The Horse With My Name (24 page)

‘Thirty-five.’

I handed her the money. ‘You’re okay. You’re young. You
don’t remember. The glory days of Marathons and Pacers and Toblerones.’

‘We still have Toblerones.’

‘Yes, but they’re the size of fuck all. Used to be you’d break your teeth on them. Like Wagon Wheels.’

‘You couldn’t break your teeth on a Wagon Wheel. They’re soft.’

Behind me a man in a blue tracksuit said, ‘No, I know what he means, Wagon Wheels used to be huge.’

I looked from him to the shop assistant and sighed. ‘Maybe they still are. Maybe we just got bigger.’

We all nodded sagely for several moments, then she gave me the change from fifty pence and I went looking for Mandy and the horse with my name. If she was concerned about Dan the Man she’d stick close, so unless they’d started letting horses meander the decks, the obvious place to start was down below. I went down to the car deck and started looking. It didn’t take long. There were three Land Rovers, three horse boxes, but only one had Bosco Brown drinking vodka up front. The window was an inch open and there was a trail of cigarette ash along the top of it. He was singing along to ‘All Kinds of Everything’ by Dana. I remembered her winnning the Eurovision Song Contest with it when I was a kid. She also had a hit with ‘Something’s Cookin’ in the Kitchen’. She had a lot to answer for, but now that she was a member of the European Parliament she probably wouldn’t have to, and get well paid for it. I peered through the window. Bosco had his eyes closed. I satisfied myself that there was no gun in his hands, then banged hard on the glass. He jumped, his eyes wide and darting around until they settled on me and he uttered a tremulous ‘Don’t hurt me.’

‘Relax,’ I said. He didn’t. I realised he’d barely had a glimpse of me before, back at Geordie McClean’s when
he was stealing Dan the Man, so probably he didn’t know who I was, and was thinking the worst. ‘I’m just looking for Mandy,’ I said, as jauntily as I could. ‘She up top?’

If it was his life or her life, he chose her life and nodded. I left him to soak. I took another tour of the upper deck. It was crowded with football fans going to a European qualifier in Glasgow. Their scarves were red, white and blue and they sang about being up to their necks in Fenian blood. It was all good clean family fun. I spotted Mandy sitting alone with two drinks at a table in a corner of one of the bars, trying to ignore the chants of the football supporters packed around the beer pumps behind her.

I slipped into the chair opposite. ‘Hello, stranger,’ I said.

She didn’t seem surprised to see me. ‘Hello, Dan,’ she said after a while.

‘You don’t seem surprised.’

She held up a mobile phone. ‘Bosco called. I got you a drink.’ She nodded at one of the glasses in front of her.

I lifted it and took a drink. Then I rubbed a thumb across my lower lip. ‘So let me get this straight. You took off in pursuit of your kidnapped horse, or horsenapped horse for that matter, and tracked it to the Glasgow Rangers True Blue Fuck the Pope Supporters Club. So what do they plan to do, stick King Billy on Dan the Man on Saturday?’

‘No, Dan.’

‘Damn. Okay. Let me have another go. You took me to bed either as an alibi or to make sure I was offside while Inch High whacked Derek. All that shit about
oh I’m so unattractive
and
oh I’m so ugly
was just a delaying tactic to get Dan the Man out of there.’

‘You catch on slow.’

‘It didn’t mean anything to you?’

‘What did you expect?’

She looked away. A shadow of something crossed her
face. I shrugged. I took another drink. ‘Fair enough,’ I said as I put the glass down. ‘And by the way, your mum’s dead.’

There was a sudden explosion of ‘The Sash’ from the bar.

We walked around the boat until we found an empty corner of a lounge, behind a bank of one-armed bandits, and only then did she collapse against me. I hugged her to me and she cried and cried and cried. When, eventually, I told her what had happened, I spared her the details. I left in Oil Paintings, Jimmy the Chicken and Dry Cleaner and left out their free ironing service; I left in the fire and left out the horrific manner of her death. She asked faltering questions and I told only the truth, except when I was lying.

Gradually, gradually, she came round. She said, ‘I’m sorry for being horrible to you. I was just trying to remain . . .
focused
.’

‘The race?’

She nodded vaguely. ‘It all seems so irrelevant now.’

‘Or even more important.’

