Bucket Nut (8 page)

I said, ‘It's a responsibility, knowing other people's secrets. But, like, what about the polizei coming here? I'm not exactly Snow White myself and I can't take the heat. You've got to make up your own mind.'

‘All right,' she said. ‘I'll tell you.'

I suddenly felt very weird. I didn't understand her at all. I'd more
or less told her she couldn't trust me, but it hadn't made a blind bit of difference.

‘You know I was sick last night?' she began.

‘Yeah.'

‘Well, I think I was suffering from narcotic poisoning.' She paused to see how I would react.

‘I thought you were rat-arsed,' I said, frowning.

‘I'd had a couple of drinks, but that wasn't it.'

‘I don't like druggies,' I said, feeling even more upset.

‘I'm not a druggy. I've never taken heroin before in my life. I want you to believe that.' She stopped and looked at me and I noticed that her eyes had black borders around the blue which made her look very deep and mysterious.

‘Do you believe me?'

‘All right,' I said, because it seemed important.

‘Calvin was Peter Pan,' she said, ‘and I was Tinkerbell.'

‘What?'

‘Peter Pan,'
she said. ‘You know. The book by J. M. Barrie.'

‘I can read books,' I said. I thought it was about time I checked on the dogs. It was awfully hot in the Static.

‘Don't be like that,' she said.

‘Like what?'

‘Cross,' she said. ‘I only meant that there's a passage in
Peter Pan
where Captain Hook poisons Peter's medicine. Wendy leaves medicine for Peter in a spoon. Captain Hook puts poison in it. And Tinkerbell can't get Peter to believe it's poison. So in order to show him she drinks the poison herself and nearly dies.'

‘That's stupid,' I said.

‘Yes? Then I was stupid too.'

‘I don't mean
you're
stupid.'

She sighed. ‘What happened was that I found out Calvin was taking drugs. I found out last night because he put them in my bag. I expect he thought it was safer that way. Black guys are stopped and searched for no reason whereas white girls never are.'

I knew what she was talking about there and I felt better.

‘We had an awful row about it. I said he was destroying himself.
He said it was only fools who couldn't control it. So I took some myself – just to show him. And also so that there would be less for him to take.'

‘You must be barking mad,' I told her.

‘But think about it,' she cried. ‘See it from my point of view. I was so upset that he took smack. I thought if I took some he'd be upset for me too – that he'd look at what he was doing with different eyes.'

‘And did he?'

‘He couldn't have cared less. And when I started to get ill on stage he came over and fired me.'

It was beginning to make sense to me now – what I'd seen last night, and the way she'd said he broke her heart. She had sacrificed herself for him and he had kicked her in the teeth. I felt quite sorry for her, but all the same she was an awful fool.

‘You've got to promise me something,' I said.

‘What?'

‘That you'll never do any of that shit again. It's a fuck-up. It's the stupidest fuck-up I know.'

‘Yes,' she said. ‘But you see what's happened, don't you? Calvin's drugs and Calvin's syringe are in my handbag. And I can't get it back, and I can't go home.'

‘You don't have to draw me pictures,' I said. ‘I won't kick you out, and I won't dob on you. But you have to swear you won't do that stuff again.'

‘You don't have to worry about that. It was revolting. It wasn't nice at all. It made me really sick and now it's twenty-four hours later and I still don't feel right.'

‘You were lucky,' I told her. ‘You might have liked it.' And that was that.

The next day I took Goldie to Sam's Gym. After what she had told me the night before I thought she could do with some healthy exercise, and besides, we had run out of milk for breakfast. Also I was hoping to see Harsh.

Goldie caused quite a kerfuffle at Sam's Gym. Suddenly everyone was coming over to me helloing and how-you-doing. Anyone would have thought I was popular. Gruff Gordon was there and Pete Carver and Danny Julio who is half a father and son tag-team. The son, Flying Phil, was there too. He's called Flying Phil because of the work he does off the ropes and corners.

I could tell Goldie was a bit nervous because, even while she smiled and said hello, she had her thumbs tucked into fists. People think I don't notice details, but I do. And one thing I've noticed is that anxious women clutch their own thumbs. Don't ask me why.

