Chris Cleave Ebook Boxed Set (64 page)

* * *

I didn’t go back to Jasper and Petra’s place I went home to the Wellington Estate instead. I just turned up like a homing pigeon I didn’t really know how I got there. Up in the flat I sat very still in the lounge looking out the window. The sun went down and the sun went up the way it does. After a day or 2 the phone started ringing I suppose it must of been work wondering where I was. I just listened to the sound of the phone it never occurred to me to go and pick it up.

I’d still be sitting there now with my bones turned to dust on our old Ikea sofa but it was the hunger drove me out of the flat. There’s only so much nothing your body will put up with I suppose and so one day I just sort of woke up in the corner shop on Columbia Road eating pink iced buns straight off the shelves. The woman came out from behind the till and put her hands on her hips and stood there in her dark-grey hijab watching me stuffing my face.

—You are going to pay for all that aren’t you? she said.

I just looked at her with my mouth jammed full and icing dribbling down my chin I couldn’t work out what she was on about. She smiled and shook her head.

—Tea? she said.

—Tea.

I knew that word it was solid it was a great comfort like the noise the handbrake makes when you pull it on at the end of a long trip. The woman took me through a curtain made of plastic rainbow strips into the back room of the shop. It was nice in there it smelled of old bits and bobs and there was a little stereo playing Radio 1. I sat on a green sofa with the arms worn through and an orange cat came and gawped at me. The woman made me strong tea with sugar and we sat there till I felt better. It was a small room and there were all kinds of posters on the walls. There was Wayne Rooney and Mecca and Medina and Avril Lavigne. I swear to god Osama that woman’s head was all over the shop you could only of bombed parts of her.

—Why are you being so nice to me?

—Your husband bought the
Sun
and 20 Benson & Hedges here every day for 4 years, she said. I owe you a cup of tea.

She still made me pay for the iced buns though.

When I left the shop I went round Petra and Jasper’s place and no one said anything about where’d I been for the last 3 days. Maybe they were being polite or maybe they just never noticed and after a couple of drinks I wasn’t bothered anyway it was just nice not to be sitting on my sofa.

It was cannelloni for dinner that night but none of us touched a bite of it on account of I was full of pink iced buns Jasper was on coke and Petra was on the Atkins diet.

We sat round the table and drank rosé wine and watched the cannelloni going cold. There was a power cut and the fridge wasn’t working so the rosé was lukewarm. Petra lit some candles but she needn’t of bothered because some Bengali street gang was lighting motors in the street outside and this harsh orange light was coming in through the windows. No coppers or fire engines turned up. I suppose they must of had their hands full somewhere.

There was nothing else for it I drank 5 glasses of rosé and told them what Terence told me.

—I don’t believe it, said Petra. It stretches credulity that they knew about May Day and did nothing to prevent it.

—Oh come on Petra, said Jasper. Don’t be naive. They had a source to protect so they let a few football fans die. I don’t see what’s so incredible.

—1 thousand dead souls Jasper, said Petra. That’s what’s not credible.

Jasper laughed.

—1 thousand souls is pocket change, he said.

—Oh please, said Petra.

—More died at Coventry, said Jasper. November 1940. The Germans blitzed it with incendiaries. Churchill knew in advance from Ultra decrypts. Decided not to act. We couldn’t let the Germans know we’d broken their code.

—Oh nonsense, said Petra. That’s been totally discredited. It’s a myth.

—But doesn’t it ring so true? said Jasper. Don’t you believe they’d do anything to protect their precious City boys?

—You’re high, said Petra.

—Sure, said Jasper. But I’m right.

Another motor went up
whump
in the street outside and Jasper and Petra just sat there glaring at each other in the vicious orange light coming off it.

—Listen, said Jasper. It’s the attack on the City they’re really trying to stop. A thousand City suits die and it’s good-bye global economy. A thousand blokes in Gunners T-shirts die and you just sell a bit less lager.

I was drunk now on the bloody rosé and I should of stayed out of it but there you go.

—Jasper’s right. The government doesn’t give a monkey’s about people like my husband and my boy.

Petra shook her head.

—That’s just paranoid, she said.

—I am not paranoid I’m working-class there’s a difference.

