Inside, Melanie made out she was wrapping the bones up in a cloth. I could see fat on the edges of her mouth. I went to the pile of old bricks where I'd hidden the old gun she'd given me, and I took it out.
'Melanie, that's the last time you're gonna do me any favours.' I came up close and tapped her softly on the forehead. 'Next time you see me, kid, you're gonna be rich.'
And she smiled like a kid at Christmas.
Big fat pig, full of dripping…
No offence. I've got nothing against pigs – some of my best friends, as they say. Face it, my
It was gonna be different this time. I mean, back then me and Signy weren't in it for real. It sort of grew out of when we were kids playing Robin Hood. It was pretty safe, really, so long as people knew who we were and everyone knew about Siggy and Signy. Who was going to fight the children of the biggest ganglord in London?
It was gonna be different this time. No one was going to have any qualms about shooting me now.
I said to Melanie, 'Right, where do the rich go?' I was dunking of getting into a casino, or a decent hotel and pulling myself some fat businessman. Well, the old girl looked down at me and I glanced down after her and I thought, oh oh…
Everything's hard when you're poor! Dressed like that I wasn't gonna get near anyone rich enough to be worth robbing. I suppose that's why poor people steal from poor people and rich people steal from rich people. Well, sod that Was I Val's son or what? In the first place the poor can't afford to be robbed, and anyway, no poor man was going to have enough for me.
You got to use your brain.
I got into town through the old Northern Line tunnel and came back up in Camden as soon as the light went. I got straight on with it. Appearances, I thought. The first place I rolled was a clothes shop.
I snuck in round about closing time. It was a Tuesday, not many folk about. I slid in with a ripple and tucked meself away behind a collection of cheap suits while the staff were dealing with the last of the customers. The final shopper was edged out, the door was locked. I waited. There were just these two blokes, skinny lads with floppy hairdos, poncing about the place. I was waiting for them to leave. But I had the gun ready just in case.
I was terrified. Funny thing, I've always been terrified. I was terrified doing it with Signy and I was terrified now. You have to treat it like stage fright: just ignore it and go through with it even though you're hiding behind a wall retching five minutes before it's time to go on.
So there I was quivering away amongst the off-the-peg suits, while these lads dipped about straightening the place up. 'What's that smell, George?' one of them wanted to know. I was offended. I could have stepped out and smacked him one just for that. He was right, though. I stank. It was just that I'd been breathing it for so long I never noticed.
'Changed your underpants lately?' asked the other one. And the two of 'em started some giggly routine about skid marks and the rest of it. Anyway, next thing, they're looking for the source of the pong. Truth to tell I was pretty obvious. There's no hiding place for a man if he smells strong enough. It wasn't long before one of them came up close by the cheap suits going, sniff, sniff, sniff. He poked about, opened them up – and there I was. And there I was. I made sure he spotted the muzzle of the gun before he spotted me. His face went… plop. Then he saw my face.
I said, 'Hush, George.' He backed off as I came out, his nose inches from the end of the barrel. Then I took a deep breath and I screamed.
'RIGHT, YOU TWO! OVER AGAINST THE WALL! NOBODY TRY ANYTHING! GET GOING, GET GOING!' This is when the face comes in handy. I'm good at that bit of it. I terrified the pants off them. I scared myself, actually. This is the sort of business you have to do on nerves. Your customers have to think you are serious – mad, bad and deadly. Even if you're a nice boy really.
They scurried against the wall. I grabbed hold of the one who looked the least scared. As a rule of thumb, always go for the biggest and the meanest. Once he goes down, you've got the others just where you want 'em.
