George and Spider Part Six - The Croc

Arthur and Francis were deep in conversation as George dumped the shopping onto the counter. Arthur paused to observe his son for a few seconds, then said, 'You alright George?'

'Yeah - just bumped in that bloody Keenan Spooner by the canal.'

'Keenan,' Arthur rubbed his chin, 'now which one's that?'

'The one from my year at school, big ugly bastard with - green teeth.'

'They're all ugly that lot. Violet Spooner's been banned from using the buses. Did you here about that Fran?'

'Yes I think I did read something about that in the paper. Didn't she urinate on the upper deck? They've got cameras now, haven't they, on those buses, you can't get away with that sort of thing anymore.'

'I think she's claiming to have a bladder weakness, fighting to get her pass back. By the way George, there's someone to see you out the back, he's been there-' Arthur glanced down at his Rolex, 'an hour or more.'

'We invited him in, didn't we Dad?'

'Oh yes Fran, we did'

'He didn't want to join us. Preferred the company of fish.'

'Okay, I'm just popping up to the flat. I'll be straight back down.'

'Well don't go out again George,' said Arthur, 'Winky's coming over later.'

Spider was out in the yard, squatting down next to the fishponds, making himself appear impossibly small and insignificant. He gazed at the fish, blowing smoke towards them in little decorative circles and uttering the occasional comment. As George approached him he didn't look up, in fact, he appeared to be in a sort of trance.

'Where's - the black spot?' he said very slowly.

'Sold! Some geezer came in and bought him, Japanese bloke with expensive shoes. He gave me a wad for him. I raised the price, on account of his shoes. I could've got more - but I only saw his car as he was leaving.'

'What vehicle did he have?'

'Silver with a horse emblem.'

'Pond's different without him,' said Spider, still squatting and staring vacantly ahead.

George laughed a little and said, 'Yeah, he was one of my original stock. Let's hope he'll be happy in a rich man's pond.'

'The "dynamics" have changed, you see George. When an important member of a group or family is removed, then the "dynamics" change. I know about this, I saw it on Maury this morning.'

'Maury?'

'Yes, it's a TV programme. I watch it in the morning. It's on in the afternoon aswell - they repeat it throughout the day, for unemployed people, who get up at different times.'

'Mmmmmm, funny isn't it?' said George.

'What?'

'Well, people without jobs can live by their natural body clocks can't they, but they don't look well, they look sick don't they?'

Spider nodded for several seconds, then said, 'You're right there George, you've hit on something. You've hit the snail on head.'

'The NAIL.'

'I don't like those cliches. But yes you're right George - they don't look well. When I'm at the job centre, I stand in a queue of people who look as if they're waiting for an operation instead of a cheque. They've plenty of time to rest and sleep. It's our society blows an ill wind on them George and makes them all sick, too sick to work.'

'Been to sign on this afternoon have you?'

'Yeah - yeah - yeah,' said Spider, sighing heavily and rocking back and forth upon the bent souls of his feet. 'Maureen took me for a cake at the garden centre, then she dropped me off at the job centre, then I came here - to the centre of the universe. The daytime can drag I find. Sometimes it feels as if the sun will never dip George.'

George fetched a couple of plastic chairs from behind the shed, dragged them noisily across the paving slabs and plonked himself down on one. 'Garden centre, job centre,' he said, 'they're both a waste of time when you think about it, but one gives, one takes away. I can't even bear to think about that job centre now you know, urrgh! Just the thought of it makes me feel as if the blood in my veins is running poison.'

'It's much worse now George! I swear, every time I go in there I can feel the full spinning of the earth. I'm hurtling George, we all are, but you don't half feel it in that job centre.'

George lit up a cigarette, passed it to Spider, then lit his own. 'Glad I'm out of it,' he said.

'It's not like the good old days George. That Wendy gives me the third degree every week now.' Spider put his head down and laughed a little. 'Remember, when we used to sign on together in the good old days?'

'Yeah,' said George grinning.

'You could tell the truth then. Telling the truth is easy. We wanted to work for NASA and we wouldn't accept anything less - coz we wouldn't would we?'

George shook his head firmly and said, 'No mate, still won't.'

'And we'd get handed our cheque, no questions asked, just the way it should be, the system, running smoothly, no snags. Now she gets all stroppy that Wendy, it's like she's been, I dunno, turned.'

'Turned?'

'They've changed her George, you should see her, she looks old now, she's put on weight, her arse is massive, looks a right mess, and she never smiles no more. She wants me to do this course and that course, voluntary work, typing skills, all that crap. Why would I? Look at what working for a living has done to her!'

'That's the real world. Don't be going there mate! Real world, real problems. You'll look sick if you're employed, sick if you're unemployed. Whole system's wrong. You're better off picking berries.'

'I've told her, that if I get up before nine o'clock I'm physically sick but she doesn't believe me, she wants a doctors note, well I'm not registered with any doctor - or dentist. I've still got toothache and all.'

George glanced across at his friend. 'Chew on a clove mate. You want to avoid all of that, filling out forms, talking to people, hassle. Just be as vague as possible with that Wendy. Who wants to be employed anyway? I'm not, my dad employs me, but I don't see myself as employed. In fact I've thought about this a lot and do you know what I think?'

Spider shrugged his narrow shoulders. 'What?' he said.

'I think encouraging people to be employed can only ever lead to unemployment, and if unemployment's bad then they must both be bad.'

'Unemployment, that's my seconds least favourite word after employment. Those labels are no good for a hurtling human. Labels are for containers, those ones with airtight lids. I need air, for fucks sake George!'

George made a sort of chuffing sound to show his agreement. 'Employment's for muppets. If you want somebody's hand up your arse, controlling your every move, you go ahead - you're perverted but carry on.'

