Monkey Wrench (11 page)

And I thought about Flying Phil.

‘Portables,' I said.

‘What?'

‘Portable phones. I was thinking, like, for the girls anyway. And personal alarms.' Because Harsh was right really. Those scrubbers had about as much idea of self-defence as those whiskery little mice. And you know what was going to happen to those whiskery little mice, don't you? They was going to get eaten alive. If the best they could do was squeak, they better learn to squeak loud. Very loud.

‘Lord love us all,' Bella said.

‘What?' Crystal said.

‘Old Bucket Nut's been thinking.'

‘Shut up, Bella, Eva's got a point.'

‘No, I mean it,' Bella said. ‘I'm touched. I could've sworn she never gave us “slags” another thought.'

‘A lot you know,' I said, and I went off up Mandala Street before she could ask what else I'd been thinking about. Which was that there was too many people in the Premises. Too much going down. It made my brain feel all creased and crumpled.

There is only one public phone box in Mandala Street, and there was a queue outside of it. I don't like phone boxes. They're like stood up coffins. I didn't fancy waiting in a queue to stand in a coffin. Besides, that coffin's what the boys piss in when it's cold.

So I decided to visit the vet in person. I thought I'd give him the full force of my charm and personality. Which is best done in person. Because, in spite of what I told Justin, that vet's a lazy sod and if there was a way of ducking a housecall he'd find it. If Ramses or Lineker ever needed him, we went to him. He never came out to us.

It wasn't far, and when I got there he was just sitting down to his tea.

He said, ‘No. The best thing is for the owner to bring the dog in. There's less trauma to the animal that way.'

‘Less trauma to you, more like.'

‘I
beg
your pardon!'

I stuck my fists on my hips and ruffled up my muscles like I do before a fight. I said, ‘The owner's sick too. He ain't got no transport. The dog can't walk. I told you. There's two newborn puppies.'

‘I'm just about to have my supper,' he whined. ‘I'll put you on my visiting list for the morning.'

‘I'll wait,' I said. And I stood there with my foot in the door. I could smell roast beef. And so could he. It's lucky I'm such a patient person.

‘You'll have to go now,' he said. ‘I'll come in the morning.'

‘Now.'

‘In the morning.'

‘Now.'

‘Oh hell!' he said. ‘I'll get a locum.'

‘Get what you like,' I said. ‘But come
now
.'

‘Please don't raise your voice to me,' he said. ‘What I'm going
to do for you is to ring one of my colleagues who may be available. Now, be so kind as to let me close the door.'

I've heard that one before. I leaned on the door until he stepped back. I walked in.

What a bim. Did he really think I was going to let him shut me out? Me? Wait around till he'd filled his fat belly, smoked his pipe and picked fluff out of his tummy button? Not sodding likely. I may be patient but I'm not that patient.

I stood over him while he got his scrubbed little fingers round the phone. He was very polite to whoever he was talking to. He even called me a lady. But he turned his back while he was talking so I couldn't see what he was calling me with his face.

When he finished talking and put the phone down his face said nothing, but his mouth said, ‘Stop looming over me, Eva. It's all arranged. Mrs Gibbs will meet you in Mandala Street in an hour's time. Will that suit? I do hope that will suit.'

‘Yeah,' I said. ‘But she better be good or I'm coming back.' And I went out. The roast beef was making my mouth water, but the vet didn't look like he wanted me to stay and eat some.

I bought a couple of burgers on the way back and ate them while I walked.

Sometimes you got to force people to do things you need done. You got to twist their arms and tweak their noses till they do their jobs. Makes you wonder why they got their jobs in the first place, doesn't it? I mean, why did that bim want to be a vet if he couldn't get off his fat arse to see a dying dog? For money. That's why. When you're an expert at something like sick animals you can make a lot of dosh. Because people with sick animals will pay a lot of dosh. So the vet gets rich and then he can do what he likes. He doesn't have to care and he doesn't have to turf out to see a poor dying old bitch if he doesn't want to. If he wants to eat roast beef instead, he'll eat roast beef instead, and sod anyone who needs him.

I despise needing a rich person who's an expert. I always try to find someone poor. But you won't find a poor vet. Or a poor doctor or a dentist or a lawyer however hard you try.

