The Happy House (7) “Tell me what? You’re becoming like her – talking about me in third person while I’m here is very rude you know.” Fest took a deep breath and looked at Black, half smiling. “Well, it’s about the Gabbling Gurn. A few weeks ago, before I was grilled on the Beacon…” “I said sorry.” “Gurn told me of,” Fest’s voice turned to a whisper, “his undying love for me. Understand?” “You what?” said Black aloud, confused. “I mean,” said Fest, keeping his voice low, “he plays on the other side of the court. Get it? He’s gay.” Black coughed violently and snatched the glass of water that was in front of him so that he could get the horrible distaste out of his mouth. It was the surprise more than anything – really he couldn’t care less which way Gurn pointed himself. Yet there was a fear that lurked – he could now make sense of the conversation with him about Pussycat, and then about Frivolous, and Black saw both of them in completely different lights. Conversation thereafter didn’t go very far and Black left the Harlequin glad, yet not glad, to know about the Gabbling Gurn. Black made it his first priority to talk to the Gabbling Gurn when he came aboard the Beacon when in dock. He almost thought that it was his right to have known… that he should have been told ages and ages ago when he met him… then he wondered if that would have changed anything or not… of course it wouldn’t have changed anything, he promised himself… of course it wouldn’t, why should it? But then perhaps it would have done when it shouldn’t have done… after all, there’s no reason to think less of him. At the end of the day, Black felt insecure, and even when he began talking to Gurn, it wasn’t like he was going to jump out at him with the question of whether it was true or not. It was none of his business surely? Black wondered why he’d sat down in the first place. He didn’t want to have to be thinking like this… what if it was something else that was withheld? What if it turned out he killed someone? That would change how you think wouldn’t it? But murder is strictly a bad thing, while if it’d turned out that he invented gravity and he just didn’t tell anyone, that would be a good thing. Black wanted to put it into one box saying ‘good’ or the other saying ‘bad’, when in the back of his mind he knew it belonged in neither. He wondered why he’d sat down in the first place. “They had a full orchestra and the roar of the music was overwhelming. I’ve never seen anything as good as that. It was brilliant.” “It sounds it,” said Black, forgetting why he’d sat down in the first place. “I saw something like that ages ago – I can’t remember where it was, but it just blew me off my feet.” He downed the rest of his drink and waved the empty glass at Gurn. “Best go get a refill.” “Yeah, see you later Black.” Black stood up and a few steps away he remembered why he’d sat down. He’d forgotten all about what Fest had said and suddenly it didn’t matter whatsoever. Black could finally say that he couldn’t give a shit. “Ahoy down there!” yelled the Ruffled Fox from the deck above, waving down at Black with his other arm around the Voluptuous Vixen’s waist. “How are things down there?” “Just dandy captain!” Black walked into the dark barroom and passed Frivolous who gave him a kiss on the cheek. She knew she wasn’t allowed any more than that since her little task. “Glass of whisky please barman.” Out of the darkness, like a snap of lightening from cloudy skies, a hand stamped a glass down onto the bar, calling silence in the near empty barroom. Nearly everyone was out on deck, enjoying the bright sun and cloudless blue, while there was certainly someone in Black’s vicinity who he hadn’t spotted on entering. From out of the uncertainty, a grim face with a large moustache approached Black, his eyes beady and staring with his face wrinkled to the point of anger and phenomenal age. “The Devil in Black.” “Hello Shat. What is it?” The Spindly Shat pushed Black hard with a sneer as if he knew full well what he wanted. Black fell to the floor from the force, the trenchcoat helping his slide across the floor somewhat. “You bastard.” Even though he appeared very old, he was still in command of the Army of Bastards and well tuned. He was strong and had the fighting experience. Black was in trouble. A punch round the chops sent Black’s head against the floor with a crack. “I thought we were friends.” “We are friends,” slurred Black, dabbing his fingers with the blood from his lip. “Bastard!” Another punch sent Black down again. “Come on up.” Shat pulled Black to his feet and moved him towards the door – a third punch