Pegden Part 5

 

The door opened a crack. “Good it’s you.” Says Pegden peering through the crack, he opened the door to let me in. There was a bed in the corner, unmade. The duvet crumpled up. In the corner a flat screen TV. Next to it a small table with a plant in a pot on it. The plant had long since given up any hope of living. A few dog ends in the pot, kept the dead plant company in the afterlife. A wardrobe stood with a door hanging from one hinge. Opposite the TV was an armchair. The arms worn through to the lining, with cigarette burns all over the ends. In front of that, a coffee table strewn with empty beer cans, a full ashtray and a tobacco tin and papers. A wooden ski held a joss stick slowly burning away. The room smelt of Sandalwood and weed. I’d smelt worse. “Welcome to my abode.” Say Pegden. “It’s not much, but you know, this is just temporary, better things are on the horizon.”

At that moment I knew better things were never going to be on his horizon. For all his tall tales and adventure. This was it. “Nice.” I said. “Seems cosy.”

“It’s great here." he was trying to sound enthusiastic, but failing. "Close to town. But far enough away from trouble. It’s quiet down this street. Then I’ve got Skyla downstairs…”

“I think I met her on the way in.”

“She’s lovely. Heart of gold, that girl. Very intelligent. Had a good education. Not like me. University of life me.”

“She seemed nice enough. Only spoke to her briefly. She was on the way out.”

“oh yeah it’s that time. She usually goes out about now. Looking for work.” He gives me a knowing nod. “Anyway you’re looking for a quarter.” He stresses the word ‘quarter' and laughs

“OK don’t rub it in.”

“Have a seat, you’re not in a hurry are you?”

“Actually I am. I’ve got to get the gear to that friend of mine.”

“The guy with cancer yeah. Sorry. Give me a minute.” He rustles through the top drawer of a chest of drawers. On top of which was stored various aftershaves and spray cans of lynx.” Here we go.” He pulls out a tin, opens it carefully and after sweeping aside some cans lays it down on his coffee table. “Now then 10 grammes is it?”

“Yes about that.”

“Then about that, you’ll get.” He carefully transfers a portion of his stash into a small plastic bag. “That’ll be about right. What do you think? Enough?” He holds it up for me to see. I haven’t a clue. It looks OK. What does ten grammes of weed look like? I’d never thought about it.

“Looks good to me Pegden.”

“I think so too.”

“How much?”

“Well it’s eighteen pounds for ten grammes.”

“Eighteen? It was Eighteen a quarter when I was at Uni.”

“There you go. What a bargain. AND you’re getting more. Go on, give me fifteen and we’ll call it a deal.”

“You sure?” I guessed it was not the whole ten grammes.

“Positive. What are mates for?”

I thought to myself "Mates mug you but with gentleness and finesse, so you don't mind." I took the bag and put in my inside coat pocket. “Thanks Pegden. You’re helping a good friend out.”

“I hope so.”

“I’d better get going.”

We shook hands and I went out the door, clattered down the stairs and into the night air.

“See you down the pub sometime.” I looked up Pegden was leaning out his window.

“Sure.” I said. “See you there.”

I walked back to my car. It was still there. I stood and listened a moment. The road was silent. Pegden was right about one thing, this is a quiet road.

TBC