Shape of Snakes

He didn't answer immediately. 'All I know,' he said then, 'is what I told you in my letter. That I came home from the arcade to hear that the stupid cow had died in the street from some sort of accident.'

I nodded as if I believed him. 'Did you know the Slaters went into the house later and robbed it?'

'Rosie sussed it when the police described old Annie as living in poverty,' he admitted. 'She reckoned we ought to say something but I didn't want have to explain how any of us knew what was in there.'

'Did Alan not mention it?' I asked curiously. 'You were inseparable at the time. I'd have expected him to boast about how clever they'd been.'

'No.'

'Because it was clever, Michael,' I said idly. 'Way too clever for Derek and Alan alone. It was the odd little extras like turning off the mains water ... and soiling the floors to give the impression of self-neglect and poor hygiene. I've always wondered why that was necessary. Unless the smell of human urine was stronger than cats' urine and needed explaining.'

He shook his head, but whether in denial that he knew what I was talking about or in refusal to answer the question, I couldn't tell. From the way he started to look for an officer to rescue him from me, it was clear the whole subject made him as uncomfortable as talk of his mother.

I plowed on determinedly. 'You said it makes you sick that Derek's in prison,' I reminded him. 'Does that mean he's in at the moment?'

'He got two years in February '98. A guy on my wing shared a cell with him in Pentonville before he got shipped down here. He reckons Derek's dying. His liver's packed up with the drinking, and the one brain cell he has left can just about remember his name ... and fuck all else.'

'When's he due for release?'

He made a quick calculation in his head. 'He'll have served half so he'll be out by now ... assuming he's not dead already.'

'What was he convicted of?'

'Burglary,' said Michael dispassionately. 'It's what he gets done for every time.'

'Why does that make you sick?'

He gave an unexpected sigh. 'Because he needs an education, not endless bloody punishment. Him and me were on the same landing in the Scrubs when I was on remand for this one. He's completely illiterate ... just about manages a 'd' and 'e' for his signature but can't get to grips with the 'r' or the 'k.' I wrote some letters for him to his kids, but the only one who ever answered was Sally, and then only because she thought he might have some dosh hidden away somewhere. It pissed me off, it really did. The poor sod was only trying to tell them he loved them, but as far as they were concerned he didn't exist.'

I was surprised. 'You used to hate him when you were a child.'

Michael shrugged. 'It doesn't mean I can't feel sorry for him. I got to realizing how limited a guy's life is if he can't read and write. It's pretty mind-blowing when you think about it. I mean, you can't apply for a job if you can't sign your name to a form ... and people sure as hell look down on you if they think you're an ignorant jerk. I reckon it's what made Derek violent. The only way he could get people to respect him was to slap 'em about and make 'em afraid of him.'

'Is that his excuse?'

'No. He's not into excuses. Maybe that's why I feel sorry for him. He told me a bit about his childhood ... how he got dumped in institutions because his mum didn't want him, then legged it to live on the streets till he was nicked for shoplifting and sent to Borstal. That's why he's illiterate, never stayed in school long enough to learn basic skills. It makes you realize how important love is to a kid. If his mum had wanted him'-he pulled a rueful face-'maybe he'd have been one of the good guys.'

I guessed he was talking as much about himself as he was about Derek. 'Everyone has to deal with rejection at some point in their lives,' I said.

'Worse when you're a child, though,' he said bleakly. 'There has to be something wrong with you if even your mum doesn't like you.' He fell silent, squeezing his fists in an echo of Drury. 'Derek reckoned he only married Maureen because she reminded him of his mum,' he said suddenly. 'He had this black and white photo of her, and it was the spitting image of Maureen ... skinny and slitty-eyed ... called her a sidewinder.'

'As in snake?'

He nodded.

'Why?'

'Because she never looked him in the face ... just stabbed him in the back. It sounded halfway reasonable till I realized he feels like that about all women. 'They're all snakes,' he said, and snakes have shapes. If you can't recognize the poisonous ones you're a dead man.'

'How did Maureen stab him in the back?' 'Gee-ed up Alan to take him on. It was like a war zone in there, went on for months. If we had our windows open we could hear the fights all the way past Annie's empty house ... the screaming and yelling ... bodies being slammed against walls. It was like the minute Annie died all hell let loose.'

'Why? What changed?'

Michael shook his head. 'Mum reckoned they reverted to type. They were bullies and bullies need someone to hit on ... so while Annie was alive they hit on her and when she was dead they hit on each other.'

It made sense, I thought. People never pull together so well as when they have a common enemy. 'How many times did Maureen end up in the hospital?'

'Two or three. But it wasn't Derek who put her there, it was Alan. He was well out of control. It was around the time he raped little Rosie. Derek kept him in check for as long as he could but by the time Alan got to fifteen he was two inches taller than his dad and twice as heavy, and there wasn't much Derek could do to stop him.'