Читать книгу Danny Yates Must Die - Stephen Walker - Страница 15

Sullen-faced, curled almost into a ball, the prickliest of hedgehogs, Danny sat on the Mission’s front step, watching the world fail to go by; no passers by, no wildlife, no points of interest. No weeds grew between the cracks in Tolly Street’s paving. Across the empty road, the sun was setting behind a shut-down multi-storey car park by a shut-down industrial unit by a shut-down burger bar by a shut-down bus stop. Each reflected a shut-down life back on itself.

Just two hundred yards away, the town’s main shopping street would be bustling with activity. But from here, in the city centre’s dog end, you’d never know it.

His feet were bare, Lucy having claimed his trainers as payment for him wasting her taxi time. She’d again worn her, ‘Don’t argue with me,’ look.

So he’d be stuck here forever, with the singing nun and her song of hats. Verse 155 drifted out from somewhere within the building, rhyming, ‘Architeuthis,’ with, ‘Truth is,’ with ‘Toothies.’

He stared at the pavement, trying to make it wither. It ignored him. He tried to wither the car park. It ignored him. They wouldn’t have ignored Lucy.

Rumble rumble rumble.

?

Rumble.

?

Rumble.

?

Rumble rumble.

He looked to the street’s far end. A tall fridge was climbing the slope, toward him. It clattered, rattled and jolted over bad paving join after bad paving join.

He rose to his feet, mouth drying in anticipation.

He’d noticed the tangerine, with yellow polka dot, dreadlocks bobbing along behind it.

‘Erm, hello?’ Danny walked along beside Teena Rama, sideways so he faced her while talking.

‘Hello.’ She concentrated on pushing her fridge; five feet eight, slightly too tall for her weight, Albert Einstein T-shirt, red (with white polka dot) skirt. Long bare legs. Small bare feet.

He watched his own small, bare, girl’s feet. He and she had a thing in common.

‘Am I bothering you?’ he asked.

‘Are you trying to?’ Her teeth were gripping the thin end of a wooden door wedge.

‘No. I’m not.’

She continued pushing the fridge, not looking at him. ‘Then you’re not bothering me.’

‘Do you remember me?’

‘Jog my memory; I meet too many people.’

‘I was in the shop.’

‘Which shop?’

‘The comic shop.’

‘Which comic shop?’

‘The one that collapsed.’

‘Two collapsed,’ she said.

‘They did?’

‘Subsidence. The town’s built over the world’s largest cave system. Don’t tell anyone I said so. I’ll deny it.’

‘You pulled me from the rubble. I never got a chance to thank you. Thank you.’

She frowned, recalling vaguely, ‘You were in the little comic shop?’

‘That’s the one.’ His spirits rose.

‘You’re Gary?’

‘Danny.’

‘Danny?’

‘Danny.’

Still pushing, she looked at him. ‘You’re the erection boy?’

‘There’s no need for embarrassment, Gary; I’m gorgeous. That’s not boasting, I have pie charts to prove I’m gorgeous.’ She strolled alongside Danny, hands loosely clasped behind her back, enjoying the sunset. ‘Upon meeting me, gay men turn straight, straight women turn lesbian. Straight men become ultra-heteros, setting themselves a helpless quest for my seduction, driven like lemmings by urges beyond their control. I feel sorry for them.’

Grunt, strain, wheel-squeak wheel-squeak. Teeth gritted, blood pressure soaring, Danny shoulder-pushed her rock heavy fridge up yet another stupid hill as best he could, already regretting having offered. The things he’d do to impress a girl. And she wasn’t impressed, he could tell. It was hard to be impressed by a man having a seizure.

Did girls go to these lengths to impress boys? If so, why didn’t boys ever notice? He studied her flawless face, unable to imagine her ever having had to go to any lengths to impress anyone.

She said, ‘Involuntary erection, in a young man with hormones still in full swing, is all but unavoidable in my presence. As a doctor, I’d be more concerned if you didn’t react that way. Close your eyes.’

‘Are you going to kiss me?’

She gave a look that suggested not. ‘Just close your eyes.’

He closed them.

‘Imagine me,’ she said.

‘Okay.’

‘Where do you see me?’

‘In a field.’

‘Surrounded by?’

‘Big toadstools.’

‘Next to?’

‘A rabbit warren.’

‘And I’m …?’

‘Lying by a burbling, little fountain.’

‘Am I naked?’ she asked.

No reply.

Again; ‘Am I naked?’

‘No.’

‘Am I in a state of near undress?’

‘No.’

‘Am I half dressed, like a brazen hussy, with you about to administer the seeing to I’m asking for?’

‘No.’

‘I should be.’

‘You’re not.’

‘That’d be the standard fantasy I’d induce in your personality type.’

‘It’s not mine.’

‘Are you telling me the truth, Gary?’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

He opened his eyes. ‘Can we change the subject?’

‘To?’

‘Where’re we taking this fridge? You do know the council tip’s the other way?’

‘That’s where I got it. I’m taking it home. I want to test it.’

‘For?’

‘Time travel potential.’

‘Time …?’ At the hill’s crown, he stopped pushing. Worn out, he leaned back against the fridge, sank to his knees and tried to regain his breath. The world was purple and spinning.

She dropped the door wedge to the ground, kicking it into place beneath a fridge castor. ‘You probably know time can be frozen. You may have done it yourself, setting your freeze box to nought degrees Kelvin; Absolute Zero. A switch, on the back of all fridges, allows you to do so. Amazingly, most people don’t even know it’s there, not having bothered to read the instructions fully. Flick it left, time stands still. Flick it right, time accelerates. But what if you lower temperatures further, into negative values? Then time runs backwards.’

‘Are you winding me up?’

In fading light, she clambered onto the fridge, sat cross legged atop it, and looked down at him. ‘Within two weeks, this battered frigidaire,’ clungk, her knuckles rapped it, ‘may be the world’s first functional time machine. Weird Science, I hold several doctorates in it.’

He gazed up into deep green eyes, trying to imagine them travelling through time atop that fridge. But somehow, no matter how hard he tried – and he tried hard – he could only imagine her naked in a field of strangely phallic toadstools.

‘You were sat outside the Seaman’s Mission?’ she asked.

‘I’m staying there, between homes.’

‘Are you a seaman?’

‘I’d rather not go into that.’

She went quiet, thinking, finally deciding, ‘I suppose you could stay at my place.’

‘You mean it?’

‘I could do with the company. Since arriving in this town, I seem to have spent all my time talking to the walls. Plus, I’d like to further research the problem of you being unable to imagine me naked.’

He scrambled to his feet, pulse quickening at the prospect of moving in with her. ‘I can imagine you naked,’ he insisted, hoping to impress her with his etiquette. ‘I just choose not to.’

‘Even odder.’

‘What’s the rent?’ he asked, like it mattered.

‘No rent.’

‘Bond?’

‘No bond.’

‘References?’

‘No references.’

‘Demons?’

‘Demons?’ she asked.

‘Are there any head-sucking demons?’

‘Not that I’ve noticed. Do you want me to get you some?’

‘No chance.’ And not altogether successfully, he fought back the urge to laugh like an idiot. ‘Are there any catches at all?’

‘None. Just a place to live and the pleasure of my company. So, how about it?’