Vance was looking at him with contempt. ‘You’re hopeless. Always scrounging money and talking rubbish.’
‘What? What did you say?’
‘You heard.’
Rocco went into the kitchen where Bodger was preparing lunch.
He began to yell, ‘If you haven’t got the money, just say that. But don’t go round town telling everyone about my problems! Don’t you know how to keep a confidence? I suppose, as a doctor, you tell everyone about your patients’ illnesses!’
Bodger threw a wooden spoon at him. ‘Come back later!’
Rocco rushed out of the kitchen.
‘Everyone’s spying on me now!’ he cried. ‘There’s nothing better for people to talk about! I borrow money! I ask someone to help me! And for that I am crucified! Then people say I get paranoid … End this surveillance now — that’s all I’m asking!’
Bodger followed him out of the kitchen, red-faced with rage. ‘No one accuses me of such shit!’
Feather began to laugh.
Rocco shouted at Bodger, ‘Just leave me alone!’ He looked at Vance. ‘Particularly you — you fascist Burger Queen.’
‘Sorry? Did I hear you right? I think I might have to kick your head in.’
‘Try it.’
This was the moment Vance had been waiting for. He took it slowly.
‘Not your head. Maybe I’ll break a few fingers, or an arm. It’ll be educational for you.’
Vance moved towards Rocco with his fists up. Rocco stood there. Bodger extended his arms between them.
‘But you can’t even fight,’ Vance told Rocco across Bodger. ‘I don’t think there’s anything you can do.’
‘No? Burger Queen — bring me some French fries too. Two French fries and a knickerbocker glory! Ha, ha ha!’
Vance said, ‘I’m tempted, but I’m not going to fight you now — because I might kill you. I’ll fight you tomorrow.’
‘I used to be a skinhead.’
‘Ha! See you tomorrow morning. On the Rim. No rules, skinhead.’
‘Bastard, I’m going to stick your head in a bun and eat it with onions and relish! Ha, ha, ha!’
Vance smacked his fist into his palm. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to get damaged. Badly. Oh, oh, oh, you’re going to cry!’
‘Can’t wait,’ said Rocco. ‘And by the way, can I have a green salad on the side?’
A few drinks made Rocco feel even better. And when his mood declined he had only to recall Vance’s sneering face, manicured hands and Nigerian shirt to lift himself. How could a fool from a nothing place upset him? He would get the first punch in, and stamp on the bastard.
Teapot was in the pub and when Rocco told him about the fight they went into a field and practised karate kicks. It had been some time since Rocco had kicked anything but Lisa out of bed, and he kept tripping over even as he imagined his boot meeting Vance’s balls.
Struggling for breath, he got up and declared, ‘It’s desperation not technique that’s required. I’m going to rely on insanity.’
‘That’s right,’ said Teapot. ‘Go mental.’
‘Now fuck off.’
He was glad to be alone. But when it got dark he became uneasy. He wanted to be in bed, but knew the night would be sleepless. He would have to think about Vance and prepare the lies he had to tell to Lisa. It was better to go from pub to pub.
He had been doing this for some time when Teapot tracked him down.
‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you,’ said the teenager. ‘Come here!’
Rocco tried to swat him away. ‘I’m saving my energy for tomorrow.’
Teapot almost picked him up and dragged him out of the pub. Rocco had no idea why Teapot should be in such a hurry. Teapot pushed him through the town’s narrow streets to the beach and along the wall. There, Teapot took his hand and told him to be quiet.
Bewildered, Rocco followed him, and was helped onto the top of the wall. They lay down; at a sign from the ever-helpful Teapot they peered over the top. In the gloom Rocco could see Moon lying with his head between a woman’s legs. Looking at the sky, she was humming to herself, as she liked to. He had imagined she only did that for him.
13
Bodger was ashamed of his outburst. He wanted to apologise to his friend and explain that fighting was childish.
Searching the pubs he stopped and sat down several times, recognising that it had been Rocco who’d insulted him and that he’d always done everything he could to help him.
When he opened the door of his house, Bodger heard Vance and Feather.
‘Tomorrow there’s going to be a fight,’ Vance declared. ‘We’re civilised people, but we want to beat each other’s brains to porridge. The strongest will triumph. Love and peace — out of the window! The thought of a fight — it’s frightening … but don’t we love it?’
Feather said, ‘Strength and wisdom aren’t the same.’
Bodger hurried in. ‘The weather will spoil everything anyway.’ He sat down. ‘We have to care for one another. Yes! Otherwise we lose our humanity.’
Vance went on, ‘We have the weak — people like Rocco — dominating the strong with their whingeing. They want others to do everything for them. But they will deplete our strength and drag us down. Selfishness, wanting something for oneself, is the law of reality. But if I benefit, others will benefit.’
Feather took all this equably. ‘Who says who is weak and who is strong, and in what sense?’
‘Him, presumably,’ said Bodger. ‘The new God enterprise.’
‘Get real,’ said Vance. ‘Half the people who drag themselves to your surgery are skivers. They watch soap operas day and night. Why should we spend valuable resources keeping them alive?’ He turned to Feather. ‘I hope you’re coming tomorrow.’
‘I’m a pacifist.’
He smacked his fist into his palm.
‘That’s just voluntary ignorance. You should come and see what life is like.’
14
Rocco lay on the sofa and became aware of an unusual clattering sound. Wondering if children had got in upstairs, he ran to the stairs. No, it couldn’t be that — the entire atmosphere had altered, as if there’d been a collision in space and the world would be extinguished. He moved to the window. The earth had turned grey. It was raining on the hard ground. Tonight, surely, was the end of summer. The evenings would draw in; no one would lie on the beach or gather at the War Memorial; the coach parties and foreign tourists would leave. Only they would remain.
For most of his life, at this time of year, he would be returning to school, and a new term.
He remembered as a kid running into the garden with two girls and getting soaked. They had snuggled up to one another in fear. No longer was he afraid of thunderstorms and now he ruined girls. Never had he planted one tree and never had he denied himself the opportunity to say something cutting or cruel, but he’d only wrecked everything.
Already aching from the exercises he had attempted with Teapot, he would feel worse tomorrow. What did it matter? He would encourage Vance to do him in, not only to break his arms — which wouldn’t affect his brain — but to destroy his spirit and remaining hopes. It would be a relief.
It seemed not long after that Teapot turned up with his motorbike and spare helmet. He and Rocco smoked some of Moon’s Mellow Wednesday, practised some kicks, and went off.
Lisa had returned as it was getting light and had fallen asleep on the sofa with a coat over her. Rocco kissed her face and smoothed her hair.