‘No!’ She was resolute, believing they would not hurt a girl and that she was therefore his best form of defence.
‘Whatareyou anyway?’ the mouthpiece asked, and his mates laughed again; one hawked and spat.
She knew Tony was aware of the loaded question, but he didn’t falter and answered in a steady voice. It was an act of bravery that she knew was the mark of the man.
‘I’m a photographer.’
‘Oooh! I’m a photographer!’ The one who had asked about the lipstick mimicked Tony’s voice, exaggerating the feminine lilt, walking with his hand on his hip and making out to toss long hair over his shoulder.
What happened next was quite unexpected. Tony shrugged free of her arm and took a step towards them.
‘Ah, it all makes sense now.’ Tony stood with his back straight, chin jutting, his voice bearing only the slight betrayal of fear as his words, sounding a little sticky to her knowing ear, came froma nervous mouth. ‘The lipstick you were interested in, and which, by the way, I think would really suit you, is not red, it’s actually Heather Shimmer. And may I say you’ve got that walk off pat. I can see I’ve found a kindred spirit. Fancy a quick one?’ He jerked his head towards the alleyway between Dolcis and Rumbelows.
There was a second, maybe two, of stillness, as if they were in a play and were all a little unsure of the stage direction given, or whose line it was. Of one thing she was sure: it was about to get very serious, very quickly. It was then Remy remembered the words of the Elton John hit. It was fighting that Saturday night was alright for,fighting, although at that moment in time she would have given anything in the whole wide world for it to have been dancing.
She froze.
Holding in her breath, her words, her terror, as in the next second the world began to turn in slow motion and all hell broke loose.
The five thugs seemed to surge, in a manner which, upon reflection, would suggest it was well choreographed. Their mouths she would remember, shrunk to angry arseholes, as their eyes blazed. It was almost instinctive, the way she lifted her arms to shield her face from the impact, as if they were still in the Austin Allegro about to hit the tree her mum had warned them about, the one that could come at you from nowhere on a sharp bend.
They charged at them, a melee, a gaggle, a tangle of angry limbs all working in unison with the intention of causing damage, of committing violence. Two hands pushed her backwards, thumping her with such force in the chest she toppled, whacking her elbow and shoulder on to the pavement as the wind rushed from her lungs, landing hard. It was shocking, a surprise, leaving her quite dazed by the unexpectedness of such an act. The pain was instant and intense, not that there was any time to consider it, as almost immediately, and still while she struggled to take a breath, a bootcame heading towards her and she felt the heavy blow against her ear, which set everything ringing and sent her vision a little fuzzy. But it was the other four who had set upon Tony that drew her concern. Panicking as finally she drew breath, she managed to shriek, as best she was able, as loud as she could, ‘Leave him alone!’
It was then that she realised her mouth was bleeding as the syrupy, iron-flavoured loss sprayed over her shirt and the bib of her dungarees.
It was hard for her to stand, to move. Thankfully the pig who had hurt her had backed off. The bad news was he immediately went to join his buddies, mere feet away, as they kicked and stomped on Tony.
Stomped.
Their boots now working like pistons, a machine whose mechanical sounds were the grunts and exhalations of fetid, hate-filled breath, as they expelled energy through their uneducated noses.
Levering herself up into a half-sitting position, she looked around, trying to find someone, anyone who might be able to help. Her friend wasn’t moving, wasn’t fighting, and she screamed out, ‘Tony!Tony!’ before stopping to catch her breath. ‘Stop it! Get off him! Leave him alone! Please leave him alone!’
Remy felt as if she were caught in a riptide, fighting for breath. As fear and pain rendered her immobile, it was all she could do to scream until it felt as if her lungs might burst: ‘Stop it!Tony!You’ll kill him!’ she sobbed. ‘You’re going to kill him!’
They came out of nowhere.
Suddenly.
Men.
Her chest was tight in anticipation: were they going to hurt Tony more, her too? If she had learned one thing in the last few minutes it was that she couldn’t trust anyone. Scouring the floor, she tried to see if there was anything she could use as a weapon,something, anything with which she might be able to mount a feeble defence, but a defence nonetheless. There was nothing. She braced her limbs as best she could, somehow figuring that if she wasn’t supple, compliant, injury might be harder, more difficult for them. Her breath came in stuttered gasps, her mouth so dry and still she cried, calling out, shouting when able, ‘Leave him alone! Get off him, getoffhim!’
With one eye now closing, she could make out their shapes, young, like her and Tony, how many it would have been hard to say; six, maybe seven. They were in jeans and shirts, short hair, a group of lads on a night out, and here they were, joining the affray. It took a second for her to realise that they were indeed hauling punches, bent low, delivering blow after blow, but they were not hurting Tony, they were in fact lugging the thugs from her friend.
They were help.
They were helping . . .
They were helpers.
Her whole body sagged with relief.
One by one they picked off the aggressors, knocking three out cold and tossing the other two with bloody noses and split lips on top of them.
‘You’re alright, lad.’ One of the men spoke to Tony, as he lifted his head and placed a jacket under it. Tony didn’t move, but made a whimpering noise, a low, moaning response, but it was something. ‘Help is on its way. One of our lot went to call an ambulance. Lie still, and breathe. We’ve got you.’
It was as if she went under then, sinking beneath a wave of relief, giving in to the riptide as the remaining strength left her body, and she slumped back down on to the pavement.
