The Happy House (5) “Supposedly,” said Talker, milking the situation, “Black and Poppy are going out together.” “Really?!” “I came out to smoke a cigar, not to listen to you lot badger on about a load of bollocks.” “No come on, tell us what’s happening there.” “Nothing’s happening there. If there was I’d tell you, but there isn’t alright? So leave it.” Hobble finished his masterpiece and Black passed over his matches. The fat white stick was lit and sweet clouds of thick smoke billowed around the four as they indulged themselves happily, calming themselves down as best they could. A few weeks later, the Devil in Black was hovering around the main room of the Happy House with a familiar glass of whisky in one hand, wearing his good old trenchcoat again, being much more social than he was before. He’d finally come to terms with Pussycat getting together with Fest over him, with the inability of getting together with Poppy because of the Serious Sausage and with the age difference and touchy matter of the Popular Bistro (her having gone out with Fest beforehand). Black was fed up with setting himself up with people he couldn’t approach and was now on the lookout more than ever, but there seemed to be no one – no one who could ultimately throw him off the tracks again. This, in one way or another, was a good thing as his friends liked him more when he was social, and he was only more social when he didn’t have to think and worry about his love life. Such acquaintances threw him off course. But everything was about to be shattered again. “So how are the Army of Bastards?” asked Black, sitting down next to the Spindly Shat who held a tall wine glass in one hand and an expensive cigarette in the other. “You’re on leave quite a bit these days aren’t you?” “No wars to fight these days. What do you expect us to be doing? No, there aren’t any battles like there used to be. They’ve invented some harrowing weapons lately… the machine gun, stuff like that. Destroys my beautiful cavalry doesn’t it? Makes them fucking obsolete! There was nothing like a charge by horses with your sword held high. Now they can be cut down in moments. Poor show, poor show. Poor creatures.” “What will happen to them? Your horses?” “Well they’ll be killed won’t they? The army says it can’t keep such a large cavalry any more. They won’t sell them on – they’ll be slaughtered. Dog food or glue factory no doubt. Damn shame. Cavalry will become ceremonial and nothing more. There was nothing like a cavalry charge, nothing in the world like it.” “I’m sure there wasn’t.” The Spindly Shat was a depressing bastard and Black was feeling the effects of his grumbling. Thankfully, yet horribly, there was a scream from upstairs. The music cut short and everyone stood motionless. “Come on.” Black got up with the Spindly Shat and pushed their way through the doorway to the stairs. The Ruffled Fox followed after dropping the Voluptuous Vixen to the floor, hurriedly taking his drink along in case he was thirsty after the climb. All three clambered up the stairs, stumbling in one or two places, before reaching the landing where the Purple Poppy was in tears, desperately not wanting to look through one of the doors. The three pushed past her and looked through the doorway. The Serious Sausage was on his back on the floor with his glasses cracked about his eyes, his eyelids bleeding from the glass that splintered them. His white shirt was torn open and his chest was cut to pieces with blood spewing onto the floor, desperately wanting to escape the horrible wounds. Smiling with a confused glaze over his eyes stood the Cackling Cad, his tie undone and flapping about his neck. A large knife, dripping with crimson, was held firmly in his hand. In a swift move, the Spindly Shat hit Cad on the head, sending him to the floor. “I think you’d best get the police Ruffled.” “Dear God.” “Ruffled? Did you hear me? Ruffled?!” “What dear boy?” “Get the police! Now!” The Devil in Black and the Ruffled Fox stood at the bottom of the stairs with the Purple Poppy with her head in her hands, sitting to one side. The Spindly Shat said that he’d stay with the unconscious Cackling Cad in case he should wake up and try to escape or hurt others, until the police came and took him away. Why had he done it? It was a mystery to seemingly everyone except Black who boasted to himself that he saw everything. It was jealousy no doubt: Cad had fancied the Purple Poppy for years and one night he was sent over the edge into a bloody fury. The police would never work it out for themselves. “Right,” said Black, “I’m going to take Poppy home.” It was innocent enough but Black looked through the doorway into the main room and saw the Chubby Chinwag and the Tasteful Tern with their evil glares, staring at the trenchcoat as if it held a murderer. Of course, they weren’t interested in whether Black had killed anyone, but rather that it was he who was taking Poppy home. It more or less confirmed for them that there was something going on between the two. “Yes, of course dear boy.” The Ruffled Fox sat himself down on the first stair and put his hands on his sharp knees. “I can’t believe it… I was only talking to him a couple of hours ago. Why the hell did he do it for God’s sake? Why? Why here in my fucking house?! I feel like I’ve got blood on my hands.” He looked down at his gangly fingers and saw red smears that couldn’t be washed away. “You’ve got nothing on your hands. There’s nothing to worry about – you didn’t do anything to provoke it.” “But what if I did… I can’t remember what I said to him… What if I helped instigate this foul thing. What if I said something I shouldn’t