Bone and Cane (24 page)

‘He was in the States, I think. Doesn’t matter. He couldn’t have done much.’

‘No? Not much is still better than nothing.’

Nick let Joe out at the Cane Cars office, where Nas was bound to tell him about his fight with Ed. It shouldn’t matter to Joe, not with Nick leaving. The two men operated on a ‘need to know’ basis. This was, Nick decided, the safest way. He could never completely rule out the thought that Joe had betrayed him to the police as some kind of retaliation for his affair with Caroline, to get him out of the way. But Joe still didn’t seem to suspect they’d had a fling and Nick was no longer so paranoid. They might not be as close as some, but Joe was his brother. He wouldn’t give him up. Whereas Andrew Saint was merely an old friend, one he’d drifted apart from. And Andrew had warned him when he began the skunk operation: in the drugs business, there were no real friendships, only alliances.

Since getting out, Nick had slowly come to the conclusion that the Saint must have betrayed him. He knew about the caves, had given Nick the contacts to sell the stuff on. He took a small commission at first, then told Nick not to bother. He didn’t want any of his income traceable to a criminal enterprise. At the time, Nick thought this was generous, an act of friendship. Now he wasn’t so sure. Andrew had been overgenerous since Nick got out, too. Two grand would have been enough. The extra three, the home visit, these things smelt of guilt more than kind-heartedness.

But the betrayal? That puzzled Nick. Andrew was either out of the country already, or had fled shortly after Nick’s arrest. Had he given Nick to the police as a bargaining chip to get himself off some lesser charge? Or was Nick still being paranoid and the whole debacle was what the police claimed, a combination of police work and luck?

Inside, Nick never allowed himself to dream that he might rekindle something with Sarah. He still doubted it. Some people used a long stretch to study. He’d had time to get an MA, a PhD even. Instead, he’d slacked the days away, becoming a cruder, less complicated person than he was on the out. That was how you got through. Nick knew he’d live to regret hitting Ed. Inside, he’d not got into fights. He’d hit back a couple times when he had to, but never struck out in blind rage, the way he had with Ed, today. Violence should always be calculated to have the maximum effect, that was what the smart cons said. What effect did hitting Ed have? He’d probably go home and take it out on Polly.

And maybe Polly liked being hit. When they were together, Nick had been surprised by how rough she wanted him to be. Polly brought out a side of Nick he hadn’t been aware of.

What if Ed decided to take it out on Sarah? This was her big day. The last thing she needed was big Ed turning up while she was campaigning, throwing a spanner in the works. He ought to warn her.

She answered on the second ring. There was something wrong with her voice.

‘I know,’ she said, when he told her about Ed.

‘How?’

‘I’ve seen him.’

‘Already? I don’t understand . . .’

‘I went to see Polly. He came back . . .’ She began to cry.

‘Where are you?’ he asked. ‘I’m coming.’

‘I’m sitting in my car.’ She told him where.

Nick was with Sarah within five minutes.

‘I’ll kill him,’ he vowed. ‘I’ll take a brick to the bastard and . . .’

‘Stop, stop. You know it wouldn’t do any good. Ed can control himself. You have to learn the same or you’ll end up back in prison.’

‘The bastard assaulted you.’

‘He brushed his hand against my breasts. He scared me so much I wet myself. He didn’t physically hurt me. He made it clear that he could rape me and get away with it, that his girlfriend would hold me down.’

‘Polly helped?’

‘She didn’t do anything to stop him. She didn’t help him either. She’s in Ed’s power. She acts hard, but she’s terrified of him, I’m sure of it. If I went to the police, she’d swear I suggested a threesome. Only Ed isn’t stupid enough to go that far. He enjoys power but he’s too clever to take unnecessary risks.’

‘Then why did he get caught killing Polly’s brother?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe Polly’s telling the truth about that and Ed is innocent. Whatever happens tonight, I have to find out what really happened. I don’t know how, but I will. Until then, stay away from him.’

‘In case he takes his revenge through you?’

‘He won’t get near me again,’ Sarah said. ‘Once I go back to the committee rooms, there’ll be people with me every minute of the day. But he knows where to find you. Be careful. And hold me, please.’