She smiled weakly. ‘We were just having fun, fucking Dad around. No. That’s not fair. It wasn’t fun. We were serious. He messed us around and we were taking revenge. It was a little bit dangerous, but it was also the most exciting thing I’ve ever done. An adventure. But now . . .’ She wiped at her eyes. She stared at the floor. I raised her head and kissed her on the lips.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. After a little I asked softly, ‘So who does own the horse with my name?’

She reached into her jacket pocket and produced a dozen sheets of folded A4. ‘Read for yourself.’

I read. I nodded and
hmmmed
.

She could see I was lost. She took them off me and folded them back into her pocket. ‘I do.’

I nodded. Like I’d figured, more or less.

‘Seventeenth birthday present. From my dad. Another attempt to buy me.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘Worked, too. Love that horse.’

‘So why all the . . .?’

‘Shit? Because I was a minor, so he’s named in the paperwork as the owner, but only until I’m twenty-one, when it transfers.’

‘You’re . . .?’

‘I’m twenty. Did you think I was older?’

I shrugged. She grinned. ‘So he can do whatever the hell he wants with it until I’m twenty-one as long as it’s in my best interests, and who would argue against selling a horse for millions as opposed to keeping him in your back garden and riding him once in a while purely for the pleasure of it?’

‘Jimmy Stewart probably would.’

‘Jimmy . . .?’

‘Nothing. Old man’s joke.’

She looked at me sympathetically, then continued. ‘He kept dangling the prospect of riding him in the National to keep me in line, but I knew he wouldn’t let me. It’s all about maximising profit, isn’t it? He’ll let a proper jockey ride him and then sell him the moment he crosses the line in first – and he will cross in first. He’ll cream off millions and maybe he’ll share some of that with me, but that’s
not the point
. I want to win the race.’

‘The problem is,’ I said, ‘you want to have your cake and eat it. You want to keep Dan the Man all to yourself, and win the National.’

‘And why not? He’s
mine
.’

‘Fair point. And your dad badly needs the money.’

‘Yes, I know he does, things haven’t been going well.’

‘And by now he’ll know you and your mum were behind this; he’s not stupid.’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘And vicariously he will probably blame you for your mum’s death.’

‘I didn’t . . .’

‘Well if youse hadn’t started all this shit she might still be alive.’

‘I know, but . . . stop telling me off. I’m
sorry
.’ The tears began to flow again. I felt like a heel. In fact, a stiletto. I offered her a Starburst. She accepted, and began to unwrap.

‘They used to be called Opal Fruits,’ I said. ‘I’m sure Eric and Derek love them.’

She nodded vaguely. ‘I don’t understand why those . . .
monsters
. . . would do that to Mummy. I mean, what’s Dan the Man to them?’ She looked up at me. ‘They’re the ones cut the brakes on my car? Why Daddy’s had all the security?’

‘Far as I can work out, they feel they’re owed a lot of money and don’t mind how they get it.’

‘Owed money by . . .?’

‘Well, Mark Corkery to start with, and by association your mum. And by association with her, your dad. Like I say, they don’t mind where they get it. They just follow the money chain until they get what they want.’

‘Christ. So what will they do next?’

‘Well they’re after you. Or more directly, the brown horse.’

She looked startled. ‘What?’

‘I thought when you doubled back from the Liverpool ferry you must have suspected you were being followed.’

‘It was a precaution. I thought Daddy would have people
watching for me. I mean, the worst he’ll do when he catches me is stop my allowance. But these guys. After
me
? Jesus. How did they even find out I was––’

‘Your mother let it slip. They slapped her about a bit. I’m sorry. Anyway. It doesn’t matter now. They’re halfway to Liverpool.’

She gave a little sigh of relief, then rested her head against me for a while. There were all sorts of dark, dangerous thoughts going through her mind. I could feel them banging against the inside of her skull. I stroked her hair and she managed a wan smile and squeezed my hand. ‘That’s nice,’ she said, gently. ‘You’re nice,’ she added.

‘And you’re not as hard as you let on.’

She nodded against me. ‘What’re we going to do?’

‘I don’t know. Win the Grand National?’

‘Okay. We’ll do that.’

Twenty minutes before docking we went down to the car deck. Bosco had roused himself. The ash was gone from the window. There was no hint of alcohol in either the vehicle or his demeanour. He nodded at me somewhat sheepishly, then said, ‘All right?’ to Mandy.