—Oh please, said Petra. Don’t make this into a class war. It’s the war against terror.

—Yeah and it’s no different from any other war. You ever wondered why an East End girl like me hasn’t got much in the way of family? Well here’s the reasons Petra. World War 1. World War 2. Falklands War. Gulf War 1. Gulf War 2 and the War on Drugs. You can take your pick because I lost whole bloody chunks of my family in all of them. That’s war Petra. This one’s no different. The people who die are people like me. And the people who survive. Well I’m sorry Petra but the people who survive are people like you. And you’re so used to surviving you don’t even notice you’re bloody well doing it.

Petra stared at me.

—You know what? she said. Sod you.

—Petra, said Jasper. Please.

—No Jasper, she said. Sod you too. Sod you both. You’re as bad as each other. You simply refuse to move on don’t you? Hiding behind your cocaine and your conspiracy theories like sulky children. You know what I’ve been doing this week? Moving on. Everyone is. London is moving on. Paris is refusing to be intimidated. And New York was all about vibrant colours. Defiant colours. Thanks to New York there will still be a spring season next year and thanks to me you can still read all about it in next Sunday’s paper. Helmut Lang is moving on. John Galliano is moving on. The entire Western world is able to move on apparently with the sole exception of you. What the hell have you both been up to while I’ve been working my arse off in New York? Moping and fucking each other? I thought you’d be good for each other but look at you. You’re just dragging all 3 of us down.

She stood up from the table and went over to the window and stared out at the street. I went up to her and touched the back of her hand.

—I’m sorry Petra I shouldn’t of had a go at you.

She turned to me and she was going to say something but I moved my hand around hers so I was holding it. She closed her mouth again.

—I’m sorry Petra.

Petra looked down at my hand around hers and then slowly she moved her other hand up to touch the back of mine with the tips of her fingers. Her rings sparkled orange in the light of the flames coming in off the street. Her face changed then and she looked up from our hands into my eyes.

—Oh Jesus Christ, she said. What if you’re right?

Jasper laughed and leaned back in his chair.

—It wouldn’t bother Helmut Lang, he said. He’s moved on you see.

—Shut up Jasper, said Petra. What if she’s right about May Day?

Jasper shook his head.

—Don’t even go there, he said. I know what you’re thinking.

Petra came forward and leaned into the table and the light from the candles made black shadows where her eyes should of been.

—Listen Jasper, she said. You should do this story.

—Petra, said Jasper. You don’t believe this story. Remember?

—Well I’m beginning to change my mind, said Petra. If it’s true it’s the biggest scoop since the Kelly thing. Bring it in and you’ll be back in favour before you can blink.

—Darling, said Jasper. You’re a fashion journalist. Don’t tell me what’s news and what’s not. Stick to hemlines and fanny waxing.

—Fuck you, said Petra. Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t do this story.

—I’ll give you 3, said Jasper. 1 the untold damage it would do to national security. 2 the fact that I’ve been fucking the principal source and 3 now let me see. Oooh yes. That pesky libel thingy that says you oughtn’t to print wild accusations in the absence of any proof. Yeah. Apart from all that this story would be a great career move for me.

—Fuck you, said Petra.

—Not tonight darling, said Jasper. I’m powdering my nose.

He took a paper wrap out of his trouser pocket and opened it up on the table.

—Look at you, said Petra. You’re a fucking disgrace. We work on
a national newspaper Jasper. We’re 2 of the very few people in this country with the power to change things. If people like us won’t do the right thing with the truth what hope is there for civilisation?

Jasper laughed and shoved a rolled-up tenner into his nostril. He pointed at himself with both thumbs.

—Petra darling, he said. Do I look like the guardian of Western civilisation to you?

He grinned at Petra and a new orange flash from the window lit up his face. Outside on the street the kids had torched another motor. I’d been forgotten about. I might as well not of been there for all anyone cared. I just sat back down good as gold at the table thinking to myself Oh dear I wish my boy was here now I wish I could just hold him for one minute and smell that lovely smell of his hair and hear him say MUMMY WHY ARE YOU CRYING? and say back to him Mummy’s not crying darling Mummy’s fine she’s just got something in her eye. I looked at Petra being furious because Jasper wouldn’t do what she said and I looked at Jasper sticking powder up his nose while the cars burned in the street outside and I think that might of been the very first time Osama that I began to see your point.

