Bang (23 page)

Read Bang Online

Authors: Charles Kennedy Scott

Now I’m becoming
me
, she thought with a shiver, and felt her life click along a
notch.

Cagee was explaining something he seemed keen Delilah
should know. ‘Renamed New School 111, the whole System can be proud of what
Remand 111 has become. I’m in charge, that’s right, me, I’m the headmaster.
Wait till you see the teacher. Lucky to get her, we were. Highly experienced.
Bit of a drug problem, but what’s that matter? Teachers, they’re people like
the rest of us. Not so sure about the cabbages, mind. Still, make the best of
what we’ve got, hey? That’s the spirit.’

Delilah grunted as they passed a notice board. On it a
flyer boasted
New school, just opened, all 111 prisoners welcome. Please
join us. Attendance obligatory.
Behind them, proceeding rapidly up the
corridor, and in danger of overtaking them, and with all the messy
complications this would bring, came the real lilac painters, windmilling their
brush-tipped arms, painting paint an infinitesimal shade darker than the shade
it replaced. Delilah shook her head and hurried her step. Cagee exaggerated his
limp, swung his feather-duster gloves at his side, and quickened too, favouring
the left side of the passageway. Another notice board displayed a poster
offering a reward for the plumber, surely defunct now, yet dated today, and
gave Delilah an unwelcome and hurt jolt. But this passed through her and she
felt okay again, perhaps better than before because of it. She was over him,
had put the plumber behind her, and, anyway, he was dead, wasn’t he, sort of,
apparently. She marched on, with a huff.

‘New School 111’s all set up,’ said Cagee. ‘Lovely
seats. A lectern to die for. Special holes I can slot my arms bones into and
give it a good shake during Headmaster’s Assembly. Exceptional presentation
platforms. All the latest display equipment. Oh, this is a school with a
difference. You’d better believe it, so you had.’ He rubbed his gloves together
and clapped, a dull bony sound that caused Delilah to cringe. She said, ‘I can
hardly wait.’

‘And you’ll never guess who we’ve nabbed as Deputy
Head. Go on, try. I’ll give you a clue. He’ll have his work cut out, let me
tell you, this is no sinecure, this is an on-the-job job. He’s the teacher
who’ll punish pupils – for pupils, read prisoners. Got it yet? He’s a he,
quite young, had to get him off his weapon of choice and onto the cane. What a
cane! Chose it myself from the shop that sold me my gloves. Lovely whippy
thing, twangy. There’s a clue in that last sentence. Had trouble, too, making
him focus on the buttocks. Got a thing, he has, this chap, for eyes. “No, no,
young fella me lad,” I’ve had to tell him, “It’s the buttocks you’re after.
Stand here, you must instruct the errant pupil, and summon him or her to the
caning cross. Lower your trousers, you’ll tell them, that’s right, so they’re
round your ankles. If they’ve a shirt, instruct them to lift it up. Next thing
you do,” I said to him, “is command them to BEND OVER. Say it good and loud.
BEND OVER. Now you’re ready for the cane’s
delivery
. There’s art to
this, my boy. Anticipation is the key here, along with humiliation. There they
are, the pupil, arched over, his or her aft showing for all their fellow pupils
to see, buttocks goosebumped in the breeze and waiting. This for them is a
moment of real degradation, terrific degradation. Lengthen it, draw it out,
bend the cane, practice swipes in the air. Then, when you’re good and ready,
Whipping Boy” – damn! I’ve given his name away! – “when you’re good and
ready, and your elbow’s oiled all up, take a step back, two or three if you
like, and stop. Focus, aim. Then advance with furious rush at the bum, the cane
in back swing – ever played tennis? – then Whack! Administer. The
customary number is six,” I said to him, “but you might want to up that, you’re
Deputy Headmaster, after all, and if you can’t decide what number, nobody can.”
At this point, let me tell you, Delilah, I lowered my trousers, which is not
easy when you have no hands, and wiggled about so they wrinkled to the floor
around my ankles. Next, I squeezed my elbows against my body and shuffled up my
shirt, this very shirt, until I could feel the cool air swirling around my
nakedness. Then, slowly, I bent over, relishing my exposure. “Whipping Boy,” I
said, “make me wait, humiliate me, degrade me, then – when you feel the
moment has come – give it to me, give me six of your best.” I touched my toes
with my stumps, my backside squirming, and waited. Ah, the sweet vulnerability
of it all. Six of the best? I got that, and I got more. I tell you, he was
good, very good. Now here’s someone who can handle a cane, I thought, as the
cracks came in, again, again, again, again – until I lost count. A natural
that Whipping Boy is. Fantastic. Finally, I added, “If you got that right
you’ll have felt a good tingle or two in your pants yourself. That’s what
school punishment is all about.” “Oh,” he said, “I get that anyway, especially
when I take an eye out first time. What is it, that tingling feeling, Cagee?” I
didn’t answer that, just gave him an orange pill from the batch he’d made me
buy earlier so I could bribe him with drugs into accepting the position of
Deputy Head. Tell you the truth, I think he’d have taken it anyway, but that’s
between you and me. I also think he’s substituting me for Gentle – you
know, as someone he can look up to. There’s a yearning about him that’s seeking
something. Maybe I’m it, maybe I’m not. Is it not the nature of the recently
bereaved to strive again for emotional balance in their lives? But anyway,
lucky, aren’t we, to have him onboard. Discipline will not be a problem. And
that’s the beauty of it, you see, because everything in this school will mirror
a normal school. The teacher is here for the pupils to teach everything they
have ever learnt, in all their lives,
to
. Where was I? Yes. School up
till now has got it all the whole wrong way round. It’s the
pupils
who really know what’s going on, and it’s high time they told the teachers!
Teachers have long been out of touch. The Authority wants to try it out down
here, an experiment if you like, and if the trial goes successfully export it
up there –’ Cagee hoisted a feather-duster glove more-or-less vertically,
and Delilah saw the two bones inside it splay apart. ‘Of course, with this in
mind, it will be necessary to punish pupils for good behaviour. I’ve told the
Whipping Boy he’ll have so much caning that he’d better try it left-handed from
time to time, else he’s in danger of building up the right side of his body so
much he’ll unbalance himself and constantly fall to right, like someone who’s
just got out of bed after an operation to amputate his left arm. Not to mention
the RSI. Not only that but– Watch out,’ he cried, ‘the painters!’