Awkwardly, he put his arm around her shoulders, then nuzzled his head against hers. He began to kiss her hair, then her neck. Sarah’s mobile rang. She answered it. Winston.

‘I’ll be on my way in a minute. Oh, I’ll have fish and chips with everyone else, it’s a campaign tradition, isn’t it? No, I’m fine. It’s just a bad line. See you in five.’

She looked at Nick. ‘Promise me you won’t get into any more trouble today. And that you’ll come to the party. I want you to take me home tonight.’

‘Yes, please,’ he said, and kissed her again, a long, full-throated kiss.

‘Oh, and I know you don’t live in my constituency, but don’t forget to vote.’

Nick replied with a regretful smile. Of course, he’d been in prison too recently to have registered. He didn’t have a vote.

30

A
t the count, boxes were opened and ballot slips sorted. All four Nottingham constituencies were being counted in the same hall. Old hands like Sarah could quickly tell where the election was heading. Within an hour, she would know the result to the nearest thousand votes. Her majority in the by-election had been five thousand, but that was on a huge anti-government swing. Previous Tory majorities had been in five figures.

Winston gave Sarah his hipflask and sent her to sit in the TV room.

‘Long night ahead.’

Exit polls showed New Labour on course for a comfortable victory. There was a brief piece on how the face of the House Of Commons would change if Labour won big. The place would be younger, with far more women: an exciting prospect, if you were going to be there. With so many women on board, Tony was bound to promote a few. Sarah might have had a chance of joining the government. Nothing flashy, but something responsible: pensions, perhaps, or a junior Health minister.

‘Looking good, eh?’ Tony Bax said, winking at her. ‘Do they need us out there yet?’

‘In a few minutes,’ Sarah said.

There were too many people in the TV room, so Sarah wandered through the dingy sports hall until she found the ladies’. When she returned to the hall, she stood at the back, watching the watchers. Easier to do this than gawp at TV and have to discuss what she saw. The counters began to empty the ballot boxes.

‘Have you seen the exit polls?’ One of the volunteer scrutineers whispered. ‘They’re predicting a majority of eighty to ninety.’

Sarah nodded unenthusiastically.

‘What do you reckon?’ Winston asked.

The votes were being put into piles for each party.

‘Not sure,’ she said, unwilling to believe the evidence of her own eyes. ‘We haven’t seen anywhere near enough yet.’

Winston stared at the growing piles, counting votes the way a professional gambler counted cards. ‘West’s too close to call,’ he told her. ‘If the vote’s like this everywhere, we’re talking about a landslide.’

Nick had the radio on. The first results weren’t far away. He’d taken a couple of councillors he knew from way back to the Labour workers’ party at Trent University’s student union building. Neither of them had recognised him. Nick had fallen through the invisible net that separated the connected from the unconnected. He’d felt this way when he was sixteen. Then he’d gone to university and become someone.

Could he reinvent himself? Joe had managed it. Andrew too. Nick could start again, but it would have to be somewhere new. The decision was beginning to harden in his mind.

He was being called on the radio.

‘Nick?’ Stuart’s voice was agitated. ‘Know where Joe is?’

‘At the Labour Party do. Probably plastered by now.’

‘Right, I’ll send someone to try and find him.’

‘Don’t you want me to . . .?’

‘No. Get over to his house. Caroline’s gone into labour. You’d better run her to the hospital, pronto.’

Nick accelerated. When he got to Sherwood, Caroline was in the hall, leaning on the end of the banister. Her waters had broken.

‘I don’t want to mess up Stuart’s cab,’ Caroline groaned, holding out an old beach towel. ‘Spread this across the back.’

Nick took the towel then helped her into the car. The hospital was only a two-minute drive.

‘Where’s Joe?’ she asked, once she was settled in. ‘His mobile’s off.’

‘On his way,’ Nick said, though that was presuming Joe really was at the election do and not still in bed with Nas. Caroline moaned. Nick drove fast.

‘Over there.’

They entered City Hospital and turned towards the maternity unit. Nick sounded his horn. Caroline had already rung them. She was expected.

‘You’ll be all right now,’ he said.

‘Nick? Stay until Joe arrives, please?’

‘Of course I will,’ Nick said, though being in on the birth was the last thing he felt like doing. He spoke into the radio. ‘Where’s Joe? Was he at the do?’

