A taste of ammonia

23Oct06

It’s Halloween in the June Bride and I’m an invisible man sipping a large Irish behind a twist in the wallpaper. They’ve just discovered a body in Banglatown. Billy the Pill’s telling Crazy Carol and Zimmerman:

“So, Charlie’s having a curry in Brick Lane and he’s just about to order another couple of poppadoms and a beer when all of a sudden the waiters are running about like headless chickens and there’s coppers all over, creeping all about and eyeballing all the punters…”

He pauses for a swallow of his beer and a drag on his cigarette. Charlie nods to Carol to confirm what has already been said. Charlie isn’t too good with words, having had his tongue removed some years previously for speaking out of turn about a rather nasty face’s girlfriend.

“Anyway,” Billy continues, “Seems one of the boys has been out the back dumping some rubbish or something and he’s having a crafty Marlboroette when he sees these pins sticking out from behind a wheelie bin. Well, he streaks back into the gaff, shaking like a leaf and whiter than a sheet… ain’t that right Charlie?” Charlie nods again with his usual enthusiasm. A dribble of beer runs down his chin. Billy stares into an imaginary distance, and then, drawing his finger in a slow arc from ear to ear, and lowering his head level with Carol’s, says in a theatrical whisper:

“Throat cut! Almost took her bloody head clean off.”

Crazy Carol shivers and grips Zimmerman’s arm. He mutters: “Alright girl, alright,” and strokes her hair. Then he orders her another half of bitter and a Jack Daniels and Coke for himself. I order another Irish and scrounge a cigarette from a cruising cockroach.

“They know who did it?” asks Zimmerman.

“Bloody hell mate,” says Billy, “give them a bleeding chance. It only went down no more than two hours ago. Ain’t that right Charlie?” Charlie nods and holds up two fingers at Zimmerman, who responds with an uncomfortable shrug, handing Carol her half and pocketing her change.

The cockroach returns with my whisky, a pack of Camels and a green Clipper on a tray. The drink turns out to be Scotch but I decide not to complain. Just can’t get the help around here.

“Bet it was her boyfriend, anything you like, any takers?” It’s the Dwarf. He’s just come in, edging his way Spanish though the punters to get to the bar.

“Here we go,” chortles Billy the Pill, laying his finger lightly on the side of his nose and slipping Charlie a conspiratorial eye. “Here’s the man. Now we’ll get the inside story. What do you know boss? No, put your money away. I’ll get that. Now, come on, you’ve heard something haven’t you?”

“All in the fullness, young man, all in good time.”

Billy passes him his beer and the Dwarf takes a long pull on it. Meanwhile Crazy Carol, Charlie and Zimmerman track his every move with building expectation.

“As it happens,” he continues at last, “I have reason to be en-trammeled for a short period of time this evening in the rather unpleasant environs of Limehouse nick, wherein I stumble upon…” he pauses and eradicates what remains of the contents of his glass. “… a little whisper!”

His audience is entranced: Billy bites the crook of his thumb, Charlie tries to lick his beer off his chin with his absent tongue, Carol stares wide eyed and open-mouthed, Zimmerman orders another Jack Daniels, the cockroach winks at me and performs an obscene sexual mime with his tongue.

“Seems the unfortunate young lady is an acquaintance of yours, Carol,” says the Dwarf. “Part time brass. Lives down Shandy Street with some Greek nonce?”

Crazy Carol’s eyes pop, her features freeze, the cockroach’s thorax shivers.

“Bleeding hell, boss. It can’t be. Not her, not little Alice!”

Zimmerman mutters, “Poor cow. Don’t get upset babe,” and attempts a sympathetic embrace but Carol pushes him away and shakes her head, fishing a pack of cigarettes out of her bag, lighting one and blowing the smoke in his face.

“Poor cow my arse,” she growls. “Bitch owes me fifty f**king quid!”

There follows a Milli-second of stunned silence, after which Billy the Pill starts to laugh, the Dwarf sniggers, Charlie chortles and Zimmerman’s shoulders start to quake. I need another drink but I can’t see that f**king cockroach anywhere.

“Bloody hell Carol,” says Billy, “ain’t you got no respect for the dead?”

Crazy Carol totally loses control and collapses into hysterics, whooping with laughter and spraying everybody with beer and spit.

“Yeah?” she splutters. “Well I’ll tell you something else, Billy boy, the bitch was only pregnant, wasn’t she? Three months gone mate.”

Gales of hilarity shake the big bevelled mirror behind the bar. Glasses rattle on the shelves and the guffaw echoes like a dirty joke all through the pub and out the big swing doors into the street.

Somebody says later that you can hear it all the way down the Mile End Road.

The cockroach re-appears and, with a lewd smile, tells me he’s called us a taxi and it’s waiting outside. I tell him thanks but I’ve got a headache and I need to be somewhere in the morning.

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