Million Pound Appointments Page 5

  "Get off your fat lazy arse woman, and you tell him why."

  Daz still has a hand free with nothing in it, and she wants to keep it that way. She's picturing herself pinned high up on the wall next to Mickey and she's not liking that picture, so up she gets. She stands behind Daz and looks up at Mickey. She clears her throat, because she knows if she's going to have any effect on Daz, she's going to have to be loud, very loud.

  "Coz if you don't slow it down, you aint gonna reach twelve. Slow. It. Fucking. Down. You. Little. Bastard. Shit."

  As Mickey hits the floor, Doreen swells with pride. She controlled 'The Daz' putty in her hands he was. She wanted Mickey off the wall, and he's off the wall, and she made it happen… Emmeline Pankhurst. Amelia Earhart. Marie Curie. Florence Nightingale. Jocelyn Bell Bumell. Margaret Thatcher. Angela Merkel. Hilary Clinton. Indira Gandhi. Germaine Greer. Jane Austin. Joan of Arc. Cleopatra. Mary Magdalene… Doreen Peggy Woods.

  Chapter 3.

  Larry and Amir, the Indian boy from the documentary and now a man, are seated at a fast food restaurant at the airport. Larry is eating heartedly; this is his kind of food, simple tasteless and quick.

  'Indian food in India just tastes wrong somehow, it's not as good as back home, much too hot and spicy, not like English Indian food at all' He didn't mean it to sound insulting, especially as he didn't even know he was saying it out loud, but the people around the table felt insulted all the same. Another Indian man, Rajeev, Amir's older brother is sitting with them.

  "I don't think your brother wants his burger." Larry says to Rajeev.

  "No." He answers politely.

  Larry breathes in deeply.

  "They pump that smell out on purpose you know, and like a cleric to a choirboy, it gets you every time. You sure you don't want one?"

  "We do not eat that meat." Answers Rajeev.

  Larry flops back in his chair realising his mistake.

  "Oh no. Of course you don't, and that's about the tenth time you've told me as well, sorry." He screws his face up trying to think what else is on the menu. "Do you eat fruit? Only they do a hot apple pie in a cardboard tube."

  Rajeev gives Larry a friendly shake of the head.

  "We will eat later, if that's all right."

  "Yeah of course it is." Said while looking worryingly at a rather silent Amir. "I'm not sure how Ken's going to take the news about your brother though." Which isn't the most truthful statement he's ever made. He does know how Ken's going to take the news about his brother; he just doesn't want to think about it at the moment. On the plus side, he's found Amir. Ken will be pleased he's found Amir. That's a plus, that's a good thing. He went to India to find Amir, and he found Amir. The negatives may have a bit more weight on their side though. They'll come out punching like Mike Tyson with a couple of scorpions down his underpants. The positives will come out as a frolicking Tango'd Dale Winton dressed as one of the ugly sisters. Amir not speaking a word of English is one thing, Amir not being able to perform the miracles anymore is quite another.

  "I can't put this off any longer, let's go and face the music." Larry's syndrome announces.

  Rajeev pulls a face, 'Put it off? Face the music?'

  "Get a Taxi shall we?" Larry says to a rather worried Rajeev.

  As the bushes along the road start to become familiar to him, the butterflies in Larry's stomach are going crazy. By the time the Taxi's tyres crunch across the gravel which lead to the house, the butterflies have been replaced by a dirty great big nest of angry stinging wasps.

  Ken is dressed in his finest Armani suit and is standing in front of a life-sized statue of Margaret Thatcher; not that he ever voted for her, he didn't. Men like Ken aren't on the electoral register. He stole the statue from the Conservative club on a drunken night out with his mates fifteen years ago. As you do. He offers Margaret his hand.

  "I'm Kenneth, welcome to England, welcome to my home. Probably not as hot as India eh." He stops and thinks. 'Probably not as hot as India? "That's bollocks."

  He practises meeting Amir again.

  "Hello I'm Kenneth welcome to England, welcome to my home. Yeah that's much better. Hello I'm Kenneth welcome to England, welcome to my home. Perfect."