'RIGHT,' I screamed. I was waving the gun in the air right in their faces as if I was wrestling with it to stop it going off, doing my best impersonation of a homicidal maniac. I was pulling that gristled-up, chewed-up, broken-up face of mine like I was gonna eat them boys. 'I WANT SOME OUTFITS!' I screamed. 'MAKE IT SNAPPY! AND I DON'T MEAN THE STYLE!' I screamed. I broke into a fit of coughing – all that yelling was doing my lungs in. The other one shot off the wall and went running around. '26 WAIST!' I howled. Well, I hadn't eaten much lately. 'SIZE NINE SHOES!' I howled. Then, almost disaster. I nearly got a fit of the giggles. I mean, screaming your waist measurement in a voice like Mad Max. I swallowed it back. 'AND DON'T GET OUT OF SIGHT OR GEORGEY-PORGY GETS DEAD!'
Wow! Big time! You must think I really am mad, starving half to death and going in a clothes shop. But it was necessary. I'm not interested in fashion but you get a better class of victim if you look right. Anyway, the gun wasn't loaded and I reckon even those two laddies could have taken me in the state I was in. I had to give them a hard time to scare them out of trying anything on. I even threatened to shoot them if the colours weren't matching right.
Once I got all the gear together, I tied George and his pal up with a selection of silk ties, and had my own fashion show, trying it on and poncing up and down in front of the mirror. I had the shock of my life. I mean, I'd seen my face, but not that often and anyway, you get to forget what's on the front of your head. This was the first decent mirror I'd got a look in and Jesus! You never saw anything like it. No wonder those two guys were scared. I nearly laid an egg in my pants just looking. My jaw stuck out sideways and forward like a snapped piece of china, my hands looked like claws. I was all bones, my eyes glittered like polished stones. I looked the devil. I could have wept, but I swallowed it down and said to myself, 'Siggy, you are going to haunt this town.'
'What do you think, George?' I asked. I got back to my usual friendly self once they were tied up.
'The beige s-s-suits you, sir,' he promised. It was a nice pinky-beige suit with a waistcoat. I also got jeans, several pairs of shoes, shirts, trainers, you name it. Socks, pants, the lot. By the time I was finished, I could have walked into any casino or hotel in the land. Except that I still stank. And except for the face. You can't hide that in new clothes. Well, people were gonna stare but it's a bad world. I wasn't the only one out there who'd been half eaten.
I gagged the two assistants and blindfolded them – give meself a nice long getaway – emptied the till and headed off into the night. It was December and it'd been pitch black for hours. I caught a taxi to Hackney, didn't want to go too up market, not with my face. The driver was screwing his nose up at me. It was unpleasant, I wasn't used to being a smelly.
Even so I was feeling good. The plan was working! Like I thought, people winced when they had to look at me, but money-talk beats body language any day. I stopped off to buy half a dozen pasties and guzzled them in the back of the cab. The driver must have thought he'd picked up a pig. Then I booked into a hotel and – ah, I remember this bit. You can't imagine – I went upstairs to have a ba-aa-aa-aa-aaaath. Man, it was heaven. Paradise out the taps. It was a decent hotel – not the best, but good enough to have their own hot water supply. I lay in the hot soapy water for hours, and the poverty and the pain floated off me in long dark, greasy stripes across the water. The bubbles turned black. I emptied the bath and started again.
I felt like a new man. I was saved. I'm a pagan meself, but if I was a Christian I'd say, Jesus is a bar of soap.
Then I got dressed and went downstairs to have a meal, just a light one. I stayed in that hotel for two days, building my strength up. Oh, I know what you're thinking. What sort of a toad does that, gets the money and then sits and guzzles for two days when poor old Melanie was starving back home. Listen. I was exhausted. I had to get some strength back. And I did too. Just a few days of decent food, lying in a decent bed, having baths. Shit, I needed it! And at the end of those two days I was up and ready for anything that came my way.
I thought to myself, why stop here? We have the means, we have the technology. I went to do some proper robbing.
I was ready for anything. I was thinking of Melanie's face when I turned up in my smart suit, smelling of sweet soap with a little bag full of gold coins, or rings, or jewels. Oh, I wasn't going for small change. I wanted the business.
That hotel was a real sty. I don't mean it was dirty. I mean, it was full of fat pigs, full of dripping.
