Ring Of Fire

Ring Of Fire

Speke, Liverpool.

We were in the queue for our free dinner tickets. A daily ritual for most of us. Sammo was behind me.

"Going to the Parade?" he asked.

"Yeah, chip shop then the park."

"We can go to our house if you like?" he said.

Sammo was my best mate, but I ignored the offer anyway.

"Pete, do you fancy that? Going to our's."

What I fancied was Teresa Doyle. If I could see her in the Parade then fuck Sammo's.

"What about your dad?"

"He'll be out. Gets his giro today, so he'll be in the bookies."

"Alright, but let's go the chippy first."

The queue didn't take long. Jack ticked off the names as he gave out the tickets. ‘Mr Foreman or ‘Jack’ as we called him, taught religious education. He was always called Jack. Teacher's names were passed down from one generation to the next. He was a hairy bastard, had weird hairy hands. Hairs coming out of his knuckles, long black fuckers that poked out of his nose, even his ears. Maybe it was after Jack The Ripper. Or Jack and the Beanstalk, those fucking hairs were thick enough for that. There was definitely something wrong with him.

We sat in The Parade, the geographic centre of Speke: two rows of steel-shuttered shops with a grey paved square in between. Groups of youths positioned themselves around the square. Kids from the catholic All Hallows wore uniforms, those from Speke Comprehensive didn't. This made it easier to work out who was who.

The Parade was neutral during the day; at night it became no man's land. I was holding out waiting to see if Teresa would appear. There were a few girls from All Hallows among the lunchtime shoppers, but she wasn't with them. Teresa was from Eastern Avenue, it was hard to see her at night. Everyone stayed in their own part of the estate, to venture out was dangerous. I wanted to see her, but didn't have the balls to go where she lived.

Sammo's younger brother Ricky came over.

"What the fuck do you want?" Sammo was never friendly to Ricky.

"Nothing, just seeing what you're doing."

"What does it look like we're doing, shithead?" Sammo reached out to clout him round the head, but Ricky was used to this and jumped back.

Sammo continued, "Fuck off. I've told you not to follow me around."

"So you don't want some of this then?"

Ricky pulled a Mars bar out of his pocket. "Or this?" A Crunchie. "Or..." with a final flourish, he waved a Kit Kat, triumph shining on his face.

Sammo leapt at him and this time managed to grab Ricky. "You fucker, have you been in me mam's purse again?"

Ricky ducked down and tried to pull away, but was wrestled to the ground.

"Gerroff. I haven't touched her purse."

A passing shopper weighed down by heavy bags, made an effort to intervene. "Let him up you bully."

Sammo shouted back, "He's been robbing from me mam's purse."

The woman gave Ricky a dirty look, and before she walked on said,"little bugger. Give him a slap from me."

Sammo carried on his interrogation. "Where'd you get the money for them?"

Ricky struggled with his brother's knee sticking in his chest.

"Hi, Pete." Teresa smiled.

I hadn't noticed them approach I was so wrapped up in Sammo's display. She was with Carol, Sammo's sister. Teresa was gorgeous, soft blonde hair that fell to her shoulders, and white even teeth.

"You coming over to our's?" Carol asked.

"It was the frogs," said Ricky, still pinned to the floor.

"What about the fuckin frogs." Sammo wouldn't give up his advantage.

I saw an opportunity to show my authority. "Leave him alone. Anyway, what's he on about frogs?"

"Look." Ricky got to his feet and gingerly slipped his hand into his blazer pocket. He pulled something out and, keeping his palm closed, advanced toward me.

"Look, you've killed it now." He pulled a face at his brother.

It was about an inch long, a real miniature frog. It would have been perfectly formed but it was oozing a kind of yellow fluid over his hand and lay twitching. Ricky turned and threw it along the pavement, it splattered and bounced a few times before disappearing beneath the feet of shoppers. He wiped his hand on his blazer.

"Where'd you get that?" Although disgusted, I was also curious.

Sammo replied, "we've got a bucket full in our backyard."

Carol and Teresa had started walking off.

Shit. I watched them cross The Parade hoping Teresa would turn to look. "Come on then let's make a move."

