Under the Limbo Tree Read online

  Steve slammed a couple of pints on the table.

  ‘You know what really would be a solid skill.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Pass it on to your mates.’

  ‘Pass it on, Steve? I can’t pass it on.’

  ‘Right, need a quick slash.’

  Steve took a swig and headed off up the steps towards the toilets. This had to be Bullit’s opportunity. He mulled over leaving a few quid for a wasted pint but maybe that would be more insulting. He took a sip of the new pint and headed for the front door, pausing to grab his jacket from the rack and for just a few seconds he had no sight of the rest of the room.

  A few unfinished thoughts later, he felt it. A hand gripped onto his shoulder and he turned round. It was the darts player’s wife, Steve standing behind her, grinning from ear to ear. She looked down at her hand like it had just bitten her and then back at Bullit and then made a move to come in for a hug. Bullit wanted to hit Steve so hard but wouldn’t that just make everything a million times worse. He skirted past the darts player’s wife and headed off to the toilet quick smart.

  The next thing he knew was her coming in right after him, before he could even lock the cubicle door, closely followed by Steve, still with the massive grin on his face. She started with the old, look what someone spilt on me routine but even bored herself with it. She just stuck her hand down his trousers and grabbed his old fella, pushing him back into a cubicle. Bullit pushed her away just as Steve gently tapped the door open.

  ‘You know her, don’t you.’ said Steve.

  ‘Fuckin ell, what you doing here, fuck off,’ said the wife.

  Steve had halted her feverish attempts to release belt and zip. He saw the look on Bullit’s face and started laughing. The wife released her grip on Bullit’s belt and Steve got a right hook, immediately followed by the entrance of the darts player.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing in the men’s, you fucking tart?’

  ‘I do believe she was stomach deep with my mate, Dennis’s old fella, son.’

  The darts player swung at Steve, who slipped out the way and felled him with a punch that barely creased his jacket. The wife thought twice about another assault on Steve after seeing hubby drooling on the floor and shot him a look of death. She snarled at her prostrate hubby and left.

  ‘Don’t think for one moment I owe you a tenner,’ said Steve.

  ‘I don’t want your shitty tenner and don’t ever fucking do that. Look at the shit she’s going to get from him when he wakes up. And what do you mean no tenner? You saw that right?’

  ‘You knew her.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really. That doesn’t happen. It just doesn’t fucking happen. I mean, I’ve been patient listening to it and, frankly, it feels like you’ve gone a bit far setting it up, answers on a postcard why, but no, no fucking way.’

  ‘Right, don’t believe me then, fuckit. I’m not being stalked by half the women in Adster all my life. It only leads to being stalked by half the men in Adster. Seriously, not funny. Not happy.’

  ‘OK. Well, I’ll pick one then.’

  ‘Happily ignoring everything I just said. I thought you might actually help. I now have no idea how that could have ever been the case. I know you’re a big fella and all but you are a massive bell end.’

  Steve became still and stared at the wall to make thoughts real. Bullit slightly braced, at any moment Steve could launch a big bowling ball fist at him. The seconds passed and then Steve smiled.

  ‘Done. Madeleine.’ Steve looked at his watch.

  ‘Madeleine?’

  ‘Well, here we are in the khazi, you can’t get out without touching me. And you definitely believe it would be a bad idea. So you prove it on Madeleine or I will be getting hold of you.’

  Bullit couldn’t argue with his logic. His repeated decisions to do anything other than go home had come back to haunt him. He was captive of this enormous oaf.

  ‘So, listen up. Madeleine, works here some nights. Fucking gorgeous, model and all. Comes to work in all this fashion clobber, slit here and holes there. Never lets anyone without money fuck her, it’s got to be a Ferrari to take her home, champagne when she gets there and a grand on the pillow the next day. Odd expectations for Adster I grant you yet there it is.’

  Steve opened the door to the toilets and everything the other side of it was pretty much the same as when they went in minus the darts player and the darts player’s wife.