Gruff Gordon and Pete Carver are very big men and enough to make anyone nervous who isn't accustomed. So I gave Goldie some dosh to make phone calls and buy herself some clobber. She couldn't go around in my Guns N' Roses sweatshirt for ever.

‘Who's the doll? Who's the chick?' The fellers kept asking, and I lied to them.

We had decided, Goldie and me, that as so many people were taking an unhealthy interest in her we'd better keep her real name to ourselves. And since I already called her Goldie and she liked it we would call her Goldie Green.

‘Fancy you having a friend like her!' Pete Carver said.

‘Why shouldn't she?' Gruff Gordon asked. Which was nice of him, except that Gruff Gordon could bullshit for Britain and whenever he's nice to me I wonder what he wants.

I ignored them both and went to the mat to warm up. Always warm up properly before lifting. Some of the fellers, especially the
young ones, think it's macho not to. But they're just asking for it.

After that I moved onto the machines and Danny and Phil Julio took over the mat to work out some new moves. I was doing leg curls when Harsh came in and started to warm up in the corner. I watched him, ticking off all his exercises, making sure I had done everything he was doing. I hadn't forgotten a single one, and I was well chuffed.

Then Goldie came back. She had bought herself some pretty Lycra gear and looked a treat. But she had a glum expression on her face.

‘I can't get hold of anyone,' she whispered. ‘I phoned everyone and no one answers. You'd think all my friends had been wiped off the face of the earth.'

I stopped what I was doing. Goldie talking made me lose count of my repetitions. But my femoral muscles were hurting so I thought I'd done enough.

‘Never mind,' I said. ‘Try again later.'

‘But …' she said, and stopped. She looked as if the end of the world was nigh.

‘But what?' I had quite a glow on from all the physical stuff. It always cheers me up no end.

‘Christ, Eva,' she whispered, ‘I'm stony broke, I'm wanted by the you know who, my boyfriend dumped me, I can't even go home to change clothes and now I'm in debt to you too.'

‘I don't mind subbing you,' I said, and it was true because it wouldn't be for long. Nice middle-class girls always have nice middle-class families to bail them out. It was, I thought, only a matter of time before she tapped them, and then she'd be in the clear. If I'd been her I would've done it months ago. Then she would pay me back. True, she was in debt to British Gas, British Telecom, the South Eastern Electricity Board, three landlords and Putney Borough Council. But those weren't people. I was people.

‘You'll pay me back,' I said.

‘You're a pal, Eva,' she said, and that was all I wanted to hear.

I turned over and lay face down, fitting my feet under the bar again. That way I raised the weights on the back of my ankles, one, two,
three, four … and this time the muscles at the back of my thighs took the strain.

Lying there and looking past Goldie I saw that Mr Deeds had come in. He was talking to Gruff Gordon. While they talked they sauntered across the gym in my direction.

Gruff Gordon stopped in front of Goldie. He said, ‘Got time for a natter, Girlie?'

‘My name's Goldie Green,' Goldie said. She had a lot of dignity, I will say.

‘Miss Green to you,' I said, and lost count of my reps again.

‘No slacking now, Eva,' Mr Deeds said. ‘You only managed to tear Bombshell's muscles in Frome. If you keep up the good work you could break her back on Saturday.'

He winked at Gruff Gordon who snorted.

I pulled my feet out from under the bar and rolled over. I did not want to talk to these people lying on my face. But Mr Deeds took Goldie's arm and walked her over to the window. I followed.

‘Piss off, Eva,' Gruff said and tried to elbow me out. ‘This is private.'

‘Not from me it ain't,' I said. ‘I know your sort.'

‘Piss off,' he said again.

Mr Deeds came back and said, ‘Take it easy, Eva. This is business, right? Get on with your work.'

Goldie had her arms folded across her chest and I was sure she was clutching her thumbs, but she held her head high. There wasn't anything I could do about it once Mr Deeds had spoken to me.

I started work on another machine where I could watch them talking by the window. This one was for the back and shoulders. You grip a bar above your head and pull it down behind your shoulders. I was feeling so choked I didn't bother to count.

