Chapter One
LUNATIC. BLOODY HELL, IVE seen some things happen in this town before but never anything like that. That was disgusting. That made me feel sick. Christ, he came out of nowhere and she didnt stand a chance, poor old woman. Hes in the middle of the crowd now. Hes outnumbered fifty to one and yet hes still trying to fight. This place is full of crazy people. Fortunately for that woman its also full of police officers. There are two of them down with her now, trying to stop the bleeding. Three more have got to the guy who did it and theyre dragging him away.
Damn, its three minutes to nine. Im going to be late for work again but I cant move. Im stuck in this bloody crowd. There are people bunched up tight all around me and I cant go backward or forward. Ill have to wait until they start to shift, however long that takes. There are more police officers arriving now trying to clear the scene. Its pathetic really, youd think theyd show some respect but people are all the same. First sign of trouble on the street and everyone stops to watch the freak show.
Were finally starting to move. I can still see that guy being bundled toward a police van on the other side of the street. Hes kicking and screaming and crying like a bloody baby. Looks like hes lost it completely. The noise hes making youd think he was the one whod been attacked.
I know Im a lazy bastard. I know I should try harder but I just cant be bothered. Im not stupid but I sometimes find it difficult to give a shit. I should have run across Millennium Square to get to the office just now but it was too much effort so early in the morning.
I walked and I finally got here just after quarter past nine. I tried to sneak in but it was inevitable that someone was going to see me. It had to be Tina Murray though, didnt it? My sour- faced, slavedriving, unforgiving bitch of a supervisor. Shes standing behind me now, watching me work. She thinks I dont know shes there. I really cant stand her. In fact I cant think of anyone I like less than Tina. Im not a violent man—I dont like confrontation and I find the very idea of punching a woman offensive—but there are times here when Id happily smack her in the mouth.
"You owe me fifteen minutes," she sneers in her horrible, whining voice. I push myself back on my chair and slowly turn around to face her. I force myself to smile although all I want to do is spit. She stands in front of me, arms folded, chewing gum and scowling.
"Morning,Tina," I reply, trying to stay calm and not give her the satisfaction of knowing just how much she bugs me. "How are you today?"
"You can either take the time off your lunch hour or stay late tonight," she snaps. "Its up to you how you make it up."
I know Im only making things worse for myself but I cant help it. I should just keep my mouth shut and accept that Im in the wrong but I cant stand the thought of this vile woman thinking shes in control. I know Im not helping the situation but I just cant stop myself. I have to say something.
"What about yesterday morning?" I ask. I force myself to look into her harsh, scowling face again. Shes not at all happy. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other and chews her gum even harder and faster. Her jaw moves in a frantic circular motion. She looks like a cow chewing the cud. Fucking heifer.
"What about yesterday morning?" she spits.
"Well," I explain, trying hard not to sound like Im patronizing her, "if you remember I was twenty minutes early yesterday and I started working as soon as I got here. If Im going to make up your fifteen minutes for today, can I claim back my twenty minutes for yesterday? Or shall we just call it quits and Ill let you off the five minutes?"
"Dont be stupid. You know it doesnt work like that."
"Maybe it should."
Bloody hell, now shes really annoyed. Her face is flushed red and I can see the veins on her neck bulging. It was a stupid and pointless comment to make but Im right, arent I? Why should the council, the city government, have it all their own way? Tinas staring at me now and her silence is making me feel really uncomfortable. I should have just kept my mouth closed. I let her win the face-off and I turn back around to sign on to my computer again.
"Either take it off your lunch hour or work late," she says over her shoulder as she walks away. "I dont care what you do, just make sure you make up the time you owe."
And shes off. Conversations over and I dont get any chance to respond or to try and get the last word. Bitch.
Tina makes my skin crawl but I find myself staring at her rather than at my computer screen. Shes back at her desk now and Barry Penny, the office manager, has suddenly appeared. Her body language has completely changed now that shes speaking to someone whos higher up the council pecking order than she is. Shes smiling and laughing at his pathetic jokes and generally trying to see how far she can crawl up his backside.
I cant help thinking about what Ive just seen happen outside. Christ, I wish I had that blokes umbrella. I know exactly where Id shove it.
Sometimes having such a dull and monotonous job is an advantage. This stuff is way beneath me and I dont really have to think about what Im doing. I can do my work on autopi lot and the time passes quickly. Its been like that so far this morning. Job satisfaction is non ex is tent but at least the day isnt dragging.
Ive been working here for almost eight months now (it feels longer) and Ive worked for the council for the last three- and- a-half years. In that time Ive worked my way through more departments than most long- serving council staff manage in their entire careers.
