FIRESTARTER RED

by
Jools Hudson

Shavings off Frankie�s back and shoulder blades cling like fish scales as I strip the dirty sheets and wait for them to come knocking at my bed-sit door. Every now and then I lift my hand up to the light bulb to check that the tiny shards of his freckled skin are still embedded under my fingernails. They�ve grown over an inch in the last few weeks. I even wear polish on them now: it�s called Fire Starter Red. Frankie can�t bear to look at a girl with ugly hands and nails. Said if they couldn�t even bother to take care of the goods on show, what else in the personal hygiene department was left neglected? He was staring down at my feet at the time. I was wearing open- toed sandals slopping out the greasy caf� floor one rainy January night. That�s when I first noticed that his teeth were far too big for his mouth. Like they belonged to someone older or bigger than him. Somebody with a jaw like Desperate Dan.

Frankie�s eyes were violet. Just like the row of jewel-coloured anemones my mother used to grow in hanging baskets around our house in Westport. Violet eyes and a laughing horse�s mouth.

- What time do you get off? Frankie said.

- Midnight, I answered. Not until midnight. But I have to be on the last train back to Templeogue at quarter to one.

- You�ll be on it, he said. We�ve got all the time in the world. Now what�s a beauty like you doing in a dump like this?

Three days later he moved into my bed-sit carrying an empty brown holdall and the strangest Siamese cat you�ve ever seen. I started to explain that animals weren�t allowed but he just flashed his gorgeous smile and pushed his hands roughly inside my jumper

- You won�t even notice she�s here, he said, shushing me silent with his delicious horsey mouth.

For the next six months I left for work early every morning leaving him sprawled across the sheets like a snow angel. He used to laugh out loud in his sleep flashing yellow tombstone teeth yelling obscenities at the invisible people who dared to wander carelessly into his dreams.

I�d be making tea in the kitchen and the cat would start rubbing herself wildly up against my legs, clawing at my tights in her madness to be let out. I thought cats were meant to be clean, but not his one. She was a filthy animal. The stench of her rancid pee was in every corner of my home. I even caught her crouching down once on our bed. She�d sleep for hours on the mounds of newly-washed clothes he dumped all over my bedroom floor.

By July she was shedding all over the house making sofas and chairs grow hairier in the hours I spent at work. The weird thing was, the more she moulted the furrier she became. Six months ago she was a scrawny- sleek, perfectly cat-shaped Siamese barely covered in silvery down. Then she got a new dense coat that covered all of her body except her head. Her head stayed statue-smooth, like something cast out of stone.

Morning and night I scoured supermarket shelves for chicken and liver food that had to be specially minced into cat-sized bites for fussy eaters. He even sent me back into town one night after seeing an ad for wholemeal crunchy biscuits that promised to leave her breath minty-fresh for up to twelve hours. The two of them were taking up most of my wages by summer so I had to ask for extra hours cleaning when the caf� was closed...

A few weeks after he moved in he said that I should sleep on the sofa because the bed wasn�t big enough for three of us.

- Anyhow, he says, You work such late hours it makes sense not to disturb us in the middle of the night.

So I cleared out of the bedroom and bought a second-hand sofa-bed for the lounge. By now I loved him so much I could hardly bare to breathe.

Did I mention the cat�s name yet? It�s Delilah, like the woman who cut off the strong fella�s hair in the bible. Such a stupid name for a cat. He calls her from the doorstep down eleven flights of metal steps, even whispers into her ear as he carries her across town in an old duffle bag to sign for his giro.

I first noticed the fur when I was drying myself after a bath. My arms were covered from shoulder to wrist in soft orange hairs but I don�t even have ginger hair on my head. I didn�t mention it to Frankie at the time. He didn�t even like bushy eyebrows on a girl, said they made them look like psychos or worse still, blokes in drag.

One freezing cold night I came back from the caf� to find Frankie and the cat curled up together in front of the gas fire. They were wrapped up tight like caterpillars in my beautiful silk lilac duvet.

I really lost it then and kicked Frankie as hard as I could between the ribs.

- Get rid of it, first thing tomorrow, I said, and if you don�t, I will.

He turned towards the light bulb, shielded his eyes with the back of his hand and yelled back at me,

- What�d ya do that for ya stupid brainless bitch? I was fast asleep. Now turn the fucking light off and leave us both in peace.

Now I�m really raging so I rip the lilac duvet off their nasty hairy backs and throw it straight into the washer setting the dial to maximum heat. Ten minutes later the machine was whooshing and slopping and boiling their fat sleepy fleas alive.