  He hears Larry come into the room and pretends to be flicking dust from the statue then turns around.

  "I'm seeing double Larry."

  "It's his brother. I told you?"

  Ken remembers their phone call from earlier; he wasn't completely sure at the time that he heard Larry correctly. He is now. Ken doesn't like surprises and was only expecting one Indian man to be standing with Larry, not two. The good intensions and the good impression Ken wanted to make fall by the wayside, and sarcasm raises its ugly head.

  "His sisters powdering their little noses are they?"

  "Huh? There's no sisters Ken, just his brother. I told you?"

  "So you keep saying."

  "On the phone? At the airport?"

  Larry is sure he mentioned Rajeev to Ken.

  "So which is which then? Asks Ken.

  Larry's still thinking to himself 'I'm sure I told him, didn't I?'

  "Well?" Ken asks again.

  "Oh sorry Ken… this is Amir."

  Ken offers his hand to Amir, and warmth replaces the annoyance on his face, and a softer friendlier tone replaces the sarcasm.

  "I'm Kenneth welcome to England, welcome to my home."

  He takes out an envelope with five-thousand pounds cash in it and pokes it into Amir's jacket pocket.

  "There's plenty more where that came from." He winks at Amir. Larry clears his throat, but he may as well have thrown a bucket of iced cold water over the warmth on Ken's face. Ken knows that sound, that throat sound, that throat sound that only Larry makes. He wants to ignore it, perhaps it'll go away, perhaps it isn't the same clearing of the throat sound that usually heralds something that's going to piss him off. He takes a deep breath and gives Larry a 'What?' look.

  "He can't answer you Ken."

  "No?"

  "No."

  With his hand half-poised in the shake position, he stares at Larry until Larry realises Ken wants more than just a… No.

  "He doesn't speak much English… well actually, any really… sort of thing."

  Ken pulls his hand away just as Amir was about to shake it.

  "I hope you're joking Larry, otherwise how the fuck do I tell him what I want him to do?"

  Larry screws his face up.

  "No, I'm not joking Ken. I wish I was."

  "For fuck sake." Ken shouts. "I thought everyone spoke English out there."

  "Most of them do. His brother…"

  Ken is furious and before Larry has time to finish his sentence he turns his attentions back to Amir.

  "You lazy little bastard. You can raise the fucking dead and probably walk on water but you can't be bothered to learn English?"

  "No hang on Ken." Shouts Larry.

  Ken now stands face to face with a scared stiff Rajeev. The English speaking, au fait with, and totally understanding the conversation… Rajeev.

  "And what does this dozy looking jackass have to do with anything? I'm not running a fucking hotel here Larry."

  Larry gives Rajeev a screwed up apologetic smile and now needs to quickly get Ken out of the hole he is digging for himself.

  "It's ok Ken, his brother speaks…"

  All Ken can think about is putting Amir to work to make him the millions he needs to appease Tommy Rae and he cuts in…

  "How am I going to find an interpreter? Better still, where am I going to find an interpreter?"

  Larry sighs. This is really getting out of hand now, so it's time to take charge and tell Ken about Rajeev before it gets any worse.

  "You don't need to find an interpreter."

  But Ken is on him like a rash before he can finish.

  "No? Are you going to translate what I say to them then? Only I don't fucking think so, you can barely speak English let alone whatever these fuckers speak."r />
  Ken is back in Amir's face.

  "As you can't be bothered to use your jaw, I ought to break it."

  Larry shouts out in desperation…

  "Ken… Rajeev speaks English."

  "Chief speaks English? Who the fuck is chief?"

  Ken doesn't give him time to answer, again; he can see a chink of light at the end of the tunnel Larry has just drilled for him.

  "Forget it, it doesn't matter who he is, give the man a ring and tell him to get his fat hairy arse over here now."

  Larry nervously points to Rajeev.

  "That's Chief. I mean Rajeev… sort of thing."

