Get Carter (22 page)

“No,” she said, “I’m no good at guessing games.”

“Actually,” I said, “it’s gone clean out of me head. Funny, isn’t it. Still, it might come back if you ask me in.”

She’d been holding her coat together at the neck. She took her hand away and the coat fell open. She must have been getting ready for the bath when I’d rung the bell because she didn’t have her dress on, only a black half slip and underneath that I imagined she was wearing what I’d already been treated to a view of.

“That helps,” I said. “But I still can’t quite tie it down.”

She giggled.

“Come in,” she said. “I’ll tie it down for you. If you like that kind of thing.”

I went through the hall and into the lounge. Glenda disappeared for a minute and I heard the bathtaps being turned off. I sat down on the divan where Brumby had sat earlier. The glasses were still there where they’d been left. So was the bottle. I poured some into my glass and drank it and then poured some more and took a fag out and lit up.

Glenda floated into the room. She’d got rid of the coat. Instead of coming and sitting next to me on the divan she stood on the other side of the low table and poured herself a very big drink and then sat down where I’d sat earlier and put her stockinged feet up on the table.

“This is where I came in,” I said.

“That’s right,” she said. “Just refreshing your memory.”

She manoeuvred the glass up to her mouth and drank until some of the whisky began to trickle down her chin. She put the glass down and re-focussed on me. When she’d managed that, I leant across and offered her a fag. She took it and dropped it so she had to shift her legs off the table in order to bend down and pick the fag up off the floor. She got it into her mouth and I lit her up and I sat back and she sat back and blew smoke all over and looked at me and said:

“Well?”

“Well what?”

She gave me what she imagined was a knowing look.

“I see,” she said, “I see.”

“You see what?”

“You’re enjoying things the way they are, are you? Me like this and you like that?”

I smiled.

“Let’s just say I like a slow build-up. If there’s time, that is.”

“Time?”

“Cliff. He might be coming back.”

She shook her head.

“He’s at match, isn’t he? In his reserved seat two rows behind the bloody Lord Mayor. He’ll learn one day.”

“Learn what?”

“Learn to stop playing silly buggers. He’s off his bloody head. Thinks he’s going to be another Kinnear.” She giggled. “He might be getting somewhere the day the Lord Mayor owes him money instead of Kinnear.”

“How is it you’re on the eyeball for Cliff then?”

“He pays money.”

“So does Kinnear.”

“Only if I work for it.”

“Doesn’t he pay you enough, then?”

“Sometimes. When he wants a performance at one of his parties. Or when there’s a Blue on.”

“Aren’t you frightened what Kinnear would do to you if he found out?”

“He won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he thinks I’m simple. He wouldn’t give me credit, would he?”

“He could still find out, accidental.”

“How? Nobody knows about this place. Cliff pays for it and I only come here to see Cliff.”

She took a drink. I decided it was time.

“Incidentally,” I said. “The other night. When I came to The Casino. Did, er, did Kinnear say anything? After I’d gone?”

She laughed.

“What do you think?”

“Yes, I know, but, like, what did he say? Because what Cliff was saying earlier, about Kinnear having my brother done, if it was true, well, maybe something was said.”

She looked at me. Her eyes were focussing very well right now.

“I thought you didn’t believe Cliff?”

“I didn’t, but I got thinking. Maybe it’d be as well to check up.”

“Through me?”

“I just thought, well, as you weren’t particularly interested about where the money came from, maybe you wouldn’t mind some from me, either.”

I took my wallet out and put it on the table. She looked at it.

“This is why you came back, is it?”

“Not entirely, no.”

“You’re sure about that, are you?”

I smiled.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

It was her turn to smile again.

“Well, you’ll have to prove it, won’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come over here and I’ll show you.”

She leant back on the divan and pulled her legs up to her titties and clasped them to her but almost immediately she had to let go with one of her hands to stop her falling over sideways.

“Then what?” I said.

“Then I’ll tell you.”

“Why not tell me now?”

She shook her head.

“I could beat it out of you.”

She shook her head again.

“Why not?” I said.

“I’d lie.”

“You could lie anyway.”

“Why should I? I might be doing myself a favour.”

“How?”

She got up from where she was sitting and made her way round the table and sat down next to me.

