Inappropriate: Three Short Stories Read online

hardly fair on you. Stuff like that can attract wildlife, vermin. They can become a nuisance.’

  She turned then did a double-take. ‘Vermin?’

  ‘Yeah. You seen rats or anythin’ of that sort?’

  The red in her cheeks blotched up all of a sudden. Her face froze into a mask as though her speech centre had seized up along with rational thought. But then she collected herself with a little cough. ‘Yes, pest control laid traps beneath the kitchen floor but nothing took the bait.’

  Silence fell over us except a distant tractor. Instead of asking if she was okay, I adopted a blithe tone to lighten things. ‘Maybe they’ll get ‘em next time.’

  ‘Yes. Maybe.’

  It seems she couldn’t even utter the three-letter word. ‘I...er, caught one beneath me boot last night. It was an accident really. It was trying to eat my sandwich.’ I had stupidly admitted I had spent the night at the foot of her garden. What must she think?

  But she barely noticed. ‘You caught one?’

  ‘Yeah. Your fence is all rotten beneath the turf. It got in through a hole.’ Solemnity and fear oozed from her being. Her Anthony had never seen that look, I’m sure. ‘I can sort it if you want.’

  Her eyes flinted with intensity. ‘You can do that?’ Fear tore down the barrier between us and she approached. ‘Can you do that for me?’

  For me? I loved that. ‘Sure. There’s a rat-run here. I c’n stick around, stake the blighters out.’ I chuckled.

  I reckon she would have hugged me if not for the fence. But she checked herself, glancing back at Fin in the house. ‘Thank you.’ she uttered and that frozen mask softened into a small smile.

  I told Ed I had a job to do once he’d done his verbal and threatened to tag me. I used my allowance and raided the metal room for bolts, plates and screws. I bribed Sid B for panels from his workshop in exchange for fags. I set myself up at the bottom of her garden and trowelled up the wood rot. She came up with a cuppa and biscuits as I dug holes for building posts. My handiwork seemed to impress. She didn’t seem to mind same-old-me at the bottom of her garden. She didn’t even mind when I got meself a small tent and camped there. I reckon the sight comforted her. I was some bloke doin’ maintenance and pest control. Spud had nothin’ to say. He just gave me the eye as he tended to his beans. I reckon she told him to lay off.

  I saw her watch me from the kitchen window. Fin gave me a wave as he splotched green paint over his new gnome.

  I caught two offspring that night. Her repressed awe at the sight of my cadavers left me proud. Their deaths, I assured her had been quick and painless. Beneath my boot.

  I perused a porno mag in my tent. I was getting all urgent over a couple of pussies when I happened to glance at her window through the mesh. In the dark, she was applying face cream. She worked her hands over her neck. I couldn’t help myself. I pictured my mouth where her hands were, tracking my tongue beneath her jaw line. She closed her eyes as she pinned her hair in a bun to expose her nape. She applied cream over her shoulders. I could picture my head there...at her throat where I could rest the tip of my tongue against her nipple and have a suck like some stupid overgrown baby. Getting sweaty. In her arms. The mag fell limp and my pulse resounded in a steel drum. She who read political thrillers on her Kindle would have hated the thought of this vagrant goggling at pussies at the foot of her garden, but the sexuality on those pages vanished in an instant. Her neck with the mole beneath her right ear, the breathy voice the downy flesh housed became all. I wanted her voice box to reverberate against my mouth.

  The aftermath left my head weighing like bricks and the inside of my skull buzzing like an apiary. I didn’t need my porno mag any more. I had her image in my head.

  I followed her to work after she dropped Fin at the Tree House Kindergarten. She works as a teacher’s assistant at Brantwell School – Thursdays and Fridays are her days off. She was late picking Fin up once so I waited on the playground pretending to be Dad. Alex is Fin’s best friend. Fin and Alex do sleepovers twice a month. They also have swimming classes at the local baths per Saturday. Anthony took ‘em one Saturday to Pirate’s Sanctuary, a cheesy theme park with life-sized plastic figures. He stood in front of me in the supermarket once. I flicked a bogie at his shoulder. He has the sort of beefed-up workout body that would turn to lard after a week’s loaf. I told him he had a parking ticket. He was late taking her for a meal as a result. His stretchy T-shirt got sweaty armpits in his dash. He wouldn’t remember me. He’s going to Geneva on some business drive that week, so why would he?

  I flipped the telltale rubber from my screwdriver when a shadow reared up behind me.

  ‘Where the fuck have you been up to?’

