Chapter Four
Saturday came and I thought the working day would never end. It seemed to drag on and on. I couldn’t wait to see Nutty again. I kept looking at the time on my new iPhone which had arrived in the post that morning just in time for me to set it up before I travelled to work. Time barely seemed to be moving. It was the slowest day ever. Jim - the flabby lighting technician Suki fancied - kept walking through the phone room to flirt with her. At least that broke some of the monotony and gave me a giggle.
After he’d passed through for what felt like the umpteenth time, I turned to Suki, puzzled. “You both seem to like each other,” I said. “Why isn’t anything happening?”
“I think it’s because we’re so keen on each other,” Suki replied. “It isn’t like me, but I’m too nervous to ask him out. I’ve never quite felt this way about anyone before.”
“Oh well,” I shrugged. “If it’s meant to be it’ll happen, I guess.”
“He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” Suki said dreamily.
I didn’t answer. I turned my back on her, pulled a disgusted puke face, and swiftly answered a call.
Minutes later, Kalisha approached Suki and I to offer us press night tickets for The Mad Dentist in a few days’ time. “Should I print an extra ticket for Nutty?” she asked.
“Please!” I replied. “Can we have back stalls?”
“Don’t you want something a bit closer?”
“The stage side seats we had last time were great, but we had a giggling fit in front of the audience.”
“Oh goodness,” Kalisha replied, bouncing back over to her desk. “In that case, I’ll see what I can do.”
I quickly sent Nutty a text: My manager says you can attend the press night of The Mad Dentist with me - it’s on Tuesday. Hope you can come.
Nutty texted straight back: Really sorry - making the Rub-A-Dub-Dub video with Miss Silky on Wednesday - I’ll be driving up to Manchester that afternoon.
My heart skipped a beat. Miss Silky was a beautiful caramel skinned rapper with glossy black hair, a perfect butt and boobs the size of watermelons. I really didn’t like the thought of him being with her. If any woman in the world could be a threat to our relationship, it was that sex goddess.
Oh, I replied. Never mind.
Kalisha shouted across the office, “I’ve got three tickets on the side of the stalls about two thirds of the way back. Would that be alright for you?”
“We only need two,” I sighed. “Nutty’s making a video with Miss Silky.”
“Woo!” Kalisha exclaimed. “Lucky him! Well, in that case, I’ve got two fairly central back row. Oh - unless your mum would like to see it.”
“She’s going out for her best mate’s birthday. Thanks though. We’ll take the ones in the back row please.”
When six o’clock finally struck, I struggled home through gale-force winds, bolted down a bowl of soup, hopped in the bath, then glammed myself up ready for my second date with the man of my dreams.
Mum ran me to the station, I travelled most of the way to London with some pervy business man type who kept staring at me, and then got a taxi to Nutty’s. As soon as I stepped through the door, he kissed me passionately. I grinned with excitement, but then my face fell when I spied Isaac sat in the lounge with the Ouija board. At least Janine wasn’t there.
“Hi!” said Isaac warmly. “How’s young Yazmin?”
“OK thanks,” I answered. “How are you?”
“A bit disappointed.” He hung his head and I noticed his dreadlock combover staying put, like the dreads had been glued to his scalp. “We’ve been trying to contact Paul without luck.”
“Who’s Paul?” I asked, taking a seat opposite him.
Isaac looked at Nutty. “Will you explain?” he asked. “I’m upset.”
Nutty sat down next to Isaac. “Paul was my Uncle,” he explained. “He used to live in this flat - he and Isaac were best mates. He died earlier this year on his sixty-first birthday. Isaac and another friend bust the door down and found his body. He’d basically drunk himself to death.”
“I wanted to contact him the night we met you,” Isaac said. “But Janine and Paul never got on, so I left her at home tonight and brought the board hoping …”
Nutty put an arm around Isaac. “We’ll try again mate.”
Isaac nodded sadly. His combover still staying put. I opened my mouth to ask what type of glue he used, then promptly shut it. This wasn’t the time.
“Have you tried to contact Melanie again?” I asked them.
Isaac looked puzzled. “Melanie?”
“The board spelt out Mel the other night before the man from the takeaway knocked and interrupted us.”
“Oh!” Nutty said. “The board only gave us a couple of letters before we were interrupted. It wasn’t really a proper message.”
“True,” I said. “But did you know the seventh Skindlesworth murder victim lived in this block of flats and that her name was Melanie Pearce?”
“Fuck!” Nutty said. “That’s right. Oh my God!”
“Might just be a coincidence,” I pointed out.
