Junk - Melvin Burgess [79]
Even if I was Jewish, what have they got to get at me for? They’re always going on about being picked on ‘cause of their race; how do they think the Jews feel? Those darkies don’t even know what persecution is. Actually, my side of the family had it easy, we were over here when everyone else was getting gassed over there, but still.
They’ve only been over here two generations, the West Indians. Didn’t take ‘em long to pick up the local prejudices, did it?
I’m going off the point. I was very upset about my shop.
Anyway, seediness. I say this because I was going down the road the other day, on my way for a pint at the Eagle, and there it was – the police car half up on the kerb, flashing lights, the ambulance blocking off the road, everything looking busy and no one in sight…
It’s always interesting when someone gets into trouble. Although this could have been more interesting if it was something else. The ambulance – it could just have been someone hurt themselves falling downstairs. Or a fight, something domestic. Now if it were armed robbery or supplying stolen goods – what you might call traditional crime – that would’ve been nearer home and something to tell the lads.
I did a little detour just to have a nose. I knew the house very well from years ago. On the corner, quite a nice big garden. I keep an eye on things but on the City Road there’s always people moving in and out; you never know, you can’t keep track of them all. I hadn’t even noticed who lived there for donkey’s.
I was walking down the road opposite and the door opened and these two ambulancemen came out, half carrying, half dragging this lad between them. The police car was going, flash, flash, flash. I dunno who he was, I don’t remember seeing him before.
I thought – drugs. It had to be. This bloke, his head was on his chest, he was stumbling. He’d taken too much and given his mates a scare and they’d called the ambulance and now they were being done as well!
Typical.
I thought, Nah, not really my scene. I don’t take drugs and I don’t deal in them either, although I know some of the boys make a lot of money like that. I watched them load this lad into the back of the ambulance and I was about to head off down the Eagle when the door opened again. This time it was the cops, and they had this boy and a girl. The bloke was tall and thin with a scatty haircut. I didn’t recognise him. The girl was young and pretty, or at least, she used to be. She was still young, but… I knew her from a while back, you see…
She used to work down the massage parlour on the Gloucester Road.
Now, don’t go on at me. If you knew my missis. She’s really let herself go. I mean, all right, we’re both on the large size, but it’s different for a bloke. Anyway, just getting the right bits in contact with each other is a matter of logistics these days and I don’t think she’s all that bothered the past few years. So, yes, I do have recourse to the massage parlour once in a while. If my horse comes up, or sometimes my brother comes over from Spain and we drop by before we head off on the beer. Or even on the way back, but the girls have to work for their money then.
I knew this one because… first of all she was very young, younger than most of them. I like that. And then she was nice in the sense of having an attractive personality. That’s important for me. I like to relate to a girl. Most of the girls don’t like talking customers but this one liked me. At least, she gave that impression.
The way it works is, you go in for an ordinary massage, see, and then you have to negotiate if you want a special – so much for this, so much more for that. You can always tell if they don’t fancy you because they up the price. This one – Nicky, she called herself, not that that means anything – this one drove a very hard bargain, but in the end she’d always give me what I wanted. You know?
I’d say, ‘I can’t afford it, love.’
She’d say, ‘Oh, well, you’ll just have to have