Guns Of Brixton (25 page)

    The
high, bright, shiny truck was easy to keep in view. At first Linda headed
towards London, then turned off at Crystal Palace and took a right into the
Safeway carpark. Mark was right behind her and watched as she parked up, took
out the baby and headed for the lifts. When she was gone, he followed.

    Upstairs,
in the warm supermarket entrance, he watched as she strapped Daisy into the
child seat of a trolley. He helped himself to one and followed, keeping an
aisle's distance between them. Mark couldn't believe he was so close to her
after all this time. He only caught glimpses as she moved slowly along the
shelves, but she seemed not to have changed one bit in all the years since
they'd last met. But she must have. Getting married, having children. Losing a
mother, stepfather and husband in such a short space of time. How long she'd
been married he didn't know. It couldn't have been long: her hair was still
raven black, her skin smooth. He could almost feel the former sliding through
his fingers, and the coolness of the latter under his lips.

    She
shopped from a list she held in one hand, pushing the trolley with the other.
Inside the shop she'd loosened Daisy's suit to expose a white T- shirt
underneath. Mark shadowed her for ten minutes, occasionally dropping some item
into his trolley. Eventually, he made his move.

    Linda
was reading something on a packet of cereal when he approached her, blocking
her way with his trolley. She didn't look at him, just moved hers to one side.
He blocked her again. 'Excuse me,' she said, trying to avoid him, but he didn't
let her. She looked at him, annoyance on her face. 'I said excuse me…' she
repeated. And then, for the first time, his face registered with her. He saw
something click behind her eyes, her face paled, and he could almost see a
lightbulb come on over her head, just like in a cartoon. 'Mark,' she said. Her
hands whitened on the handle of the trolley, and for a split second he thought
she was going to faint.

    'Linda,'
he said. 'Jesus. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…' and he went to her and held her
arm to steady her.

    She
stepped back, pulling her arm free angrily, and Daisy, who until then had been
quiet, sensed something was wrong and began to cry. 'Now look what you've
done,' said Linda. 'There Daisy, it's all right.'

    The
baby looked at them, and reassured, settled down again.

    'Sorry,
Linda,' said Mark. 'I didn't know how else to see you.'

    'What
do you mean?'

    'I
could hardly come round the house with a bunch of flowers and bottle of plonk,
could I?'

    'What
house? What are you talking about?'

    'Your
house?'

    'What
about my house?'

    'Your
house in Croydon.'

    'I
don't understand.'

    'I
was watching you.'

    'You
what? Are you mad?' Her face was stormy now, the various expressions sweeping
over it. He remembered that she could never hide her feelings, that he'd told
her never to play poker for money.

    'I
don't know. Maybe. But I had to see you somehow.'

    'Mark,
what are you playing at?'

    'I'm
not playing at anything. I'm trying to talk to you.'

    'Just
like that. You never got in touch. Never called.'

    'I
know. I'm sorry. Listen. Can we talk?'

    She
didn't answer, just looked at him. Her face had become a picture of sorrow. He
knew he'd hurt her, but he'd never realised just how much until then. They
stood together like actors in a play under the harsh supermarket fluorescent
lights and Mark knew that he was close to losing the most precious thing in his
life for the second time. And for the second time he knew that he was entirely
to blame.

    He
pointed in the direction of the exits. 'There's a tea place. We could sit for a
minute.' She shook her head.

    'No,
you bastard. No.'

    'Please,
Linda. Just for a minute. I have to explain. I have to. If I ever meant
anything to you, just give me that.' He knew that he was manipulating her, but
he also knew that if he walked away now, he might never have another chance.
'Please.'

    He
saw by her expression that she was softening. 'What about my shopping?' she
said.

    'Bring
it with you. I promise I won't keep you long. Then you can finish up.'

    'I
suppose.'

    'Come
on then. I'm paying.'

    'Christ,
I must be mad,' she said. 'All right. Just for a minute. You take my trolley. I
can see shopping still isn't your forte.' She looked into his trolley which contained
a jar of instant gravy granules, a pound of butter and a tea strainer.

    'I
was plucking up the courage to talk to you.'

    Linda
blew breath through her teeth as she unfastened the harness that held her
daughter and lifted her out of the child seat. 'Come on then,' she said.

    Mark
abandoned his shopping and followed her, pushing the trolley.

    Linda
felt the baby's bottom and wrinkled her nose. 'She needs changing. Give me that
bag.' She indicated the carryall that was hanging off the trolley's handle.
'There's a changing room next to the cafe,' she said. 'I won't be long.'

    'You
won't run away,' said Mark as she left him.

    'No,
Mark. I won't run away. I'm not you.'

    He
smiled thinly. 'What do you want to drink?'

    'Tea'll
do.'

    'Something
for Daisy?'

    'You
know her name then?'

    He
nodded.

    'No.
Nothing for Daisy. I've got some juice in here.'

    Mark
watched as she went into the mother and baby room, parked the trolley and went
into the cafe.