With the sound of an industrial machine, the painters
came past again, their arms churning, their paint covering the passage walls.
Delilah and Cagee flattened themselves in a doorway and looked back for the
someone who was now shouting the words, ‘There she is. The new school’s
janitor. This way, sir, we’ll have her for you in a moment. Janitor, halt!’
Delilah hadn’t moved and did not do so now, but waited, picking lilac flecks
off her, working everything through in her head as always, wondering where this
janitor was.

Puffing, one of the two indistinct officers, asked,
‘So glad I caught you. Phewy. Are you busy?’

‘Rather,’ said Cagee, ‘we’re on our way to the new
school. What do you want? Is it important? Can’t it wait? Make an appointment
to meet me in the Headmaster’s Office. There will be little chairs outside on
which you can sit and wait.’

‘No, no, we’d like to talk with the janitor here.’

Delilah looked around, unsure who this janitor was,
though all eyes except her own seemed to be on her.

‘You,’ Cagee said. ‘Didn’t I tell you? Must have
slipped my mind. You’re the new janitor. It’s a worthwhile job and might knock
a year or two off one or other of the life sentences you’re bound to pick up
when your case goes to trial. The toilets are filthy, too.’

‘Over here, janitor, this instant,’ demanded the other
of the two indistinct officers. ‘Someone would like to meet you.’ He pointed at
the floor where he wanted Delilah to stand. She shuffled over.

The person who wanted to meet her said, ‘Good morning
to you, good morning indeed. I’m an Authority Money Man.’ He was excited and
had boxy shoulders and gripped a very small and very expensive Life. ‘Finally I
have got to you. You might be the new school’s new janitor but to me you’re an
actress and a half and always will be. Big deals will be upon you soon, just
you see. Your agent can handle negotiations, should he get a new tongue –
did you hear, the old one had to come out, rather it fell out, but at least the
poor chap can breath again now. The old one won’t go to waste, in case you’re
wondering: Cagee has asked, in his new capacity, you understand, for it to be
dried and will use it as a last for his shoes – your agent’s tongue is
the exact shape of Cagee’s deformed left foot. Isn’t that a happy coincidence.
Where were we? Hello. Money talks. Yackety yack. Listen, this is very
important. You delivered a line in
The Murderer
that’s had me thinking.
Remember in the scene where Warden 111 was saying how Cagee gave a lecture in a
language that had to be translated? Well you muttered something from within the
confines of your trendy cage that I couldn’t quite make it out. Whatever it
was, it was fundamental, revelatory, of
immense
importance. Cash, it’s
all about cash. Money, money she’s my baby. I need you to tell me. While I
could not understand it, I know you said something amazing. What was it? I
dream of tills: bring bring!’

