It's A Shame About Ray

I'm not normally the nervous type especially when it comes to dates; confidence always gives you the edge. What’s that the worst that could happen? You could have sex.

Meeting Beth however, presented me with a few primary dilemmas, notably what to wear. Beth if you will remember is the punk hairdresser from the lower high street who gave me a hair cut on the basis that I needed one. As it turned out it cost me another £10 to fix what she had done in a shop down the road. I hoped she wouldn't notice. I'd like to tell you that I plumped for a beaten up leather jacket, some ripped jeans and an old pair of motorcycle boots. I'd also like to tell you that the night went swimmingly.

"I like your shirt, green suits you." Beth ran the nail of her long thumb along the back of my neck around my collar. She’d come up from behind as I stood at the bar of the Dog and Frog. Approaching me from any unseen angle is a dangerous pastime; my nervous reflex means that the general effect is for one of us to get covered in some hot beverage or other.
“Thank you.” I turned round. It took a few seconds to register her face. She was no longer the punk girl I remembered. Tonight she was more glam rock. The hair was sheered back in huge wafers and had been dyed various shades of tiger. Dark glasses covered her eyes which I could tell were caked in yet more make-up. A double layer of protection.
“Whassa matter?” She chewed gum like Madonna.
“You look different.”
“So what?”
“I only met you once; I’m still trying to see your face.”
“Ok that’s cool.”
“What you drinking?”
“Snowball.”
“Well only if you’re sure.”
“Oh and Ray will have a beer.” From behind Beth’s backcombed array, stepped Ray nervously and half raised half a bandaged hand.
“My God, what the fuck happened Ray.” A huge cross section was missing including the last two fingers of his right hand. All that effectively remained was a pincer.
“Accident at work. Turns out I’m a stupid fuck.” His face physically retracted as he said it. It suddenly occurred to me that although I’d know Ray for most of my life, I’d never really known what he did. Perhaps my face gave it away.
“Ray’s a printer; the idiot put his hand in an industrial guillotine. Those things can chop a horse in half.”
“Fuck me Ray. Are you getting any compo?”
“I doubt it. It was my fault.” I bought the drinks. So much for the date and the money that Ray owed me. We sat outside the pub in the cool evening air of the river garden and danced awkwardly around each other for a few minutes. I decided to strike out in a more positive direction.
“I didn’t know you two knew each other.”
“Yeah well…” Ray began, Beth interrupted.
“Ray and I used to live together, until quite recently until he fucked up. Went on some two week bender down at the Club with a bunch of Christian neo-Nazi fuckups. Eventually he turns up a week ago with half a hand and a debt the size of that fucking bellyphant. I tell you, that fucking club. Between you and Trudie I just wanna firebomb the fucking place.” Ray didn’t know where to look.
“And you kicked him out?”
“Damn right.”
“So where you living?”
“At…”
“The club.” Beth was finishing his sentences today. Ray got up to go to the bathroom. She waited for him to get out of earshot and said, “You know Ray don’t you?”
“Since we were kids.”
“Yeah he mentioned you a lot. Look can you have a word with him; I can’t work out what’s going on. It’s like he’s not even bothered about his hand. I just don’t get it.” I made some lavatorial excuse and followed Ray. I went inside and found him robotically playing a fruit machine.
“Don’t even bother.” Ray said.
“Ray, I don’t care about all that.” I had to tell someone. “Trudie’s dead.” He barely hesitated in plugging the machine with his next nugget.
“What?”
“I said, Trudie is dead. I saw her face down in the river.” Ray finally stopped in his tracks, possibly thinking about the last time he’d seen her or why nobody had reported her missing.
“Fuck, really?” Ray gulped his drink.
“Bodies in the river just disappear round the bend and out to sea.”
“Beth ain’t gonna be happy.”
“Were they close?”
“Kinda. They were sisters.”