the pub might clock us and walk inside and spill the beans. Never mind that Baz Munton would get on the blower to Lee and Jess.
‘All right,’ I says aloud, holding open hands up in front of us and nodding slowly. ‘Calm down.’ I took a deep breath, closed me lids, and listened to Legsy’s words in my head.
Trust me.
Trust yerself.
When I opened em again me eyes latched onto a fat arse wrapped in grimy denim shambling down the road fifty yard up yonder, away from the pub. It were the arse of Baz Munton, and it were swaying left to right across the pavement as the beer in his large belly sloshed hither and thither. I waited till he were out of sight. Then I turned the key.
Only she weren’t starting, were she. I tried her again a few times, but no. I opened my gob to call her summat rude but held me tongue. And thank fuck I did. A man who abuses his car—even verbally—is a man who don’t respect himself. I stroked the dashboard and said a few calming words. Then I had a think.
The idea came at us like a mugger out of a dark doorway. Well, it weren’t much of an idea, such as it were. More like the boost I needed to go through with the only thing I could do. I got out of the car and hared off down an alley.
Fuck knew how many pairs of Norbert Green eyes clocked us as I zigzagged through side street and shortcut, hopped over fence, and darted across lawn. But stealth weren’t of the essence. Long as it ended in a face-to-face with Baz it didn’t matter who seen us. The more the better, long as none of em was members of the Munton clan. No point in me blacking his eye or breaking his nose unless the whole of Mangel knew that old Blakey were behind it.
I got there in about five minutes. Or maybe it were one. Time didn’t matter. I were there, lurking behind the big oak tree in the graveyard halfway between the Bee Hive and Munton Motors. I could hear Baz’s boots crunching gravel further up the path, getting closer. It were too easy in a way. Too easy to do what I went and done.
That were my last moment, I reckon. Leaning there up against the bark, entertaining barely a flicker of a doubt that what I were up to were for the best. That were the last time I still had a choice. I didn’t have to go through with it. I could skulk away quietly, like an old tomcat who knows his prime’s behind him and henceforth he’ll take more hidings than he can give. And maybe I would have done that if I’d looked into the future and seen the shite that’d kick off shortly thereafter. But I weren’t no old tomcat and I couldn’t see into no future.
And Baz Munton were pulling level right about then.
‘All right, Baz.’
‘All right, Bla—’ He stopped, wobbled a bit, and gave us one of the dirty looks for which his family were famed. But there were summat else there and all. I wondered if he weren’t cacking his pants just a mite. Summat along those lines were going on anyhow, and that were enough for me. You latch onto these things when you finds em.
‘Woss matter, Bazzy boy?’ I says, laying it on thick like. ‘Lost yer voice or summat?’
He licked his lips. ‘What the fuck you doin’ here?’
‘Well, mate, I’m here so’s I can lean against this here tree, see? I mean, if I weren’t here in this graveyard I’d have to lean against some other tree. An’ I don’t want that. I want this un.’
He were becoming more himself as the seconds ticked by. ‘Best clear off before I gives you a smack.’
‘A smack, eh? Would that be a smack on the arse? I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you. Smackin’ a feller’s arse.’
He shot us another of them nasty glares. This time it were a good un, marred by none of the fear that he were surely feeling inside. It didn’t work on us, though. We was all alone. Far as I were concerned he were just a fat chicken who hid behind his brothers. They all was, when you thought about it.
‘Didn’t you hear us last night?’ he says. ‘I got some shite on you,
‘All right,’ I says aloud, holding open hands up in front of us and nodding slowly. ‘Calm down.’ I took a deep breath, closed me lids, and listened to Legsy’s words in my head.
Trust me.
Trust yerself.
When I opened em again me eyes latched onto a fat arse wrapped in grimy denim shambling down the road fifty yard up yonder, away from the pub. It were the arse of Baz Munton, and it were swaying left to right across the pavement as the beer in his large belly sloshed hither and thither. I waited till he were out of sight. Then I turned the key.
Only she weren’t starting, were she. I tried her again a few times, but no. I opened my gob to call her summat rude but held me tongue. And thank fuck I did. A man who abuses his car—even verbally—is a man who don’t respect himself. I stroked the dashboard and said a few calming words. Then I had a think.
The idea came at us like a mugger out of a dark doorway. Well, it weren’t much of an idea, such as it were. More like the boost I needed to go through with the only thing I could do. I got out of the car and hared off down an alley.
Fuck knew how many pairs of Norbert Green eyes clocked us as I zigzagged through side street and shortcut, hopped over fence, and darted across lawn. But stealth weren’t of the essence. Long as it ended in a face-to-face with Baz it didn’t matter who seen us. The more the better, long as none of em was members of the Munton clan. No point in me blacking his eye or breaking his nose unless the whole of Mangel knew that old Blakey were behind it.
I got there in about five minutes. Or maybe it were one. Time didn’t matter. I were there, lurking behind the big oak tree in the graveyard halfway between the Bee Hive and Munton Motors. I could hear Baz’s boots crunching gravel further up the path, getting closer. It were too easy in a way. Too easy to do what I went and done.
That were my last moment, I reckon. Leaning there up against the bark, entertaining barely a flicker of a doubt that what I were up to were for the best. That were the last time I still had a choice. I didn’t have to go through with it. I could skulk away quietly, like an old tomcat who knows his prime’s behind him and henceforth he’ll take more hidings than he can give. And maybe I would have done that if I’d looked into the future and seen the shite that’d kick off shortly thereafter. But I weren’t no old tomcat and I couldn’t see into no future.
And Baz Munton were pulling level right about then.
‘All right, Baz.’
‘All right, Bla—’ He stopped, wobbled a bit, and gave us one of the dirty looks for which his family were famed. But there were summat else there and all. I wondered if he weren’t cacking his pants just a mite. Summat along those lines were going on anyhow, and that were enough for me. You latch onto these things when you finds em.
‘Woss matter, Bazzy boy?’ I says, laying it on thick like. ‘Lost yer voice or summat?’
He licked his lips. ‘What the fuck you doin’ here?’
‘Well, mate, I’m here so’s I can lean against this here tree, see? I mean, if I weren’t here in this graveyard I’d have to lean against some other tree. An’ I don’t want that. I want this un.’
He were becoming more himself as the seconds ticked by. ‘Best clear off before I gives you a smack.’
‘A smack, eh? Would that be a smack on the arse? I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you. Smackin’ a feller’s arse.’
He shot us another of them nasty glares. This time it were a good un, marred by none of the fear that he were surely feeling inside. It didn’t work on us, though. We was all alone. Far as I were concerned he were just a fat chicken who hid behind his brothers. They all was, when you thought about it.
‘Didn’t you hear us last night?’ he says. ‘I got some shite on you,
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