  I turned to find Zane’s skewed and demanding leer. The screwdriver fell into my back pocket without Zane’s notice. ‘Busy.’

  ‘Don’t get smart with me, Deke. You’ve got that look about you.’

  ‘What look?’

  ‘That look, y’ know, shifty.’

  ‘Fuck off, Zane.’

  Zane tagged me by the elbow. ‘Ed’s been asking questions but I’ve got some of me own.’

  I shrugged him off. ‘Don’t give me that. I’ve been square with Ed about the work I been doin’.’

  ‘What work?’

  A shuttered screen slammed down inside me. ‘The usual.’

  ‘The fit MILFie?’

  I curbed the urge to ram a fist into his face. ‘Go back to Ed. He’s got all the answers you need.’

  Zane smirked, exposing a blackened tooth and the shadow of the former crackhead. ‘You fuckin’ owe me, Deke. I kept me trap shut for you.’

  Zane’s former habit had obviously burned a hole in his brain. ‘I don’t owe you a thing.’

  ‘Well, me and Darrell think you got above yourself. We need that lookout. Manni’s place is waiting and you’re the missing piece.’

  I knit my lip and strode off.

  Poor Anthony had to get the towing truck out again. His ITC hands couldn’t deal with axle grease. He stopped at Elaine’s that weekend. I saw him look my way from the patio doors as Elaine made the tea. He retreated to the front room. I unscrewed each bolt from the panels and re-screwed them. Her bedroom lights went out and she drew the curtains. I pushed the screwdriver into my palm until I drew blood. None of it was her fault. He got there first. She has her kid to think of. I had come too late, from the wrong quarter. In another life, I would have a decent job, a house, money. But I was here. In a tent. Fixing her fence and catching rats.

  I didn’t sleep a wink. I heard him leave the next day. His beefy pecks slid beneath his T-shirt as he leapt into his convertible – the one with the new tyres.

  I screwed the panels together. I added more studs. She now has a fence like Fort Knox. But this gave me no satisfaction. I wish I could dismantle the thing and start again. I would do it over and over if I could stay here. Something waited behind me; the soul-sucking despair of the strip-lights and the spoiled dropouts in the hostel. It all came back to my dad. My loser of a dad.

  ‘Would you like a cool drink?’

  I hadn’t heard her. She stood just a few feet away. Her white blouse diffused light beneath her chin and she smiled. ‘Hop over. I have a one by the house.’

  She strolled back to where Fin sat in a sunhat.

  My hands were shaking. I dropped the screwdriver to clamber over and land my trainers on the turf – her turf. I expected to see Spud, Ed or Zane glaring at me but saw no one. She waited by the patio doors, glass in hand. She seemed expectant, nervous? I couldn’t tell. I loped over and took a glass of lemonade from her patio table. She stood just inside, her feet on the carpet. I remained on the slabs outside. I inclined the glass but the cool liquid did not dispel her watchful eyes from my mind.

  I lowered the glass. ‘Ta,’ I said attempting casual. Fin was sitting at her feet, propelling his truck backwards, forwards. Her eyes faltered before she took a sip.

  ‘Beautiful day,’ I said though the sun kept g
oing in.

  She smiled. ‘Yes, lovely.’

  Fin was humming beneath his breath. I smiled at him though he wasn’t looking at me.

  ‘There’s been no more sounds,’ she said. ‘It’s been three days now.’

  ‘Oh...you mean beneath the kitchen?’

  ‘I want to thank you for what you’ve done.’

  I could see she felt her words insufficient. It didn’t matter because I knew. ‘If you don’t mind my asking,’ I ventured, ‘Why didn’t you ask your boyfriend to...y’ know. I mean I noticed him about. He seems the sort to love laying traps.’

  ‘He doesn’t know.’

  I nodded not understanding.

  ‘...about my phobia, I mean.’

  I felt I should leave it there but couldn’t help myself. ‘Why’s that?’

  She fondled the rim of her glass. ‘He’s a bit of a prankster, likes a laugh. He has a great sense of humour, mind. It’s just that, I couldn’t bear the thought that he or one of his friends might do something.’

  I resisted the urge to tell her what a wanker he is. Instead I said, ‘Well your secret’s safe with me.’ I brought my fingertip to my nose and snorted like a buffoon. My feet shifted and my face was getting hot. ‘But seriously, those fence panels ‘re solid. Nothing can get past. If it does, you know where to find me.’

  Bemusement crept into her smile. ‘So you’re finished now?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I stuffed my twitching hand into my pocket. ‘All done.’

  She took another sip.

  ‘I’ve decided I’m gonna do