Boys and Girls (44 page)

‘Jesus, Blackie …!'

‘No no, Alan. Got to be done. Got to be out of here. Got to get rid of him. Well, boy? More money than you've ever seen. Speak. Last chance.'

Harry looked up at him.

‘Cash …?'

‘Got it right here in my pocket. Fifty-pound notes. Four thousand. Well?'

Harry stood up, and was smiling.

‘I'll take it.'

Black nodded briefly and hauled out of his inside pocket a thickish manila envelope. As he was counting out the money,
he beamed over broadly to Alan, who was appearing relieved. Harry was agitated, and biting his lip.

‘You'll sign this,' barked Black, very curtly. ‘It's no more than a receipt. And it must be understood that this is immediate. This happens right now. From this moment onwards you will have nothing further to do with Susie. Understood?'

Harry held the money and nodded dumbly.

‘Right,' he said. ‘Got you.'

There was a brief bit of nonsense at the front door – Black just stamping away, Alan having instinctively half-extended his hand and then withdrawing it sharply when he saw that both of the boy's were filled up with cash. Harry watched the two of them walk to the car, his mouth now jerked by a spasm of glee. He slammed shut the door and ambled the length of the hall, eyes alight, though seemingly in a dream. He went into the back room this time, the used-to-be dining room, and dropped the packets of notes on to the table.

‘Bloody Jesus. You won't believe what just happened …' he said quite quietly.

‘Fucking
hell
 …!' screamed Amanda, jumping up at the sight of it. ‘Jesus, Harry – what the—?'

‘It's just so like incredible. I don't believe it …'

‘What, Harry –
what
? Where did you—?'

‘It was your Dad. I can't believe it …'

‘My—?! What the fuck are you—?!'

‘Your Dad. It was him at the door. And some other old fucker. Jesus, man! I so can't
believe
it …!'

Amanda was shaking him now because he'd gone and had this like really fat spliff, right, just before the doorbell had rung, and now with all of this – shit, all of this fucking
money
 – he just seemed like so out of it. God – if I couldn't see it and like feel
it for myself, OK? All this cash. I'd think I was tripping too – and I only had like what? Couple vodkas. Because man – this day, OK? Started weird and just got weirder. Yeh see – what I decided to do is like make a couple of new Play-Doh dolls? Because my Harry one, I'd torn that to bits just the other night, OK, and now I needed one of my Mum as well to stick like fucking great skewers in? And then I thought no – fuck that. What's the point of messing about with kid's stuff when I can do the real thing? I had to get them, OK? Really like hurt them for what they'd done to me. Because it's so a bummer getting dumped – but when like the guy is dumping you for your
mother
 …! Oh please. So at first I'd just gone – OK, fine: you fuck up my life, I can fuck up yours. And I did try – I did all that yuck stuff with Black and I might have gone on with it if Dad hadn't come in … but later, ee-
yow
! So sick. I mean he's just like so
old
, you know? Stinking of fags and whisky. And then I thought of Harry, and how I could kill him. I really wanted to, and thought of all the ways. Knife in the bath is what I liked best – to see his long and wavy hair in all that like
red
? And then I guess I'd go to prison or whatever, but I'd be bound to get out soon because like everybody does. And Mum, she couldn't have him then, could she? If he was all red and dead and everything. So I thought OK then – that's what I'll do: kill Harry. And I had a little drink or two and I went right over. When he opened the door, I crashed right in because I didn't want him like shutting it in my face like the last time I was there, the fucking shit.

‘Right, Harry – I am
so
coming in, OK? Just don't give me a hard time, right?'

‘Oh hi, Amanda. My parents are away. Come in.'

Amanda looked at him. ‘Yeh …?'

‘Yeh.'

So Amanda sauntered into the hall and then remembered that she'd brought this flat half-bottle of Smirnoff especially so that she could smash it against the wall and cram the jagged edge into his jugular, and so she attempted to do that but it just wouldn't break, and now she actually felt a bit drunk.

‘What the fuck you doing, Amanda?'