After a while Goldie came over and said, ‘They've offered me a job, Eva. Isn't that wonderful?'

I was sweating like a pig and I said nothing.

‘They want me to be Gruff's valet. Starting Saturday. Cash in hand. Isn't that great?'

‘No,' I said. I let go and the bar shot up. The weights fell with an
almighty clang. You're not supposed to do that because it damages the equipment. But I didn't care.

I got up and went over to Gruff and Mr Deeds.

‘If she's going to be anybody's valet,' I said, ‘she's going to be mine.'

I wished I'd thought of it before them – Goldie holding my robe and standing in my corner. Goldie cheering me on.

Gruff starting laughing. ‘Beauty and the Beast,' he said. ‘Don't be so bleeding thick, Eva. Girls don't have valets.'

‘Why not?'

We were standing toe to toe. I could have punched him in his fat belly. I pictured my fist sinking in up to the wrist.

Mr Deeds pushed Gruff away. He said, ‘Calm down, Eva. It's all settled. I was looking for a new heavyweight gimmick, and your friend is like a gift from heaven.'

‘No!'

‘Be sensible. She can't be your valet, and that's final. The punters might have bad thoughts about that.'

‘More than they do already?' Gruff asked.

‘Shut yer face!' I yelled. He was really winding me up.

Goldie put a hand on my arm. ‘It's just a job,' she said.

‘Fuck off,' I said. ‘It's not just a job.'

I turned away from them and went back to the machines. The one I chose is like a rowing boat. You sit facing it and pull the bar back hard until you're almost stretched out backwards and then you let it in slowly, feeling the resistance all the way. It's a very good machine for the abs. And I needed to work on my abs.

I worked on my abs.

Harsh said, ‘You're pulling too much weight, Eva. Stop.'

I stopped. I hadn't seen him coming. He took several kilos off and I started pulling again. He watched.

‘How many?' he asked.

‘Dunno,' I said. ‘I lost count.'

‘Stop.'

I stopped.

‘You're pulling too much weight. You aren't counting. Do you wish to hurt yourself?'

‘No.'

‘I think you do wish to hurt yourself.'

‘I don't.'

‘Get up.'

I got up, and Harsh took my place at the machine. He pulled back slowly and smoothly.

‘Watch.'

He pulled and released slowly, rhythmically, one, two, three, four, five, up to ten. The machine made scarcely any sound. His abs were hard and even. He stopped.

‘Bad technique is worse than no technique at all.'

‘I know,' I said.

‘Your anger hurts only yourself,' he said.

‘I'm not angry.'

‘Why not? You have been slighted.'

‘By those squelch-bags? Don't make me laugh.'

‘Good,' he said. He gave me his place and went away. I started pulling again. Properly. I began to feel better. It's funny but I often don't know when I'm doing something wrong. It takes someone like Harsh to point it out.

Harsh is a purist. He is a wrestler's wrestler. He may not be a star heavyweight or a crowd puller or a top biller, and maybe he's the guy they put on first after the interval when half the punters are still in the bar, but sometimes when he's fighting, other wrestlers will leave their dressing-rooms to watch. And sometimes they even clap. Harsh is a straight shooter. And I can't say fairer than that.

Afterwards I took a breather, lying back on one of the benches. Gruff Gordon and Pete Carver were on the mat showing off, and Goldie was standing by being told what to do by Mr Deeds. Mr Deeds had his fat hand on her shoulder, but I didn't watch. I shut my eyes and breathed deeply.

Sam's Gym is a noisy smelly place, but I like it. Or I would do if persons like Gruff Gordon went elsewhere.

I packed it in early that afternoon. I was sore all over, and my teeth were beginning to hurt again. It was a relief to stand under a heavy stream of hot water and let it massage my neck and shoulders.

As I stood there I found myself thinking about Ma and the way she wouldn't help me find Simone. You'd have thought she'd want us all together again. Simone was her favourite when she remembered about us – which wasn't often. And I thought of the way she said, ‘Simone doesn't want to know you.'

Doesn't. Like she had just that minute talked to Simone and Simone had said, ‘I don't want to know Eva.'