‘If he’s there, they haven’t found him yet. We’ll keep looking.’

Nick swore. Behind him, he heard a siren. Why would they need sirens inside a hospital? He parked and opened the door for Caroline, had to help her out. When someone tapped his shoulder, he thought it would be a nurse. It wasn’t.

‘Is this your cab, sir?’ the officer asked.

‘Not now,’ Caroline moaned.

Two porters were coming. The policeman was reaching over the driver’s seat, peering at the ID tag hung beneath the rear-view mirror. Luckily, Nick had replaced Stuart’s tag with Joe’s when he took the car.

‘You’re Joseph Cane?’

The nurse spoke at the same time. ‘Is that the father?’

‘No,’ Caroline moaned. ‘It’s my brother-in-law.’

‘Are you Joseph Cane?’ The officer repeated.

Had the policeman heard Caroline? Nick didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have time for this, but it began to dawn on him that he could be in trouble. Even a small infringement of the law could break his parole and send him back to prison. He must stay cool. When in doubt, Nick had long since figured out, it was always best to tell the truth.

‘No. I’m his brother. Joe isn’t around and his wife’s in labour. That’s why . . .’

Caroline was being wheeled away and couldn’t confirm or deny any story he told.

‘So you’re driving this cab illegally?’

‘I wasn’t charging her, for Christ’s sake! Look, she might drop the little bugger at any minute, so if you don’t mind leaving it for now . . .’

The officer smiled firmly. ‘You did just break the speed limit. So, a couple more questions, if you don’t mind. You say that you haven’t been driving this cab for hire?’

‘No.’

‘So who was observed driving it earlier this evening, outside Trent Students’ Union and later on Gregory Boulevard?’

Nick began to sweat. ‘That would be my brother.’

‘When did you take over from him?’

‘I gave him a lift then brought the car back to his at about eleven.’

‘So you dropped him at an election party then went home to look after his wife? Have I got that straight?’

‘Sort of.’

‘Your brother wears glasses, I see, unlike you.’

Nick hadn’t had time to get the clear-lensed pair from home, which was probably a good thing. He would only get in deeper. This was worse than he’d feared. They knew that he’d been driving a cab for hire. He’d definitely broken the terms of his probation. Once they found out who he was, he’d be back inside.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘can’t this wait? I promised Caroline that I’d stay with her.’

‘I’m afraid not,’ the officer said. ‘You are under arrest. You do not have to say anything, but if you do not mention now something which you later use in your defence the court may decide that your failure to mention it now strengthens the case against you . . .’

Sarah couldn’t concentrate on the counts. She kept losing track and didn’t want to discuss the numbers with any of the other scrutineers. Her colleagues were each watching one of the counters: local government workers on overtime. The result would be closer than anybody could have predicted. Impossible to say how close.

What if she won? Superstitiously, Sarah hadn’t planned a speech. It was down to the winner to thank the police and the returning officers but the rest was a blank. Winston was walking over. He had just completed the most contentious part of the evening, when the candidates or their representatives checked the spoiled ballots and marginally unclear votes. The returning officer had the final say over which ones were valid and which weren’t, but the parties could have their say, too. If there was a recount, every decision had the potential to be crucial. But Sarah had never been involved in a recount. She thought of them as a kind of urban myth. Before Winston got to her, Sarah’s mobile rang.

‘Is that Sarah Bone, the MP?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m the custody sergeant at Canning Circus police station. We’ve got a gentleman under arrest who insisted on making his mandatory phone call to you.’

‘Is it one of my constituents?’

‘I don’t think so, ma’am.’

Sarah wasn’t a member of the royal family, but sometimes the police got their knickers in a twist over rank and titles. Sarah let the
ma’am
work in her favour.

‘What’s his name?’

‘Nicholas Cane.’

‘And what’s he done?’

‘Driving a taxi cab without the appropriate license.’

‘And you’ve got him in custody for that?’

‘He’s on probation, ma’am.’

Probation
. Of course he was.

‘Even so, it’s hardly a hanging offence, is it? He’s supposed to be collecting me later on. He’s my driver for the evening.’

‘He doesn’t have a taxi permit.’

‘I don’t think he was going to charge me. From what he told me earlier, he was borrowing the cab from his brother to help out with my campaign today.’