“It’s still raining, and it don’t stop until we’re well into autumn, by which time I’m up to my bollocks in debt. See, most of the other attractions were weatherproofed—some had roofs, others had tarps—but the Boogie Bounce had an open top, so instead of a bouncy castle I ended up with what looked like a giant hook-a-duck pond, but one with real ducks floating around in it. Days went by without a single customer. Well, apart from this one lad, Ricky he was called. Odd little fucker he was, used to bite people like a rabid monkey. One time I caught him trying to bite a hole in the Boogie Bounce, I had to keep smacking him around the head with his own shoe until he let go.”
He fished the cherry from the glass and threw it into his mouth. Danny winced when he heard a crunch, but Reg simply chewed through the pit the way a crocodile chewed through a bone. Mo had once told him that cherry stones contained a compound that the human body turned into cyanide, but Danny chose not to share this information with Reg.
“Sorry, where was I?” he said.
“Rabid monkey child?” said Danny.
“Before that. Oh yeah. So, every week Harry would come for his rent, and every week I’d give him what I had and tell him I’d make up the rest the following week, but I never could, and the fact that Harry kept adding interest didn’t make life any easier. So the debt kept mounting up, and all this time I’m losing money ’cos I’m not getting any customers, and all this time he’s losing money ’cos I can’t pay the rent. It wasn’t my fault and it wasn’t Harry’s either. It wasn’t even the fucking Germans’ fault. It was just shit luck, plain and simple. But still, it wasn’t exactly what you’d call a sustainable arrangement, so I wasn’t surprised when Harry decided to kick me off the fairground. I wasn’t even surprised when he told me he was keeping the Boogie Bounce as collateral. It was worth at least three times whatever I owed him, but I didn’t care by that stage, I just wanted out, so I said he could have the cursed thing. What did surprise me, however, and it really fucking shouldn’t have, was that Harry decided the Boogie Bounce wasn’t worth even half what I paid for it, which meant I still owed him a shit-ton of money that I couldn’t afford to pay, and he knew I couldn’t afford to pay it, which is why he did it in the first place, because if there’s one thing that Harry enjoyed more than making money, it was breaking bones. You ever seen Misery, Dan?”
Danny nodded.
“Well, it was a bit like Misery, but instead of Kathy Bates it was Harry, and instead of being tied to a bed I was held down on a pool table by four of Harry’s sons while seven of ’em watched. I dunno where the other three were. Harry took a lump hammer that they used to knock in the marquee pegs and he didn’t stop swinging until my legs were like two bags of broken biscuits. Then, and only then, did he agree to call it square.”
Reg drew on his straw until it gurgled against the bottom of the glass.
“That horrible old bastard taught me a valuable lesson that day. A painful lesson, mind you, but a valuable one. I learned that sometimes, whether you like it or not, you’ve just got to pay the price, even if you ain’t done anything wrong. Sometimes things happen and they’re completely out of your hands, like when it rains all fucking summer when it ain’t supposed to, and it ain’t right, and it ain’t fair, but you’ve still got to pay the price. You understand what I’m saying, Dan?”
“Yes, Reg,” said Danny, wiping his clammy hands on his trousers.
“Good lad,” said Reg. “I knew you would. Dent?”
Mr. Dent passed Reg his crutches and helped him off his stool.
“Enjoy your drink,” Reg said on his way out. “Don’t forget to tip Charlie when you pay for ’em.”
CHAPTER 14
An elderly lady with a tartan shopping trolley and frilly bedroom slippers on watched as Danny struggled to find the enthusiasm to dance for such a pitiful crowd. By her feet lay a tatty black schnauzer, who hadn’t blinked for so long that Danny was concerned it might have died, perhaps in shock at his performance. When the song was over, he took a bow and waited for some kind of reaction, preferably the kind where she gave him money, but the lady didn’t flinch and neither did her dog. Nor did they react when he accidentally on purpose shook his money box at them by accidentally on purpose giving it a kick. He stood there awkwardly, like somebody who had farted in a crowded lift that wasn’t stopping for another ten floors, and hoped the awkwardness would spur her into action, but the lady seemed completely at home with awkwardness, which only made him feel more awkward, and so he kept on dancing. This had been going on for forty-five minutes, and it was almost an hour before the lady finally reached into her handbag, fished out her purse, extracted two chocolate limes and a dirty deutsche mark, and dropped them into Danny’s lunchbox. He thanked her and watched as she shuffled across the park with her trolley trundling behind her, seemingly unaware that her misty-eyed dog was still curled up where she’d left it. Only when Danny poked it with his toe did the animal lazily rise from the dead and stagger off after its owner.
He unwrapped a chocolate lime and popped it into his mouth. Slipping the wrapper into his pocket, he felt something else in there and removed his hand to find one of the napkins that Krystal had given him. He stuffed it back into his pocket and swilled his lunchbox around to reveal another paltry day’s takings.
Not for the first time that week, Danny caught himself seriously questioning his life choices. It wasn’t even the first time that day. He already found it difficult enough to look at himself in the mirror, but he was starting to find it even harder when all he saw was a hopeless panda staring back at him. The sole purpose of buying the costume was to make some quick and easy money, but he was no closer to paying off Reg than he had been three weeks ago. Nor was he any closer to knowing how to dance. Whatever brain glitch had led him to believe this was a good idea had long since resolved itself, and Danny could now see his situation for precisely what it was.
“Ridiculous,” he muttered as he stared at the handful of coins in his lunchbox.
He sighed and checked the time. It was late afternoon and the park was emptying of people, including the performers who were busy packing up after another comparatively lucrative day. The one-man band was heading for the exit with his cymbals still attached to his knees, confirming Danny’s suspicions that the man was actually deaf and not just a terrible musician; the human statue was literally running out of the park, as if trying to compensate for all of those hours spent standing still; and El Magnifico was grinning to himself as he leafed through an offensively large bundle of money. Danny prayed for a sudden gust of wind to blow the notes from his hands and into the blades of the industrial lawnmower that was currently trundling around the park.
Tim approached with his guitar on his back and Milton draped around his neck like a furry boa.
“How’s the life of a dancing panda?”
“See for yourself,” said Danny, nodding at his lunchbox.
“Oh,” said Tim when he saw the contents. “Wait, is that a chocolate lime in there?”
“Yep. If only sweets, bottle caps, buttons, and rocks were legal tender, I’d have my rent paid off in no time.”