Delilah answered, ‘I can’t remember.’

‘Come now,’ said the money man.

‘No. My mind has gone blank.’

‘Surely not,’ he said, ‘This cannot be true. Do you
not feel the lure?’

‘I try remembering and all I get is a bad case of the
muddles.’

‘Ah, you wish to strike a deal. And so you must. Why
not. What would you like? I am a money man after all. Money is my lover.’

‘What are you offering?’ asked Delilah, knowing what
she wanted.

‘Now just a moment, money man,’ interrupted Cagee,
‘this is my janitor you’re negotiating with here. As headmaster I’m afraid I
can’t allow such transactions, whatever they may be. It is against the school’s
regulations. Not only that, I fear it could well be unethical. You risk being
put in detention.’

‘Keep out of it,’ barked Delilah, coarsely.

‘I say,’ said Cagee.

The money man spoke quickly. ‘Now let’s talk business.
You’ve got something I want and I’ve got something I can give you. Let’s get
the ball rolling with 500 units uploaded to your Life, tax-free, naturally,
with only minor brokerage attached. We can shake on that, can’t we? You’re a
businessman, I can tell. Let’s you and me cook some dough and make some bread.’

Delilah said, ‘500 units? Pah. That’s about the price
of ten haircuts. Get out of here. Don’t waste my time.’

‘Down here that’s a fortune,’ objected the money man.

‘I don’t
want
to be down here. And that’s the
trade. You get me out and you get your line.’ Now Delilah began to feel
empowered. ‘Free me,’ she said, ‘and I’ll deliver. These are my terms.’

‘Terms that cannot be met. Absolutely not. It is out
of the question. I can’t get you out of here. This conversation is at an end. I
bid you good day. You insult me by your sheer arrogance. Not on your Nelly,
missy wissy. No, you’ve gone and done it now. I will not help you out in such
an underhand way. The law, whatever it may or not be, is what it is, and you
would do well do remember that, lest you forget it. The bakery’s closed down.
The yeast has mutated.’ He turned to go, though parts of his body appeared to
resist, as if hinting that they at least thought what Delilah knew was worth
bartering for.

Delilah had an idea. ‘Have you heard of this
ex-popcorn seller waitress woman?’ she asked, suspecting he had.

‘Have I heard of her.’

‘Yes, have you?’

‘Have I indeed! She is quite something. A woman. More.
And if I hadn’t heard of her I’m sure I would have. Yes I would have. I know
that for a fact. Don’t try telling my otherwise.’

‘I won’t,’ said Delilah. ‘But perhaps you have
influence with her. It would help you to deal, should you be able to bring to
bear on her that influence.’ Delilah spoke assertively now, and Cagee had taken
a step back.

‘I am an Authority money man, I think we both know
that
I
have influence, weighty influence at that. Come on, whisper the
line in my ear. Currency, currency. Smell the moolah.’

Delilah said, ‘If you can promise me that you’ll
persuade the special waitress to service a post-court
luncheon
party
instead of her customary
supper
party, on a date I will give you, I will
whisper the line in your ear.’ Not that she much liked the look of his
hair-filled ear, but this wasn’t the point.

‘It’s a deal,’ agreed the money man. ‘Give me the date
and I will give you my delightful ear. What is the date?’

‘I don’t know.’ Delilah’s chin was set in frustration
now.

‘The date?’ said one of the two officers in a helpful tone.
‘This is the date of her court appearance you’re after? No problem, money man.
We’re due to escort the prisoner to her lawyer this morning. He will give us
the date and we will pass it on to you. This prisoner has been good to us and
we have earned the odd half a promotion here and there off her back. Also, she
ate food we gave her, that, despite our pretending to be, or even believing at
the time that we were, restaurateurs, was, looking back at it, quite inedible.
Tea leaves and eggshells, urgh. We know, we tried them after we tucked her up
in the luxury of Dormitory 100.’

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