Skinner

Macey

Chapter 1

About a year ago today I killed someone. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. Who she was, I don’t know. I don’t know whether I did it or not. I don’t remember it all that well. I was living in a bedsitter at the time. There was a woman who lived on the floor below.

It happened like this. I had been lonely for a long time. My marriage broke up, and when I left I had to have somewhere to go and this bedsitter was the first thing that came up. It was really dingy. The whole building was dingy. I didn’t mind. All I wanted was to be on my own, because I’d had enough of a lot of things, including living with someone else.

I wanted to sort things out. I’ve been told that Linda was lucky to get out when she did. I don’t know whether that’s true or not. All I know is that I really got to hate her in a way, and I think I wanted to kill her. I don’t know why.

Anyway, I moved to this dingy place and got a job as a labourer. It’s never been difficult for me to get work when I want, because I’m very strong and would obviously be useful on a building site. Sometimes I don’t like to work, and that’s easy too: I just sign on. I’m not bothered either way. But then was a time when I wanted to do something. I didn’t want to have any time on my hands. I felt so messed up, it was awful. I couldn’t say what I was feeling, it was just horrible.

Anyway, the place where I worked, it was all right. I don’t know that the other blokes liked me so much, though. I liked them enough, but I didn’t mix with them. Like I said, I wanted to be on my own. I think there are a lot of people like me and maybe they respected me for it. I’d get there about eight o’clock in the morning and would be back about eight at night.

Then the trouble started. I just didn’t know what to do with myself. For a while I would hang around the bedsit, just listening to all the noises. I didn’t mind that for a while. Then I would get a sort of itching - I can’t describe it any better than that. I would get an itching to do something; there seemed so much energy left inside of me. I don’t know why because they worked you so hard on that building site, it was really killing. But it wasn’t more building work I wanted to do. I don’t know; as I say, I can’t describe it.

Anyway, what would happen was that after a while I would go out and get drunk. I didn’t have any particular local. I would go anywhere just so long as I was left alone. I can’t stick noisy places.

I’m not sure where I’m supposed to start with all this, so I’ll start with the night that I nearly attacked someone. It happened like this. I was sitting at the bar, minding my own business, when a group of people came up behind me making a din, and one of them pushed into me. It caught me on the raw, if you know what I mean. I was hoping they’d go away when they bought their drinks, but they didn’t. When the geezer bumped into me, it was obviously a mistake, but that was beside the point. I went mad and asked myself: what was this git doing that he should bump into me like that? Yet I’d been told that I must never lose my cool. I’ve been done for assault before, and the last time I came out of prison I was placed on probation. They told me I should never lose my temper because I was a physically very powerful man with a short fuse. I still remember the words. Anyway, I took this advice. So all I did was bottle it up and grip my glass harder. It broke and cut me. I got off the chair and just looked at them, but they hadn’t even noticed. When I got to the door I stopped and looked back, and one of them was already sitting on my chair. I very nearly went back in and had it out with him, but I didn’t.

It wasn’t far to the house where I lived. I was glad to get there. I bathed my hand. I didn’t know what to do with it at first, but after a while I found a rag and used that as a bandage. After that I went out again.

But I was stuck for somewhere to go, as usual. I got the feeling that nobody really wanted me in their pub. Whenever I walked into a place for the first time I’d get these funny looks. Once before I’d been into a pub I’d never been to before, and the barman took one look at me and said, Not in here, John. I thought, how does he know my name? I’ve never seen him before. But I left anyway. It wasn’t my fault.

There’s nothing very different about me. Maybe people are afraid of me, I don’t know. But it’s hard to take, when you feel such a loner. I wanted to be on my own, but I didn’t want to be that alone. I wanted to be accepted if I felt like being accepted after a hard day’s work. I wanted to be accepted somewhere.

I asked the lads at work where they all drank, but they didn’t seem to want to know. Anyway, they lived all over the place and it would have been too far. So I was stuck with my own company, with nowhere to go really. I didn’t mind.

I went to this place on the corner where I’d never been before. It was funny that I hadn’t been there because it was so close to where I lived. I think I’d been put off it because it was known as a bit of a rough house. I don’t like to be in that sort of place, because it rubs off on me.

I went in there for want of anywhere else and got a pint of beer at the bar. Then I sat down with it. The place was still quiet. Nobody gave me any of the looks I’ve talked about, which was just as well. I just sat there drinking slowly.

Then someone came up to me. I couldn’t make out who it was at first. Somebody behind sounded as if she were giggling. It gave me the hump. Like I said, I don’t like people coming too near. Then I felt someone tugging at my arm. I couldn’t understand it. Why couldn’t they just leave me alone, I asked myself. But she kept on doing it. After a while I turned round. A woman was standing there just giggling at me. God knows why she was giggling at me. She was drunk obviously. Then she asked me if I would buy her a drink.

Now, I’ve never been much of a one for the ladies, but I’ve got my needs like everyone else, and since Linda and me broke up, well, there hasn’t been too much happening on that score. We weren’t even sleeping together for a long time before we broke up. So I looked at her. She was no oil painting, if you know what I mean, but she wasn’t that bad either. She was a bit on the big side, but then so am I. She seemed all right, but a bit daft.

It gave me the hump that she’d come and bothered me in the first place, as if I were an easy touch. I couldn’t refuse her a drink though.

The barman started to give me a lot of funny looks.

Who’re you, then? I asked.

She just kept on giggling.

My name’s Sheilagh, she finally said. What’s yours?

I didn’t answer her. Why should I?

D’you want to sit down?

All right then.

She sat on the bar stool next to mine and asked the barman for a double gin and tonic. He got it and I paid.

You still haven’t told me your name.

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to give her my name.

D’you come here often? she asked.

No.

I didn’t think so. I haven’t seen you here before.

Then she gave me that daft smile again and looked round the room as if everyone were waiting on her every word.

I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t understand it because I didn’t want to be on my own, but I didn’t much feel like talking to her either. And to be fair, I think she understood that, because she wasn’t saying very much.

We hardly said a word all evening, but I don’t mind admitting I began to like her. I don’t know why. I kept on buying her and me drinks.

The gin didn’t affect her at all after a while, not any more than it did at first. Once or twice, when someone she knew came in, she’d start to giggle all over again. That got to me a bit, specially as they were all men. They didn’t seem to notice me. I don’t think they realised I was with her.

At closing time we went back to my bedsitter. Nobody asked her to come, and nobody said she’d better not come, it was just an unspoken thing.

It was just as well it wasn’t very far to go, because we were both unsteady on our feet.

Somewhere in my heart there was a sinking feeling. I thought that maybe I was taking the easy way out by having her come back.

Well, why not? What was there against it?

She didn’t think very much of my place, through the giggles. Not that I blamed her for that: it was a tip in itself, and anyway I hadn’t cleared it up for days.

She put the kettle on. By then I’d started to hope that I’d be able to bang her, but I didn’t know if I’d drunk too much. Like I said, she wasn’t all that attractive, but I’d started to fancy her anyway. It was probably the booze. I was a bit put off by how heavy she was though.

There were so many different feelings going on in my head. I don’t know why, but I was half thinking of Linda. I also thought that maybe I ought to put her out now and have done with it.

Then she goes, I like the strong, silent type, giggling all the while.

She was also smiling and rubbing her body against mine. It didn’t feel all that bad. I couldn’t