Mr Landen Has No Brain

Sally said, ‘Tell me about Davey Farrel’s.’

‘I was outside his shop. And what was the wind doing?’

Like Sally cared.

‘It was slapping me from all sides,’ Cthulha said, ‘like I’d done something wrong.’

‘You probably had.’

‘So then what happens?’ Cthulha asked.

‘I don’t know. I wasn’t there.’

‘My hat blows off.’

‘You think it was a punishment from God?’

‘Listen,’ Cthulha said.

‘What?’

‘This is where it gets good.’

‘Cthulha, your anecdotes never get good. They just stagger round till they fall into a ditch.’

Cthulha said, ‘This bloke takes one look at my dark glasses, and my hat on the pavement, thinks I’m a blind beggar and chucks fifty pence in the hat. Can you believe that? From now on, when we’re out in public together, I’m blind.’

‘How dignified.’

‘Every penny helps.’

Sally dipped her brush. ‘Anyway, suicides don’t count.’

‘Who says?’

‘Uncle Al faxed me the rules. They say. Caravan park managers will not be held responsible for suicides. Suicides are committed at guests’ own peril, unless death was initiated at the manager’s request. – like if I say, “Go kill yourself.”’

‘But you’re always saying that to me.’

‘Not for the next few days. Anyway you’re not a guest, you’re an intruder. You probably count as a burglar. Burglars are fair game.’

‘Not that I’d kill myself. I wouldn’t want to upset those who love me.’

‘And who’s that?’ said Sally.

‘My boyfriend, you, my mother–’

‘Cthulha, your mother hits you with a stick.’

‘But she must love me. She’s a mother. Mothers love their daughters.’

Sally said, ‘You don’t love me.’

‘Don’t start that again.’

‘You have to accept that when an eight year old loses her real mother, she’ll look for a surrogate one. And you happened to be the one permanent female presence in my young life. When I had my first period, you told me I was dying. When I needed my first bra, you helped me buy it – not that you knew how to fasten it.’

‘Those things are death traps. You can tell a man invented them.’

‘Bras were invented by a woman.’

‘Who says?’

‘She knotted two hankies together then showed it to all her mates who were most impressed.’

‘Were they used hankies?’

‘Why would anyone want to wear used hankies?’ Sally said.

‘Why would they want to wear any sort of hankies? If you’re sat in a restaurant on a date and, halfway through the evening, he declares that he makes his trolleys from knotted hankies, you’re not going to be accepting any invitations into his home.’

‘The point is that with you around ALL THE TIME you were bound to imprint on me. It’s like ducklings that think a pair of wellies is their mother because it was the first thing they ever saw.’

‘I don’t believe this.’

‘Believe what?’

‘I bought you a bra, now you want me to buy you wellies.’

‘I don’t want you to buy me wellies. I want you to love me.’

‘If you ever again sit in the pub on a Friday night, telling the men I’m trying to pull that I’m your mother …’

‘But that’s how I see you.’

‘I’m only four years older than you.’

‘Twelve.’

‘Eleven and three quarters.’

‘Twelve.’ Holding the bucket steady between her feet, Sally dipped her brush in it, stirred it, then spread more paste on the wall. ‘Is your mother still sending you death threats?’

‘Yeah,’

‘I’d go to the police if I were you; remember I’ve met your mother.’

‘Yeah that’s right,’ Cthulha complained.