* * *

The autumn dragged on Osama with filthy grey skies and rain every day. I moved back to the Wellington Estate for good once Jasper and Petra starting fighting about the newspaper story I couldn’t handle them banging away at each other it made me nervous. I went back to work on account of I needed the money but sometimes when Terence Butcher wasn’t looking I spat in his tea.

Out in the streets they started to take down some of the roadblocks and if you weren’t concentrating you might of thought things were slowly getting back to normal again. People didn’t talk much about May Day any more. It was like the rain was washing the memories down the drains along with the old ciggie butts and the runover conkers.

—Oh come on, said Terence Butcher. Don’t look at me like that. It’s been weeks. Aren’t you ever going to forgive me?

—Depends. Are you ever going to bring my husband and my boy back?

I put his tea down on his desk and not too careful either. Some of it slopped out on his files I didn’t care. I was thinking Ha you should of thought of that Terence Butcher shouldn’t you when you left my chaps to burn.

—I did what I thought was best, said Terence. I thought you’d understand.

—Yeah well you thought wrong didn’t you. You should of told me straight away. I wouldn’t of come near you I’d never of let you touch me you should be ashamed.

—I’m not ashamed, he said. It was beautiful.

He spun round in his chair and looked up at me. I was still standing there in front of his desk my whole body was trembling. He smiled a little sad smile.

—Listen to me, he said. Tired old copper going on about beauty. What would I know about it eh?

I didn’t say anything Osama I mean what would you or me know about it either?

—But it was beautiful, said Terence. When we were up in the clouds alone. Me and you and none of the reasons why not. No job. No Tessa. No May Day. No London. It was beautiful.

—It was a bloody lie.

—Yes, said Terence. That’s when I saw I had to tell you. I couldn’t have that secret between us. Not if we were going to have something together.

—Oh Terence we were never going to have something together. Not after what you did to my chaps. You should of known that. You should of never got us started I mean what the hell were you THINKING?

—I’m sorry, he said. I know. I know. I hadn’t been sleeping. I
wasn’t rational. I thought if we loved each other that would be enough.

—Love. You said love.

—Yes. I’m sorry. But that’s how I feel.

I looked right at him. His eyes were exactly the same grey as the clouds behind him it looked like someone had put 2 gloomy holes right through his head.

—Listen Terence Butcher I make your tea and I do your filing and that’s all it is now right? Don’t you ever get that confused with love.

He looked at me for a very long time and then he looked down at his desk. It was an empty desk apart from his 3 phones. The photo of his wife and kids was gone I suppose he might of had it by his bed in the Travelodge.

* * *

It was a long afternoon after that and when 5 o’clock came I just put on my anorak and walked home head down in the gloom. In England on a cloudy day in autumn it gets dark by 4 in the afternoon. A few weeks of that Osama and believe me you start to feel like topping yourself. A lot of poor bastards do. I swear to god Osama the English climate’s done in more people than you ever have. If you tried living here for just 10 days in October your Kalashnikov would rust and your sandals would rot and your GP would stick you on Prozac and you couldn’t hate us any more you’d just feel ever so sorry for us instead.

When I got back home to the Wellington Estate there was a power cut again so I took a couple of candles into the bathroom and ran myself a bath and lay in it and talked with my boy till the water went cold and it was time to go to bed. My boy sat on the edge of the bath. He liked the tap end best. He dangled his feet in the water and we had the nicest conversation me and him.

I got out of the bath and took my pink dressing gown off the hook
next to my husband’s black one. I still hadn’t slung it out yet I mean it’s never the right moment is it? I put on my dressing gown and wrapped a towel round my hair and my boy followed me into the kitchen making little wet boy footprints on the lino. We nattered away in the kitchen for a bit while I had a couple of glasses of vodka and a couple of some new pills the doctor put me on it was all very nice. After a while my boy went a bit quiet. I looked up from my glass and his face was very pale and I was about to say Right then bedtime for you young man but someone started banging on the front door. I turned round to check the bolt was on and when I turned back my boy was gone so I thought I might as well answer it.