But he just rolled over towards the fire and laughed pulling the demented Delilah into his gorgeous silky chest. He knew I wouldn�t go through with it, and so did I.

He walked into the bathroom one morning as I was getting out of the shower and rushed to the sink pretending to throw up. He was staring at the hairs that were covering most of my body. I was used to them by now. Waxing was agony so most days so I left them alone and wore long skirts or trousers, even in the heat.

Pulling my leg up onto the Victorian toilet seat I started to hack at clumps of my soft ginger fur with his disposable razor.

One night in spring he came back with a dark haired girl I recognised from the video shop. I never forget women who wear cheap gold chains around their ankles; they remind me of elephants in the circus. They stayed in my bed for two days. You can�t blame me for being upset. She was even uglier than me. I got rid of her in the end.

Once, he was laid up with the flu, whimpering from the bedroom bawling out for painkillers in the middle of the night. So I pushed a handbag mirror into his face and told him to take a hard long look into the glass.

- Not so fine-looking in this light are you Frankie? Good job I like you looking rough.

He winced as I slipped the pink furry handcuffs over his scrawny wrists and tied the gag tight between his teeth. His gorgeous violet eyes pleaded with me to go easy as I straddled his thin sweaty body and rode us both raw until daylight.

He used to call me a tiger between the sheets. That�s when I started to grow my nails. They�re over six inches long now. I liked to scrape them slowly across his shoulder blades and down between his thighs. He loved it when I pressed really hard drawing tiny beads of his blood as my fingers travelled across his flesh.

Some nights Delilah would stay out all night then slink back onto the bed licking herself clean. He�d pace the floor ranting and bawling down the fire escape.

- That thoughtless fucking slag will go with anything, he said,

- Treats the place like a fucking hotel.

He said he was going to get rid of her, give her to a mate with kids and get something younger, something with a bit more personality.

When he was better he started to go out again across town .Just before Christmas he brought another girl back while I was still in the bath. Before I had time to shout that the bathroom was busy, she�d opened the door and started pulling down her pants in a rush for the toilet. Her dress and coat were covered in grass and she was wearing flip flops in December. As she turned to look at me I noticed that her nostril was crusted up with a blueygreen nose ring that hadn�t been turned in days.

They stayed in bed for three days shouting at me every now and then to bring them in tea and toilet rolls. So I gave them both the Firestarter finger and turned up Radio One full blast.

The bedroom door opened wide on the second night and Delilah came flying out hissing and spitting as she landed heavily on the lino.

She glared at me and moved across the lino leaving an ochre coloured mound right outside the bedroom door.

I met him on the stairs a week after the nose ring girl had gone.

- Just off for the giro, he said. Don�t put the latch on there�s a good kid.

He�d got Delilah stuffed inside the duffle bag. Her head was poking mis-shapenly out of the strings and she was writhing like a weasel jabbing razor sharp claws into his wrists. So I persuaded him to let her out and stay with me for the night.

- She�ll be good company in front of the telly, I said, girlies together, it�ll be a blast.

When he came back to the bed-sit, me and Delilah were waiting for him in the bedroom with the lights turned off. As he undressed I switched on a torch he kept under the sink and aimed the bright yellow beam straight between his eyes. He looked really surprised to see me. God knows why, it was my bedroom after all.

- You�re definitely losing your looks Frankie, I said. Just as well you won�t be needing them any more. Even your lovely big teeth have gone yellow. Didn�t your mammy ever teach you to brush twice a day?

He never made a sound as I snapped on the handcuffs and whispered the things I was going to do to him all night long. Nibbling my way down his neck and ears I murmured in my sexiest voice, -Do you know what Delilah did to Samson in the bible Frankie? Oh, I forgot, you left school before they taught us that bit. Well, she had to take away his eyes so he could get strong again, just like I took away the video shop girl.

When it was over I turned him gently towards the wall and dropped his watch into the bedside drawer. It twinkled in the torchlight side by side with the cheap gold ankle chain, Frankie and his circus elephant together forever.

- Too bad he let himself go, wouldn�t you think he�d have a bit more pride? I said. He�s definitely losing his looks though, did you notice the state of his teeth?

Scooping Delilah up off the duvet, I head for the bathroom cupboard and pull out the special brush we share for grooming.

- Me first Delilah, I said, dragging the stiff plastic bristles through my marmalade fur.

- Christ you�re looking gorgeous girl ! Just a bit more work on the legs and we�re ready to hit the tiles.

� Jools Hudson
Reproduced with permission

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