railway and the ringroad, turn left turn right, turn left turn right, past all those white walled houses with cars parked in the gardens, and the low wooden fences mostly broken, and ugly-sounding dogs jumping up behind the thin front doors. Two lads waiting by a phonebox on the corner, pacing and fidgeting and looking around so he said You waiting to score? Two lads looking at each other. One of them said Yes, mate, why, you looking? If you wait up here you can buy a bag off our kid as long as you split it. Other one said You got the time, mate, and Danny took his phone out to have a look, and that was a mistake because one of them punched him in the face and took the phone and told him to fuck off. Nothing you can do when that happens and it was his own fault. Einstein started barking and jumping up at them but he pulled her away and legged it down the road, slipping on some ice on the corner and smacking his head on the cold hard ground but clambering up and grabbing his glasses and running again in case the blokes came along for more. What else can you do you can’t do nothing always some cunt after the last little bit you

Jesus believe I’d be a generous man if I’d ever had the chance

And what’s your excuse la

Or if we lived by the sea, if we were fucking Vikings or something, we’d put him in a boat and send him out on the water all ablaze and that. Whole crew of us, all his family and friends, carrying him down to the shore with all the things he’d need for his final journey, like his sword and shield, his armour, his helmet, his what his breastplate and that, plus the women carrying flowers and baskets of fruit, bread, meat, a fucking what is it a flagon of wine and put it all in the boat with him and cover it with straw and put our grievous fucking shoulders to the creaking timbers of the boat and push him out across the wet sand to the sea and throw a match in and watch him burn as he drifts further

A what is it a breastplate

If it hadn’t taken him so long to get back he’d have some gear by now. He could have been there with Robert, he could have stopped whatever it was that had happened. He’d have some gear now and he wouldn’t be rattling like this. And probably Laura would be there, at the flat, and he wouldn’t be chasing around looking for her, looking for anyone, looking for someone to tell. She’d be sitting on the floor by Robert’s chair, tying and untying her bootlaces, talking to him quietly or getting him drinks or making sure he had something to eat. Or she’d be sitting on the bed in the little front bedroom, the only bed in the flat, the bedroom which had been hers when she was a kid and which she’d moved into for a while when she first came back to live with her dad. The room where she went for a dig because he said he didn’t want to watch anyone doing that least of all her. Most people used the kitchen but she always liked to go in there. Probably Heather would be in there as well, hoping to share some, helping Laura find a vein. Sometimes when he saw them sitting in that room together, if he walked past the doorway and glanced in, it looked like some mother and daughter thing they had going on. They were the right ages at least. Heather with her arm near enough round Laura’s shoulders, and if they noticed him there they’d look up like they’d been telling each other secrets. Which maybe they had. They had enough secrets to tell, everyone

Like that kid Ben, the way he was always smiling to himself, always trying to wipe the smile away with his hand. Like he had some secret that was too good to share with Danny or Mike or any of them, like he was saving it for someone better. No reason to have him hanging around with them except he always seemed to have money. That was one thing. But then he kept doing things like he would go teasing Einstein with a bar of chocolate or something, all waving it over her head and making her turn circles the wrong way so she’d fall over on her bad leg. Laughing away and making out like he didn’t mean no harm. And then a while back when they were waiting by the phoneboxes and he goes I tell you what though mate you should have seen Laura last night she was well out of it, she was all white as a sheet and mumbling, you’d have loved it Danny, and I’ll tell you a secret right, I’d have fucking loved to have taken her round the

When did you last see him?

I’ve told you that already.

When did you last see him alive and well?

Aint never seen him alive and

Down an embankment and back on to the canal towpath, falling and catching his leg on a tree stump, ripping his trousers open and finding blood when he touched his hand to his leg. Einstein beside him still, and he could tell from her whimper that she was hungry again. Should have let her finish the food Maureen had put down at the day centre. Should maybe go back there anyway. Maybe the others would be there by now, maybe someone would be there who knew where they’d gone, or someone who could give him a number to score. He didn’t know what to do but he got up again and he kept walking. What else could he do. The black canal water slicked with oil and no boats out on it. No one fishing. Keep walking because what else can you do and something will always come of it in the end. Cut through the bushes into the empty supermarket carpark, and it was a long way to the road with all those cameras twitching and turning to see him on his way. Phonebox on the corner by the fried-chicken place so he gave his dealer another go, no answer again and he hung up quick enough to get the shrapnel back this time, didn’t even think about calling the police he had to find a had to score he

