That was it, really. They tried not to, I think. They really did try, but she was just so much better at making him feel all right than I was. I understood that. She did it for me, too, when he could only make me feel miles worse. In a way it wasn’t what they did that made me so angry. It was what he said when he’d made his decision, as though I’d be pleased to hear it, as though he was giving me something again after all.
“If it wasn’t for everything you’ve taught me I’d never have been able to love Sophie as she deserves. I couldn’t do it when I first knew her because I didn’t know enough. It was you who taught me how to know people and let them know me. It’s all your doing, Penny. You’ve shown me how to be all the things she wanted me to be then and I couldn’t. We owe it all to you and we’ll never forget it.”
I won’t either. Not ever. You see, that was when I did want to kill him. But even then, if I hadn’t been jointing the chickens when he said it and had a sharp knife in my hands, we’d still have been all right. I know we would.
THE KILLER BESIDE ME by Allan Guthrie
“We’re long past our sell-by date.” Trevor switched his grip on his cane. He’d been clutching it hard for ages now and his hand was clammy. What were the bastards up to, taking so long to get here?
“Bollocks,” Harry said. “We’ve got a good couple of years in us yet. We’ve defied the odds so far. I’m looking forward to old age. Has its perks. You can spit on the floor and beat nosey children with your cane.”
“But after a while,” Trevor said, “you’ll get tired of lying in a pile of your own shite.”
“Or somebody else’s.”
“What’re you saying? If anything, you’ll lose control of your bowels before me.”
“At least I can still get it up.”
“Fuck you. Anyway, that’s not what I mean. Just making a point,” Trevor said. “We shouldn’t be here. Not at our age.”
“Fuck, we’re not in our seventies yet. Don’t write us off. I can see the day when we’ll need special adult undergarments. I long for that day.”
Trevor didn’t move. He couldn’t, not without his brother’s help. The settee was too deep. A faded old two-seater, that’s the best the fuckers could come up with. Stuffed out of the way in a room that was some kind of cleaning room. A hoover, mop in a bucket, stink of furniture polish. The bank manager had had to move a cardboard box full of rubber gloves and dusters before they’d been able to sit down. When he left, he’d locked the door behind him.
Where the fuck were the police?
Trevor said, “I once gave a blind man a blow job, you know.”
“You did not.”
“Did.”
“Not.”
“You were asleep.”
“Shite.”
“You were.”
“I’d have woken up.”
“You were drunk. Paralytic.”
“Then you must have been too.”
“You can’t hold your drink. Anyway, it’s true. Back at Aggie’s-”
“I don’t want to hear about it.”
“Well, I’m telling you.”
“I’m not listening.” Harry started singing. But he couldn’t drown out Trevor’s voice. Especially after Trevor started shouting. Harry gave in, asked, “What happened?”
“He wandered into the bedroom by mistake. I heard him scuffling around, banging into things. I put on the light.” Trevor adopted a high-pitched voice. “I spoke like this,” he said. “Made him think he’d walked into a lady’s room. Completely fooled him.”
“But why?”
“For fun.”
“No, why did you blow him?”
“He asked. Completely up front about it. And I felt sorry for him.”
“That’s fucking disgusting.”
“A selfless act,” Trevor said. “Some might say it was noble.”
“Wonder what he’d think if he knew you were male.”
“He’ll never find out.”
“I could tell him.”
“But you don’t know who it is.”
“Bet I can guess.”
Trevor said, “How the fuck?”
“How many blind people stayed at Aggie’s?”
“Three. At least.”
“One was a woman, so it wasn’t her. So there’s a fifty-fifty chance of me getting it right.”
“Well, I’m not going to tell you.”
“But I know, anyway.”
“No way.”
“Do too.”
“Ah, away and shite, you old fuck.”
The two old men were silent for a while. The sound of traffic seeped through the walls behind them.
“Who was it, then?” Trevor asked.
“Not telling.”
“You don’t fucking know. You were asleep. You don’t remember it. So how can you know? You can only guess.”
Harry shrugged. Well, as much as he was able to. “This conversation is over.”
“Fine.”
“Yeah, fine.”
“Good.”
“Well, shut up.”
“I will.”
“How did you turn out gay, anyway?”
“I’m not fucking gay.”
“You gave a blind man a blow job.”
“So?”
“That’s pretty gay.”
“You think so? How do you explain Edna, then?”
“Okay, so you’re bisexual.”
“At least I’m sexual.”
“What’s with you today? You’ve done nothing but pick on me from the minute we woke up.”
Silence.
“The surgeon’s in town.”
“Huh?”
“The surgeon.” Trevor stared at Harry’s annoying blank face. “The surgeon. Our surgeon.”
Harry looked away. “Shut up about that. It’s not happening. You want to end up like Carslaw, back in ‘98?”
“Don’t remember him.”
“Yeah, you do. Big guy. Talked about cars all the time?”
“Vaguely.”
“Went into hospital for a hip replacement,” Harry said. “Never saw him again.”
“Died?”
“Escaped. Outran the bastards, him and his dodgy hip.”
“Yeah?”
“Course not, you thick twat. He went under the knife. Didn’t have the heart for it. Went to sleep and never woke up. You don’t remember?”
“Nope.”
“Jesus. Maybe you’re senile already.”
“Fuck off.”
“Can’t speak to you. Don’t know why I bother.”
Trevor said, “Leave me alone then.”
“I will.”
“Give your pecker a tug.”
“You sure you don’t want to?”
“Fuck off, you dirty bastard.”
“Well,” Trevor said, after a while, “I expect an apology at the very least.”
“For?”
Trevor crossed his arm over his chest. Said nothing.
“Huh?” Harry said. Shook his head. “Okay, I’m sorry I said you were gay.”
“Not that. I don’t care about that.”
“Thought you wanted an apology.”
“I do. But not for the gay remark.”
“Well, what, then?”
“What do you think?”
“Fuck’s sake, how am I supposed to know?”
“Take a wild guess.”
“No,” Harry said. Thought for a minute. “Nope. Nothing.”
Trevor looked him in the eye.
“Well, maybe,” Harry said. He looked down at his hand. He was better with his hand than Trevor was. Maybe because Harry was right-handed.
“Say it.”
Harry sighed. “The robbery? Us ending up here?”
“Great fucking guess. You’re a fucking genius.”
“Sarcasm’s unbecoming.”
“Oh, but robbing a fucking bank without telling me is okay?”
“Didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Like I had any choice.”
“You knew about the gun.”
“Yeah, but how was I supposed to know what it was for?”
“What’d you think if was for?”
“I dunno. Self-defence?”
“Oh, yeah. You really believed that.”
“Lots of kids about, what’re they called, hoodies. You know they’ll fuck us over, pair of old codgers like us, joined at the hip. Anyway, that’s what you said.”