The punk looked pleased with himself, like he was only one step away from being awarded the Nobel Prize in some newly created category. Sidney waited, thinking he’d own up to it being another not very funny joke, but he kept looking smug and in the end, Sidney said, “What about loyalty and honour, doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“Of course! I’m the most honourable and loyal guy you’ll ever meet.” Hector didn’t know where the old man was getting off – what was he doing trying to connect girls and stuff with loyalty and honour. It just didn’t make any sense.
Sidney thought of his wife and daughter and how much he’d rather be with them right now, not heading out to Nolan’s place with this deranged punk. Still, he’d be back with them soon enough, and he knew one thing, if either one of them ever had to deal with someone like Hector, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.
He could see Nolan’s house on the tree-lined street up ahead of them so he said quickly, “That joke I made about the dumpster. It wasn’t a joke, it was 1983, and if you’re ever so much as in the same room as my daughter, I won’t even hesitate.”
“You’re pretty scary,” said Hector, flattering the old man, because in truth, he reckoned it was all front, like a lot of these guys from the past.
“I know,” said Sidney, but he wondered if Hector had the slightest idea how scary he’d been and could still be. “It’s that house on the left. Pull over.”
“Nice place,” said Hector as he parked, looking across the lawn at the double-fronted house with ivy growing all the way to the roof.
“Remember…”
“I know, listen and learn.”
They got out of the car and walked up the path, then up the three steps to the front door. Hector was faster up the steps and rang the bell, then cursed under his breath because he knew the old man would get all precious about it. Sidney let it go, the punk was just eager, but he couldn’t see him ever coming to anything.
Nolan opened the door. He was in his shirt sleeves and was either wearing contacts or just didn’t bother with his glasses in the house. He stared at Hector first, but then fixed on Sidney with the shock of recognition and said fearfully, “You’re the preacher.”
Hector looked at the old man. He’d heard a couple of people talk about a guy called the preacher, but he’d never realized they were talking about him. The old man had just nodded in response and now Nolan looked like he was about to cry and wet himself all at the same time.
“Please, I’ll do anything, I’m begging you please.” He put his hand up, changing his plea, as he said, “Okay, but look not here, not in front of my family.”
This was cool, thought Hector, the old man was the preacher and this guy Nolan was about to be dog food.
“Mr Nolan, you don’t understand,” said Sidney, reaching inside his jacket.
Nolan started sobbing, his words almost inaudible, but something about mercy. What was it with people nowadays, thought Sidney, that they never listened? He held the envelope, fat and pleasing in the hand, out towards Nolan, who looked at it like Sidney had just offered him a pineapple.
“What’s this?”
“Mr Nolan, if you’d let me finish, Mr Costello wanted me to tell you that there had been a misunderstanding and that he’s very sorry for any distress this might have caused to you or your family. He’s been completely happy with your legal work on his behalf, he completely understands if you won’t want to work with him in the future, and this is just a small compensation. We’re really very sorry.”
Sidney might as well have let Hector do the talking because Nolan was staring at him like he’d explained the visit in Swahili. He took the envelope in slow motion and opened it to look at the bundle of notes inside. He looked up again, and stared in confusion at Sidney.
He laughed then, and said, “I thought, I mean…”
“I know,” said Sidney, sympathetically. He heard someone coming down the stairs behind Nolan then, and said quietly, “Dry your eyes, Mr Nolan.”
Nolan took a handkerchief and dried his eyes and blew his nose, and looked grateful to Sidney for thinking about how he’d look in front of his family.
Hector was struggling to connect here, like the aliens had been and sucked something out of his brain and suddenly nothing made sense. He’d just heard the old man named as the preacher, one of the most fearsome men ever talked about, and they’d come all the way out here to apologize to someone! What next, helping old ladies across the road?
Then he got distracted. The old man and Nolan were saying something to each other when the most beautiful girl appeared on the stairs in the hallway, dressed in one of those skinny-rib T-shirts – they did it for him every time, and she didn’t have much going on up there, but she was nice.
Sidney saw the girl and heard Hector’s tongue hit the floor, even though she had to be fourteen at most. He really was a sick puppy. “Okay, Mr Nolan, we have to be going. Once again, sorry for the distress.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much.”
“Let’s go, Hector.”
The door closed quickly and the two of them headed back to the car. Hector wasn’t happy. Not only had they not killed anyone, or even given anyone a beating, just as things had been getting interesting, the old man had called it a day.
“That was one beautiful piece of…”
“Don’t say it, Hector.”
Sidney took his gun out and gave Hector a sharp little crack across the top of the head.
“Fu… Fiddle! What did you do that for!”
“You’re a degenerate. I’m trying to knock some decency into that thick skull of yours.”
Hector got into the car, rubbing his head, but couldn’t help laughing. “My grandfather used to do that. Not with a gun obviously, but he used to crack me on the head and say he’d knock some sense into me.”
He pulled away and Sidney said, “I’m guessing he either hit you too hard, or not hard enough.”
Hector laughed. It was all on a pretty weird wavelength but the old man was actually pretty funny, even if it was a pain in the posterior that he couldn’t curse or use profanity around him, or talk about sex or drugs. Had he just thought the word posterior? That was something – he was even censoring his thoughts around the old man.
“Say, anyway, why do they call you the preacher?”
Sidney looked at him and said, “Take a wild guess,” and the punk started to laugh. Sidney laughed too. He wasn’t sure they were both laughing at the same joke, but they were both laughing at the same time, and he guessed that was a start. Maybe he’d show him the ropes yet.
THE ANGEL OF MANTON WORTHY by Kate Ellis
I felt his tight grip on my arm as I slumped into the passenger seat and when my hand went up to the blindfold he ordered me not to touch it. I did as I was told and clung to the soft leather of the seat, trying to work out where we were heading.
We travelled for hours on a fast, straight road and I guessed that we must be well out of London. When the roads started to wind I sensed that we were out in the country somewhere and we seemed to drive for miles before I felt the car swing sharply to the left. I heard the crunch of gravel beneath the tires as though we were on some sort of driveway, and when we stopped he told me to take the blindfold off. I could see my surprise at last.