Kerbed

Kerbed : A short story by Robert Cirac

Just the faintest whiff, and I am hauled back to perdition. Screaming among the fires of hell. Dogs barking, children screaming and people vomiting. All the things my years with mum and dad had programmed me to avoid. It wasn't even my country. What a lying, conniving, scheming bastard, Blair is. Weapons of mass destruction; my arse. I was going to say he was a traitor to his class but he isn't is he? Privately educated, went to Oxford and ended up a barrister. Working class? I don't think so. The only time he truly represented the ordinary man against the bosses, he fucked it up.

I don’t remember the bang, just the push. As though something had barged into my gut and thrown me into the air. I saw the Land Rover crash into the sand upside down and burst into flames, as my body slapped backwards into the ground, with a dull thud. The back of my helmet dug in and my chin strap nearly took my nose away. I could taste my own blood as it ran into my mouth. That strange metallic taste you remember after you losing your first baby tooth. The tooth fairy had long-since fucked off and I was left staring at a dirty faced Welshman.

‘Stay with us Bobbyla!'

He called me a scouse bastard the previous week, in a row over football.

‘Taff, me arse is all wet mate! Can’t move. Argh no, no, no – me legs...'

‘Stay with us Bobby la, stay with us, medivac is on its way.’

'Me bollocks, I can't feel me bollocks! Taff...'

'You're okay scouse, you got all yer bits mate; just stay with me, for fucks sake

Taff had a really filthy mush, but he was all I had.

‘Come on ya scouse twat, you can’t die, you owe me money!’

I don’t remember any more, but that heavily scented smell drags me right back, inhaling quickly, and deeply, to stifle my retching. I used to think I would have preferred the smell of rotting flesh to the perfume. There were mass graves everywhere and part of our job was to dig them up for forensic analysis. Not that we did any of that. We just dug holes in the heat, squirted scent over the bodies and bagged and tagged them. We took photographs too!

I didn't die, and I have still got me legs and me bollocks, but I tend to use the old nads, just for balance these days. The problem with women is they tend to use perfume and you've guessed it, 'Meet Mr Floppy'. They are not so keen either, when I suddenly hit the floor of the pub, roll and return fire, after hearing a party popper explode. It feels kind of stupid, when I reach for my weapon and it's no longer there. I still go out of a my way to park her car well-away from others and I always reverse toward a wall. You can't use car parks with no walls. I mean, who in their right mind would exit a car with no all round cover, and no night sight. It defies logic.

Oh there she is again, my crazy neighbour. I swear to god she has a TV in every room, and they are switched on all of the time. She has 'mental health' issues' allegedly and her children were taken off her, after a series of screaming incidents in the street. There were Police and social workers everywhere. She never acknowledges me, just stares right through me. She is a bit scary really. I thought that would change recently, when I bought her a new suitcase after my partner ran over hers and broke it. Cost me sixty fucking quid. She said thanks in the presence of a policeman but hasn’t spoken to me since. I get good all around vision from the bedroom window and I've got CCTV at the back. Got the cameras linked to my tablet so, 'sorted.'

The street's totally deserted now but 'crazy lady' is still around. Her mumbling TV is ever-present, but every now and again, I can hear scratching. I have no idea what she's up to. It seems to be coming from her bedroom. I can hear it more upstairs than down, but I am not really sure.

Can be pretty boring sometimes. Just watching the world go by. I wonder what I would do if I won the lottery. I mean, what is the first thing I would buy? A house, a car or a holiday? The way things have been lately, I am far more likely to buy new socks and pants. I always tell my partner, Danuta, that my underwear has been blessed by the Vatican because it's so holy. She never laughs, but then she rarely does, unless she is watching repeat episodes of the Big Bang Theory. Then she howls laughing, even if she knows what's coming next. Can't hear the scratching now, just banging about and her footsteps.