“Might be,” Nutty agreed. “Interesting though. Well, I’d better get Isaac home now before Janine goes berserk. I’ll be back in a flash.”
As Nutty and Isaac headed for the door, I grabbed my coat. “I’m coming this time!” I said.
“Sorry Yaz,” Nutty replied. “No room in the back, I’m afraid - Isaac bought a chest of drawers from a neighbour. It’s in the car - we had to put the back seats down to get it in.”
“Pine!” Isaac beamed. “A real bargain!”
“OK,” I said, eyeing the hook by the door to make sure the spare key was hanging there in case I needed to flee the flat. “I guess I have no choice.”
I put the kettle on and fetched a peppermint teabag and brand new mug I’d brought with me, obsessing over the fact I’d lost my virginity in a flat where goodness knows how many dead bodies had been found - Nutty’s uncle, at very least, and possibly even a Skindlesworth murder victim or two. I was just waiting for my tea to cool when there was a loud knock on the door. I crept to the spyhole, peeped through and gasped as a horrible sight met my eyes. It was Dudley.
“Anyone in?” he croaked.
“Hi Dudley!” I shouted. “It’s Yazmin. Nutty should be back in a sec - I haven’t got a key.” Obviously, I lied because I didn’t fancy being alone with him.
“Hi Yaz!” Dudley exclaimed. “I think I’ve got a key for this place on my bunch - I’ll try a few.”
“Hurry up Nutty!” I said under my breath, my heart beating wildly as I heard key after key being tried in the lock. Why couldn’t the impatient idiot just wait a minute for Nutty to return?
I quietly fastened the safety chain so that now, even if he did find the right key, he wouldn’t be able to get in. Then I heard a key being fully turned in the lock. The door opened as far as it could before the safety chain became taught. What was I going to say now? I decided the best course of action was to just mess about to delay his entry whilst Nutty got home.
“Chain’s on Yaz!” Dudley pointed out.
“Oops!” I said falsely as he closed the door again. I knocked the chain against the door a couple of times, pretending to be trying to free it. “It’s stuck!” I lied. “Hang on a minute!” I made a few more mock attempts to free the chain. “Oh dear - does Nutty have a toolbox somewhere in here?”
“I’ve no idea,” Dudley said, sounding frustrated.
“I’ll take a look around,” I said. I stayed behind the door in silence, pretending I was searching for the tools.
Then I heard Dudley say, “Chain’s fucked. She’s looking for a screwdriver.”
I sighed with relief as I heard Nutty’s voice. “Really? That chain’s only a couple of months old.”
I grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer, undid the chain and opened the door. Dudley’s eyes widened with fear as he saw the sharp knife pointing towards his beer belly. He took a step backward. Th
e bunch of keys fell from his hand and clattered against the concrete floor.
“Sorry!” I said meekly, pointing the blade away from him. “Knife did the trick though!”
Dudley bent down and picked up the keys. There must have been at least thirty of them on the large ring. Probably keys to various women’s flats. Or perhaps he wasn’t lying when I’d heard him boasting to fans a few weeks previously about a villa he owned in France. Perhaps he had a villa in France, a castle in Ireland, a mansion in London and a whole frigging skyscraper in New York. Although my bet was that most of the keys had been given to him by women. Filthy filanderer!
I placed the knife back in the kitchen drawer and returned to the hall where Nutty and Dudley were trying the chain out and looking puzzled as it seemed to be in full working order.
“I’m good at mending things!” I beamed, as they looked at me and narrowed their eyes in confusion.
Nutty turned to Dudley as the rotund actor removed his anorak and hung it on the coat stand. “I’m surprised to see you tonight.”
“Your short-term memory gone or something?” Dudley laughed. “We arranged it a couple of nights ago - you were chatting on your phone in the supermarket - remember?”
“Shit!” Nutty exclaimed. “It was a bad line - I thought you meant next weekend.”
“No - I’ll be onstage this time next weekend. Theatre’s closed tonight in preparation for the new play. Should be good - I’m starring in it!” He laughed at himself like he was the funniest man alive.
“Sorry Yaz,” Nutty said. “We’d arranged a writing session - you can join in and see how it’s done!”
I forced a smile. This was supposed to be a date. Nevertheless, I was stood in the presence of the duo who had written my most favourite tune ever - Nutty’s hilarious song Madman in a Bunny Costume, so I swiftly warmed to the idea.
Dudley turned to me and laughed. “I hear you’ve met Isaac and Janine. What do you think of them?”
“They were a bit drunk,” I said, trying not to be too rude.
“Crazy couple!” Dudley laughed. “He’s not too bad but she’s a fucking psycho! You should see her when she’s really drunk - like proper drunk.”
