George and Spider Part Seven - Spider's Story

'Yes, I want to meet this friend of yours George!' said Winky as he squeezed his broad frame into a long black coat. 'Your father has been telling me all about what the two of you get up to in this neighbourhood.' He began to laugh loudly again, lifting his head and whooping like a big black swan.

George slipped outside into the yard. Spider was pale-faced and shivering now, perched on the edge of the green plastic chair, drawing nicotine into his lungs as if his life depended upon it.

'Come and give me a hand will you Spider?'

George got the nets out of the shed and the two men worked together, draping them across the fish ponds, securing them to nails in each corner. All the time George watched Spider's face carefully, waiting for the right time to ask him about his father's invitation.

'Moon's shadowed out tonight George.'

George glanced up. 'Mmmm. Actually Spider mate, Dad just asked me something, well asked both of us-'

'What?'

'They're all going to the pub see, now, tonight - and they want us to come along, to join them, in the pub.'

Spider froze and looked terrified for a few seconds, then said, 'What , me, and all of you, and that foreign man in there?'

George nodded. 'Yes. The only thing is though, is that they're going to - The Clock.'

Spider blinked hard and said, 'Not,' he shook his head, 'the one that ticks?'

George exhaled and nodded very slowly.

'The Ticking Clock?'

'Well, it's The New Ticking Clock really. It's all changed hasn't it, you wouldn't even recognise the place. And that man, you know the one, the one with the crabsticks - well, ' George was beginning to feel awkward now, 'whoever he is, or was, Dad says he hasn't been in for years, he says he's-'

'It's not just him George! There's memories, bad memories. Just hearing the name of that place gives me bad vibes. I could throw up. I've buried it see, and honestly I could just throw up at the thought.'

There was a pause as Spider followed George into the shed and watched him turn off the external lighting and lock up.

'You know,' said George, 'it might do you good to go back there. It won't be as bad as you think. Dad's in there three, four nights of the week. He has his Mason's meetings in there, on a Wednesday, in the big room upstairs.'

Spider looked terrified now, he briefly lost his balance and had to sit on the edge of one of the ponds and regain his composure. 'I ain't going upstairs George, no way!'

'You don't have to. Listen, that bloke in there, that - foreign bloke, he's a big fish, a top predator. He says he's got a proposition for us, and that he wants to meet YOU. It could be really worth our while Spider, and I'm not talking peanuts. Peanuts are for monkeys.'

Spider shrugged and said, 'I like being a monkey.'

'So do I mate, but I don't want to be living off peanuts forever. I want to move onto bigger things, to almonds, macademias, Brazil nuts. Peanuts are cheap - cheap and greasy.'

'Greasy?'

'Seriously Spider. I don't want to miss this opportunity. Winky's got links all over the country, all over the world. You could stop signing on. Sod Wendy and her arse, and her courses! You could achieve your dream of being err, what was it again - anonymous.'

Spider sighed and frantically rubbed his forehead. 'Okay, okay mate, just let me think for a minute.' He got up and paced around the yard a few times, occasionally stopping and making little sighs, finally he stopped next to George and said, 'Okay, I'll do it - for you. I'm doing it for you George.'

George rushed to embrace him. 'Aaaaah, I knew you would! I can't do it without you. I can't do anything without you Spider.'

Spider pushed him away and said, 'Look I'm coming for the journey but if I get a bad vibe about the place then I ain't going inside.'

'Okay mate, okay. We're going in Winky's Bentley. I reckon they're waiting for us now Spider.'

Spider suddenly looked aroused by the idea of travelling in a Bentley. His demeanor changed, his flat black eyes shone. He clapped his hands and said quietly, 'What are we waiting for?'

'I'll just pop up to the flat and put Crystal to bed. Wait here in the yard for me.'

Spider stood in the shadows. He was rigid with cold and fear, and a small amount of stifled excitement. He found human company very challenging, especially if he felt that there was an expectation for him to talk, to socialise and be normal. He had a healthy fear of normality. There were just a handful of people with whom he felt comfortable enough to speak, these included; Wendy from the job centre, whom he'd known for several years, although their relationship had rotted slightly, and Maureen, or Aunty Maureen, Spider's neighbour and sort of surrogate aunt, and of course George.

The presence of other humans caused him considerable mental and physical discomfort, often awakening his sleeping stammer from its little box, deep down inside his throat. When he visited George at the shop, he always waited in the yard, to avoid having to speak to Francis, or worse, Arthur. He spoke a little to Maureen. She often took him for a ride in her car, an activity he relished very much; sitting in her passenger seat he could watch the world go by, buffered by metal and glass, and the voice of Terry Wogan on radio two.

Now Spider found himself seated in the back of Winky's Bentley, hemmed in with four other men, three of which made him tense, travelling to a location which made him tenser. His muscles clenched up, clamping down around his skeleton, inhibiting the blood-flow and making him feel cold and brittle. George felt nervous for his friend and kept turning around to check on him. Spider's mandibles bulged at the sides of his jaw, which he held fused together to prevent his teeth from chattering.

'You alright there Spider?' George whispered gently.

Spider's head went up and down rather choppily, as if it had come loose from the vertebra in his neck. He dared not speak in case his stammer was waiting, waiting for an opportunity to humiliate him.

Arthur, who was sitting in the front passenger seat, turned around and frowned hard at Spider. He wondered if he'd done the right thing by inviting this strange young man to join them. George gave his dad a filthy look, then he sniffed the air. There was a smell, perhaps from Spider? No, it was different. George glanced back towards the boot, perhaps it was full of carrion.

