Rottenhouse (25 page)

‘
Best you go off
tabed, Barbara. I would like to talk with Simon for a
while.’

‘
Okay dad.’ And she
moved away from the cuddle and kissed him on the cheek and wiped
the tears from her eyes. Simon expected her to come to him, but she
did not, and he felt a little sad.

10

‘
Take a seat, Simon.
Time we had a chat, man to man. And don’t hold back, Simon, let’s
be open and honest no matter what needs to be said. I can feel you
have things to say, I can see it in yer eyes and in the way you
keep your head down when you are near me. Don’t be worried about
what yasay, how yasay it either. I am a man that don’t care for
swearing much, but now that the lady is up in bed I’m thinking we
can let a few of em slide, if ya know what I mean.’

Simon did as he was told.

‘
Look, Mr Rowling,
what I said, I didn’t mean to go off like that…’

‘
A man doesn’t
apologise for speaking truth or doing what was right, Simon, he
simply carries on doing what he does. Much like what you’ve seen
the last couple a days. We do those things because they are right,
Simon. Take old man Johnson. I know what you saw in the dark,
Simon. I know you saw him, hanging from the light fitting all burnt
and beat to bugger. I know you thought it wrong to hang a man and
then burn his house down taground. But I also know what you saw
written on the wall.’

‘
Nonce.’

‘
That’s right. Nonce.
You know what a nonce is, dontya Simon?’

‘
I guess.’

‘
They do things to
kids Simon. Dirty things. And I don’t mean play Tonka trucks or
football in field or build brick castles in the garden. I wish it
were that, but no, they fuck em, Simon. Like a man would do to a
woman on a Saturday night after MatchatheDay had finished, nonces
do to kids. They groom em and then ruin em.’

‘
Okay, I get the
picture.’

‘
Johnson was a nonce,
so because he were a nonce we beat the piss out of him and strung
him up. So yasee it were justified what we did. Wouldn’t you do the
same thing?’

‘
I guess, but why did
you burn his house down?’

‘
To make sure he were
dead, Simon. Like when we hacked apart his boy.’

‘
But he had a
knife
literally
dug into his skull. The guy couldn’t have been anymore dead.
Besides, I thought it was for ease of transportation.’

Mr Rowling smiled.

Simon said, ‘I can’t forget what I saw.
I can’t accept it all like you can, like everyone else here can.
There’s a part of me that just wants to jump in my car and get the
hell out of here. I had planned to do that. Even if Lucy said
otherwise I was out of here and I didn’t care if Lucy came with me
or not.

‘
But there is this
other part of me Mr Rowling. This annoying bit of my brain that
gets in the God damned way all the time. It’s the bit that loves
your daughter, Mr Rowling. So much so it makes me do stupid things;
like put up with murder, put up with beatings and nightmares. Even
nagging city girls complaining that their nails have cracked or
that they have put on half a stone and am now morbidly obese even
though they weigh less than a gnat’s dick is all water under the
bridge as long as I have her in my life and she is happy. You know
it’s funny, I always thought that there was this piece of Lucy,
what I called her String, that whenever she got angry or upset or
mad or annoyed this String of hers would tighten and keep
tightening until finally snapping. A few times it snapped at me,
most of the time though it was at colleagues or friends. I’m
starting to think that I have one too. Maybe we all do in a way.
Some of these Strings are tight all the way through our lives
whilst others are slack and take a lot to tighten up.’

‘
I appreciate that
Simon and I’m happy that my little Barbara has found herself
someone that will marry her. I have seen men fall for women, it’s
not the greatest of sights but I understand it nonetheless. Never
happened to me. The love I had faBarbara’s mother was a love forged
through time and a need to fulfil the requirement’s we here hold
dear. And your right about the String, though I think it more like
a bridge that we put more and more people on until one day it
breaks in half.’

Silence.

‘
Let me show you
something, Simon. Won’t be a minute.’