Fucking, every day like this, trying to keep our heads above the water. Or more like trying to keep our heads above like boiling tar or something and some cunt always trying to push us back under the

Last time he’d seen Laura had been in her room at the hostel. Tiny room with a single bed and not much else. Two of them lying there on the bed and it was warm and dry at least. First time he’d managed to score for a few days, and she’d offered to sneak him in the room in return for a share. Seemed like a good deal to him. Got in through the fire escape and she said she weren’t bothered about trouble off the staff because she was leaving soon anyway. They’d cooked up as soon as they got in the room, and done each other, and there weren’t many things better than when she dug it in him. She was all frantic and fidgety most of the time, like both of them were, but when she got that needle in her hands and found a vein for him she went all still and slow and tender. Looked him in the eye as it went in. Was something else. A little piece of something like he wanted. Good gear as well, better gear than they’d had for a while, they tested out a small hit first and didn’t need to go back for no more. Near enough gouching and felt good like back in the days. She asked him where he’d got it from, told him to make sure he told the others how good it was. Tell them to be careful and that. Lying there smoking, and each time he rolled one for her she said Cheers mate you’re a diamond you’re a star. Turned out she said that to everyone not just him. So that was something else that didn’t mean nothing. To go with the rest. Her keyworker had got her the room because she was going for a rehab place in the New Year, it was all lined up and her keyworker had said she should try and keep away from the usual crowd over Christmas. You’ve been so strong to get this far, he’d told her. That was the way they talked. You don’t want people talking you out of it, he’d said. She hadn’t told no one but she was telling him now, on that narrow bed. That was something. They were lying close together but it weren’t like that, he’d thought it would be for a while but it weren’t. None of them had the energy or the time for that, not when it took all day just getting the money together to score. Lying on the bed and she said Danny believe, I’m going through with it this time. Which he’d heard before. I’ve had enough, she said, I never wanted to get into it this far, I want to be clean again, you get me, I’m going to be clean. Turning to him with her hazel-green eyes too close to focus, her voice all warm and blurred and her saying Danny you do believe me don’t you? And for a minute he’d seen the two of them somewhere else, somewhere clean, a brief and lonely vision of them lying clean and healthy in a big wide bed of their own, a car in the driveway, two cars in the driveway, jobs to go to, his contact lenses in a little case on the bedside table, the smell of coffee and bread drifting in from a spotless kitchen at the other end of the house and the two of them clean and naked in bed beneath soft white sheets, without fear or shame, without scars or sores or bruises or scabs, nothing to hide as they woke to the open window of a clear new day, the breeze blowing in from outside and carrying with it the smell of cut grass, the postman whistling, the warmth of spring and all that bollocks. She looked at him, her mouth scabbed and cracked, her bitten fingers pulling at her greasy hair, and she went Danny believe this time it’ll be different, this time I’m going through with it all. Which made him laugh because she’d asked him to believe that before, just about everyone he knew had asked him to believe that before. Spent his life being asked to believe things that turned out to be bollocks. I’m going clean. I’ll pay you back next week. This is only a temporary situation. You’ll see your parents soon. If you keep your mouth shut and keep still this won’t

Went to the new winter shelter like Maureen had said but weren’t no one there. Sign on the door saying it was only open after seven and even then you had to be referred. Didn’t seem like anyone he was after was likely to have got themselves referred. Went round the back of the old timber warehouse near the shelter, he’d slept there a few times but it kept getting burnt out and they kept fencing it off. Weren’t even worth the trouble of sleeping there, it got too busy and there were too many people you wouldn’t want to turn your back on let alone sleep in the same place. Always fights and worse going off in there. Saw Ant there one time taking a bloke down with a half-brick in the face. Kept hold of it for about an hour afterwards and kept saying the miserable twat should be happy I couldn’t find a whole one but, the kid shouldn’t have opened his

About a million things in his life he regretted, but laughing at Laura like that was top of the list. If he could take it back. If he could go back and tell her. If he could say Laura, mate, of course I believe you. Things will be different this time. Which was bollocks but it wouldn’t have been hard to say it instead of laughing, instead of still laughing even while she was pushing him off the bed, sitting up and throwing her fag at him, pushing him and punching him and telling him to Fuck off fuck off fuck off get the fuck out of it. They’d still be lying there now if he hadn’t laughed. Would they. But what. So what. If ifs and buts were ten-pound bags he’d have gone way over by now. And he’d laugh all over again because the way she said it, the way she went This time it’s going to be different with her eyes all wide and nodding like she was a little girl telling him about Father Christmas, it would still make him laugh. It was funny. It was too funny. Five years he’d been using and just about every user he knew came out with it eventually. Fuck this Danny I’ve had enough I’m going to get clean I’m going

