Even the Dogs. Jon McGregor
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Название: Even the Dogs
Автор: Jon McGregor
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
isbn: 9780008218720
isbn:
Two days to get back from his brother’s, two days of walking and hiding in train toilets and jumping over barriers and sleeping in carparks and walking some more and carrying Einstein when her leg got too bad. Big fucking dog to carry but what else could he do. When it was his fault about the leg anyway. And this was the welcome he got, no cunt anywhere and Robert laid out dead and no clue what’s going on at all. Had to find Mike was the thing, Mike would sort it, Mike would know what was going on and what to do. But had to find Laura as well, had to tell Laura before some other cunt got there first. Like Ben or some cunt like that. Had to find somewhere to score. And his own brother had shut the door on him, had said
The driver talks to the policeman in the front, and for the first time we can hear what they say. Is this your first one, he’s asking, and the policeman says Yes, just about, first proper one like this, and the two men laugh and say You’ll soon get used to it, chap, it’s a busy time of year. We follow Danny down to the bottom of the hill, trailing his blankets, tripping over the sodden ragged hems of his jeans, turning to call and hurry Einstein along. The van sweeps up the sliproad at the interchange, and we lose sight of him for a moment as he stumbles down into the underpass, the weight of Robert’s body shifting in the bag between us as we turn on to the exit road and see Danny climbing the steps back up to the street. We see him shaking his head, taking off his glasses and wiping them clean across his coat, looking around for anyone he knows. But there’s no one. Only Einstein, sitting at his feet and panting hard, standing and following as Danny strides away again, the way he always walks, swinging his arms too hard like he’s struggling up a steep hill or something, off towards Barford Street and the markets, turning to look at us for a moment as we drive past and leave him behind, as we weave smoothly through empty one-way streets past loading bays and bus shelters and somewhere out beyond, accelerating away up the steep ramp of the flyover towards the bruise-dark clouds of the blackened
He saw Sammy, down on the corner of Barford Street and Exchange Street. Saw him from the top of the road but he knew it was him, weren’t no one else it could be. That great long beard and the screwed-up eyes and the way he shuffled around like his feet were chained together or something. Called out as soon as he saw him. Sammy, Sammy mate, Sammy, near enough running down towards him in his usual spot on the corner with the benches and bins and flowerpots and that sculpture of fuck knows what. Sammy mate. Sammy. His voice ragged and breathless with the pace he’d kept up since climbing out of the window at the flat. Sammy pissing into a bin, waving fuck off over his shoulder. Sammy, mate, I’m looking for Laura, have you seen her, do you know where she is? Sammy turning and putting his knob away, wiping his hands on his filthy trousers. Staggering with the effort of focusing on Danny, his mouth opening and closing like he’d already forgotten the question. Danny kept moving, kept walking, couldn’t stop, looked away up Barford Street and back the way he’d come, headed off up Exchange Street and away towards the Abbey Day Centre. Not seen no cunt for days, Sammy called out, and Danny turned back to listen, walking backwards for a moment to see if there was anything more. Not seen no cunt for days, Sammy said again, almost to himself, sitting down heavily and reaching around on the floor for his bottle while a pigeon circled in from a rooftop, settled on the edge of the bin, and pecked at a sodden kebab. You can fuck off an all, Sammy said when he heard it, spitting in its general direction, the phlegm trickling through his beard as the pigeon flew up over the marketplace, the station, the multi-storey carpark and the office block and the long dwarfed spire of the
It was the wife was the problem. Tony’s wife. She had a long memory was the problem. Tony had been all right before. He’d let Danny stop round there sometimes. He’d sorted him out. They went back a long way and they had a what, they had a way of dealing with things. Like an understanding. But then he’d met that woman. Nicola. Nicolah-di-dah. Danny had turned up one time, hadn’t been there for months on account of some previous misunderstanding which would have been forgotten by then if it was down to Tony, but now it was different because she was there, Nicola, his new wife, and it was obvious she thought she knew all about him. Grabbed hold of her kids and took them upstairs, didn’t even say hello or nothing, left him standing there in the lounge thinking what the fuck have I done this time. Tony said Sorry but she’s just kind of nervous and that, with the kids and everything, you know how it is. Nervous was right. The way she swept them off upstairs like that she must have thought he was like what, infectious or something. Like he could pass on all the troubles he had as easy as sneezing. Aint that simple, Nicolah. Aint that simple at all. Takes years of
Had to find someone and tell them. Jesus, what was it, what had happened. Leave town for a week and you come back and he’s dead and everyone else vanished like a fuck like a puff of what like a giro cheque. Passed a phonebox on Exchange Street and thought about calling the police from there and telling them about Robert. Found some fag-ends on the floor outside and put them in his tin. Got as far as opening the door before he changed his mind because what was he going to say, what was
Where did you go when you left the scene?
Ran down the hill, went under the underpass, went into town.
Why did you run?
I didn’t run but I was like scared and that.
Scared of what?
Don’t know, I was just scared.
Where did you go?
Was looking for someone.
Where did you
Through the market, down past the Lion and the newsagent’s and the bookie’s. Straight over the main road and across the roundabout and round the side of the old boarded-up warehouse to the hostel where he’d seen Laura that last time. Buzzed at the door but no one answered. Looked up at the windows but couldn’t see no one there. Pints of milk keeping cold on the windowsills, trainers and boots hanging out to air, but the curtains all shut and no sign of anyone awake. Looked in through the office window and saw that what’s her name Ruth on the other side of the bars, clicking away on the computer with her face all lit up by the screen. Banged on the window but when she looked up she only pointed back at the door. Fucksake. Buzzed at the door again and some other bloke’s voice came out the speaker going Sorry, mate, we’re not open yet, usually you’d have to come back at five but we’re full tonight, is there anything we can help you with? I’m looking for someone, Danny said, I’m looking for a friend, she’s staying here, I need to come in and talk to her. Bloke goes What’s her name and when Danny said Laura he didn’t say nothing for a minute then he said She’s not here. She was here a few days ago, Danny said, where’s she gone. Bloke said I can’t tell you that I can’t help you, mate. Danny said It’s fucking cold out here will you let me in so we can have a proper conversation or what, like she must be here, she was going to stay another couple of weeks at least. I need to talk to her. Bloke said I can’t help you, mate, sorry, and if that’s your dog we don’t let dogs in either, and then he didn’t say nothing else even though Danny kept buzzing and buzzing and shouting into the speaking grille. Banging on the office window didn’t help neither, the glass was all toughened and anyway the bars were there and Ruth didn’t even look she just kept clicking away on that fucking computer and what the fuck was she looking at that was so interesting anyway and why wouldn’t they tell him where the fuck Laura had
Through the alleyway past the memorial gardens, looking for fag-ends among the rosebushes and cider bottles, round the back of the council offices, checking the parking meters all down past the tyre fitter’s and the sofa warehouse and then up the ramp to the wet centre. Which was shut over Christmas and had a sign on the door saying where else СКАЧАТЬ