Uh oh, here she comes and she has the suitcase I bought her. here comes her cab. She always orders a black cab, never a private hire, but then she is huge, and her handbag is larger than her suitcase. Danuta's car pulls into the drive in one swift movement. Oh dear, their timing is shite. I never know what either woman will say or do next but it is bound to be unpleasant. Our door is opened. I guess we got away with it this time. 'Hello,' I call but get no answer. It never ceases to amaze me how anybody can enter a house without ever shouting hello or not answering someone else's call, but that's the way it is in our house.

'That fat cow is threatening me again! I am fucking sick of her. Why should she be able to get a taxi. I have no money, I pay my taxes, I work hard and she gets everything. She can't even speak English properly. I didn't come to this country to be surrounded by foreigners. She should go to my country, she wouldn't last five minutes; they would kick her out. There is no such thing as benefit, where I come from. I feel so ill, my heads aches and I think I am going to vomit.'

'Take some paracetamol and sit down quietly for a while before the kids come home.'

I have long-since learned to say very little in these situations, for fear of becoming embroiled in a dispute, not of my making.

'Shit, I forgot to pick up the prescriptions from the pharmacy. Will you collect them for me when you go shopping?' she asked.

The pharmacy is not too far away from the house and their car park has a wall. Tesco is just down the road, so I guess it would be good to get out for a bit. Why does she insist on driving her car, head first into the driveway? I am going to have to watch my entry. Open the car door remotely from inside the house, check left and right, and go. Door open, crouch and in. Ignition and go.

I wonder how much it costs a year to treat depression with medication. I suppose you would have to include the cost of consultations with a doctor, time off sick and loss of earnings. Oh I don't fucking know. Anyway, we don't earn enough, and we get tax credits and free prescriptions, so we don't have to worry. Just as well because her little lad is allergic to everything and has all-sorts of skin problems. He has asthma too.

Bollocks, no wall available in the pharmacy. I'll go to tesco first. Job done. Masses of cream, antidepressants and a chicken korma. Can't be bad. I reversed her car into the driveway and noticed 'the crazy lady stood in her front garden.

'Your wife, she better watch out!

'She is not my wife!'

'I am warning you. She is big trouble!'

'Thank you and good evening to you. Glad to see you're out and about. A prime example of community care in action!'

It wasn't so long ago the police and ambulance service were outside her house. It's happened more than once. The first time she was carted off, they took her kids, and she has had it in for Danuta ever since. It's not fair really; I mean she is totally irrational. When they took her kids off her, it was after she was trying to 'beat the sin out of them,' in the middle of the street. Screaming in a language unfamiliar to me but it was one of the African languages I think, mixed with English. I remember her yelling 'ojoo or ujoo, whatever that means but 'spurn of Satan,' was unmistakeable. She disappeared into hospital for a couple of months and I must say I enjoyed the peace and quiet, especially the absence her satellite TV. The scratching stopped too. The landlord visited once a week while she was away to 'fix the place up,' as he described it. He told me she had taken the floorboards up in her front room, for some unknown reason. How bizarre, I thought.

'What were you talking about to that mad bitch?'

'Danuta, she cannot help being poorly. I think she is missing her children. How would you feel if your kids were taken away from you?'

'I don't care, I've had enough of this stupid woman.'

I decided to say nothing about the warnings the woman had given me. Perhaps with hindsight this was a mistake, but I kept quiet in the hope of preserving the peace. I should have known better. Unfinished business has a habit of rearing its ugly head when you least expect it. Like when you think you only needed a fart and you were wrong. It always happens when you are waiting for an interview or your in the swimming baths. I should making those through experience that making those kind of decisions in uncontrolled conditions will end in tears, generally mine. All I said was...

'You fucking moron, you just don't understand, this woman has threatened me and the fucking police are useless, I call them and they come out and do fuck all. Why are you always so calm?'

'When you are ready, tell me what has happened.'

'You fucking idiot, didn’t you see when you came in?'