The Bentley caused a bit of a scene as they pulled into the car park of The Ticking Clock. To ensure that his spectators kept on looking, Winky parked the vehicle horizontally across three parking bays. He appeared to derive an energising thrill from the attention, for he alighted the vehicle briskly, shook his keys in an effected manner and flashed his yellow eyes.

There was no doubt that the pub had changed considerably in recent years. It appeared so different from grim, red-brick building etched so deeply on Spider's memory. The concrete beer-garden he remembered had now gone to make way for a larger car park, and the whole place had been painted a trendy shade of pale green. The surrounding trees cast a familiar shape though, the sight of them triggered sad, churning memories.

When Spider was a young boy his mother had worked the bar at The Ticking Clock. He recalled being left alone in the corner of the pub for, what seemed like hours on end, with only a packet of crisps and some ashtrays to amuse him. Occasionally, if his mother was doing a longer shift, or if he was bothering her, he was locked in a room upstairs, together with a huge German Shepherd called Nina. She would stare at him, he was told not to look at her and he didn't, he kept his eyes on the lino floor, he knew the pattern well.

Years later, after Spider's mother had left, he and George used to spend a little time in the bar there. Back then it was rough and ready for anyone over the age of twelve to hang around and pretend to be older. As time went on it became a far more savage place. George and Spider abandoned it in favour of The Comet's Tail. A few years later a brutal fight resulted in two murders and later the suicide of the landlord. The place was shut down and boarded up. Ragworts and Buddleias pushed through the tarmac on the car park, the metal boards outside were daubed in graffiti. It stayed that way for a couple of years. Now it had re-invented itself as a plush new wine bar and brasserie. But it was still just a little too close to the North side of town and the notorious Lawns Estate to ever really become what it was trying so hard to be.

Winky, Arthur and Francis went inside. Spider stalled for a few seconds while George held the door for him. He took a deep breath, shut his eyes and stepped in. Slowly he opened his eyes, as if waking from a long fuzzy dream. George had been right, he didn't recognise the place at all. The bar had moved to the other side of the building, the space was all broken up with screens and fake plants in pots. A huge blackboard was hung along the length of one of the wall, and scrawled along it in chalk were the words 'Red Snapper', 'Eaton Mess', 'Lentil Moussaka' and the names of other trendy, suburban delicacies. It was certainly not the sort of place George and Spider would normally frequent. For Spider it was utterly surreal. George simply felt very uncomfortable and sort of angry too.

Briefly Spider tried to imagine his mother serving behind the bar, but reassuringly as hard as he tried he just couldn't conjure up her image, he could barely even picture the features of her hard, pointed face. Then he thought of the little hunched fish-seller who was alleged to be his father. For a split second he clearly saw the man in his overalls, walking between the tables, the image quickly thinned and then faded altogether.

The place was busy. It had only been open six months and was still enjoying the first flushes associated with being the new, novel establishment. After-work drinkers sat in little groups, laughing and flirting over alco-pops and vast plates of nachos, dripping in oily cheese.

Winky had a presence about him. People moved out of his way, it was like the parting of the sea, and the others experienced a private thrill from being part of it. Winky had his eyes on one large table at the back of the room which was occupied by a small man with a newspaper. He walked slowly and deliberately towards it like a scaly torpedo. The man looked up, quickly gathered his paper and scuttled away with his head down.

'Now,' said Winky, 'This is er, how do you say - cosy, cosy isn't it boys? Sit now, Arthur will get some drinks. I'll have a triple vodka and apple juice, no ice.'

Arthur knew what his two sons would have but he wasn't sure about Spider. He pointed at the young man, as if he were an infant or a dog.

'He'll have a half Dad, HALF a bitter,' George said sternly.

'This place is okay, eh boys, ' said Winky, looking around. 'A little bit errrr, you know, frilly, homosexual perhaps, but that is sometimes preferable to, you know, the rough stuff. I haven't been in since the trouble, ' he shook his head. 'Terrible business. I knew one of the men who lost his life, he was an - associate of mine, not a friend, I must stress, but an associate. It still affected me though, that bad news. There's no blood stains in here though is there? he said, looking around.

George and Francis glanced around and shook their heads politely.

'No - they've painted over them, they've done a good job of it too.'

'Sage green, I think they call that shade,' said Francis nervously.

'Yes,' said Winky, 'Green is best - for hiding red.'

George was beginning to wonder whether his father was considered by Winky to be a friend or an associate, since there appeared, from the way Winky spoke, to be a very stark difference between these two categories.

Winky seemed to take up an awful lot of space at the table with his big three quarter length coat hanging from the back of his chair, and his huge thick arms leaning on the table, making it rock every now and then. His fingers were decorated with ancient gold rings which glowed, like only pure gold can, they were set with cabochons carved with Roman emporers and Greek gods. On his wrists he wore thick curb chains, they clanked heavily on the surface of the wood whenever he moved. The other men watched in silence. It was as if a mythical creature had joined them at the table.

Arthur returned from the bar with a smile and a tray. He placed a pint of beer down in front of Spider. George sat up and frowned.

'I said half Dad, you've got him a pint!'

'What are you, his keeper? I'm not getting anyone half, that's it!' said Arthur flatly. 'It's either a pint or else he can have, I dunno, a white wine spritzer, if that's what he wants - with a straw!'

'It's fine, th thanks Mmmmmr Jules,' said Spider.