sent the trenchcoat and its owner flying through the door and out onto deck with a crash. “Very subtle – Pussycat guessed what you’d done – I got that much out of her.” “You better not have hurt her…” “Not as bad as you’re going to get, son.” Shat picked Black up again and an uppercut to the chin sent him reeling against the balustrade violently, bruising his back. Black dropped to his knees and as the old officer approached for another attack, he stabbed his elbow between his ancient legs, forcing all of the wind out of him. Bloodied and battered, Black got to his feet and rammed Shat’s head against the rail, and without waiting, used the momentum to slam his head against the outside of the barroom wall as well. All of the built up anger was surfacing. This wasn’t just anger saved for the Spindly Shat, but also Fest the Pest and the Chubby Chinwag and the Purple Poppy and everyone else. Now everyone could watch it being unleashed. Shat balanced on his hands and knees, watching blood drip from his forehead onto the white-painted deck. A sharp unmerciful kick to the face took Shat down further. For a moment Black thought it was over and he began to relax, hoping to return to get his drink from the barroom that should be ready by now. But this was not to be. The Ruffled Fox looked down from the side of the higher deck above the barroom, having heard all the goings-on, and yelled as Shat got to his feet and rammed himself shoulder-first into Black, sending him against the railing. The rhythmic crashing of the paddles that were so close were muffled as the two wrestled to get the upper hand, pushing, pulling, and ripping, anything that might work and hurt. They spun round so that Shat had his back to the railing and it seemed that Black had the upper hand again, but before Shat could return the gesture, Black, with all his hell-bent want to finish this up and to punish everyone for what they had done to him, used his whole forearm to strike Shat in the chest so that he hurled over the railing and into the water below. As the ship went onward toward the great blue, the paddles whirled round and clouted the Spindly Shat on the head who was bobbing up and down with the waves. The water behind the paddle steamer turned a diluted red as everyone but Black looked on amazed. Hair near the Devil in Black’s forehead was glued to the skin by old sweat as he sat in the police station, tapping his fingers against an old wooden table. If asked whether he would have saved the Spindly Shat given the chance, he would have said ‘no’. After all, he knew he would never have got it in return. Did he regret murdering Shat? Black didn’t see it as murder. One of them was going to die so it was a matter of survival and not killing out of pleasure or desire. He didn’t want to kill Shat but Shat wanted to kill him. Perhaps that’s why Shat died and not him. A weighty policeman sat down in the seat next to him, balding with a thin moustache, scoffing a large piece of cake with a plate underneath to catch the crumbs. “So,” he said, swallowing a part of his snack, “you’re here for killing a guy. You agree with that?” He took another bite but kept his eyes on Black. “Are you implying that I intentionally killed him?” “Well that’s why we’re here isn’t it? “Sure, I helped a man come to the end of his life today. “ “And was it intentional?” “I wanted to end the fight in my favour if that’s what you mean. If I hadn’t helped him into the sea, you’d have him here instead of me.” “So who started the brawl?” “He did.” “You can prove that?” “Yeah. The barman saw it all start. There might’ve been others in the room too, but it was quite dark in there. “Quite dark, eh?” “Not that dark.” The policeman took another bite of his cake and flicked through the small notepad in front of him. “What was the fight about?” “A woman.” “Ah.” “We both loved the same woman… or at least I loved her. I’m not sure about him.” “And she was going out with you, so he started the fight because he was jealous?” “No, the other way round, but I didn’t start the fight.” The policeman scratched his head with his pencil and took another bite out of the cake. “Then why did he start the fight?” “Because I set him up with someone else and sprung the woman between us on them together.” “Ah, I see. Bet he didn’t take that too well.” “No, he didn’t.” “Well, I’m glad I’ve got to the bottom of this anyway – all goes down in the report.” The policeman stood up and finished his cake. “There’s a Mr. Fox outside waiting for you – paid your bail. You’re free to go. The charges… if any, will be minor no doubt. Depending on what the others say of