“Yeah!” Nutty said. “She told Dudley he looked like an alien foetus gone wrong once. Remember that Dud?”
“How can I ever forget?” Dudley scowled.
I said nothing - drunk or not, the woman had a point.
“I took them to a family pub the other week,” Nutty added. “She snatched a sausage off a little kid’s plate and munched it in front of him. Woman’s pure evil!”
“How vile,” I said, hoping to never set eyes on the alcoholic pair ever again.
Nutty fetched a pen and pad. Then they cracked open a couple of beers, I grabbed my mint tea, and we sat down in the lounge.
“We always start with a rhyming game to warm up and get a few ideas,” Nutty said.
“Sounds like fun!” I replied.
Dudley giggled stupidly into his hand. “Let’s start with words and phrases that rhyme with runt!”
“Dirty bastard!” Nutty exclaimed. “He always starts with that one.”
“Let me see … Front!” Nutty laughed.
“Brunt,” I said.
Predictably, Dudley said the C word and laughed loudly at himself for a prolonged length of time. I knocked back the remains of my peppermint tea and then popped to the kitchen to brew myself another.
When I returned, they were trying to rhyme words with love.
“Above!” Dudley said in a big, showy, theatrical voice.
“Boxing glove,” I said, fantasizing about boxing Dudley in the face.
“Dove,” Nutty said, jotting the word down.
We came up with quite a few more rhymes to this one, including kind of and shove and played for about twenty minutes before they seemed to lose interest in the game. They sat there chatting whilst I did a few social media quizzes on my phone, including What Was Your Name in a Previous Life? and Which Breed of Dog are You? I got Victoria and Chihuahua. Then I began to nod off.
Nutty smiled at me. “Go to bed if you like,” he said. “I’ll join you shortly.”
“Don’t blame you!” Dudley said creepily. He smiled his sickly brown-toothed smile as I reeled back in horror and fled the room.
I got into bed fully clothed, as I knew it was more than likely Dudley would pop his big, red, bulbous nose through the door to say goodbye before he left. I lay there listening as Dudley began laughing to himself.
“Share the joke!” I heard Nutty say.
“I’m just thinking how Yazmin’s a cut above some of the others you’ve shagged. Remember that freaky bitch you banged in the back of the van at the festival?”
“Shush!” Nutty said urgently.
“Sorry,” Dudley replied. “It’s just that yellow hair and purple fringe …”
I felt sick. The girl sounded like a right skank. How many filthy infected mingers had he banged in the back of vans?
“I think you’d better leave,” Nutty said furiously.
“But I’ve got a fun idea for a tune. Besides - you’re a fucking wicked M.C. She surely doesn’t think you’ve been living a fucking angel’s life bro.”
“Shit Dudley. I fucking hope Yaz didn’t hear you.”
“Nah - she’s probably asleep. You saw her nodding. Anyway, this idea’s a potential mega hit. Do you wanna hear the idea or not? It’s about a forty-year-old mummy’s boy whose teddy comes alive at night and attacks him.”
“Oh, fuck it!” Nutty said, still sounding pissed off. “I’ll get a couple more beers.”
“That’s more like it!” Dudley said.
Then all I could hear was some repetitive grime instrumental which made me drift off to sleep. Sometime later, I awoke to hear them writing the lyrics.
I could hear Nutty spitting bars. “He slapped him, wacked him, shook him hard and smacked him. Pete called for his mummy as Fluffy Buns attacked him.”
“Coming along nicely!” Dudley said.
“I dunno blud,” Nutty said. He sounded tired. “I’m not sure about the tune, yunno?”
“Shut it mate! I’m telling you. It’s fantastic - it’ll rake in mega bucks - mark my words. Now, where were we? He slapped him, wacked him, shook him hard and smacked him. Pete called for his mummy da, da, da, da, attacked him. How about, er … His mummy didn’t hear coz she was chatting on a sex line. She presumed he was asleep coz it was way past Petey’s bedtime. Then we could end it where she finds him all hacked up in the morning and the teddy bear missing.”
“Chatting on a sex line?” Nutty said. “I’m still not sure …”
Then I heard one of Dudley’s songs playing. Dudley had obviously set it as his ringtone, because then I heard him say, “Hiya! Be there in twenty!”
“Why you grinning like dat?” I heard Nutty say.
“Because she’s more than nice, this one. Petite redhaired stunner. Met her at the Nitty Gritty club - she works on the cloakroom. I’m calling a cab!”
He called the cab and fucked off out into the night. Then Nutty finally joined me in bed.