“What’s the matter?” she said. “Aren’t you in the mood?”

She smelt of nylon and sweet body-sweat.

“Is that it? Do you want putting in the mood?”

She put her hand on my stomach and slithered one of her legs across me. I felt her mouth against my ear and she started to lick round it.

“Come on,” she said. “Glenda’ll tell you. After.”

She began to un-zip my flies. I decided to let her have it her way. I put my arm round her and pulled her down on to me and let her get on with what she wanted to do. After a few minutes she looked up and said:

“You’re not trying.”

“Get on with it,” I said.

She did but it wasn’t any good. I couldn’t do very much about it. I stood up.

“Let’s forget it, eh?” I said.

She struggled to her feet.

“I know,” she said. “I know what we can do.”

“Look …”

She took hold of my hand and began to pull me towards the door.

“Come on,” she said. “Don’t forget, Glenda won’t tell if you’re not a good boy.”

I picked up my glass and let her tug me out of the lounge and through the hall and into the bedroom. It was as nicely done out as the lounge.

There was a big double bed with a red silk counterpane. The carpet was wall-to-wall and deep orange. A long mirror took up half of one wall and there was another the width of the bed disappearing behind the pillows. Above this mirror there was a deep shelf about two foot wide. On the shelf there was an eight-mil film projector.

Glenda let go of my hand and climbed on the bed and wobbled about, finally steadying herself by hanging on to the shelf. When she was fairly sure of her balance she released one of her hands and switched on the projector. The projector was loaded with a two-hundred-foot spool. The leader had already been threaded through and fixed into the take-up spool.

All that happened was that the light came on and lit up the blank wall opposite the bed.

“Do you always provide such a comprehensive service?”

She giggled.

“Cliff wanted to see one,” she said. “So I sort of got hold of this.”

She frowned at the brilliant square of light on the wall.

“It’s not working. Why isn’t the sod working?”

“Look,” I said. “I’ve seen them. Too many. I used to flog them to the punters. They don’t …”

“Oh, this is different,” she said. “I’m in it. You’ll like it.”

She turned back to the projector.

“But why isn’t the sod working?”

I took a drink and sank down on the edge of the bed.

“Try pushing the switch to the next stop,” I said.

She pushed the switch to the next stop. The motor started to whirr and the spools began to roll. Blank leader flowed on the white wall. Glenda flopped down full length on to the bed. Then the titles appeared. They’d been pencilled on a piece of card and held up to the camera by somebody with the shakes.

The titles said: S
CHOOLGIRL
W
ANKS
.

The titles went on for a long time. I started to get up.

“Look, it’s no good. I …”

“Watch,” she said, taking my glass.

The titles had stopped. Now on the wall there was a bedroom and in the bedroom was Glenda, dressed as a schoolgirl, sitting at a dressing table combing her hair. She did this for a few minutes and then picked up a framed photograph and held it to her bosom and closed her eyes.

Then she put the photograph back in its place and stood up and started to change into her normal clothes, spraying perfume all over her and generally tarting herself up.

The scene changed. Now there was a room with a settee in it, flush to the wall. Sitting on the settee, thumbing through a magazine there was a girl. She was very pretty. She had long blonde hair parted in the middle and it was so soft and fine that the girl had to keep pushing it back from her face. She was wearing a gym-slip and white socks. To one side of the settee there was a grate with no fire in it. To the other side of the settee there was a T.V. set. There was lino on the floor and an aluminium garden chair intruded in one corner of the frame. There was a little clock on the mantelpiece above the grate. The hands were at ten to four. Adjacent to the settee, just to one side of the girl, there was a low stool and on the stool was a tray with cups and a tea pot. The girl leant forward and picked up a cup and mimed sipping and put the cup back and then went on thumbing through the magazine.

I recognised both the room and the girl. The room was Albert Swift’s kitchen. The girl was Doreen.

I turned to look at Glenda. Her mouth was open and her lids were even heavier and slow breath rasped in her throat. In ten seconds she would be asleep.

The film carried on running through the projector. I let it.

The film cut and now the camera was looking over her shoulder as she, Frank’s daughter (or mine), turned the pages of the magazine on her lap.