course.” “Of course.” “If I need any questions answered, I’ll just pop round if I can?” “Of course.” “Best you get on home and bandage up those cuts and bruises. Good day sir.” Black walked down the steps from the police station and the Ruffled Fox stood in a top hat holding the door to a carriage open for him to get in. Hopping onto the first step after Black was inside, Ruffled took off his hat and tapped the side of the cab with his cane to get the driver moving. “Ah,” he sighed, placing his cane and hat on the seat beside him, “good job that’s all over. Good job indeed.” “Thank you Ruffled. You shouldn’t have.” “Nonsense dear boy! Nonsense! It was the least I could do. Cheer up for God’s sake, it’s all over now. No one will say that you maliciously killed poor Shat because you didn’t maliciously kill him. We all saw how he started it for goodness’ sake. God knows why though. Must have had one too many drinks if you ask me.” There was a silence as the carriage rattled along the road at top speed. “I wanted to pay you back anyway for after the incident with the Serious Sausage and the Cackling Cad.” “Pay me back?” “Yes. Yes, pay you back, dear boy. It almost crippled me, that did. Almost crippled me. But you stood firm, made sure I did what was right. If we hadn’t have done that dinner, I don’t know what might have happened. So I think now we’re even.” “Yes, thank you. Bet the police’ll have a fair time clearing the Spindly Shat’s affairs up though, being part of the Army of Bastards.” “Hah! No doubt. They’ll make a big thing over it but don’t worry. It’ll all go down as a big accident – you’re name won’t be linked to anything, I’ll promise you that. I know the chairman of the Sunday papers; he’s a good friend of mine.” “Thank you.” “Stop saying ‘thank you’ for goodness’ sake! I’ve already said that you’re welcome to it. Anyway, here comes your stop. Get Sammy to make you a nice cup of tea with a dash of whisky and get to bed to rest those wounds.” The carriage stopped outside the Parlour and Black got out onto the pavement. He looked over his shoulder at Ruffled who waved goodbye as the horses took off with a bolt down the street. The Devil in Black held his side as he looked up at his house, his home, the Parlour. The door and the large window above it loomed out across the street, as well as the smaller window above these that like an eye spied on every other house on the block. Like Black’s single eye at the Happy House, trying its best to figure everyone out in all their dirty details. Black opened the black gate and closed it behind him before walking up the path to the front door. He banged on the wood and after a few moments his butler opened the great door with a surprised look on his face. “Sir!” He rushed to his employer’s side, allowing Black to balance himself on Sammy’s shoulder. “Come in, come in. What the devil happened to you? The streets just don’t seem safe these days what with all these people coming in bruised!” Black was confused but was happy to wait in the hallway as Sammy left his side. “I’ll go make you a cup of tea – take a seat in the living room… Oh.” “Oh what?” “I almost forgot, sir. There’s a young lady here to see you. She let herself in, sir. Quite adamant about it she was. Said she knew you. Has been waiting for a couple of hours.” “Where is she?” “In the living room sir.” “Thank you Sammy.” Black walked slowly into the room on his left and there in the centre of the room was the most perfect person in the world, the most beautiful of all things, those eyes, those fantastic crystal blue eyes. The Pathetic Pussycat was waiting and a slight crack of a smile appeared above where a large bruise had been placed earlier that day. “Black!” She rushed over and helped him sit down on the sofa. “What ever happened?” She checked him over fully as she sat beside him, wrapping her left leg under her as she did so. She made him as comfortable as possible, making sure not to aggravate whatever had happened. “I thought about what you said. I think… I think I love you too.” Black stared at her with his one eye. Finally it all pieced together and everything was perfect. Now everything was worthwhile. Giving up on the Purple Poppy, the Popular Bistro, setting up the Frivolous Fuck with the Spindly Shat and sending the aforementioned overboard to his doom – it had all been worth it. She leant over and kissed him on the cheek. That small peck carried so much weight that Black thought he might sink so far into the sofa, he would never return. He took a deep breath and looked into those eyes. “How about a drop of whisky?”
Copyright © 2005 Jack M Brown |