She was sobbing her heart out by then and the kids had run for cover. I have to admit I blocked out her litany with mental images of marching soldiers. It always helps when I am feeling stressed. I hear the sound of their boots hitting the ground and shout to myself, daf right, daf right, daf right, daft. As though I was pushing a squad around the drill square. When it gets really bad, I call it out in double-time and give my imaginary soldiers the beasting of their lives. Mark time, daf right, daf right, daf right, forward. Left turn, right turn, about turn...She quietened eventually and we were both exhausted.

Her rhetoric never varies. The order of presentation may be different but the overall content is always the same. It starts with a logical premise i.e., 'that fucking woman threatened me,' then spins off into her fucking childhood, the unfairness of the world, immigration, her quality of life and how the kids ruin it. Eddy Izzard would be hard pushed to get so many subjects into a 5-minute spot, and he is the master of the tenuous link. It always ends with, 'I don't care,' no matter what my last comment was.

Apparently she had a run-in with the crazy lady earlier in the day and the police had been called. It started when Danuta was leaving the house and noticed the missing fencing separating our properties had been replaced with loose sheets of painted hardboard. Danuta had a point, it did look a bit 'shanty town but she was not impressed with my comment about consulting the deeds to the property to identify who was responsible for the upkeep of the fence. Since our next door neighbour come out of hospital, we have had, tomato sauce spread over the car, eggs thrown into our garden and the kids footballs ripped to shreds and thrown back over when they have accidentally kicked them over her fence when playing in the garden.

I lay in bed that night wondering how in the hell I got myself into this situation. Crazy neighbours, crazy partners and come to think of it, crazy ex-wife too. She was as nutty as a fruit cake. Depressed as hell and agitated with it. She's dead now god bless her. Didn't deserve what she got. What in the hell is that woman up to? The scratching has started but it's louder than normal and seems to be directly to my right but above me. I crept upstairs. The sound was even louder in Danuta's bedroom. She slept with the window to her right and her feet facing the wall adjoining the crazy lady's house. Sounded like she was scraping the plaster off her side of the wall. I could hear it running down the wall and landing on her floor. What in the hell was she up to. Thank God Danuta is sleeping or we would be having a stand up row in the street again, with our kids screaming and the whole neighbourhood awake. I sat and listened. The scraping sound continued for 3 hours, getting slower and more infrequent as time passed. I went downstairs to my bed when it stopped.

I always breathe a sigh of relief when I have got the kids to school. It means I can put my bed up (I sleep on a bed settee) and clean up the place and get back to my obs. Nothing on the CCTV for last night but it's fun watching the expression on the cat's face when the light comes on. It can be annoying though because sometimes the light comes on and there is nothing on the playback. It said on the instructions that the sensor would only switch the light on when somrthing as small as a cat oras large as a human passed through its beam Been meaning to check out the instructions to see if I can make it a little less sensitive. Now who in the world is knocking on the door?

'Hello, is the lady of the house in?' asked a middle-aged female PCSO

'No I am sorry she is at work. May I help?@

'Can I come in for a moment?'

'Please do. May I offer you tea or perhaps some coffee?'

'No thanks it's just that a serious accusation has been made about your wife.'

'She is not my wife.'

'Right, but you are together, yes?'

'Indeed what accusation? I am not aware of any difficulty.'

'The lady next door has said that your partner made a racially insulting remark to her yesterday.'

'Oh I was not aware of that. Can you be a little more specific?'

'No, not really. The accusation is against your partner, not you. In fact she said you were always nice to her. I need to speak to her and get her side of the story before deciding what action we should take.'

'Look I understand she has psychological difficulties and I also know she has been sectioned at least twice since I moved in three years ago. Since her children were taken into care, she has had something against Danuta and we have had a string of incidents. We reported all of them to the police but they were never followed up.'

'Do you have a record of these visits?'

'Yes we do but I have only ever been able to find one, unless Danuta knows were they are.'

I handed her the card I had found in the cupboard, which had the date, time and the attending officer but no details of the incident. She left and gave me an assurance she would return later that evening and speak to Danuta.