If that vet's father was a syphilitic goat, his mother was a dung beetle.

I decided to go back to the gym and rescue the mice.

But by the time I decided, I was back in Mandala Street. What with thinking about vets and all, I'd lost track, and there I was back in Mandala Street with Crystal swinging off my sleeve like the lunatic monkey she was.

‘What's up, Eva?' she was saying. ‘What's the matter? Where you going? Couldn't you find the vet?'

‘Leave off dragging my arm,' I said. ‘I'm going to rescue some mice.'

‘Don't shout, Eva,' she said. ‘Where's the vet? What mice?'

‘Let go my arm!'

‘You're all of a tiz-woz, Eva,' she said. ‘Have a beer and calm down.'

‘You got beer in there?'

‘While you was gone Kath's Billy brought us in an old fridge and fixed it up. We got a few pints to celebrate.'

‘Celebrate what?' I said.

‘Your premises,' she said. ‘Grand opening. We got mats and everything, Eva. Wait till you see. Come and have a beer.'

‘Oh well,' I said. ‘Just the one.' And I followed her into the Premises.

They weren't proper mats. They were old horsehair mattresses. But they'd do. The only trouble was they were all rolled up on the shop floor and they had people lolling around on them. There was Bella, Mandy and Stef with her little Marlon. And there was Lynn and Kath with the bosoms, and Kath's Billy and little Stu. Which was a lot of people in a small shop.

They were all talking and laughing and drinking beer out of plastic mugs and jam jars. Bob Marley was singing ‘Is It Love?' from a blast box and there was this sweet smell of smoko.

‘Piss in the port,' I said to Crystal, ‘this is nothing but a whore's parlour.' And everyone cracked up cackling and kicking their heels although it wasn't funny at all. Some gym!

‘It's a celebration,' Crystal said, and she fetched me a beer out of the back kitchen.

I couldn't think what I was doing drinking beer with a party of trollops, and suddenly it felt like the bone had gone out of my legs. So I had a big slurp and sat down on the floor till my strength came back.

‘Ain't the vet coming?' Stef said.

‘She's coming,' I said.

‘She better hurry,' Bella said.

‘If that dog dies,' Stef said, ‘Justin'll just break his heart.'

‘He's sweet,' Mandy said.

‘Lay off,' Stef said. ‘He's not your type.'

‘Lay off yourself'

‘What mice, Eva?' Crystal shouted over the racket. She thought she was stopping a fight starting between Stef and Mandy, see. But she made a mistake. Tarts don't go for mice. I could of told her that. My ma goes spare if she sees a whisker. Not that my ma's a tart. She's not a professional. She just has a lot of temporary fellers and she can't stand mice.

At the word ‘mice' they all went berserkers.

‘Mice? Mice, yeugh! Where? We got mice in here. Where? I hate fucking mice!'

And Kath's little Stu ran around among them going, ‘Eek, eek. I'm a mouse. Eek-eek.'

I had to laugh. And I felt a lot better.

‘Shut up laughing, Eva,' Crystal said. ‘There's no mice in here, is there?'

‘How do you know?' I said, ‘Eek-eek-eek.'

‘You're winding us up,' Crystal said.
‘She's winding us up
. THERE'S NO MICE IN HERE!' And she got things quieted down. Which was a pity.

Everyone sat down again except Kath's Billy who'd never got up, and Kath's Stu who kept on running in circles going, ‘Eeek!' until Kath smacked his ear and made him cry.

They were so fucking silly, I told them about the whiskery little brown mice called Crystal, Bella, Stef, Mandy, Lynn and Kath. And
I told them about Percy the Python and how Percy swallowed mice alive. And I told them about the game and the betting. I even told them about the white mouse and how California Carl bit her head off. I did
not
say her name was Eva. I kept that choice piece of news to myself. It still made me feel weird.

‘That's disgusting,' Bella said. ‘That's fucking disgusting.'

‘No more disgusting than cockfighting,' Lynn said.

‘Cockfighting's disgusting too,' Bella said.

‘You know what's really disgusting?' Lynn said.

‘What?'

‘What the boys used to do when I was a kid.'

‘What?'

‘I was brought up in a little place in Kent,' Lynn said. ‘In the country. And in the country all the boys can get hold of air rifles.'