She nodded and went to check on Dan the Man. She raised a half-shutter on the side of the horse box and he poked his head out. She patted his nose and gave him a kiss. I rubbed his nose as well. Mandy and Bosco exchanged glances. Dan the Man licked my hand and I gave a little shiver. Then he tried to take a bite out of my jacket and I pulled sharply away. Mandy laughed, then pushed his head gently back inside and re-secured the shutter.

All around us people were beginning to drift back to their vehicles. I didn’t take any notice of doors slamming behind me, but I did take notice of the cool metallic object that was suddenly placed firmly against the back of my head and the
expressions of horror I could see on the faces of Mandy and Bosco before me.

I turned slowly.

‘Ah so,’ I said.

‘Ass hole,’ said the Chinaman in perfect English, then cracked the gun across my brow.

25

I nightmare.

Sometime I would like to see an X-ray of my skull, just to admire the damage. I’ve taken more heavy blows than Frank Bruno and am constantly surprised that I don’t talk as little sense. Perhaps I will. When I go to sleep, I do not dream, I nightmare. Double it when I go under through violence. I dredge up horrors from the past and relive them with anger and fury and fear. There are many horrors down there. A black friend plunging off an apartment block. A starving wife. A dead baby. The crack, crack, crack of guns on skulls, the thump, thump, thump of a heart racing to breakdown.
Dan, you should learn to say no. Dan, you should learn to say no. Dan you should––

‘Dan?’

Somewhere, far away.

The baby boy who would never grow up.

The wife who would never look at me the same way again.

The horse with my name.

Exhaust fumes. Engines revving.

I opened my eyes. ‘What?’

Mandy, looking relieved, Bosco, smoking, taking a swig from a bottle of Vladivar. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

Another stupid bloody question. But I nodded anyway and sat up. My head throbbed. I was on the floor of the car deck. There was no Land Rover, no box, and no horse. I rubbed at my brow, winced.

Mandy smiled.

‘What the fuck are you smiling about?’

She smiled some more. ‘Just glad to have you back.’

‘Aye.’

I stood up. A little shakily. Dizzy. There were only a few cars left. Mandy took my arm and helped me back up towards the passenger deck. We joined the queue to get off.

‘You look remarkably relaxed considering millions of dollars’ worth of horse just walked,’ I said.

Mandy nodded. ‘But the important thing is, you’re okay.’

‘Don’t talk crap, what’s going on? Have the cops caught them?’

Bosco, walking behind, snorted. Like a horse.

‘No.’

She was grinning.

‘Will you stop that fucking grinning and tell me what’s going on!’ Ahead of me a father glared round. I glared back. His eyes flitted up to the blood on my brow and then away. He picked up his pace and ushered his three kids a little further forward. We joined the end of the queue to get off. ‘Please,’ I added.

‘Hold up your hand.’

‘What?’

‘Hold up your hand.’ I tutted and held it up. ‘The other one.’

I dropped, I raised. ‘What are you . . .?’

‘What do you see?’

‘Four fingers and a thumb. I’m not concussed. Now what . . .?’

‘What do you
see
?’

‘For Christ sake . . .’

‘Well if you don’t want to know . . .’

‘I
hate
cryptic.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Okay, four fingers and a thumb. A tragically short life line. And although I don’t smoke, what looks like nicotine fingers.’ I examined them a little more closely. I looked at Mandy. ‘What is this? I got knocked out and youse got me addicted to smokes in, like, five minutes?’

Behind me, Bosco snorted.

‘It’s dye,’ Mandy said. ‘Brown dye.’

‘There’s a reason you dyed my fingers brown?’

Mandy burst out laughing. ‘No! You fool! Not you – the horse. That wasn’t Dan the Man. It was a lookalike. We just had to touch him up a bit. When you rubbed his nose earlier it came off on your fingers – you didn’t see Bosco and me nearly cracking up when you did it, did you?’

‘I . . .’ And then I laughed again. ‘You cunning little bitch. The classic double bluff.’

She shrugged. ‘I try.’

‘So they’ve stolen what, a donkey?’

‘No, the merely average, as opposed to the great. Hopefully they won’t find out for days. Poor Maximum Bob, he’s going to end up on a menu somewhere.’

‘As will you, when they find out.’

She shrugged. ‘You didn’t tell me there were Chinamen on our trail as well.’

‘Well that’s just the way the fortune cookie crumbles. I didn’t want to weigh you down. I thought Jimmy the Chicken and his crew were enough to be worrying about.’ I shook my head. ‘Mandy McClean, you are one smooth operator. And verily, your father’s daughter.’