'That's what Wendy wants for me George, she's determined, determined that I go into an airtight container and a hand goes up my arse.'

George thought hard for a moment then said, 'Tell that Wendy, you wanna be a man with a van, and that your saving for the van, and it'll take three years to save the money and four before you get your license. Say it every week, it'll throw her off the scent for a while. By the way, did my dad give you an envelope?'

Spider sat up, removed a brown envelope from his pocket and held it aloft. 'I haven't opened it yet,' he said smiling, 'but I know it's not enough for a van.'

George laughed. 'Good thing too mate, men in vans never learn to drive, not properly, well, that's what my old man says.'

Spider sighed and stared up at the sky. 'Maybe I'll just stop signing on altogether,' he said, 'I could just rob more. It's easier that way. You can be yourself, be anonymous, that's all I want really, to be anonymous in the world,' he pointed at Crystal, 'just like the animals.'

The two men watched as the fish settled themselves in a huddle just beneath the surface of the water. George suddenly remembered his encounter with Keen Spooner and inhaled sharply, as if to speak, but then caught himself and witheld it with a deep sigh. The mention of that name would surely carve up the peaceful atmosphere of the yard.

Spider turned to him suspiciously. 'What was you gonna say?'

'Oh nothing - just about your snake, the albino.'

Spider shook his head and said, 'Hasn't turned up.'

'No sign?'

'T's what I said.'

There was a pause. 'Come back when he's hungry,' said George.

Spider lifted himself stiffly up from his long held squatting position and sunk into the other plastic chair. Crystal immediately rested her head on his slender thigh and he rubbed her fur backwards and forwards with his thumb. They sat in silence, in a sort of static, companionable stupor, simply smoking and staring, as the white clouds in the sky turned pink and then red, and the air turned chilly.

Inside the shop the visitor had arrived. Loud voices could be heard talking and laughing eagerly. George was in two minds about going inside to say hello. Winky was such an overbearing character, it took energy to engage with him. But he was intriguing too, and he always brought something interesting with him, something precious and rare and stolen.

The peace in the yard was shattered by Arthur, who opened the back door and yelled, 'Georgy are you there? The man's arrived, he wants to see you, come in and say hello will you!'

Spider watched Arthur disappear back through the door, then said, 'Who's - the man?'

'Oh - just Winky. He's this bloke Dad knows. I'd better go in and show my face. You stay here, I'll be back in a minute.'

There was something about Winky that made both Arthur and Francis look very alive and animated when they conversed with him, only in a slightly forced way. It was as if the man made them nervous, and they directed all that nervous energy into entertaining him, to prevent him from doing whatever it was that they feared.

George entered the shop stealthily. He watched for a while as his father and brother fussed around the visitor, telling him stories and making wild gesticulations with their arms.

Winky was a large, solid man with a broad cylindrical body, supported by long feet on short thick legs. His face was wedge-shaped and his yellow eyes rather dull and unexpressive. He was completely bald and covered all over with thick craggy skin; as a whole, he was somewhat crocodilian. Born in Poland, he carried a strong accent. An unfortunate quirk of nature had caused one of his eyes to remain partially shut, so rather than labouring over the pronunciation of his first name, he had given himself the dreadful but unforgettable title of Winky, Winky Glowacki.

On the counter was a large pile of scrap gold and a handful of watches. A few moments went by before Winky noticed George standing there. He stopped talking and held out his huge arms. George knew there was no escaping Winky's bear hug. He walked slowly towards him and was lifted off the ground in a chest crushing embrace. He held his breath, for Winky's breath always smelled strongly of cigars and carrion.

'George! Don't just stand there like a, like a - spare piece!' Winky said through a cloud of cigar smoke which temporarily blinded George. He put George down and said, 'And where is your twin today? It's so funny when I think you two. I say to people, I know these twins, one is up here and so handsome - and the other, well he is-' Winky placed his hand at waist height and began to guffaw with laughter. His crocodilian face hardly creasing as he bellowed through thick greyish lips.

George caught a gust of carrion, he stepped backwards and scurried off to examine the pile of goodies on the counter. There were many gold chains and bracelets, broken, as if they had been ripped from the body's of those who had owned them. There were rings too and heavy gold watches. George had a leaf through them.

'You can help yourself to any of that George,' said Winky still laughing, 'Not the watches though, they've got people waiting on them.'

'Winky was just saying George,' said Arthur, 'He'd like to go down to the Clock, see the refurb and meet your side-kick?'

'My side-kick?'

'Yes, him, out in the yard. Start shutting up shop now will you Fran.'

George began to have a little internal panic attack, for he knew that Spider would never agree to going to Arthur's favourite pub, The Ticking Clock. That place was full of ghosts for poor Spider, dangerous ghosts from his childhood.

'But Dad,' he said quietly. 'Spider won't go in there, his mom used to work there, he hates the place!'

'What? They've done it all up son. There's no trouble in there now, landlord's a friend of mine, won't stand for any of it.'

'It's not the trouble Dad. It's-' George moved closer to his dad and whispered to him, 'There used to be this rumour, about that scruffy little man in the white coat, who used to come in selling crab sticks and cockles and all that-'

'Oh yeah?' said Arthur grimacing, as if his son's words were a form of torture. 'What?'

'That he, the cockle man, he was Spider's real dad. It was all round the school. Even Spider believed it.'

Arthur laughed and shook his head. 'My God! I haven't seen that fella in years. I think he died, had heart attack or fell off his moped or something. Although young Lucas does look a little like a prawn-'

'I'm serious Dad!'

Arthur grabbed hold of George's wrist and said, 'Get a grip George! Come on, go out into that yard and fetch your mate. Winky wants to meet him, says he's got a proposition for the two of you.'

George's face changed. 'A proposition?' he said.

'You heard. Now go and fetch him!'