  Ken closes his eyes. Larry winces and waits. He's hoping for angry and not angry-calm. Angry-calm is much worse. Angry is just a sharp burst of uncontrolled anger, usually a punch, and bang two seconds later you're unconscious and it's all done and dusted. Angry-calm however, is more like having your ear stubbed out like a cigarette under a pair of size ten Oliver Sweeny's.

  "This man right here is Chief?" Asks Ken.

  Larry's going to go with it. When Ken's in angry-calm mode, best keep it simple.

  "Yes."

  "This man right here speaks the Queens?"

  "Yes."

  "This man right here, standing right in front of me, speaks English?"

  "Yes."

  "This man right here, that's been standing right in front of me for the past five minutes, you're telling me, has understood every word I've been saying, because he speaks English?"

  "Yes, although to be fair I did try and tell you before…"

  Ken holds his hand up, and the vehicle that is Larry, stops.

  "When you said this one can't speak a word of English, don't you think you should have put your hand on my shoulder and said, but don't worry Ken, his fucking free loading brother speaks it perfectly."

  Larry searches for a reply. Ken knows he'll be awhile and turns to Rajeev.

  "So you've understood everything I've said have you?"

  "Yes."

  "Dozy looking jackass?"

  "Yes."

  "Lazy little bastard?"

  "Yes."

  "Fat hairy arse?"

  "Yes."

  While Ken is shaking his head contemptuously at Larry, Rajeev plucks up the courage to ask Ken a question, but only because he'll be asking the question to the side of Ken's head, which is still looking at Larry. He doesn't feel like going eye to eye with Ken just yet. Rajeev's courage doesn't run that far.

  "Are you the director?"

  Ken gives Larry one last contemptuous shake of his head and then looks at Rajeev; eye to eye.

  "No I'm not, there is no director."

  Rajeev thinks for a moment.

  "Oh. Then why are we here?"

  "You shouldn't be here you cheeky sod."

  Rajeev looks at Larry, he'd quite like him to explain what's going on, but Larry knows the prickly subject of Amir's inability to perform miracles is waiting for him in the wings.

  "I don't understand." Says a confused Rajeev.

  "Well it's quite simple chief, me and the hospital on legs over there are going to make a lot of money together."

  And with a simple clearing of a throat the prickly subject gets called to centre stage; spot lights and all. Just two little coughs alerting Ken to yet another mountain to climb. The fact that Larry has done it twice in so many minutes, tells Ken that it's going to be Mount Everest in high heels and a blindfold.

  "I'm waiting." Says Ken not even bothering to look at Larry.

  "He can't do it anymore." He whispers.

  "Who can't do what anymore?" He asks.

  "Amir. Amir can't do the miracly stuff anymore… sort of thing."

  Ken grabs hold of Rajeev by one arm and Amir by the other; instinctively they know not to resist this man. He frog-marches them both into the room with the 72 inch plasma screen, and without breaking step throws Rajeev and Amir onto the sofa. He goes over to the plasma screen and starts the DVD of the six year old Amir in the BBC documentary. A DVD that incidentally, Rajeev and Amir have never seen. Ken fast forwards it trying to find the part where he cures the old blind woman, and even though the scenes are flashing by at twelve times their normal speed, Rajeev and Amir both realise what they're looking at and are genuinely fascinated by it. Ken starts the scene of Amir with his little hands on the woman's eyes, and then pauses the DVD. He shouts at Rajeev.

  "Did he or did he not cure that old blind woman?"

  "Yes. But ten days after this it all stopped."

  "For fuck sake." Ken sighs. "I've got clients lined up."

  "Have you?" Larry says taken aback.

  "Well no, but they weren't to know that. I might have had."

  Craig enters the room and stands next to Larry.

  "What's going on?" He whispers to him.

  "That's the boy from the documentary."

  "Oh right." He screws his face up. "So who's the other one?"

  Larry is trying to keep an eye on Ken and could do without all the questions from Craig right now.

  "His brother."

  Being his first time on an aeroplane and wanting to relish every moment of it, Amir didn't sleep on the plane and begins to fall asleep now.

  "What's up with him is he pissed?" Asks Craig.

  "Of course he's not pissed, he's tired. Jetlag."