have?” “‘What if…’ this, ‘What if…’ that and so on – it doesn’t matter. You can’t help it now. Look I’ll take Poppy home now. Go talk to your guests to set them at ease.” “The Happy House is ruined…” “No it’s not for God’s sake. We’ll all be back here in no time. How about we go out on your paddle steamer?” “The Beacon?” “Yes, the Beacon. Organise that. Organise a dinner or something. Don’t worry, everything will fall into place, you’ll see.” The ride in the carriage was silent throughout the whole journey. Black and Poppy sat themselves at either side of the carriage, as far away from the other as was possible. Black didn’t know how to comfort her whatsoever and when they arrived at her house, she departed without a word and it was as if Black didn’t realise that she had gone. The relationship that may or may not have existed broke forever and could never be repaired. Black couldn’t give a shit about the death of the Serious Sausage whatsoever. The only thing that had come out of it was the confirmation that he and the Purple Poppy would never get together and ultimately, this confirmation was a good thing. Black hated to have to wait in limbo, in the stage of maybe / maybe not and then having to act on one or the other. Black was after someone who knew what she wanted – someone decisive and active but not someone who would go out and do something without thinking, on autopilot like the Frivolous Fuck, but would know what she was doing and was confident throughout. Was that so much to ask for? Fest and Black were on their bimonthly trip to town, which thankfully for Black hadn’t stopped since Fest got together with the Pathetic Pussycat. After all, Black was still interested in her and he liked to keep up to date with what she was like and what she was up to. Hero worship perhaps. Black wanted to be prepared if ever the day came, but he no longer saw it as a possibility to consider – he’d come to terms with it all. “I’ve got some bad news I’m afraid.” Fest hadn’t seemed his eager self upon meeting up with Black in the town square and thankfully for Black’s curiosity, he was about to divulge why. How could Fest be down? Black couldn’t guess and didn’t try to push a confession out of him before he relaxed. “Oh?” replied Black, sounding honestly surprised. “What’s wrong?” “Well, I’ve broken up with Pussycat.” Black was sure the world stopped spinning on its axis. He stood still with his hands in his pockets, staring at the ground hard with his one eye, almost finding it difficult to breathe. What was that he said? Broken up with Pussycat? Surely not? “You’ve done what?” “I’ve broken up with Pussycat.” Fest could understand the surprise to a small extent but knew nothing of his best friend’s feelings for his ‘ex’. It had all fallen down. Black thought that he’d got everything sorted – he’d come to terms with Fest and Pussycat, with Poppy, with Bistro… now this. Pussycat, the woman he adored, was single again, but he’d already decided that trying to get together with her was impossible, and it still stuck. All of this so-called ‘fixing’ of Fest and Pussycat together, the so-called want of Black to get them together by inviting them both to his birthday party – hell, he’d started believing all of that rubbish himself and now he knew that it had failed. He felt angry for them breaking up, he actually felt angry. Angry about a relationship that he felt he had put together crumbling away and failing. He was angry with himself for deciding Pussycat to be a ‘no-go’ area. He wanted to hit the cobbled street with his fist till either was a bloody pulp. He wanted to punch his best friend’s face in. Black noticed that Pussycat was on her twelfth cigarette of the evening and they’d only arrived an hour ago. The Ruffled Fox had taken up Black’s idea of dinner on the Beacon and had invited a rather odd selection of people. Firstly and most obviously there was Black, along with Fest and Pussycat (thought by Ruffled to still be a couple), the Gabbling Gurn, the Frivolous Fuck and the Chubby Chinwag. But there was no Tasteful Tern to keep Chinwag company and he felt quite naked in front of all these people that he couldn’t stand talking to or even looking at, especially that Devil in Black. Ruffled tapped his wine glass with a spoon to grab everyone’s attention and they all stared at him. “I would like to propose a toast to the dearly departed. We all knew the Serious Sausage, perhaps not all as friends, but he was certainly one of us. An addition to the Happy House that shall be sourly missed. This dinner is dedicated to his memory, so thank you all for coming.” The waiters began to appear from out of the woodwork and started setting down plates, pouring out wine, bringing out whisky, warning people about the hot dishes. Black was sat next to Pussycat but his attention wasn’t much on her at all but rather Fest across the table, who was seated next to Frivolous. They seemed deep in conversation which was odd. Black noticed Gurn keeping an eye on them as well and felt like he knew that he’d noticed. “So how are you these days?” Black tried to do his best with Pussycat by trying a little conversation while using a spoon to place some boiled potatoes on his plate from a dish. He could go no wrong with just trying to seem interested. God he loved her so much, it was awful to see her like this. The bright blue eyes were clouded and no longer sparkled – a diamond that had reverted into a stone. “Oh, I’m alright.” She took a large dose of her cigarette and glanced over at Fest who was engaged in deep conversation with the beautiful Frivolous. He didn’t feel anything for her anymore. It was as if he’d just