Siggy
It was two in the morning. Hyde Park. Not my normal stamping ground. I was out doing a job with a few 'friends'.
I wasn't getting out much, but you gotta work. Well, tell the truth, I didn't have to do even that Cherry provided for everything we could want, even allowing for the fact that Melanie was getting greedy. Once a week Cherry dropped off a little bag of bits and pieces – jewellery, gold, you name it But by the end of every week the cupboard's always bare. Well, it's expensive times but you can't tell me a pocketful of gold and silver won't pay the groceries for a week. Nah. It's the resistance. Melanie gives every penny to Dag Aggerman. So who says I don't do my bit? The money me and Styr bring home must keep the halfmen in swill for a year.
Of course it all goes. If I filled the house with diamonds we'd be eating left-overs by the end of the week, but I don't begrudge the old girl, not a penny, or Dag Aggerman, for that matter. Not that it'll do anyone any good. Keeps their spirits up, the idea of fighting back, I suppose. I moan a bit when there's no beer in the fridge, but my basic reaction is to supplement the income. But it gets me out of the house, it keeps Melanie happy, and let's face it – I owe her one.
And it keeps Styr happy. It's the only thing that keeps Styr happy, seeing as I refuse to join the resistance. My sister took out any kindness from him, took out pity. What use has a soldier with pity? Instead of pity, he has loyalty, to me. Plenty of that. He's bad news, my son. No good'll come of him, I know that. Too much hatred. But he's mine. Sorry, not my fault, but there it is.
Normally he'd have been out with me, but when I mentioned this job, he went all embarrassed, and it turns out… guess what? He's got a woman. A girl! Don't they grow up quick, one moment they're newborn, two years later they're off trying to get laid. I let him off the job like a shot. Hel, it's the first time Styr's ever had a private life. I was pleased. Maybe the boy will grow up into a human being yet.
Mainly we work on our own ground: Muswell Hill, Barnet, Wood Green, maybe Hampstead or Stoke Newington – places a bit further in where there's a bit of wealth but not so much that you've got a private army barracked round the corner. It's quite good pickings, but of course the real challenge is further into town – the private estates behind iron gates or set in little parks of their own. That's where the real business is. Not the sort of job you do on your own.
It was me, Fumble, Skunk and Dozey. Dozey was a hard man, used to be a gangman with Conor but he got chucked out. Things kept disappearing as far as I could gather. You could trust him with your back, but don't give him your coat to hold. He was basically a decent bloke so long as you didn't expect him to give you your share. He just couldn't help himself – a bit like old Melanie. Skunk's real name was Jo, but he had a dash of the old furball in him, if you see what I mean. He reckoned it was dog but in the general opinion it was most likely skunk. Well, not really… It's just that he didn't like being called Skunk so of course we all did. As for Fumble, he was a stoat pure and simple, but not of the animal kind. Well, listen, work is work. I didn't pick these blokes as friends.
We'd targeted a big house on the edge of Hyde Park. It wasn't hard. They weren't used to being picked on. They had half a dozen blokes in some weird family uniform, but there was only one way in or out of the barracks, so we just locked the door. Simple! When they started shouting we shot a few arrows in; that soon shut them up. These idiots, they keep thugs just for show, like owning a lawnmower, it shows you have the cash. They hadn't even read the instruction booklet.
We tied the family to the banisters. I terrorised them with my face, then we went through the drawers. Jewellery's the stuff, you can't transport anything big. And money, of course. Fumble and Skunk smashed the place up. They seemed to feel it was compulsory. Fumble had a shit in the piano. We left by the back windows. The guards were staring out of the window looking all scared.
'Let us out! Let us out!' they whispered as we left, scared of what the family would do to them when they got loose. Serve 'em right for being so stupid as to be employed by arses.
Way home. Cross the park. Lovely, lovely day, but that was the dangerous bit. In the house you were safe enough, unless they were big enough to have an outside line to the police or army. On the way back, the Vermin were everywhere.
