28
He doesn’t know that he’s on Jamieson’s mind; Frank’s too. Calum has other things to concern himself with. Emma’s at the flat. She lives with two other girls from the university, and she’s fleeing them now. Something about them causing a racket when she’s trying to study. She came to him for peace. He’s made her a cup of tea, and he’s leaving her alone in the kitchen. This ought to be pleasant. This should be Calum and his girlfriend, spending a little quiet time together. Like normal couples do. Instead, he’s sitting in the living room, worrying.
He never worried before. Never had anything to lose before. There were times when he was concerned for his brother and his mother. His brother more so, because he’s used him in jobs. Only minor use – borrowing cars from the garage William works at – but still, worth worrying about. People could use it as an excuse to go after William. Target his family to make him suffer. But there was never any possibility of William stopping being his brother.
Emma seems to have got bored, he can hear her moving around. Looking for distractions, probably. He’s standing in the kitchen door now, watching her wash her cup in the sink. She’s turned round and she’s smiling at him. Not a loving smile, more an understanding one.
‘Sit down,’ she’s saying, ‘let’s chat.’ She can be a little bossy, he’s learning, but it’s a flaw that she carries with charm. Not everyone does.
He’s sitting opposite her at the kitchen table. Small kitchen, a little cramped. He may not have a lot of experience with relationships, but he knows this is ominous. This is one of those relationship chats. Most people dread the ‘Where are we going?’ conversation. He’s dreading the ‘What have you been doing?’ one.
‘What’s up?’ he’s asking. Smiling; play it casual, make it seem as though he’s not concerned. She’s too smart to buy that. He’s trying so hard to convince himself he’s not concerned. He’s not even fooling himself. Calum ought to be starting this conversation. He should be pushing her towards the exits, for both their sakes. Can’t bring himself to. It’s weak and it’s unforgivable.
‘I’d like to talk about us.’ Just as he expected. ‘Don’t worry, it’s not one of those conversations,’ she’s saying with her smile. They both know she’s not being entirely honest. It’s always one of those conversations. ‘I just want to talk about work.’
There it is. That’s the word that scares him. She must see the reaction; she must see that she’s made him nervous. If there’s one thing that’s going to scupper their relationship, it’s talk of work. Maybe it’s a good thing; surely this will compel him to push her away.
Yet so many other guys in the business must have these conversations at some point. There are a lot of married men, or men in long-term relationships. A minority of gunmen, admittedly. Still, some of them manage to make relationships work, and yet the very thought terrifies him. This job does not go well with a relationship. It has to be one or the other.
‘I just think that your injuries seem healed – enough to work anyway,’ she’s saying. She’s giving him a curious look. This is her attempt to coax the truth from him. It won’t work. You don’t spend more than a decade guarding a secret like that and then blurt it out just because someone asks sweetly. Even if that someone is a cute girl you’re sleeping with.
‘I suppose they are,’ Calum’s saying. ‘You accusing me of skiving off?’ Asked with a smile, and with the hope of diverting the conversation.
‘No, just wondering if you have work to go back to, that’s all.’
Or what kind of work I have to go back to, Calum’s thinking. ‘I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not,’ he’s saying. This is something he hadn’t planned for. The relationship wasn’t supposed to last this long. She’s not supposed to be here.
‘Don’t you think you should find out?’ she’s saying, putting a little pressure into her voice.
‘Okay, I will.’ She’s obviously annoyed with his flippancy. ‘I’m okay for money, so it’s not like there’s a huge rush,’ he’s saying.
‘That’s not the point. Don’t you want to work?’
Boy, there’s a question and a half. If she had any inkling how much that question meant to him, she would have given him more time to answer. Instead, he’s sitting dumbly, while she picks up the conversation again. He’s watching her, seeing her get exasperated. Perhaps this is the way out. Let her think he’s lazy and pathetic, unwilling to work. That might drive her away.
She’s lecturing him on the responsibility his employers have, given that he was injured at work. ‘You were injured working, weren’t you?’
Now she starts digging, looking for details that he can’t provide. She’s trying to trip him up in this conversation. Trying to lure out a confession. He resents that. It’s hard, in any circumstances, to forgive someone for trying to trip you up. If she has any understanding of what he does, then she must understand this is not the way to find out about it. She needs to come straight out and ask. People rarely come straight out and ask. Be blunt and straightforward. No games.
‘Yeah,’ he’s saying, ‘I was injured working.’
‘At a printer’s.’
‘Yes, at a printer’s. Is there something else you want to ask?’ The tone is sharp enough to hurt. Emma’s looking down at the table. She’s thinking about whether she wants to answer that question or not. He’s wishing he hadn’t asked it.
She starts with a sigh. Preparing herself before she says something uncomfortable. Letting him know that something unpleasant for both of them is on its way. ‘I’ve been talking with Anna. You remember Anna; she was there the night we met. I think she hooked up with your friend George, the chatty one. She was talking about him. He never called her back, by the way, and she’s not too impressed with that. She wanted him to call her, so that she could turn him down. She was telling me that she’s sure your friend George is involved in some illegal stuff. She doesn’t know what exactly, but she’s convinced it’s not proper. That he’s some kind of gangster. I laughed at first, but she wasn’t joking. She also thinks you’re involved in the same sorts of things.’
He’s waiting, considering. She doesn’t know anything, she’s just guessing. Stabbing in the dark. Something he’s familiar with. ‘What sorts of things does she think I’m involved in?’
‘I don’t know exactly, but not good things. She thought maybe drugs, something like that. She thought George was the sort of guy who could be involved in anything. I don’t think of you that way. Am I wrong?’
How far do you take the truth? He has to give her something, Calum knows that. A little act of honesty, because outright lying isn’t an option any more. It might be an option if he wanted to get rid of her, really wanted to. He tells himself he does, but when push comes to shove, he can’t push or shove.
‘I’m not involved in drugs,’ he’s saying to her. It’s half-true. He’s never sold drugs. Never used them. He’s killed people for being involved in the drug trade, though. By any sensible measurement, that constitutes involvement. ‘I can’t guarantee that people I know aren’t involved in them in some way, though,’ he’s saying. ‘I know people I probably shouldn’t. I’ve done things that I guess you would frown upon. I don’t know how that changes things.’
She’s looking at him and nodding. ‘I don’t know, either.’
It’s Emma who doesn’t want to talk about it any more. She seems to think they need to stop and contemplate everything they’ve discussed so far. She’s packing books into her bag. She reaches up and kisses him.
Okay, she kissed quickly and left without saying anything else, but she still kissed. That has to mean something. Calum didn’t want to stop, but he can’t have a conversation by himself. He wants to resolve this – never leave things hanging. That comes from his work. You never leave loose ends flapping in the wind. If you need to deal with something, then deal with it now; leaving it will only cause trouble later on. Loose ends tend to entangle themselves in other things. He’s sitting at the kitchen table. Sitting in silence. It feels as though that was such an important conversation, yet he has no idea of the outcome. You never really know which conversations are vital. You’re not always a part of the ones that matter most to you.
