Jack by the Hedge (Jack of All Trades Book 4) (15 page)

His father would be up to speed. His mother would have given him every detail. She’d show him the magazines… Fortunately she couldn’t show the laptop as Zar had it, but would rattle off her disgust at what she’d seen. Leila would fill in the gaps.

Earlier, he’d gone into a hotel near Ilford Station and enquired the price for a single room. £60. At that rate his savings would last him barely five days. And he needed to eat too. And all sorts else, as he wasn’t going back home. Clothes and so forth, he’d have to buy. Charity shops, which his mother always shunned, they’d be his best bet.

His one piece of luck was finding the bowling pavilion key still in his pocket. Hardly good luck, considering the proportion of bad. He knew the park gate code, Liz had given it to him. He’d once had to open up when Ian was away overnight and Liz had been sick. Though he could have climbed in the park easily enough – where the fence met a brick pillar.

Coming in, he’d seen torchlight near the playground. Zar had hidden behind the marquee to get as close as he dared, to find out what was going on. Some way off, there was Liz with a torch and she was over someone on the ground, injured it seemed. And then a van came in the gate and along the drive. The builder’s van.

It drew up to where Liz and the injured person were. And he couldn’t see what was going on as the van was in the way. But he could guess what was happening, Jack would be taking whoever it was away, most likely to hospital.

It was only once the van had gone, taken away the sick person, Liz gone back in torchlight to her cottage and all was quiet in the park, that he’d headed for the pavilion. Once inside, he’d settled for under the counter. It was out of any drafts, and not obvious, should anyone come in. Though he hoped to be up and out before that might happen.

Tomorrow, he’d have to get a room somewhere.

But it had happened. His family knew. Although it was forced on him, he was out. Left to himself, he may well have prevaricated forever. A life of excuses and lies. But no need, that was the good side. He was free. Homeless. But free.

He needed to shake his parents and Leila out of his head. Impossible. Had they contacted his brother? So what, if they had. Assume they had. Told the worldwide Muslim network, the United Nations, and broadcast it on the BBC. He was a degenerate. Not quite an apostate, though it hardly mattered. He might as well be tarred and feathered with that too. A total bogeyman. All that was needed was a fatwa from an Iranian mullah and he’d have to spend his life in hiding.

Zar was wide awake. He wanted to be asleep, be out to the world, but his head was a beehive buzzing with his angry parents and his predicament. Above all, he knew, he must hang on to his job.

Get a room. And work out how to live.

Chapter 27

Jack’s phone rang. He wasn’t yet asleep, so picked it up straight away. There were any number of possibilities for a late night call. Well, two. But it wasn’t either of them.

‘What are you doing calling me so late, Mia? It’s twelve thirty.’

‘There’s a terrible row going on, Dad. Can you hear it?’

He pressed the phone hard to his ear.

‘I can hear some yelling. What’s happening?’

‘He called her a bitch, she called him a complete prick.’

‘Nice.’

‘And a lot worse. I’m not sure I should tell you… They’re throwing things now. She’s saying he’s a two-faced bastard. Can you hear?’

‘I can’t.’

‘I’m surprised. It’s very loud.’

‘Do you know what it’s about, Mia?’

‘It’s a bit difficult to understand, but I think he’s got someone else… Someone called Emily. Mum just called him a two timing fucker. Sorry about the word.’

‘It’s alright when you’re quoting.’

‘I think Mum had a look at his phone…’

‘Oh, that’s despicable.’

‘Didn’t she have a right to?’ queried Mia.

‘Well, I suppose it’s better than two-timing…’ he said, contemplating his recent thoughts, if not actions.

‘She’s yelling: out, out, out! Get out of my house this minute… Ooh, it’s getting exciting. There’s things being thrown about. I should hide in a cupboard. The bedroom door’s slammed.’ She hushed her voice, ‘He’s in the hallway and shouting some really awful things, the c-word. She’s yelling about the police… There’s thumping and banging, and running down the stairs. He’s at the bottom. Oh Dad, he called her a useless whore. And she said he was a prick brain… Oh! The front door has slammed. I think he’s gone. Wow! She kicked him out.’

Jack thought of his own ejection. Not quite so dramatic, but she’d pushed him out on the pavement with a suitcase. With nowhere to go. Over two years ago.

‘Do you think he’s gone to Emily’s?’ she said.

‘No, she’s probably in bed with her husband.’ Then aware of what he was saying to a twelve year old, added, ‘Only joking.’