  Larry notices Ken looking at a fluffy white cat slowly walking around the room. He watches as Ken bends down and rubs his finger and thumb together. After a while the cat comes over to him. Ken picks it up. Larry sighs with relief. If he's playing with a fluffy white cat, then he won't be screaming shouting or threatening anyone. Ken clears his throat loudly to get everyone's attention, and when he has it, he puts his hand behind the cat's neck and snaps it. Totally stunned, Larry Craig and Rajeev all look at each other, then at the cat, and then at Ken. Rajeev jumps up and starts shouting at Amir trying to wake him up. Ken pushes Rajeev back onto the sofa and holds the dead cat up by the scruff of its neck. Faeces and urine fall from the cat onto the carpet. Amir wakes up, puts his hands on top of his head in shock. A telephone rings.

  "Who the hell's that?" Shouts Ken. Then stares at Craig until Craig realises Ken wants him to answer the phone. Craig picks up the phone and holds it to his ear.

  "It's Jane." He answers.

  Craig has only worked for Ken for the past eight weeks, had it been eight weeks and one day he would have known not to have said 'It's Jane'.

  "Oh Jane is it? Not your wife but Jane."

  Craig knows he's done something wrong he just doesn't know what yet.

  "Sorry boss… I thought I said, your wife Jane."

  "You wouldn't have to say your wife Jane, I know my wife's fucking name thanks."

  Craig gets it. He understands. It's wife, not Jane. Easy, and it only took him eight weeks one day.

  "Sorry boss. It won't happen again."

  Ken gestures to Craig to hold the phone up.

  "I'm busy." He shouts across the room.

  Craig puts the phone back to his ear.

  "Your wife says its seven o'clock boss."

  Ken shoulders drop and he shakes his head in frustration.

  "Thank her for that and put the fucking thing down."

  But Craig hears Jane still talking and puts the phone back to his ear.

  "Boss, your wife says it's when the cats get fed?" Another listen. Another wince.

  "I'll just ask… your wife is asking if Larry can bring Clyde over."

  Ken holds the dead cat up higher and mouths to Larry, 'Is this Clyde?' It's Larry's turn to wince now. He nods yes. Ken mouths the word fuck and unceremoniously drops Clyde on the floor, making Rajeev and Amir react as though Ken had just pulled a pin on a live hand grenade and they've only got seconds to live. Ken storms out of the guesthouse and across the garden to the main house where Jane is preparing cat food in several bowls. He walks into the kitchen.

  "Give me a bowl of food. She's staying there for a while."

  "
Clyde?"

  "Yeah. They like cats, they want to keep her for company."

  "Well they can't what a bloody cheek."

  "Well I've said they can now. It's all right they'll look after her."

  If Ken doesn't win this one, if he doesn't keep Jane away from the guesthouse, she'll see her treasured Clyde lying dead in its own mess.

  "Clyde is a him not a her." She says.

  "Oh, is she?"

  Jane hands Ken a bowl of cat food; or rather she pushes a bowl of cat food into his stomach.

  "Who turns up at your house and takes your pets off you?" She says to herself. "Would you do it?" She asks Ken. "No of course you wouldn't." She answers for him. "They better look after him Ken."

  Now a man with a bowl of cat food in his hand, is like every other man in the world with a bowl of cat food in his hand. Even though they all know it will have an appalling odour, they'll all lift it to their noses and sniff it. Ken sniffs it.

  "What the hell is this shit? He says as he chokes. "It reeks."

  "Leave him alone it's his favourite."

  Ken walks across to the house with the bowl of unnecessary cat food. He walks into the room and puts the bowl down by its dead head. Ken pokes Clyde with his foot.

  "He's not going to bring him back to life then?" He says looking at Rajeev.

  "You can have your money back, please will you let us go now?" Asks Rajeev.

  "Does he even like cats?" Asks Ken.

  "He doesn't… can we go now?"

  Ken looks over at Larry.

  "Perhaps that's why he can't do it then. We need to kill something he likes, something he feels connected to."

  Rajeev can't believe what he's hearing and stands up.

  "No. You mustn't kill any more animals. We just want to go home."