Trash - Andy Mulligan [58]
All of us knew now that this was the time to thrash it all out and do the final, final plan. We ordered tea, and I – Gardo – spent seventy on a bottle of brandy, and I made us all take three fingers, because what lay ahead was the hardest, and yet in a way it was also just free-fall now, the plan so clear we couldn’t go outside it. Three fingers was enough, because we needed to be brave for the next bit – braver even than my friend and brother Raphael in the police station, because nobody goes among the graves on All Souls’ Night after midnight, because that is when the dead are left to themselves again, so the ghosts are getting sad. We knew we had to, however – there was no question – because it was the only time we could do what we had to do. Can you blame us if we stoked up on drink?
‘We need tools,’ I said, and we worked out what we needed.
‘We’re going to need a way out too,’ said Raphael, and we planned out our route.
I said, ‘What does six million dollars look like?’ I think the brandy was hitting me and making me smile. All of us then, we started to laugh – for the first time in what seemed a while. And do you know what, we knew it wasn’t ours, even then – and couldn’t be ours. We knew that a piece of it was all we wanted, and we knew we were so close, the air was buzzing around us, as if the ghosts were above us! That much money, if it really was there – six million. I promise you, the one thing we all knew was that it was not ours and we would not even try to take more than a little.
We split up to look for tools, saying we’d meet at the grave as soon as we could. We knew it without saying it: we had to go back and smash in the slab and get inside. I am sure we agreed that, without quite saying it. Raphael went off and found a sack and a cheap old broken knife. I went scavenging close up under the shanties where the graveyard turns to swamp and sea: I found a strong iron spike. It was tying up someone’s boat, so I tied it to a wooden stake, and took the spike, quiet as the breeze. Rat found rope and a plastic sheet, which was everything we needed.
I’d said to Raphael, ‘We do this job fast – once we start, we do not stop,’ and we hugged each other.
I’m Raphael. I said to Gardo, ‘It’s going to make a noise. We do it fast, OK?’ We finished the brandy and felt stronger and better.
* * *
Gardo again.
We climbed up to little Pia’s grave-box. I think there were ghosts everywhere, just watching. Raphael held the spike and Rat passed up a stone.
Everyone had gone, and most of the candles had blown out, because the typhoon was getting closer and the wind was strong and cold, nagging at us – I didn’t have a shirt and I could feel it, right in off the sea. I swear I could feel them all, those dead, around me still, watching me with wide-awake eyes. Dead men above and below, and dead kids and dead mothers – I could almost see them, watching and watching, and I so didn’t want to look up.
The stone was good in my hand, just the right size. Raphael had the spike in the corner, and I leaned back and gave it the most almighty crack. The thing moved right off, and the noise was more of a thud – a real, deep, dead sound. I guess because the seal was so new, it hadn’t got itself all fixed and hard, but the second blow punched it right in, and it fell on itself in three big pieces, one of them falling nearly on Rat’s feet, so he jumped back. Then he was up with rope and candles, right up against me, and we were lighting them fast inside the grave-hole where the wind couldn’t get.
The air was musty, but there was no bad smell. There was a coffin, white as white – for a child – and we all felt scared, I guess. It had a layer of dust, and the flowers on it were very dead – other than that, everything was fresh. No smell – and we all knew what