Hyde Park isn't so bad at night, but as you got further out there was a curfew. We waited in the park until the sun came up and people were moving before we went on. The others, didn't have much to worry about. They looked reasonably human, even Skunk, who wasn't. No, I was the animal. One glimpse of me and half the population's yelling for the Vermin. You saw it all the time. Kids, quite often. Maybe they thought it was a game. You'd hear them: 'Animal!' And some poor mutt'd start legging it before the Vermin came.
It'd happened to me more than once. A couple of times I even had a set-to with the Vermin, but they usually got a surprise with me. They didn't expect a civilian to be packing hardware.
I'd more or less stopped going out except to work. I had to slink along, eyes peeled all the time. I kept a scarf round my face which wasn't very convincing even though it was a chilly morning. The three others went ahead and warned me if there were people about. It was a dicey business. I should have worked nearer to home, but I couldn't resist the big hits. We made one hell of a haul that day.
It was a long walk, nervy like I say, but I was enjoying it – nice cool air, early morning, leaves changing colour. We were doing well. We got to Kentish Town, where the guys had some horses waiting for them. Fumble and Dozey went off, but Skunk and me walked on. Horses were no good for me, of course, put up on high with my face, so everyone could get a good look. No thanks. I stayed on foot It was good of Skunk to keep me company, though. I appreciated it.
So it was just the two of us walked into Muswell market.
There was some sort of fair going on. Music belting out. Someone had one of those old steam-organs rigged up. It was boiling merrily away, rattling out its dumb old tunes. There were bands bashing it out, lot of drums. Someone even had an amp connected to a generator, and they had electric guitars. The Vermin were everywhere, some of them trying to get into the spirit of it, others looking pissed off. They don't tend to approve of electric music. Maybe it's the sound. More likely they just thought it was a waste of good petrol.
The market was fun, even though I was worried about bumping into Vermin in the crowd. People know me round there; I'm not so likely to be given away and even if I was, there were plenty of people willing to tuck me away out of sight. The whole place was all brightened up, stalls everywhere, food cooking, kids. People have fun, kids play, even under Conor. Down the street the corpses hung from their heels like a butcher's shop, and the band played on. You live under that sort of shadow, you think about it often enough. You can't begrudge people a morning off from being miserable.
We walked around looking for a drink. Stalls selling clothes, old tools, bright ornaments, past kids selling little animals moulded out of silver paper. We walked past the mouth of the gibbet street. I turned my head and there she was.
I recognised the dress. It was pink, gold and blue stripes, hanging down over her head. She had one leg splayed out, arms stuck out at angles, more like a pig than ever. She was pretty human, Melanie, apart from the big pig jaws, but she had porky little arms and legs. Shit, even a full human looks like an animal if you do that to them.
'Get on, Sigs,' said Skunk. 'We'll be seen.'
He was right. It wasn't a good idea to be seen staring. There were Vermin up and down the street; they questioned you if you looked upset.
'She'll be missed, anyhow,' said Skunk. 'A lot a people thought a lot of your Melanie.'
That made me cross. Platitudes I could do without.
'Shut up, Skunk.'
'Don't take it out on me, man. I mean it. She was spending a lot of money, wasn't she? Helping people out buying supplies for Dag's men, that sort of thing. She had that flat up Talbot Street as a hideout. It's how she'd've wanted it, Sigs, going out fighting…'
Skunk rattled on, glancing nervously up and down the road and gripping my elbow and trying to pull me away, but I was rooted to the spot.
Suddenly I wanted to see her face, to make sure, you know? Or maybe just let myself see her dead. They'd ripped her skirt down one side so you could see her face. They always did that so people would know who it was. I reached out to push her round so she was facing me. Skunk grabbed my arm. 'Don't be mad, man!' But I shook him off.
I pushed a foot and she swung round. Her face was badly bashed about. There was blood and spit all down her