  ‘There’s no fucking way Madeline would look twice at a fucking farmer like you. And she’s due on shift about now. Eight o’clock. We shall resume our place at the table, yes? Not really a question’

  They stepped over the darts player, now enjoying a quiet snooze, and Steve backed out, beckoned Bullit to follow and Bullit had to follow. Steve’s presence kept any stragglers from getting in the way as they moved down the steps back to their table.

  They got a sooner look at Madeleine than they thought. She was just heading out for a smoke and looked at them like they’d just farted on her as she passed them. Bullit backed off her more than she was used to and her look of disgust at him was enhanced.

  ‘There’s a second tenner in it,’ said Steve. ‘Might give you a little incentive.’

  ‘Second tenner? It won’t and this is wrong.’

  ‘OK. I’ll make it a straight twenty for Madeleine.’

  ‘Missing the point by a country mile but you know that.’

  ‘I do. Sit.’

  Bullit was pretty sure he could move quicker that this lump of a man but he didn’t have the space to move round him. Maybe he could generate that space somehow. A few sips later for Steve, Madeleine came back in dripping off her coat and didn’t even bother looking at them like they’d farted this time, went back behind the bar.

  ‘Nipples standing up like soldiers, solid lass.’

  Steve got up and moved over towards the bar. Bullit saw the tiniest of glimmers of possible space open up but just as quick, Steve moved back a pace or two and waved him over.

  ‘Just thinking out loud,’ said Steve. ‘But if you can do this, me and my associates are gonna fucking love having you on the end of a rope, little doggy. If it ain’t true, I might just have to give you a twatting for wasting my time. I don’t like being lied to.’

  Then, Bill, an older fella, way too old for the earring and the hairstyle, wandered into the place and walked up to the edge of the bar. Neither Bullet or Steve saw him.

  ‘Pint please, bar steward,’ said Bill to Madeleine but Madeleine ignored him.

  ‘Thought it was too good to be true,’ said Bill and kicked out at a barstool, sending it into a group of photos on the wall and bringing one down with a smash. Madeleine looked over the edge of the bar. She was perfectly confused, looked around the bar, made eye contact with one or two of them but no one had any clue it had happened.

  Bill stood open-mouthed at the stool and the broken picture. He didn’t move for several seconds and then got a little closer, check it had really happened.

  ‘That’s a first,’ he said. ‘Definitely shouldn’t be able to do that.’

  ‘Quality,’ said Steve. ‘What the fuck happened there?’

  Bullit went over and picked up the picture and brushed off some of the glass. He was going to put it back on the bar but when he looked at it, he froze to the spot.

  ‘You alright, mate?’ said Steve. ‘You’ve gone a funny colour.’

  Bullit was not alright. It was her. This old photo of a young Victorian girl, all booted up, ready to get into a carriage. It was her from his dream.

  ‘It’s her.’

  ‘Come again, son. Looks like that girl from the telly, what is it, Celebrity Diseases or something.’

  ‘No. It’s her. She’s the one in my dreams. She’s beautiful. The most beautiful human being I’ve ever seen.’

  Bullit’s fingers circled her face and he found himself lost in the half smile coming back at him.

  ‘She’s dead my
son, that’s one thing you can be sure of.’

  ‘She’s the one but she’s dead.’

  ‘You probably saw the picture ages ago and your dream just picked her. She’s a fucking babe though, solid choice.’

  There was no caption and nothing on the back and Bullit had no choice but to consider he must have seen it before. He’s been here a fair bit, he must have.

  ‘So, back to matters at hand,’ said Steve. He waved Bullit closer. And turned to Madeleine.

  ‘Oy, Madeleine. Headlights love.’

  ‘Fuck off, Steve.’

  ‘Fair enough but have you met my mate, Dennis?’

  ‘I’ve seen you, Dennis. What are you doing with this scum?’

  ‘Never mind this scum or that scum, treacle,’ said Steve. ‘This is the man you will love for the rest of your life apparently.’