swept her under the carpet. Black tried to make eye contact but there was nobody home. Why did she come? Why was she torturing herself like this? It angered Black even more, and he frowned at his ‘best friend’ across the table but Fest saw nothing but the cleavage before him. After the dinner, Black took himself outside for some fresh air. It was only a dinner but he was finding it harder than anything else he’d ever done. What was he meant to say? What was he meant to be feeling? Should he feel sad for Pussycat or smug? Smug that she made the wrong decision, that Black was right and Fest was wrong? Then there was Fest not taking any notice of the suffering that his ex was going through. He didn’t even glance one eye at her and it infuriated Black beyond everything else that had happened. It had seemingly infuriated the Gabbling Gurn as well and he came out to talk. “Did you see him with Frivolous? Did you see him? It’s disgusting.” “Yeah I know…” Black really didn’t want to get into the midst of things, but perhaps that was his problem. He was never wanting to commit himself to anything in case he didn’t like where it got him. He hated admitting it to himself but he knew that it was true. “He’s only just split up with Pussycat for God’s sake! How could he do that?! I mean, well… I just don’t like it, you know? It shouldn’t happen like that. What do you think?” Black didn’t reply. “Black, what do you think? Well say something!” “I don’t know, alright? I don’t know any more.” “We’ve got to ask him about it surely?” “What?” “Well we’ve got to do something. We should confront him, you know? Sort it out before it goes out of control. I mean, Pussycat looks terrible.” Before Black could reply, Fest opened the door to the main deck, wrapped his arms about him and let the wind clap it shut. “Guys. How’s it going out here?” “Fine,” said Black, not wanting to look at his face. He’d sat himself down on a bench but Gurn still stood where he was. “You were getting pretty close to Frivolous in there weren’t you?” Gurn, always the tactician, leaps into battle with guns blazing, hoping to take down as much as he can without any thought for his own safety or the safety of those he brings along for the ride… like Black. “What do you mean?” “I mean, after just breaking up with Pussycat and all, you’re straight into the next bit of flesh you can get your hands on.” “I don’t get it. What are you on about?” “We saw you Fest.” Black decided not to sit this out. He would never have started such a conversation but now that it was in full swing, it may be more effective with his help. “We saw you with her. It’s a disgrace.” “You’re both talking bollocks. There’s nothing going on between me and Frivolous, okay? Nothing! Can’t I enjoy myself tonight without having to think about Pussycat all the time? I broke up with her! It’s not like I’m seeing Frivolous behind her back now is it? For God’s sake you two.” He gave them a horrible look and went back inside. “Fucking hell,” spat Black when he’d gone. “And he’s right.” He hit the bench with his fist repeatedly, making sure it hurt. “For fuck’s sake Gurn, why the hell did you have to say anything at all?! Bastard. Fuck off would you? Leave me alone.” Gurn did as he was told and went back inside, making sure that he and Fest didn’t exchange glances. It is at the Happy House the following week that Black is surprised to find the Popular Bistro with her friends. The murder is not forgotten but is rather hastily swept to the curb so everyone can get over it as easily as possible. What happened to the Cackling Cad, no one really knew or cared. He would get what he deserves. The Ruffled Fox had only just fully got over the death of the Serious Sausage and this was the first night at the Happy House after the killing. Bistro stood with her friends on the other side of the main room as Black arrived. She noticed him and he noticed her, their eyes locking momentarily, but Black turned his attention away quickly and got a drink from the cabinet. He saw her as a danger zone at that moment – there were other things on his mind. Black poured himself a large whisky and sipped at it gently, before running his eyes over who else was around. On one of the sofas were Fest and Plug – a curious combination, and even more curious when Black walked up to them and Plug left quickly to go to the bathroom. Black sat himself next to his ‘best friend’ who in the past week has made him very angry, crazed, sad, depressed, lonely and caring. Amazing. Black was slightly angry that he was sure that Fest had felt none of these, perhaps in his whole life, but he was willing to forgive and forget for old time’s sake. “I’m sorry about what Gurn said on the Beacon, Fest. I’m sorry. He just seemed really angry, and although I could see where he was coming from, a man’s business is his own business, you know? I couldn’t care, really I couldn’t. I’m sorry.” “That’s alright, that’s alright.” Fest was a bit nervous, it seemed, which was strange. He certainly shivered upon hearing about Gurn but it was almost unnoticeable, as if Black had hit a little landmine and it was setting off all the others. “So how goes it anyway? Getting on alright?” “Yeah, fine.” “Well, I’ll talk to you later.” Black patted Fest’s shoulder and as soon as he stood up, Plug had appeared and took her seat back. He took another sip of his drink, aiming to go to the bathroom himself, and met the Popular Bistro in the hallway. “Hey,” she said, waving and holding her drink at the same time. She smiled. “Hey yourself. How goes it?” “Great. I’ve never been here before. Have you?” “Loads of times.” “Oh.”
Copyright © 2005 Jack M Brown |