Came out on Barford Street and back to the junction where he’d seen Sammy before, where he always saw Sammy and he was still there now. Sat on his bench working his way through those cans. Sammy mate, I’m looking for Laura, I’m looking for Mike. Have you seen them? Sammy? Sammy looking up at him slower than that woman at the benefits office. His eyes all screwed up, like the failing light was giving him pain. Looked like he’d forgotten the question by the time he’d looked up so Danny asked him again. Still had to wait for the answer and it came out one word at a time.

Not seen

no cunt

for

Two of them laid out together on the narrow bed but it weren’t never going to be like that. And where was she now. What would she say when he told her. Would she

Mike would know what to do. Danny thought. Mike would be at the Parkside squats and would know what was going on, what had happened, what to do. Might even have some gear or know where to get some where to

Didn’t even need to be like that anyway sometimes, with Laura. Sometimes just, it was like being mates, like they were ten or fifteen years younger and still bunking off school and having a laugh. Like that time he needed to get Einstein some decent food and they planned it all out like a bank job, left her outside Tesco’s as a four-legged lookout, three-and-a-half-legged, but then once they were in there they didn’t do nothing clever just grabbed an armful of tins each and ran. Got halfway up the street, laughing so much they kept dropping the tins, and realised she was still sitting all to attention outside the shop. Fucking, ears pricked up and everything. Had to sneak back and call her and it still took her a while to come, and Laura going She’s not the smartest fucking dog on the block is she, she’s not exactly a genius or nothing. Things like that and it kept him going but it didn’t mean

Fucking Sammy. Sitting there all day like the lord of the manor, like a watchman or something, and no one ever gets a straight answer out of his mouth. Never goes in the day centres or nothing, never see him in the benefits office or none of that. Must have like a keyworker sorting it all out. Lives in one of those supported-housing places on The Green, one of the ones for the old blokes who the keyworkers call what is it entrenched and everyone else calls fucked. Old blokes who’ve been drinking for years and can’t hardly remember why they started. They’ve probably got stories and that. But we aint got the time for

Rattles trying to catch up all the time, and every day gets harder to keep ahead. Like that time the police had some big day of action with all cameras and battering rams and whatever and for about two and a half days no one could score a thing. Ended up riding it out in some old caravan he’d broken into down the allotments, laid out on this mildew-rotten mattress that might as well have been a bed of fucking nails and needles and pins. Couldn’t get no rest, couldn’t get comfortable or keep still for the cramps and the pains shooting through him, the sickness and the diarrhoea pouring out long after it felt like there was nothing left. Scoring the new gear after that though, that was something, that was a lifesaver, like a, fucking, a parachute opening or

When it’s been on you once you don’t want it on you again. People talk about detox and if that’s what it means they can go to fuck. Hear that rattle dragging along behind you all day when you’re blagging and scoring and cooking and fixing and it’s all you can do to keep it

Funny thing with Laura was she always made out like she weren’t even an addict at all. That was a laugh. That was one of the first things they’d hit her with if she really did go to the rehab, before they even let her upstairs to unpack her bags and that they’d be giving it all There’s no room for denial here, Laura, the first stage is acceptance, Laura. She always made out that she’d got in to gear by mistake and now she was only taking enough to keep her going, just like to hold her while she sorted one or two other things out. While she sorted her entire life out. Just enough to keep me well, she said. Talking about applying for college courses and access courses and all that, talking about getting some housing sorted out but maybe some housing in another town because maybe she needed to move away from all the influences here. Just enough to maintain me while I sort

But still if he hadn’t laughed, she wouldn’t. Don’t bother talking to me again, she said. Don’t even come looking for me. I don’t want to see your four-eyed face again. I need people around me who can support my fucking choices, she said, and that was mostly something her keyworker had said and she was just saying it again like a parrot. So he’d called her a bitch and a slag, he’d taken his works and his gear and he’d told her to fuck herself, and he’d slammed the door so hard that more plaster came off the wall around the frame. It was automatic. It was part of the script. Never occurred to him to