‘Maybe she’d slam the door in his face. For two-timing. Hello, Mum.’

Faintly, he could hear Alison. ‘Who are you talking to on the phone, Mia?’

‘Dad.’

‘Hello, Jack,’ said Alison, who’d taken the phone. ‘Been getting a running commentary?’

‘Very exciting,’ said Jack. ‘Keeping our daughter and me awake.’

‘The bastard’s had two of us on the hook,’ said Alison. ‘And lying every time he opened his mouth.’

‘That’s men for you,’ said Jack.

‘I should know better by now. Though you never had anyone on the side,’ she said. ‘Or did you?’

‘I didn’t.’

‘Are you on your own?’

‘Fraid so.’

‘It has its advantages, Jack, I can tell you. Now me and Mia are going to have a hot chocolate, and go to sleep.’

‘Night, Dad,’ called Mia.

‘Goodnight, Mia. Sleep well, Alison.’

‘I will, Jack. I’ve got the whole duvet to myself. Goodnight.’

They rang off.

Jack lay there, contemplating the Brighton scenario. He couldn’t feel sorry for Tony. Mia didn’t like him, so he didn’t either. But he wondered about Tony’s life. Was it just two he had? Or more? And the stress of it. The lying, having to keep all the stories straight, pretend business trips and so forth. There’s a clear lesson, if you have two at once, you are likely to come to grief.

Chance’d be a fine thing.

Chapter 28

Zar thought of going for a walk round the park, or a run even. Six laps, race himself to exhaustion. Anything, so he could switch off. Oblivion. Wake up in the morning. Then work. He’d even volunteer for the leaf vac. Blast his head off.

Sleep was doomed.

The chocolate was gone. He remembered there was some leftover cake in the mess hut fridge; he’d have it for breakfast. He checked his phone. Six texts. Five from his parents, one from Leila. He would not read them. Why even keep them? What on earth did he think they were saying?
Please come home, Zar. We don’t care what you are. We love you no matter what you do to other men. Say whatever you want in chat rooms. Go to gay clubs with our blessing. We love you. Just come home.

He deleted the texts, one by one. Exalting in their death, their hold on him. He should get a new phone, then they couldn’t get at him this way. A cheap one would do. A new number for a new life.

In five years, he might return home with his lover, when he was the Director of Kew Gardens. That might have to be ten years, maybe fifteen, say twenty then. With his chauffeur driven car and Nobel Prize.

Stupid, stupid. Sleeping on floorboards under a counter, dreaming of Nobel Prizes. As if he could buy his parents’ love. Enough honours and even they would clasp him to their bosom.

Who exactly was forgiving whom?

The door of the pavilion opened. There were footsteps and voices. Zar sat up under the counter, alert. Was this a break in? He looked at his watch. Two forty five. What was going on? He pulled his knees up to his chest and listened. Bad as things were, he had no wish to be murdered.

A man with a deep, booming voice. He couldn’t understand what he was saying, though it was English. And that was Rose. He’d recognise that laugh anywhere. He felt relief. He wasn’t about to get cut up into bits. And recalled that Rose had told him at lunch yesterday that Liz had kicked her out. She obviously had the same idea as he had for a temporary refuge.

Though who was with her?

‘This is real cool, Rose,’ intoned the deep male voice. ‘The stars have led us here.’

‘I led us here,’ said Rose. ‘The stars have nothing to do with it.’

The lights came on.

‘Switch them off, Man,’ said Rose. ‘We’ll be seen.’

‘We are an island of light,’ said Man. ‘We are the centre of the universe.’

‘You’re stoned, Man. How many dingbats did you take?’

‘Everything communicates through me. I am the exchange. Every wire and email comes through my mind. I am the heart and soul. There is no heaven but through me.’

‘And I am tired of listening to you,’ said Rose wearily. ‘I hardly slept last night. Got a lie down earlier but not enough… And I’ve work in the morning.’ Then adding with a sigh, ‘It is morning. I’ve got to work in five hours, Man. Stop playing with the light, will you. Someone is bound to see if you keep flicking it on and off like that.’

‘I am the source. I am the target.’

‘Leave it out, Man.’

It was dumb bringing Man Mountain here. She hadn’t meant to, but he had the taxi fare – and she’d thought he was just dropping her off, but he had other ideas. Quite what they were in his state, she couldn’t fathom. The centre of the universe wasn’t interested in sex. Just as well, the size of him. He’d squash her to a leaf.