    The
tea came in two stainless steel pots, with metal handles that he knew would
burn their fingers, a tea bag in each. The milk was in those horrible
containers that he always managed to shoot all over the table, and the sugar
was cubed in paper wrappers. He wondered for a moment if he should get a cake
for Daisy, but all the pastries seemed to be nearly as big as she was, so he
left it. He'd never had much to do with children and he didn't want his
ignorance to show.

    He
took the tray to a table in the corner near the window and waited. He could
feel the itch of sweat under his arms and wondered what can of worms he'd
opened by talking to her. What would she do?

    Linda
only took a few minutes and, although the place was almost deserted, he waved
as she and Daisy entered and they came over and joined him. He stood as they
approached and pulled out a chair for each of them. 'Good manners,' she said as
she sat, Daisy on her knee. 'That really impressed me that first day in
Croydon. The way you stood up when I got to the table. Nobody had ever done
anything like that for me before.'

    'You
still remember?'

    'Of
course I remember. What am I, an amnesiac?' Mark thought from her tone that she
might like to be. She went on. 'I remember how much of a mug I was. There weren't
many good manners in evidence when you left without saying goodbye.'

    'No,'
he said as he pulled up his own chair and poured two cups of tea, after giving
the bags a good squeeze with a spoon.

    Linda
meanwhile took a baby's cup from her bag, filled it with juice from a bottle
and gave Daisy her drink, which she started to swallow with gusto.

    'She
likes that,' said Mark for something to say.

    'Yes,'
said Linda as she toyed with her cup. 'So come on, Mark. You didn't follow me
here to talk about Daisy's likes and dislikes.'

    'No.
I came to see you.'

    'Seems
like you've seen me already. You told me you've been watching.'

    He
nodded. 'I only found out where you were yesterday.'

    'So
how did you know where to watch?'

    'Uncle
John told me.'

    'Good
old Uncle John. And what did he tell you?'

    He
told her.

    'Seems
like he knows me as well as I know myself.'

    'He
didn't do it to hurt you or your children. He was just keeping up.'

    'Christ,'
she said. 'You people. You can never leave things alone.'

    'I'm
sorry.'

    'No
you're not.' She took a sip of tea, keeping the hot cup well away from her
daughter. 'Do you know what?' she said. 'I gave up smoking the day I found out
I was pregnant with Luke. Six years ago. I've never touched a cigarette since.
But by God, I'd love one now.'

    He
moved his head towards the sign on the wall. 'No smoking in here,' he said.

    'Still
the same, Mark. Still the jokes. Do you still smoke?'

    He
nodded. He would've given anything for a smoke too, but mums with babies didn't
like it. That was another piece of information he'd gleaned from the papers.

    'Andy
gave up the same day,' said Linda. 'For what it was worth.' She paused. 'Andy
was my husband.'

    'I
know.'

    'Of
course. Uncle John told you.'

    Mark
ignored the jibe. 'He sounds like he was a good man. I'm sorry about what
happened to him.' 'He was,' she replied. 'And you're not.'

    He
didn't know what to say. Whether to ask how long she'd been married, how they'd
met. What do you say to a widow you used to ' sleep with?

    'But
he wasn't you,' she said softy.

    'What?'

    'Nothing.
Forget it.'

    A
long silence followed except for Daisy's drinking noises and the hisses from the
hot water machines behind the counter. Mark looked at Daisy. 'She's beautiful,'
she said. 'Your daughter. She looks just like you.'

    'Oh
please.'

    'I
mean it.'

    'Yes,
well, everyone says so. But I'd better go now.'

    He knew
that this was the moment. 'Can I see you?' he asked.

    'You
are seeing me. Here I am, in the flesh.'

    'You
know what I mean.'

    'Do
you think I'm quite mad, Mark? I've got a family. I've got my brother, who I'm
sure you're aware is a police officer, living in my house. And you're, well,
what you are. I'm a widow.' She shook her head. 'That's got nothing to do with
it. What I have got is a life, Mark, and now you turn up out of the blue and
expect me to drop everything and start up with you again. Christ, Mark, you're
a bloody…'

    'Don't
say it,' said Mark, touching the back of her hand and feeling the same old
electricity. 'Forget that. I just want to see you.'

    'Do
you?'

    He
nodded.

    'Do
you know how many times in the last… How long is it?

    'Eight
years…'

    'Something
like that.'

    'Do
you know how many times I've wanted to hear you say that?' He shook his head.
'Every bloody day,' she said. 'Even when I was married to Andy. Even when I was
screaming my head off with pain as I had my babies. And now you're saying it,
I'm not sure I'm ready.' 'Please, Lin.'

    'Don't
Lin me. A cup of tea doesn't get you back in my good books.'

    'Please.
Somewhere private where we can talk.'

    The
emotions rushed over her features again. 'There's a flat,' she said with a long
sigh. 'In Balham. By the station. Over a shop. Andy and I bought it for an
investment. To rent out. But each tenant was worse than the last, we always
seemed to come out down. Of course it doesn't matter now. The compensation and
insurance paid for it ten times over. But I'm sure Uncle John told you all
about that.'

    Mark
nodded again.

    'So
when I got the last people out I had it done up and left it empty. I'll keep it
until one of these…' she nodded down at Daisy.'…Wants to leave home and they
can move in if they want to. It's appreciating like mad at the moment.'