Mr Rowling left the kitchen and went
into the locked room at the end of hallway. Until he was back,
holding three photos in his hands, Simon expected to hear screams
and yells of betrayal coming from that room as Mr Rowling sensed
that someone other than himself had been in there; snooping and
peeping at things that didn’t concern them.

Before the two men continued their
conversation Mr Rowling poured the two of them mugs of cold water.
Simon drank his greedily, his throat parched. Mr Rowling merely
sipped at his.

The old man placed the photos picture
side down, hiding the images from sight.

‘
Has Barbara ever
shown you her mother?’

‘
No. She doesn’t
really talk about her. Don’t think she even has a
photo.’

‘
Aye. Thought as much.
They were close those two. Thick as thieves my father would have
said. Did everything together which left me to pick up the dregs.
Not that I minded, not one for child raising me. When she died of
that cancer it was all that Barbara could take. Not soon after she
up sticks and went.’

Mr Rowling folded over the top photo
and showed it to Simon. ‘That’s her. That’s the wife.’

It was a simple photo taken on one of
the first Polaroid cameras produced in the 60’s. It had that unique
brown and orange and yellow tint that photos get over time that
Simon loved so much. In the photo was a blurred background,
possibly of the valley but it was hard to tell. In the foreground
was Mrs Rowling. She was wearing a skirt down to her knees and a
neat blouse. They were very basic clothes and spoke nothing of the
60’s era this photo had been taken in, however it was the woman
that stole the limelight. She was gorgeous, a spitting image of the
daughter she bore into this world. She had long dark hair, wide
eyes which invited you in and a mouth outlined with full rounded
lips. An ample bosom led down to a tight waist but not too tight,
there was some meat under there. Her legs were athletic but still
womanly. Simon couldn’t believe that Mr Rowling had not only caught
such a beauty in his net but that he didn’t even love her. How
could something like that even happen. He had seen, was even sure
he was one of them at times, men batting way above their average,
but what Mr Rowling was doing was hither to unknown of unless you
were a fat millionaire or a rich 90 year old oil baron.

‘
You were a lucky man,
Mr Rowling.’

The photo was laid flat again, hidden
from sight, a look of concern on the old man’s face.

‘
What dya mean, Simon,
lucky? ’

‘
Well she was a good
looking woman, Mr Rowling.’

Mr Rowling flipped the photo back over
and looked long and hard at it.

‘
I was lumbered with
that so called looker for nigh on 19 terrible years. That fat old
lump trapped me 8 month into our shit begotten relationship by
falling pregnant with Barbara leaving me no choice but to marry it.
Christ, I pleaded with her father, my father as well. I would have
done anything to be rid of it. I was willing to pay the Rag and
Bone Man the money to set to her womb with a pointy metal strand
but that fell on deaf ears. Our folks were having none of it and
before I knew it my hog was tied I was married and living with that
wretch.’

‘
I don’t mean to sound
disrespectful here, Mr Rowling, but are you totally
mental.’

‘
Hey?’

‘
Your wife, ex-wife,
whatever, she was gorgeous. Like insanely beautiful. Surely you are
joking right. That’s it isn’t it, this is another weird joke that
us southerners don’t get?’

‘
No, Simon. This is no
joke. What I married wasn’t gorgeous. She were a pig in a dress.
Not like the other beauties that we have around here. And much like
a pig she wouldn’t leave me be for a moments rest. Hung around me
like a ghost she would. Christ, I couldn’t get a moments rest from
it. She were a wrongn, Simon, in both looks and character, if
yaknow what I mean?’

‘
No I don’t see, Mr
Rowling. Really I don’t. I wish I could, because what you are
suggesting is that quite possibly the most beautiful thing on this
planet loved you and wanted to be with you, had a child with you,
which I have to add is just as good looking, but I can’t, so you
are going to have to explain. From what I have seen of the women
around her your wife was a rose in a field of rat shit. So please,
do explain.’

Simon saw a little grimace when he
mentioned his daughter and that grimace turned to a frown when he
spoke of the other women of Rottenhouse, like he had scratched at a
scab and made it bleed a little.