Don’t think of leaves. Anything but.

‘I hold the light,’ he chanted. ‘It beams through my fingers with my permission. I give it to you, Rose. I give it to everyone on Earth. You are children of my light. I give you authorisation. Use it in your houses. Light up your little lives.’

‘Wouldn’t you like to sleep, Man?’

‘If I sleep, the lights go out in the universe. The world freezes over. I must stay awake for the sake of everyone. I must give heat, the daughter of light. I am the exchange.’

‘You’ve said that twice, Man.’

She was seated in a chair, eyes barely staying open. Man was flicking the lights on and off to show his power. The monkey-brain. She was exhausted. Clubbing had not been the greatest of ideas. Especially when there was a warm bed she could be in right now. With a warm body next to her. She wouldn’t have gone if she hadn’t found the thirty quid. Something that she’d have to explain in the morning. It was morning.

‘Through me the world becomes. Through me energy is manifest. I give orders to the quarks. I am all quantum levels.’

‘You are a big, very stoned man, flipping a switch,’ she said wearily.

He was so hyper, she’d never get to sleep with him here, spouting his nonsense while dingbats sizzled his brain. She had to get rid of him. Get him elsewhere, anywhere.

So, how?

‘Your stars are calling you, Man,’ she said, trying for sincerity as she took his arm. ‘Out there, up in the cosmos. They need you. They are pleading for your love. Come on, Man. Come to your darling stars.’

She drew him towards the door.

‘My droplets, my sprays,’ he intoned, looking skywards. ‘I have not abandoned you. You are my love. I will envelop you in the fullness of my being.’

She drew him out the door and on to the verandah. The pavilion door closed.

Zar listened as their voices faded. More stars, darling things, calling Man’s love… Until Zar could hear them no longer. The light was still on in the pavilion. He should turn it off, or there was a good chance he’d be discovered. What cretin had she brought with her? All that twaddle about light and the universe. Where were they going now?

Away, he hoped. To a distant galaxy, far far away.

Never mind the star seekers. Get the light off. In case Ian or Liz looked out of their cottage windows, or passing cops, for that matter, spotted the light… He drew off the sleeping bag and crawled from under the counter. He was fully dressed, apart from his shoes and jacket. He needed the loo. Another minute of light would do no harm. He crossed the pavilion hall and went in the gents. He would have had to get up for this, anyway, fairly soon.

Having done a pee, he automatically flushed the toilet. And regretted it. This wasn’t his house. He was not supposed to be here. Remember?

Lights on, flushing water, all he needed was a megaphone.

Zar washed his hands and face. The water was cold but soothing. He thought of the situation back home. Were his parents sleeping? Or still ranting about the shame? His phone vibrated in his pocket. Another text had come in.

He wiped himself on a paper towel. Best turn the lights off now. Shut himself away. Privacy.

As he came out of the toilet, Rose was coming in the door.

‘Zar! What are you doing here?’

‘I’ve left home,’ he said.

‘Good for you,’ she exclaimed. ‘And company for me. Let’s turn the light off or Man Mountain will be back. I left him in the marquee communing with the grass. He’s taken his shoes off. I don’t really understand why, but something about recharging Mother Nature.’

She turned off the light. He was standing in darkness, but knew his way to the counter. He could just make out Rose at the door.

‘I’m locking up,’ she said. ‘Man Mountain will be alright. He’s got the whole universe.’

He heard the door click.

‘Isn’t that BFG? Man Mountain,’ he said.

‘No,’ she said, ‘Big Friendly Giant is Roald Dahl. Man Mountain’s from Gulliver’s Travels. That’s what they called him in Lilliput. At least, I think so. Anyway, I don’t want to talk literature. I want to go to sleep. Where are you sleeping?’

‘Under the counter.’

‘Can I join you?’

‘I’m gay,’ he said.

‘Then we’re both safe. Look, I don’t want to make love, just a little warm company. I’ve got a sleeping bag in the cupboard. Dare I switch the light on to get it?’

‘I’ve a torch.’

‘You are the light, the centre of my universe, Zar. Go get it.’

‘I’m glad you came, Rose. I’m so miserable.’

‘If I could see you, I’d give you a cuddle. Now go and get your torch.’

Chapter 29

Liz had not slept at all. Tried for several hours and then given up. Her head was too full of Ian. What might be happening to him in the hospital. Eating into his organs, like soldier ants roaming and gnawing.