The McDead

Roberts was impressed and envious, said, ‘You always land on yer feet.’

Brant gave his lucky smile, answered, ‘Always.’

Outside the station, the rain was lashing down. To Brant’s amazement, he saw two white teenagers about to break into his Volvo. If not exactly broad daylight, it was brazen.

‘Oi!’ he shouted and came running.

Grabbed one by the neck. A long steel bar slipped from the kid’s hands, clattered on the kerb. Brant was about to launch forth when an incredible pain wound up his insides, sweat poured down his face.

He dropped to one knee, near doubled in agony.

The first kid asked, ‘What’s with ’im?’

The other kid, marvelling at their deliverance, said, ‘Bugger’s sick he is.’

Brant pushed out his left hand to grab the car for support.

The second kid said, ‘Jeez, look at the watch, it’s a Tag.’

‘What?’

‘Take the bleeding thing.’

The first kid was dubious, ‘Is it a fake?’

Through his pain, Brant tried to say yes but it emerged as a grunt. The second kid moved forward, grabbed Brant’s wrist and took the watch, said, ‘Let’s go … quick.’ Brant lay on the pavement, rain caressing his face.

Brant threw up and that made him a little better. He managed to get to his feet and, after four attempts, he got the door open. Fell in behind the wheel and let his head rest. Every inch of him was soaked. He almost passed out, then came to. Weak as a kitten but better. Put the car in gear and drove slowly home.

He didn’t intend reporting this. Him, mugged by kids. He’d lose his rep. The Tag he’d get back, by Christ, see if he didn’t. But his rep, he couldn’t jeopardise that. Like luck it was near impossible to recapture. At home he fell on the bed, damp clothes an’ all and slept for ten hours.

Ice cream

Roberts, as per deal, bought a copy of the Big Issue every week. His vendor knew he was a cop and seemed unfazed. He was eating from a tub of Haagen Dazs ice-cream.

Roberts said, ‘Bit cold for it, isn’t it?’

The vendor moved aside, said, ‘Look.’

Behind him was a large box with maybe another dozen tubs.

Roberts asked, ‘You also sell ice-cream?’

The vendor laughed, ‘A while ago a Daimler pulled up at the kerb. The window rolls down and a woman said, “You there, come here”.’

He mimicked the posh to perfection, continued, ‘I thought it was Liz, come to give me an MBE.’

Roberts laughed.

‘Ere, I’m serious, guv … they gave one to a traffic warden last year. So, I goes over, took me cap off and this woman, leans out, asks, “Are you one of the homeless chappies?” ’

‘I said, we sell the Big Issue for the homeless, yes Ma’am.

‘She says, “Righty ho, my driver has something for you people.” Then she tapped the glass partition for the driver and shuts the window on me.

‘The driver gets out and he’s in all the gear, peaked cap and boots. Like a nazi!’

The vendor stopped and sold two copies to two girls and gave them a tub each. They were delighted.

He winked at Roberts, said, ‘Like loyalty cards, a little bonus for my regulars. Any road, the nazi opens the boot and takes out the ice-cream. I asked, “What am I supposed to do with that?” He gave me the look, said, “Try eating it”.’

The vendor took another taste, said, ‘It’s not bad if you put a touch o’ lager in it.’

Roberts took out his change, had only a fiver … The vendor said, ‘We take all the major credit cards.’

Roberts gave him the five, got change, then waited a moment … no tub. Roberts said, ‘Well, see you next week.’

Dejected, he was walking away when the vendor shouted, ‘Oi, you forgot yer Haagen Dazs.’

‘The only actress on the planet who can play a woman whose child has been killed by wild Australian dogs and can actually have you rooting for the dingoes.’ (Joe Queenan on Meryl Streep)

Falls smiled as she recalled Ryan’s reaction to A Cry In The Dark when she put on the video.

They’d planned an evening at home, her home, where they’d:

Make love

Eat

Make love

Watch a video.

He cried, ‘Oh Jesus, no, not Streep again. C’mon darlin’, I watched Out Of Africa with you, but I swear, I can’t go another session with her.’

They watched The Untouchables instead.

She’d been seeing Ryan for two weeks, twice he’d stayed over. On the video nights. Little did he realise, she’d planned on the whole Streep catalogue. Most days she felt:

Queasy

Exhilarated

Nervous

Giddy

Had no appetite

Phone fixated.

And realising, said, ‘Oh shit, I love him.’

She was acting like a schoolgirl, trying out his name, projecting babies, wanting to talk about him incessantly. Tried to burst her own balloon with:

He’s married,

Kids,

Said he won’t leave.

But no, that balloon of hope just climbed on up there.

He’d said, ‘You look good in red.’ Changed her whole wardrobe. Oh yeah.

She turned on the telly, got local news, London Tonight.

The top story was:

RETURN OF THE CLAPHAM RAPIST

She felt dizzy. Another attack had taken place, the details were the same: a black woman, a knife, an alleyway.

‘It can’t be!’ she cried.

A local councillor followed demanding an inquiry into police methods. And then he asked, ‘Who was the man killed in a police decoy operation?’

The phone rang. She picked it up, heard, ‘You and McDonald in the Super’s office at nine sharp.’

‘Yes, sir.’

She rang Brant. He sounded groggy and she told him the news. He didn’t reply for a moment, then, ‘It’s a copycat.’

‘But what about the guy who attacked me?’