‘
Alright, Simon, calm
down there lad. Just being honest withya that’s all. Let me explain
what I mean then. Yasee she were sex mad, Simon. Couldn’t get
enough of it. Now I aint no prude when it comes to matters of the
bedroom but I couldn’t believe some of the stuff she would do.
Weren’t right were it. Weren’t natural.’

‘
Like what?’ Simon
asked

‘
Like dressing up as a
school girl trying to look all innocent and telling me she is a
virgin and wants to be punished; like I would want to have sex with
a school girl, Simon, I aint no nonce. She would dress up like a
nurse sometimes, her breasts all pushed up in a tight corset thing
and her legs covered in those God awful French stockings. There
were times she would almost force herself upon me when I were
asleep or working in quarry. She would put make-up on or pretend
she were one of those dirty bitch strippers. A couple of times,
usually after a couple of drinks, Mrs Rowling would wait till I
were asleep, yaknow, that deep sleep a skin full of ale puts you
in, and then tie me hands to the headboard. She would wake me up
then, either by kissing me or sitting herself upon my face;
jy-rating her womanly bits against my mouth. One time, she even
put things inside of her, Simon. Not just her finger, which I know
happens, no, she would use my fingers to make satisfaction complete
or she once put a cucumber up there. I were going to have that with
me sarnies the next day. Couldn’t look at the bloody thing after
that. One time, even the shaft of my favourite hammer were plunged
into her wet hole. She would have sex with them all, Simon. God it
were disgusting. I even had to throw away that hammer and buy new
one from store in next town. Couldn’t use it, though she wanted me
to mind you. Told me it would remind me of her and that if I wanted
to I could taste her whenever I wanted.

‘
She once tried to
take my feller in her mouth one Tuesday morning over there by sink.
I had to push her away it were so un-natural. She wouldn’t stop.
Thought it were a game and tried again. Geroff I would yell, Geroff
ya dirty sow but even then that wouldn’t stop her so I had to hit
her. Punched her square on side of head and she went down like a
sack a spuds. Now I don’t condone such behaviour, Simon, and I
won’t tolerate it if it isn’t warranted, but sometimes it’s
necessary when things are getting out of control.

‘
I can see by yer face
that you can’t believe what I am saying, Simon, that a woman could
do such things and not be deemed a witch or some such things. But I
tellya, it were so. And there be more too, that aint it, not by a
long chalk. Sometimes, Simon, she wouldn’t wear any underwear and
go out and about with me into town or up valley. I tried to get her
to put some on but it were no good. She said she wanted to please
me, make me happy and all this other sick twisted crap so she could
get her hands on the chap down in my pants. I can see her now, she
would sit opposite me on bus or in club or in town square and flash
her lady parts at me. Licking her fingers and putting them up
there. Now I don’t mind fresh meat Simon, but I don’t like looking
at a winking clam on a Thursday afternoon whilst I try and enjoy
the view of the moors. And that’s another thing, Simon, she shaved
it so it were smooth like a babies backside. She told me that she
did it for me, so it looked young and sweet and innocent. I didn’t
like that, Simon, not one little bit.’

The old man sighed, a great intake and
release of air like a hot air balloon readying to soar high into
the sky. Mr Rowling then said, ‘I tell yaSimon, she wouldn’t leave
it alone and to be honest, though it does pain me her being the
mother of my daughter, but I were a little happy when she was taken
from me such were the relief from her dirty ways.’

He took a sip of water then. There was
a visible relief in him and his shoulders were held a little higher
now that that weight had been removed.

Simon knew, like he knew that he wasn’t
going to be leaving here tomorrow and that he was apt to stay for
the rest of the week and make a go of this place, that Mr Rowling
had never before spoken of his wife in that way. He had never told
anyone, not even the Chairman or whoever his closest chum was in
this place, of those things. He supposed, but in an awful and
all-consuming comical way, that he should feel honoured to be the
one Mr Rowling chose for such a great and honest debriefing of all
things concerning his ex-wife and what she wanted to do to him.