‘Don't you – don't you fucking talk to
me
! I'm going to kill you, Harry, for what you've done.'

‘Jeez, Amanda – I only chucked you out because of my
parents
. They could hear everything. Had to tell them you were nuts.'

‘I'm not talking about that! You so
know
what I'm talking about! What do you mean –
nuts
 …?'

‘Let's go in the back room, yeh? You wanna drink?'

‘No I don't fucking want a—! Got any vodka …?'

‘Yeh, pretty sure. So what you been up to, Amanda?'

‘Listen, Harry – you're so not getting this. I'm here to
kill
you!'

‘Why? Here – here's some vodka. Want anything in it?'

‘
Why
?!
Why
?! Because you're bloody screwing my, oh shit –
mother
, that's fucking
why
, Harry!'

Harry put down the bottle and just looked at her.

‘Man. You
are
nuts.'

‘Oh
Jesus
, Harry! No – nothing in it, just as it is …
Jesus
, Harry! You're not, like –
denying
it?'

‘I don't know what you're talking about. I've only ever seen your mother once – Susan, isn't it? Yeh. And that's when she came to tell me not to see
you
. And that you were pregnant. Which you're not. Weird, yeh?'

‘Oh yeh
right
! I
so
don't believe you. Nearly every bloody evening I've like watched her getting all like tarted up and
coming over to see you. To –
fuck
you. You think I don't
know
 …?'

‘Coming where? Here? With my parents? Joking. They only went away this morning. Whole house is empty. Cool, hey? Listen, Amanda – it wasn't
my
idea to stop seeing you. It was hers. I like you. You're real foxy.'

‘Yeh – but not like my mum. She's kinda
cute
. Remember?'

‘She is? I don't remember, actually.'

‘That's what you called her, Harry. Don't like tell me you forgotten.'

‘Well I have. Told you. Only saw her once. I maybe just said that to wind you up. Here – have another drink.'

‘Don't
want
a—! Yeh, OK. Look, Harry … you telling me the truth? You better be telling me the truth, because if you aren't I will so like kill you. Are you listening to me, Harry? Because I was really
sure
about this. I tell you, if you're, you know – like just messing with my mind, you are
so
dead. No … No … just take your hands off me, Harry. OK? No … You hear?'

‘But you like that, don't you Amanda? When I touch you there. You like that. Don't you? Don't you …?'

‘Just … oh God –
don't
, OK. Oh God, Harry … Oh
God
 …!'

‘Come on, Amanda. Come on. Whole house is empty, yeh? Come on. Come on. Why don't we …?'

Yeh because God – that Harry … well, it's just like the very first time when I saw him in the newsagents, he just like makes me just go so melty, you know? And his hands, his fingers – shit, he so starts me up. So we were there on the floor of the room and he was like ramming me really hard and stuff and I hadn't like had it for really ages and yeh, it was good, OK? And after, he lights up all this really gigantic weed and I don't do weed, right, so I had another drink. And the doorbell,
yeh … I kind of remember that … and then maybe, I don't know, slept a bit or something … and next I know he's back in the room with like a trillion quid all over the table. So yeh – this day, right? Started weird and just got weirder.

‘So what are you telling me now then, Harry? That my, God –
dad
just rolls up and gives you … Jesus, how much money
is
there here? Looks like …'

‘Four grand. Four fucking grand! Can you
believe
it …?'

‘Jesus. But … I just don't …!'

‘Well it was the same thing you were on about. I can't understand it. This money, I got it so I wouldn't see your mum again. No
listen
, Amanda –
listen
! Put that bottle down and just listen to me, OK? Watch my lips. I. Haven't. Been. With. Your.
Mother
. OK? I don't know why everyone thinks I have, but I haven't. What can I say? And who was that other guy? Little old guy?'

‘Hm? Oh – that's Black. He here too? He's Mum's other husband. It's complicated.'

‘Her
other
husband …? Oh man.'

‘Yeah. I know.'

‘But listen, Amanda – why does your dad think I've been—?'

‘Oh man. Because I told him. Oh shit.'