Sammo and Ricky fell in on either side of me. We passed the shops, shutters raised for the day. Leaving The Parade, we walked through the streets of large, red brick council houses with gardens hedged by privets.

Ricky sensed his acceptance and talked on. "I got a load of spawn from a pond near the airport. We've had them for a few weeks now. They turn into tadpoles first, then like half frog, half tadpole, and this week into proper little frogs.

"Ok, David fuckin Attenborough. What I want to know is how did you get the sweets?"

Ricky beamed. "I sold three of the frogs in school this morning. I would've sold the other as well before it was squashed."

Their house was on the edge of Speke, separated from the factories beyond by a dual carriageway that formed a ring around the estate. The front gardens were smaller in these houses, with two-foot-high brick walls instead of the privet hedges in family houses. I could understand not being able to walk through any of the estates that surround us, that was natural. But now Speke itself had split up into east, west and central. Teresa lived in the eastern end and I was fucked.

As soon as we got near the house we could hear the music. The front windows were wide open and ‘Ben' by Micheal Jackson blared out. Sammo ran on ahead while Ricky strode along at my side.

"I'll kill that Carol. If me dad comes back there'll be murder." Sammo complained.

"Our Carol fancies you." Ricky volunteered.

"Shut the fuck up Ricky."

Ricky changed tack. "Do you want some of the frogs? I don't mind. We've got loads."

Reaching the house Ricky kicked open the little wooden gate and ran down the short path to the open front door. The music had been turned down and the windows closed. The hallway was so small you could step right through it into the living room. Carol and Teresa were sitting on the settee, cigarettes pointedly raised in hands resting on crossed knees. They were laughing as I entered. Teresa stared straight at me.

Carol spoke first."Hiya Pete."

"You ever get up to St Ambrose?" Teresa asked.

"Nah, I go to St Christophers. You should come down sometime." I was being brave inviting her.

"They've got a disco at St Ambrose. There's one on Friday night, Carol's coming aren't you Carol?"

Carol smiled in agreement.

I was stuck. It was easy for girls; they could go anywhere within the estate.

"Yeah. Ok, that'll be great. I'll see you there then." I lied. I couldn't say anything else. I wouldn't go. It would be stupid, but I couldn't tell her that.

"Hey Pete," Sammo shouted. "Look, here they are."

Sammo and Ricky were in the backyard, just outside the kitchen door. Stepping out of the kitchen. I joined them round a black plastic bucket. It had a heavy piece of hardboard over the top. Ricky lifted the hardboard; the dirty brown water was bubbling with activity.

Carol and Teresa stood in the doorway. Teresa leaned forward to look. "Ergh, that's disgusting."

Ricky plunged his arm into the bucket and came up with a closed fist. "Shall I show him the trick?" He was looking anxiously at his brother.

"Yeah, go on." Sammo was laughing.

"You're sick." Carol pulled a face,

Ricky led the way into the greasy kitchen as Sammo took control. "You have to be careful. The little bastards jump all over the place."

Ricky held his fist above a ring on the cooker. Sammo ignited the gas and turned the flame low. This was Ricky's cue to lower his hand and place the frog in the centre of the ring. Sammo turned the flame up quickly. The frog sat in the centre of the ring. Untouched by the flame, it's dark eyes stared out. As the flame grew its body and legs began to twitch.

Sammo's face also twitched but with excitement. "Look, it won't jump."

Carol pulled Teresa back into the living room. Before she left our eyes met. They were a soft blue, not icy or hard, and there was something easy about them. The frog didn't jump. It sat still in the ring of fire, although its body convulsed. I don't know if it was trying to jump, or this was just a reaction to the heat. Its skin began to darken and crack. Its big eyes shrank back, and still, it didn't jump. Finally, the twitching stopped and the blackened body began to shrivel. The frog never jumped.

"Wait it's not finished yet." Sammo urged Ricky on. "Go on."

"Is it done?" Ricky asked.

"Yeah, Kentucky fried." Sammo turned the gas off and Ricky tossed the charred body between his hands.

"Here." Ricky pulled one of the legs off the frog's body, picked the skin away, and popped a slim piece of flesh into his mouth.

"Frog's legs."Sammo laughed.”

I never did go out with Teresa.

***