Aberystwyth Mon Amour

The cosh landed on the side of my head; sparks shot across my field of vision and the room turned on its side. I lay sideways on the floor for a few seconds before the two thugs dragged me back up and put me in the chair.

Tutti-frutti leaped round the desk and shouted into my face as the two brutes held me back.

'Don't disrespect our son, he was a good boy!'

'Oh yeah!' I shouted, anger blowing away the last remnant of good judgment. 'Try telling that to Mrs Morgan whose gloves bark every time she goes past the butcher's!'

The cosh landed again.

Papa Bronzini sighed and then stood up slowly, signalling with a slight waft of his hand that the interview was over.

'You are a fool, Mr Knight,' he said. 'You will regret your insult to our family.'

After they left, I lay on the floor looking at the room sideways, so angry that I didn't notice for quite some time the large tender bump starting to form on the side of my head. The phone rang and I climbed back on to my chair to answer it.

'Yeah?'

'Hey Peeper!'

'Calamity?'

'I thought I'd check if you've changed your mind yet.'

'About what?'

'The partnership.'

I rested the phone against my cheek and said nothing.

'You still there?'

'Look, Calamity —'

'I know you think I'm just a kid and all that, but I think I know who's behind all this.'

'Look, Calamity -

'Police are baffled, but -'

'Calamity!' I said sharply. There was a second's silence on the line. 'This isn't a game. If you know anything about this you should go to the authorities.'

She made a derisory farting sound. 'Police! If we left it to them the whole school would be dead.'

'It's not a game, kid.'

'50p a day. That's all.'

I shook my head. 'No dice.'

'I'll be down the Pier if you change your mind.' The line clicked dead.

After sunset the night got hotter rather than cooler until by ten o'clock the people wandering the Prom were sweating more than they had been in the afternoon. As the heat increased, the paving slabs, like flowers opening at dusk, started to release the distinctive perfume of the summer night. It was a mixture that would have kept a wine-taster happy for days unravelling the different notes. Heavier tones of fried onions, spilled beer and the salty tang of sun-dried sea weed; and on top of that coconut oil, sweat, spilled ice cream, cheap aftershave and dog piss. It was a smell that belonged to the overhead lights just as assuredly as the scent of pine belonged to Christmas-tree lights; a smell which would always be linked in the photo album of the soul with three particular sounds: the muted roar of the sea; the electronic chimes of the amusement arcades; and the demented banshee wail of the police sirens.

At the Moulin I was shown to a table only two rows from the front. It meant nothing to me at the time, it was just a table: in the same way that youth means nothing to those who obliviously possess it. I was unaware then of that forlorn army of Myfanwy-worshippers sitting at the back behind the pillars who would have been craning their necks to follow my progress with envy.

Bianca came over with another girl.

'Hi, this is Pandora.'

'Pandy!' the girl announced holding out her hand to shake. She was very small, probably not much over five foot, cute and dressed as a cabin girl. I shook her hand.

'Pleased to meet you.'

Bianca turned to Pandora. 'Perhaps now we can get some peace at last.'

'Not before time,' said Pandora.

'Why, what's wrong?' I asked.

'You of course,' said Pandora. 'Myfanwy won't stop talking about you.'

'Get away!'

'It's been Louie this and Louie that —'

'We're sick of it.'

'Oh you should listen to her!' Pandora rolled her eyes as she forced herself to remember the tedium of hearing my name mentioned every minute of the day.

'We had to tell her to shut up. "Who cares how handsome he is?" we said.'

I laughed off their nonsense. 'You must think I was born yesterday!'

'It's true!' they chimed in chorus.

Myfanwy arrived. 'OK scram, kids, go and find your own man!'

'Pardon us I'm sure!' Pandora and Bianca minced off through the tables, making an exaggerated show of being put out. Myfanwy watched them go.

'That one's Pandy. All the men fancy her. They like her white socks. You wouldn't think she keeps a flick-knife in the right one, would you?'

She kissed me on the cheek, sat down and said, 'I didn't think you'd be back.'

'Why?'

'I don't know, I just didn't. I suppose because I wanted you to come back.'

'You did?'

'Of course! I'm sorry I was rude to you in your office.'

'You weren't, were you?'

'Wasn't I?'

'I don't think so.'

A waiter appeared.

'I'm on stage in a little while, but we'll have a quick drink. Order something.'

'What do you want?'

'Anything, whatever you're having.'

I ordered two straight rums.

'I mean, I understand why you wouldn't want to take the case and that.'

'Have you heard any more about your cousin?'

She shook her head sadly. 'No, his Mam's going out of her mind.'

'I asked around a bit, to see if anyone has heard anything.'

She looked at me wide-eyed. 'You did?'

'Here and there, nothing special.'

'How much do I owe you?'

'Nothing, of course.'

'But I must give you something.' She picked up her handbag and I put a restraining hand on her forearm.

'There's something I need to ask you. That afternoon you came to see me, the Druids broke into my office - they were looking for something. Something important to them, which they seem to think you gave me. You don't know what it is do you?'

She looked puzzled. 'No, I've no idea.' She tried to open her bag. 'I must give you something.'

'No,' I said again.

A frown furrowed her brow and then she brightened. 'I know, I'll tell them not to charge you for the time.'

Now I looked puzzled. 'What time?'

'For me sitting here.'

My eyes widened. 'You mean you're going to charge me?'

'But of course! I have to!'

'But I thought ... I thought . . .' The words trailed off. What did I think? 'Damn it, Myfanwy, I thought you were sitting here because you wanted to!'

'But I do!'

'And you're going to charge me?'

'Of course . . . Oh Louie . . .' She wrapped her arms around mine and pulled herself close to me. 'Don't be like that. It's my job, don't you see?'

'But -'

'It doesn't mean I don't want to sit here. Look at it this way: imagine I was serving behind a bar. When you turn up I'm really pleased because you're my favourite customer. But I still have to charge you for the drink, don't I?'

'That's completely different.'

'Why?'

'I don't know, it just is. It's not the same.'

'Oh Louie!'

'I can't believe this. I thought . . .'

'What?'

I struggled for the words. What was I supposed to say? I who had only known her a few days thought for some unknown reason that she might actually like me? Because I couldn't find the right words, I said the wrong ones.

'So basically you're just renting yourself out to me, are you? I'm no better than all those other sad losers who come here.'

'Hmmm!' she snorted.

I sighed and stared at the table. 'If that's the case, then I don't want you sitting here.'

'Louie!'

'Go away.'

'Louie! Oooh you!' she stood up and stormed away.

When the two rums came I drank them both down in one and ordered two more. After that I had four more. And then another two. It probably explained what happened later. I was wandering back from the toilet sometime towards the end of the evening, past the roped-off section, as Bianca got into a fight with Pickel, the dwarf. Something was said and she slipped angrily off his knee and sat on the knee of one of the other Druids. More words were exchanged and the dwarf flung a hand out to cuff her. Pickel, who wound the town hall clock, always had large bunches of keys hanging from his belt like a cartoon gaoler and his movement unleashed an eerie jingling sound. Bianca dodged the blow and he took aim to do it again. I stepped over the rope and caught his hand.