She stopped at a particular page. The camera shakily zoomed in on a picture of Englebert Humperdinck. The camera cut back to the original shot of Doreen on the settee.

She lifted up the magazine and kissed the photograph and closed her eyes.

Then she propped up the magazine against one of the arms of the settee and with her feet still on the floor she moved sideways so that her elbows rested on the cushions
of the settee and her chin rested in her hands as she stared at the photograph in the magazine. Eventually after a certain amount of writhing, she began to massage her breasts. After she’d done that for a while her hand slid down along her body and she began to squeeze the material of her dress in the area between her legs. When she’d finished doing that she began to pull up the hem of her dress. But before she could do that an exterior shot was cut in. A car drew up and a man got out and the man was Albert. He was wearing a false moustache.

The film cut back to Albert’s kitchen. Doreen acted out hearing the car and sitting up quick and pulling herself together. The door opened. Albert came in. His lips moved. Doreen got up from the settee and the camera panned and followed her past Albert and over to the door. She stuck her head round it and acted out calling to someone. A shot of Glenda answering was cut in. Then the camera followed Doreen back to the settee. She sat down. Albert was standing next to the settee feeling to see if the false moustache was going to hold. Doreen indicated the tea tray. Albert acted yes please and sat down next to Doreen. She poured the imaginary tea and handed it to him. For a minute or two they talked to one another, then Doreen accidentally tipped her invisible tea over Albert’s trousers. Albert jumped up as if it was very hot. Doreen stayed sitting down and took a handkerchief from her sleeve and began to dab at Albert’s trousers. The dabbing went on and on until it turned into a stroking motion. Albert stretched his hand out and put it at the back of Doreen’s head and pulled her to him so that her head nestled against his trousers. He began to stroke her head. Doreen pressed her head hard against him. Eventually she reached up and unzipped his flies and put her hand inside. Albert unhooked the flat fastener and pushed his trousers down to point just below his knees. Doreen pressed her face against his underpants and pushed her hand inside them via the leg. Gradually Albert sank down on to the settee and lay back. Doreen removed her
hand from the leg of his pants and inserted both hands inside the elastic at the top and began to pull them down. The film cut to a different set-up, farther back from the settee, taking in more of the room. The door opened. Glenda appeared and stared in mock horror at what was going on on the settee. Albert pulled away from Doreen. Glenda dashed across the room. Doreen shrank away from her. Glenda pretended to slap Doreen’s face. Then Glenda sat down on the settee and pulled Doreen across her and lifted Doreen’s skirt and began to smack her arse.

I looked back at Glenda. She was breathing even slower than before and her eyes were shut. The whisky glass was on its side and a stain was spreading on the brilliant counterpane.

I shook her. Her eyelids flickered. I shook her again. She groaned.

“Glenda,” I said.

Words gurgled in her throat.

“Glenda.”

She opened her eyes. They swivelled about in their sockets.

“You’re on,” I said.

She closed her eyes and pressed herself deeper into the counterpane and stretched out her arms and legs like a cat on a mat.

I stood up and took hold of her wrists and pulled her clean off the bed and then let go. She hit the floor face first and screamed. One of her feet had caught in the counterpane and she’d dragged it off the bed and she began thrashing about on the floor, twisting the counterpane round her. The fall had caused her to split her top lip and when that got through to her she tried to put her hands to her face but by now the counterpane was tight round her and in her drunkenness she was making it tighter.

I grabbed the counterpane and yanked her up off the floor and punched her just beneath the ribs. She stopped
screaming because she couldn’t scream and try to breathe in at the same time. Her eyes were rolling madly and she was having trouble trying to work out what was going on. So I dragged her out of the bedroom and found the bathroom. I bundled her through the door and took hold of her at the back of her neck and pushed her face down into the bath water but as her arms were pinned to her sides she kept going forward and all of her went in. A wave of water splashed over the side and up the walls and into one of my shoes and over one of my trouser legs. I bent over the bath and pulled her up by her arms. The counterpane fell away and flooded the surface of the remaining bathwater. Glenda banged her kneecap on the edge of the bath as I pulled her out and she opened her mouth in pain but she didn’t scream. Once her feet were on the floor I swung her back and sat her down on the edge of the bath, holding both her wrists together in one hand leaving my other hand free.