  ‘Steve, seriously, come on,’ said Bullit and glanced I’m so sorry. Run! at Madeleine.

  ‘Don’t think so, toothpick cock,’ said Madeleine. ‘And what are you looking at Dennis? Look you two, my fella is right over there. He lost his last fight and he’s not happy tonight.’

  ‘He’s about to be even less happy,’ said Steve. If this man touches you, you will fall in love with him, you won’t be able to resist him.’

  ‘Fuck off Harris, you retard,’ said Madeleine.

  ‘I’m not going to touch you, Madeleine,’ said Bullit and then he turned to Steve. ‘I can’t. You know I can never use this.’

  ‘Oh yes you can my son, I know no such fucking thing. You’ll touch her if I say you touch her.’

  ‘Nobody is going to fucking touch me. What’s the matter with you two?’

  ‘I’ve just got one question for you,’ said Steve to Bullit.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Can you touch them and say you’ll love them forever if they shag me first?’

  ‘You are fucking scum, Harris,’ said Madeleine.

  ‘But if I’ve got you right, you will not be considering slithering around with our nipple-tastic little Madeleine here…’

  ‘Standing right here, scum,’ said Madeleine.

  ‘You will not fuck her because it’s raping her and because she’s not your one true one, the one who’s “pulling you into her”. I’ll tell you that Amanda Jenkins sounds well worth getting pulled into.’

  ‘Scum.’

  ‘Fuck me, the irony. Standing before me could well be a man with the ability to shag anyone he touches and that man has decided not to fucking touch anyone. For fuck’s sake.’

  Steve looked over at Madeleine again and smiled, he grabbed her hand and grabbed Bullit’s hand hard and put Bullit’s hand on top of hers. Her resistance to Steve’s hand grab eased away, her eyes changed and she looked at Bullit. This asshole had actually done it. He’d seen that look before a few times, but this was the first time he wasn’t freaked out by it, he could analyse it from an objective standpoint. All the lines of pretence had left her face, just a smooth blank page, free of the world, immersed in him, imagining him written in from that moment on. It was supposed to be a look every human being waits for all their lives, a look that brings belonging, partnership and love. But now it meant only isolation, someone else he could never see again. He wished it away from her but it wasn’t going anywhere.

  Far more worrying was Steve, though. Steve had touched him the same time as he’d made Madeleine touch him. Bullit fixed on him, pondered the horrors of this monster having fallen under his spell. The way Steve was looking at Bullit, Bullit didn’t know if he was gonna kiss him or hit him. Bullit prepared for a sprint to the door.

  At that moment, Madeleine leaned over the bar and grabbed Bullit’s collar.

  ‘Follow,’ she said slowly, insisting Bullit attend to each syllable, then slid back her side of the bar and held him in her eyes every step of her way to the door at the end. She lingered a bit and a smile took her inside.

  ‘Fuck me. Houston, are you seeing this?’ said Steve and turned to Bullit. I’d have to say, as far as superpowers go, Stan Lee missed a trick. The most valuable skill in the world. Here in little Adster. You can keep your flying around, keep your swinging from fucking spiders webs.’

  Steve was looking over at the door Madeleine went through, then he looked back at Bullit, then back to the door and finally back to Bullit, with a crease on his face that begged to understand why a man wouldn’t just simply walk through Madeleine’s door.

  Had Steve been completely unaffected by it or was this another diversion, it’ll all catch him up in a minute.

  Bullit soon had his answer. Madeleine had now poked her head back through the door meant to be used by Bullit far sooner than he’d decided, the toilet door smashed open as the darts player emerged and Steve’s eyes changed, like the fruit machine had decided on its row. He turned to Madeleine, checked his watch and turned back to Bullit.

  And Bullit had seen that same look on Madeleine minutes earlier.

  Time to leave.

  Bullit had made it the short few yards from the Rose home in double quick time. He fumbled the keys a bit and it was still pissing down but no one came out of the pub to witness where he went inside and soon the wet front door was shut and he was back on his doormat, staring down the barrel of his hallway towards the back door.

