THE SIXTH GUEST: Chapter Four - Part One

LANDING

As Selina passed through the gateway to the churchyard with Travis something disconcerted her enough to break the roll of overloud laughter coming out of her mouth.

Like every other human being, Selina collated vast amounts of data from moment to moment; most of it subliminally. Usually it reached her conscious thoughts in the form of a gut feeling (the man in the shop giving her the eye didn’t want to shag; he was an undercover security guard and she’d better be careful if she was going to go on shoplifting). This was no different. Up front, she saw or heard nothing specific to tell her something was wrong, but her subconscious mind did. Something was different about the churchyard tonight than every other time she had passed through it. It made her uneasy but only for long enough to lose the thread of what Travis was saying. By the time she’d realised and said, “What?” she’d forgotten she ever felt anything unusual.

St. Peter’s church was on the very edge of Bournemouth town centre, just across the road from one of her favourite pubs: the Mary Shelley, named after the great writer herself whose body was buried in that very graveyard. It was a steeple church and the grassy side to the right of the place was alive with the salty scum of the earth: half the homeless population of the whole town, there, like they were, for free food out the back of a van run by church volunteers. Sucker’s Night: a good bit of chow and a nice chinwag with the bad and the mad of Bournemouth’s underbelly; half of which were genuine losers; the others more players, like she was, and Travis.

They started to mingle, Travis on top form. He knew everybody, strolling from cluster to cluster, whisky bottle in hand, laughing and joking; doing a sly bit of business here and there. There was no pussyfooting, no waiting for a break in the conversation of a group he approached. He was straight in there, dominating everything, saying exactly what needed to be said.

The van was parked on the little drive between the church and the grassy slope. They weren’t quite ready to crack out the food yet but they were close. The good Christian soldiers were busying about, chatting with the bums or organising stuff. Selina didn’t care much about the food. To her the fun was more about the trick; saying thank you as she took the handout like a good little girl then maybe dumping it afterwards. What did it matter? She had enough cash at home to nip round to the kebab shop if she was peckish later. The fit, or whatever it had been that had knocked her out earlier, had sapped her appetite for now. And she had her own agenda tonight involving Travis and the question she was starting to think she would ask him.

He knocked up against her and laughed, pointing at a teenage girl sitting by herself near the little mausoleum building in the middle of the grass near the war memorial. “There. That her?”

“Yeah,” said Selina. “She’ll be well up for it.”

“You reckon?”

“Sure. She’s a runaway and she’s desperate for cash and somewhere to stay. She’s got no idea what to do to survive. If I offer her money and a dry bed she’ll rip my hand off to get it. Watch me!” She grinned. “Putty in my hands.”

Travis laughed. “You could make the devil do anything you wanted, couldn’t you, you little slag?”

 “The devil hasn’t got what I want.” She planted her hand against his crotch and gave a squeeze then they tongued deep and rough, Travis lifting her up onto her toes with two clawed hands on her buttocks. She thought again about the grisly memories her seizure had brought back: falling into the undergrowth; Travis tossing her her shoe and telling her to put it back on.

“Hey!”

They broke off. One of Travis’s regulars was climbing the slope of the grass toward them, looking even worse than he usually did: skeletally gaunt, shaven head patchy with stubble.

“Eddie,” said Travis. “What’s new?”

“Nothin. Just looking for some junk, you know. You got some?”

“Always.” Travis patted the outer pocket of his leather jacket. “You got any cash this time?”

Selina covered her nose, not bothering to hide the act. If Eddie didn’t know he stank then he should have done.

“Not now,” said Eddie, “but I will have by tomorrow. I was hoping we could work something out on credit.”

“I don’t do credit,” said Travis.

“You do. I seen you give it and you’ve done it for me.”

He waved Eddie away. “You want credit you pay your debts. You don’t let yourself get bankrupt. You used up all your favours months ago man. You want any now then you give the cash up front. Otherwise get the fuck out of here.”

Eddie only stood there but Travis didn’t falter. The shutters had come down; Selina had seen it before. This creep wasn’t getting anything, probably ever again. “Please Travis; mate. I need some to get me through tonight. Tomorrow I’ll get the cash for you with interest.” His bulging eyes were reddening; getting moist. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Since school. Doesn’t that make any difference to you?”

“No; you’re right, it does,” said Travis, putting his arm round Eddie’s shoulder and walking him back down the grass. “Here’s a gift from a friend, me to you. Take it, for old time’s sake.” He handed Eddie the dregs at the bottom of his whisky bottle. “That should keep you through until you get some fucking money!” He pushed Eddie hard forward in the shoulder blade, sending him almost stumbling over.

“You bastard!” Eddie was breathless. “You fucking bastard.” He glanced toward the van. “What if I tell them about what you get up to here? What if I tell them about the drugs? About you not being homeless?”

Travis gripped Eddie’s chin in one hand and brought his face in close. Selina giggled, covering her lips with the backs of her fingers. “And what if I snap your neck then go and do the same to your girlfriend; how about that?” He jolted Eddie back and this time he did lose his footing. He went down then scrambled back up.

“What’s going on over there?” One of the do-gooders was frowning at their interchange from near the open back of the van.

Travis held his hands up. “Nothing boss. Nothing at all. Don’t worry.” He looked back at Eddie. “Drink your whisky buddy. It’ll do you good.”

“Fuck you!” Eddie hurled it at the stone wall of the church and the bottle smashed. “You got me into this shit!” All talking stopped. Everyone turned to watch the interchange and Eddie wilted from the exposure, his limbs turned in, shoulders slumped, all energy and light gone from his outburst. His voice became a scratchy listless whisper. “You got me into this shit.” He stood, gaping hopelessly for a moment at both of them, then he shambled off, arms wrapped round his stomach as far as his back.

Travis chuckled. “I used to like that guy. Screwed his sister a couple of times back in the day. What an ungrateful tosser.” He kissed Selina’s neck. “Where were we?” Sparkles fired in her abdomen but she thought again about his hands pinning her wrists to the ground, his threats of what he’d do to her if she looked at him. “Oh yeah. The girl.” He jerked his head in lieu of a point in her direction. The little waif was first in line for the food they’d started to give out at the back of the van.

Selina’s smile got broader, the tip of her tongue tickling the gap between her teeth. “Watch this,” she said. “Ten minutes tops. Bournemouth will have a brand new whore and we’ll have a nice new source of cash. Watch the mistress at work.”

He gave her buttocks a (slightly kinky) whack and Selina started across, heading toward the spot by the mausoleum the girl was returning to, grinning back at him.

She’d put the presentiment she’d felt when she entered the churchyard out of her mind but half way across it came back to her, again only barely consciously, this time keyed in closer to what had happened to her in the square. It only lasted for a moment but it was definite – there and then gone: a spike in heat in the cool night air that lasted only a second but took the temperature up by at least fifteen degrees.