Blakey on Tour - Part 21

(An ongoing story. Part one here)


My main problem were that I didn't have a motor.

I did have one, if you wanna get arsey about it, being as I still had Jock's burger van and the keys to it somewhere, but I couldn't hardly take the lovely Kirsty out to Hurk Wood in that. Not without her getting suss about it anyhow. She were a right little sparky one, weren't she? Did you see her when I grabbed hold of her arm? For fuck sake, I thought she were gonna yank herself free for a minute there. And she got even sparkier when they came out of the caff to have a go at us about knocking some bird over and not paying the bill. Mind you, it were good to see Burt having summat to do besides popping toast. Weren't so good to see him kicked in the knackers by Kirsty, though. Actually, fuck that, it were good to see. In some ways she reminded us of Sal, former bird of mine and mother of Little Royston. Kirsty and her both knowed how to swing a shoe when required, and they both had dark hair and the kind of pale skin you normally sees only on prostitutes. Also they was both in Hurk Wood at the minute – Sal buried a bit too shallow for my liking up in the north bit (though she'd be well rotted by now or her flesh ate off her bones by foxes and rooks and that), Kirsty stood beside yours fucking truly on the edge of the south bit.

'And you're sure you dropped him off here last night?' she says, squinting into the path through the undergrowth and not looking happy.

'Defo. Said he wanted to go for a walk in the woods, commute with nature or summat. I think he had matters on his swede.'

'His swede?'

'Aye,' I says, tapping the side of mine. Youngsters these days. They don't learn fuck all at school, does they?

She frowned down at her high heels, frowned up the path once again and set off into it, frowning. Her blouse got snagged straight away by a bramble.

'Allow me,' I says, stepping in and trying to unsnag the fucker. It came off easy but I made the most of it, stood close and pulling the material away so I could get a gander inside. Fucking hell.

'Thanks,' she says, pulling the blouse straight and cutting short my glimpse of heaven. 'Are you alright? You look... peaky.'

'Nah, I'm just a bit...' Peaky? Randy, more like. But I couldn't give way to that just yet. I had to work on her, win her over and get her appreciating the old Royston Blake magic. Be a fuck of a lot easier if I'd drove her out here in my old Capri, instead of the Vauxhall wossname I'd had to swipe off a bird who were getting out of it in the supermarket car park back there, but needs must. And how were I to know there were a babby in the back?

'Whoops, looks like little Vectra's awake,' says Kirsty, looking over at the car where the wailing had started up again. 'She really is a sweet little baby. I wouldn't have bothered you today if I'd known you was a full-time dad.'

'Nah, it's alright,' I says, looking over there meself and rubbing me chin. I still weren't sure how to play that angle. The babby had helped win Kirsty over a bit, true enough, but I could see one or two problems looming on the horizon, what with the mum making all that racket back there and calling the coppers, like as not. Luckily I'd got Kirsty to wait for us over by the arcade, and she didn't hear none of it. 'Erm, I think she's just a bit hot, or summat. Reckon I ought to open a window?'

'Well, you know your own baby, but I'd say she wants changing. Or maybe she's hungry. Anyway, I'll leave you to it. And thanks for the lift. Is there a bus that comes by here?'

'You ain't going in that wood on your todd,' I says.

'Why not? I wanna find my Dad. If here's where he was last seen, here's where I look. I've gotta say, though, you told me you knew exactly where he was. This isn't that exact, is it?'

'Nah, it's... look, I'm coming with yers.'

'Don't be silly – you've got Vectra.'

'She can come and all. It'll be alright, honest. Look, I know she stinks a bit, but if we gets too many flies following us I'll just light a fag. They hate fag smoke, flies does.'

'You can't do that.'

'I can – look, I got four left.' I popped one out and lit it. 'Fancy one?' They was only Silk Cut, mind. Found em in the Vauxhall.

'Hmm...' she says, taking one. 'I didn't have you down as a low-tar man.'

'I'm on a diet,' I says, lighting her up and stepping a bit closer. I could see me lighting her up in other ways before long. All it had took was a fag and a babby and finally she were defrosting.

'Tell you what,' she says, stepping away slightly. You couldn't blame her for wanting to preserve appearances, class bird like her. 'You go and change Vectra, I'll try Dad again on his mobile.'

'I didn't see no mobiles on him when I seen him.'

'He didn't like to use it – said it made him vulnerable to vampire attacks. I told you he was living in a fantasy world.'

'Aye, well,' I says, smoking and looking back at the motor. 'Look, can you change the youngun? Only I gotta go for a bit of a dump meself.' Which were true – I couldn't recall the last time I'd curled one out. Seemed like a week or so.

'Oh, uh...' she says, looking all flustered like I'd put her on the spot. 'I don't know if I know how to—'

'For fuck sake,' I says, stepping foot to foot. I had a bit of a turtle head situation going on down there just now. 'How hard can it be? All you gotta do is, erm...'

I left her to it and pegged it into the wilderness. I couldn't hold on no more – that turtle were getting well brave, I fucking tell yer. Half a minute more and he'd be out of his arse-shaped shell and rattling around in Jock's trousers. Saying that, they was well tight on me and not much rattle. And he seemed to be retreating a bit anyhow, or staying put at least with his shoulders coming through but not his arms. I think it were the motion of my arse cheeks rubbing on each other as I sprinted down the trail. Sure enough, when I finally ran out of puff after about forty yard and pulled up, holding on a tree, the exodus were on again. He were like Harry Houdini, that fucking turtle. I yanked down me strides and squatted, making sure to aim him over the gulley a bit cos I'd be coming along here with Kirsty just now, leading her to the battered and busted corpse of her old feller and standing by with me comforting arms. Last thing you needs in a seduction scenario is the smell of human shit.

'Ahhh,' I says. Cos sometimes you just got to express yourself, ain't you? With a range of sounds, via both ends. Mind you, there was some odd noises coming out the back bit just then. You had your usual ones, which was like someone playing a trombone while driving a tractor, but also a new one that were more like a blackbird or summat, one of them singing ones you gets in the morning and what wakes you up with their fucking racket. Cheep cheep, it were going, or whatever. Maybe it weren't a turtle after all, but a canary? I'd been through quite a few eggs of late, it had to be said. Cheep cheep... cheep cheep... cheep—

'Fuck,' I says. Cos I recognised the sound now. A phone.

A mobile fucking blower.

Down in the gulley, which seemed about the spot I'd waved goodbye to Jock the night prior. Only there were summat about it, this cheeping and whatevering. It were...

It were getting louder.

Nearer.

Then it stopped.

'Och, what is it?' says a voice, about ten feet under my bare arse.


(Come back tomorrow for more...)