‘So?'

‘Well, what the boys used to do in the summer was to catch frogs. They'd catch these frogs, see, and then when they caught a frog they'd stick a straw up its arse.'

‘What sort of straw?'

‘Any old straw – a cocktail straw.'

‘Why?'

‘Shut up and listen,' Lynn said. ‘They'd stick a straw up the frog's arse and blow it up.'

‘What you mean?' Bella said. ‘Blow it up? Blow what up?'

‘The frog. Like a balloon,' Lynn said. ‘Till it was all stretched fat and round and it couldn't use its little legs. Then they bunged up the end of the straw with mud to stop the air escaping. And then they pushed it out on the pond. The frog couldn't swim or dive 'cos it was like a balloon, see. So it just floated out. Out on the pond.'

‘And then?'

‘And then they shot at it with the air guns,' Lynn said. ‘Till someone hit it and it sort of exploded.'

‘You're right,' Bella said. ‘That's really disgusting.'

‘What a way to die,' Crystal said. She looked all upset.

And then the vet came.

I'd just about decided I didn't much like Lynn's story. Or Lynn. Or the celebration. And I ought to go and see to Ramses and Lineker. And then Mrs Gibbs turned up.

She was small and pasty-faced and she had big round spectacles. She didn't look much like a vet to me, but she carried a vet's bag and she said, ‘Where's the patient?'

Everyone shut up when she walked in, like they do when a stranger comes. And that made Mrs Gibbs shuffle from foot to foot and look at the cracked walls.

She said, ‘I was supposed to meet a Miss Wylie here.'

She looked pretty harmless, so I said, ‘That's me.' And Crystal and I showed her upstairs.

Crystal turned on the light and woke Justin up. He was still pretty even though his face was sweaty and yellow from the light bulb.

‘The vet's come to see Queenie,' Crystal told him.

He sat up and said, ‘She won't take her away, will she?'

But the vet said nothing. She was looking at Queenie and listening to her heart. She wasn't interested in Justin.

Crystal said, ‘Drink some water, Justin. I'll get you something to eat in a minute.' And she arranged his pillows.

Mrs Gibbs said, ‘I'm going to have to take this dog in.'

‘You can't,'Justin said. ‘She's my dog, and she gets really unhappy when we're apart.'

‘She needs a Caesarean,' Mrs Gibbs said. ‘There's at least one more pup inside. She can't deliver it herself.'

‘But she'll be really upset.'

‘It's better than being really dead,' I said.

‘Is it?' Justin said. ‘I think it's better to be dead than to lose the people you love.'

‘You'll have to decide,' Mrs Gibbs said. ‘I can't perform a Caesarean here. This place is filthy.'

‘We could clean it up,' Crystal said. She looked doubtful.

Mrs Gibbs said nothing.

Justin said, ‘It isn't one of those Roman Catholic things, where you save the puppy but lose Queenie?'

‘I rather think the puppy's beyond saving,' Mrs Gibbs said.

‘Maybe Queenie's just resting,'Justin said. ‘She'll do it naturally if we give her time. Can't you just give her an injection?'

Well, he was very young. But he should've had more of a sense of responsibility to his dog. I looked at Crystal, and Crystal looked at me.

She said, ‘Shut up, Eva.' Which wasn't fair, because I hadn't said a dicky-bird.

Mrs Gibbs said, ‘Your dog will have a better chance if we can operate.'

‘I hate hospitals,' Justin said. ‘They're horrible. All that noise and pain. They smell. Nobody listens. They just do things to you in hospital. Without asking. As if you're not a real person.'

‘It's a small animal clinic,' Mrs Gibbs said. I didn't understand what Justin was talking about so I couldn't blame her.

Suddenly, he cheered up. ‘I can't pay,' he said. ‘I haven't got any money.'

‘We'd never refuse to treat a distressed animal,' Mrs Gibbs said. Her eyes blinked behind her round spectacles.

Crystal said, ‘We'll have a whip-round. We can pay.'

Justin looked at her like she was a traitor.

‘Shut up, Eva,' Crystal said. And I
still
hadn't opened my trap.

‘Justin,' she said, ‘you got to let the vet look after Queenie. She's too old to have babies. You said so yourself. She can't look after herself and she can't look after her babies.'