I keep getting transferred. I served time in the pest control, refuse collection, and street lamp maintenance departments before I ended up here in the Parking Fine Processing office or PFP as the council likes to call it. They have an irritating habit of trying to reduce as many department names and job titles down to sets of initials as they can. Before I was transferred here Id been told that the PFP was a dumping ground for underperformers and, as soon as I arrived, I realized it was true. In most of the places Ive worked Ive either liked the job but not the people or the other way around. Here I have problems with both. This place is a breeding ground for trouble. This is where those motorists whove been unlucky (or stupid) enough to get wheel- clamped, caught on camera violating a traffic rule, or given a ticket by a parking warden come to shout and scream and dispute their fines. I used to have sympathy with them and I believed their stories. Eight months here has changed me. Now I dont believe anything that anyone tells me.
"Did you see that bloke this morning?" a voice asks from behind the computer on my left. Its Kieran Smyth. I like Kieran. Like most of us hes wasted here. Hes got brains and he could make something of himself if he tried. He was studying law at university but took a holiday job here last summer and never went back to class. Told me he got used to having the money and couldnt cope without it. He buys an incredible amount of stuff. Every day he seems to come back from lunch with bags of clothes, books, DVDs, and CDs. Im just jealous because I struggle to scrape together enough money to buy food, never mind anything else. Kieran spends most of his day talking to his mate Daryl Evans who sits on my right. They talk through me and over me but very rarely to me. It doesnt bother me though. Their conversations are as boring as hell and the only thing I have in common with them is that the three of us all work within the same small section of the same small office. What does annoy me, if Im honest, is the fact that they both seem to be able to get away with not doing very much for large chunks of the working day. Maybe its because theyre friendly with Tina outside work and they go out drinking together. Christ, I only have to cough and shes up out of her seat wanting to know what Im doing and why Ive stopped working.
"What bloke?" Daryl shouts back.
"Out on the street on the way to work."
"Which street?"
"The high street, just outside Cartwrights."
"Didnt see anything."
"You must have."
"I didnt. I didnt walk past Cartwrights. I came the other way this morning."
"There was this bloke," Kieran explains regardless, "you should have seen him. He went absolutely fucking mental."
"What are you on about?"
"Honest, mate, he was wild. You ask Bob Rawlings up in Archives. He saw it. He reckons he practically killed her."
"Killed who?"
"I dont know, just some old woman. No word of a lie, he just started laying into her for no reason. Stabbed her with a bloody umbrella I heard!"
"Now youre taking the piss . . ."
"Im serious."
"No way!"
"You go and ask Bob . . ."
I usually ignore these quick- fire conversations (most of the time I dont have a clue what theyre talking about) but today I can actually add something because I was there. Its pathetic, I know, but the fact that I seem to know more about what happened than either Kieran or Daryl makes me feel smug and superior.
"Hes right," I say, looking up from my screen.
"Did you see it then?" Kieran asks. I lean back on my seat in self-satisfaction.
"Happened right in front of me. He might even have gone for me if Id been a few seconds earlier."
"So what was it all about?" Daryl asks. "Is what hes saying right?"
I quickly look over at Tina. Shes got her head buried in a pile of papers. Its safe to keep talking.
"I saw the old girl first," I tell them. "I nearly tripped over her. She came flying past me and smashed up against the window by the side door of Cartwrights. I thought it must be a group of kids trying to get her bag off her or something like that. Couldnt believe it when I saw him. He just looked like a normal bloke. Suit, tie, glasses . . ."
"So why did he do it? What had she done to him?"
"No idea. Bloody hell, mood he was in I wasnt about to ask him."
"And he just went for her?" Daryl mumbles, sounding like he doesnt believe a word Im saying. I nod and glance from side to side at both of them.
"Never seen anything like it," I continue. "He ran at her and stabbed her with an umbrella. It was gross. It went right into her belly. There was blood all over her coat and . . ."
Tinas looking up now. I look down and start typing, trying to remember what it was I was doing.
"Then what?" Kieran hisses.
"Idiot turned on the rest of the crowd. Started hitting out at the people around him. Then the police turned up," I explain, still looking at my screen but not actually doing anything. "They dragged him away and shoved him in the back of a van."
The conversation stops again. Murrays on the move. For a moment the only sound I can hear is the clicking of three computer keyboards as we pretend to work. After looking around the room and staring at me in particular she leaves the office and Kieran and Daryl immediately stop inputting.
"So was there something wrong with him?" Daryl asks pointlessly.
"Of course there was something wrong with him," I answer. Christ, this guys an idiot at times. "Do you think hed stab an old lady with an umbrella if there wasnt anything wrong with him?"
"But did he say anything? Was he screaming or shouting or . . . ?"
I wonder whether its even worth answering his half-asked question.
"Both," I grunt.
Excerpted from HATER by DAVID MOODY.
Copyright © 2009 by DAVID MOODY.
Published in February 2009 by Thomas Dunne Books.
All rights reserved. This work is protected under copyright laws and reproduction is strictly prohibited. Permission to reproduce the material in any manner or medium must be secured from the Publisher.