  First priority, draw the blinds on all the doors and windows. Second priority, what next?

  The last thing he remembered was the photo in the pub. That girl. The one he’d been dreaming of, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up on pretty much the same spot on his doormat. The blinds kept the house dark and that was just fine.

  Steve had been potentially dangerous the minute he saw him last night and had proven he was dangerous very soon after that. He couldn’t imagine what his real anger would bring out of him. Suffice it to say, Bullit’s situation was a lot more threatening at the end of yesterday than the beginning of it. Things, and last night in particular, had made it all a lot less safe to be in Adster.

  ‘Idiot,’ he said.

  Bullit needed air. He squeaked open the back door and made sure no one was lurking anywhere, caught a light jasmine scented breeze and breathed it in.

  He drew in the silence. If what was outside his head had been inside his head, what a beautiful peace it would have been. But it wasn’t.

  Then, for some unknown reason, he caught a flashback to something he didn’t ever remember doing. He was in a plane, a little tiny buzzy plane. He was flying it but he knew he couldn’t fly. He looked around the cockpit at all the lights and levers. None of it made any sense. There was someone in the seat next to him. It was a woman, light blue dress and red shoes but he couldn’t see who she was. She was in the brace position. He was going down. He was going down over a massive forest, just about to crash into the treetops, and then his flashback kicked him back out into the day and that was all he could remember. If it was a dream, he didn’t remember having it. In fact he didn’t remember having any dream at all last night, the first time since he started having them. Sleep had become something to look forward to, the feeling he got when he saw her. But not last night.

  For the next three days, the house was locked down tight and he didn’t move from the three ground floor rooms. Plans had taken him to just about anywhere he could live wild and catch food. Caves and ghost towns, jungles and deserts, but he still had more to do on it.

  He’d called work and told them he’d picked up the lurgi, caught a bit of flack, new eco project breaking ground this week and all. He would be required very soon. He was infested with the fear of more and more people happening upon his evil touch and then more and more until the whole town would be outside with pitchforks and torches, chanting, convinced he was the devil, set to prise him out of his house like a snail and put him on some big bonfire up on the point.

  He watched more shit telly than a person should ever have to, floated around the place, not coming up with any solutions. The thing was, solutions were what he was good at but for this hor
ror show, the most important problem of his life, he had nothing.

  The fridge had done bravely to see him through the three days but it was now bare white plastic, six grains of yellow rice and some onion skin. The hungrier Bullit got, the more he thought about cheeseburgers and the more solid logic he found for braving the big outside world, stock up and hole up till the solution presented itself, and at least it wasn’t raining.

  Option one. Left out the door, forty yards down the road, then a narrow ten yard passageway through to the market. No other way in or out, something about a flood fortress. Option two. Right out the door, hit the main road, probably two hundred yards from there. Distance but more space versus proximity of target but possible confinement. Bullit thought proximity of target. That ten yards can be done quick enough if he’s lucky and there was barely anyone about at this time.

  Option one started well although next door’s cat had to be given a swerve when it came up for a hello fluffing. There was no one in the lane down to the passageway. Church Lane, clear left, clear right. No sounds of anything the other side. Then a few yards from the passageway, he heard people the other side. They were getting louder and soon after that, about ten of them emerged. Bullit ducked into his safe box, a doorway and a little porch, no one lives there, no reason why anyone else would need to be there.

  The problem was, the folks that came through the passageway weren’t moving on down Church Lane or anywhere else. Most of them had some musical instrument in its case and it appeared this was their stage for the world, right fucking here outside Bullit’s safe box. But there was enough time to slip out and go the other way before risking contact. Option two it was, then.

  There was no one in the lane till he got close to the main road and then a door opened on the right. A woman and, shit, kids, three of them, all under ten, running all over the place, bouncing off everything. All followed by two dogs and a spillage of coloured balls. Instant chaos and again, nothing he could be near. The lane was too narrow.