‘You told him? But why did you—?'

‘Oh shit oh shit oh
shit
! Because I thought it was
true
, you stupid bastard! Why else would I tell him?'

‘How the fuck should I know? Same reason you told your mum you were up the duff. Nuts. But listen – you now know it isn't. True. Don't you? You know it isn't true, don't you …?'

‘I … guess.'

‘OK then. Good. Well look – have another drink, OK? And then we'll decide what to do.'

‘How do you mean, decide what to …?'

‘With the money, Amanda. The money. Look at it all. We're rich!'

Amanda looked, and her eyes were glittering.

‘Yeh … we are, aren't we?'

‘And I'll be keeping my side of the bargain. I promised your dad that I'll never see his wife again, your mum – and I won't. I won't. The fact that I wouldn't have anyway, well … Course, I'll be breaking my word to your mum, because I said to her that it's
you
I wouldn't see again. Intense.'

And Amanda, on impulse, just hugged him.

‘This is kinda cool,' she was laughing. ‘Let's – go!'

‘Go where?'

‘Doesn't matter. Just – go, you know? Anywhere. Just away from here. Let's do it now. Let's just go.'

‘Well I don't know, Amanda. What about … well, your school? Your parents …'

‘Oh fuck my
school
! That's the
last
bloody thing. And as for my, God – bloody
parents
 …! I used to, you know – worry about them. Like a million years ago. But not now. Not now I don't. No way. Come on, Harry. Yeh? Will we? Just go, yeh? Just take
off
 …!'

Harry was smiling as he stooped down to kiss her.

‘OK then, Amanda. Yeh. Let's just do it.'

Hard to believe sometimes, you know – the way time passes. Just been glancing through my, er, oh Christ – you know, date thing, date book, can't remember the name of the bloody thing, and it's been weeks now, weeks, since they both of them have gone, Susie and Amanda. Tip of my bloody tongue …

Not saying it wasn't odd at the beginning – and for Alan in particular, I rather think … but the passing of time, you know, it brings a sort of salvation all of its own.
Diary
, that's the chap. Yes. One does find oneself adapting remarkably well, rather extraordinarily. But God, though – that first night, the very bloody day we'd both of us been horsing around in that bloody little twister's bloody awful house … I really do believe that when we'd each of us in our bewildered turn read through Susie's letter (and then read the fucking thing again) we thought, we really did think it, Alan and I, that we might have, I don't know – completely lost our minds. Had we not had one another's sanity to cling to, for frantic reference and gabbled verification, we – well Alan, anyway – could very well have fragmented on the very spot he tottered. Because still we were bold and jovial, you see – I remember our mood of mighty
triumph, the conquering heroes returned from a determined campaign and deserving if not gilded laurels and palm fronds strewn before us (rose petals fluttering in the sunlit air) then at the very least a damn big Scotch. Because we'd canned the little worm, well hadn't we? Observed from on high the lowly erk scrabbling for the money, betraying his true and ludicrous being. And although we neither of us said it – it was, rather nobly, not once even alluded to – I think the coming prospect too of Susie's eventual returning, this added considerably to the general rather carnival feel – hangdog, bruised, she might be (though I think we can rule out penitent) … maybe even simpering rather, and making her eyes go wide and liquid in the way she was of course aware was always so thoroughly irresistible. Champagne, really, was the order of the day – and none of the usual stuff either: this called for Krug. We had done for the kid, and now we could get on with things the way they used to be. Mm. The letter, I don't know … must just have been pushed through the box at some point, while still we were clinking glasses. Alan was still talking about Amanda, and I had been distantly and maybe even vacantly agreeing with him, what he was saying – because it
was
odd, it
was
of a sudden, it
did
seem out of the blue – but truly my mind was cleaving still to the shivery thrill of all the tremor that remained, the gleeful ripples of aftershock relating to our masterstroke. So Alan, he was still, as I say, in rather full flow as I ambled easily out of the room, and was then just passing through the hall on my way to the pantry in quest of another decent bottle.