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Even the Dogs. Jon McGregorЧитать онлайн книгу.

Even the Dogs - Jon  McGregor


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by the canal and the sickness rising in him, the rattles taking hold. Cramps in his stomach, aching in his legs his back his bones. Pulling down his trousers behind a bush because he can’t keep it from rushing out, black and steaming on the frozen ground and nothing to clean himself with, nothing to do but pull up his trousers and try to do something about it later. When he gets the chance, if he gets the chance, when he’s scored and sorted and feeling able to face it. Sweating and cold and feeling it badly now and where’s Mike when you need him. Can’t get rid of the cunt most days and now he’s

      Shouldn’t have gone to his brother’s house. Should have known it wouldn’t make no difference it being Christmas. If he’d wanted to play families he should have stayed at Robert’s with the others. Or he should have gone and seen Laura again and made up for the time before. Probably it was too late now. Was always too late was how it felt sometimes. Already felt too late the first time he met her. Which was when, hanging around outside the Catholic church waiting for the lunch project to open and she asked him for a smoke and he actually had some tobacco so that felt like the first thing that had gone right for days, the way she looked impressed, the way she smiled when he said Don’t tell no one and said I won’t if you won’t. Like it meant something else. Like it meant anything. Cracked red sores around her mouth which opened up when she smiled. Dark sagging skin beneath her eyes. Her face pinched and pale and her hair thin and lank but it weren’t hard to think she’d been fucking gorgeous one time but not for a while. Rolled a fag for her and she said Oh cheers mate you’re a diamond you’re a star. Bobbing up and down on her toes like she was cold but it weren’t a cold day at all. Scratching her neck and scratching the back of her head and scratching her face and when she lit the fag she sucked so hard he thought she might smoke the whole lot in one go. Obvious it was more than tobacco she had a craving for. Obvious that tobacco weren’t hardly making her feel better at all. Soon as she turned away Mike was there in his ear giving it all You don’t wanna

      Left at the boarded-up petrol station with the weeds where the pumps used to be, weaving up through the estate between the railway and the ringroad, turn left turn right, turn left turn right, past all those white walled houses with cars parked in the gardens, and the low wooden fences mostly broken, and ugly-sounding dogs jumping up behind the thin front doors. Two lads waiting by a phonebox on the corner, pacing and fidgeting and looking around so he said You waiting to score? Two lads looking at each other. One of them said Yes, mate, why, you looking? If you wait up here you can buy a bag off our kid as long as you split it. Other one said You got the time, mate, and Danny took his phone out to have a look, and that was a mistake because one of them punched him in the face and took the phone and told him to fuck off. Nothing you can do when that happens and it was his own fault. Einstein started barking and jumping up at them but he pulled her away and legged it down the road, slipping on some ice on the corner and smacking his head on the cold hard ground but clambering up and grabbing his glasses and running again in case the blokes came along for more. What else can you do you can’t do nothing always some cunt after the last little bit you

      Jesus believe I’d be a generous man if I’d ever had the chance

      And what’s your excuse la

      Or if we lived by the sea, if we were fucking Vikings or something, we’d put him in a boat and send him out on the water all ablaze and that. Whole crew of us, all his family and friends, carrying him down to the shore with all the things he’d need for his final journey, like his sword and shield, his armour, his helmet, his what his breastplate and that, plus the women carrying flowers and baskets of fruit, bread, meat, a fucking what is it a flagon of wine and put it all in the boat with him and cover it with straw and put our grievous fucking shoulders to the creaking timbers of the boat and push him out across the wet sand to the sea and throw a match in and watch him burn as he drifts further

      A what is it a breastplate

      If it hadn’t taken him so long to get back he’d have some gear by now. He could have been there with Robert, he could have stopped whatever it was that had happened. He’d have some gear now and he wouldn’t be rattling like this. And probably Laura would be there, at the flat, and he wouldn’t be chasing around looking for her, looking for anyone, looking for someone to tell. She’d be sitting on the floor by Robert’s chair, tying and untying her bootlaces, talking to him quietly or getting him drinks or making sure he had something to eat. Or she’d be sitting on the bed in the little front bedroom, the only bed in the flat, the bedroom which had been hers when she was a kid and which she’d moved into for a while when she first came back to live with her dad. The room where she went for a dig because he said he didn’t want to watch anyone doing that least of all her. Most people used the kitchen but she always liked to go in there. Probably Heather would be in there as well, hoping to share some, helping Laura find a vein. Sometimes when he saw them sitting in that room together, if he walked past the doorway and glanced in, it looked like some mother and daughter thing they had going on. They were the right ages at least. Heather with her arm near enough round Laura’s shoulders, and if they noticed him there they’d look up like they’d been telling each other secrets. Which maybe they had. They had enough secrets to tell, everyone

      Like that kid Ben, the way he was always smiling to himself, always trying to wipe the smile away with his hand. Like he had some secret that was too good to share with Danny or Mike or any of them, like he was saving it for someone better. No reason to have him hanging around with them except he always seemed to have money. That was one thing. But then he kept doing things like he would go teasing Einstein with a bar of chocolate or something, all waving it over her head and making her turn circles the wrong way so she’d fall over on her bad leg. Laughing away and making out like he didn’t mean no harm. And then a while back when they were waiting by the phoneboxes and he goes I tell you what though mate you should have seen Laura last night she was well out of it, she was all white as a sheet and mumbling, you’d have loved it Danny, and I’ll tell you a secret right, I’d have fucking loved to have taken her round the

      When did you last see him?

      I’ve told you that already.

      When did you last see him alive and well?

      Aint never seen him alive and

      Down an embankment and back on to the canal towpath, falling and catching his leg on a tree stump, ripping his trousers open and finding blood when he touched his hand to his leg. Einstein beside him still, and he could tell from her whimper that she was hungry again. Should have let her finish the food Maureen had put down at the day centre. Should maybe go back there anyway. Maybe the others would be there by now, maybe someone would be there who knew where they’d gone, or someone who could give him a number to score. He didn’t know what to do but he got up again and he kept walking. What else could he do. The black canal water slicked with oil and no boats out on it. No one fishing. Keep walking because what else can you do and something will always come of it in the end. Cut through the bushes into the empty supermarket carpark, and it was a long way to the road with all those cameras twitching and turning to see him on his way. Phonebox on the corner by the fried-chicken place so he gave his dealer another go, no answer again and he hung up quick enough to get the shrapnel back this time, didn’t even think about calling the police he had to find a had to score he

      Fucking, every day like this, trying to keep our heads above the water. Or more like trying to keep our heads above like boiling tar or something and some cunt always trying to push us back under the

      Last time he’d seen Laura had been in her room at the hostel. Tiny room with a single bed and not much else. Two of them lying there on the bed and it was warm and dry at least. First time he’d managed to score for a few days, and she’d offered to sneak him in the room in return for a share. Seemed like a good deal to him. Got in through the fire escape and she said she weren’t bothered about trouble off the staff because she was leaving soon anyway. They’d cooked up as soon as they got in the room, and done each other, and there weren’t many things better than when she dug it in him. She was all frantic and fidgety most of the time, like both of them were, but when she got that


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