One of Us (8 page)

“You are,” he said. “Trust me on this.”

“Am I?”

“Yes,” he said. “Yes.”

“Then do two things for your friend, Sean.” I turned to face him now. “One thing, stop saying sorry before I get mad with you and drown you in that stinking pond. And the second thing is, I will take the risk. My choice. In return, you just promise to be here for me just as long as you can. And when you cannot...anyway, we had better go to work.” We stood and walked along the path out of the park. “Will you try?” I asked him, after a while. “That is all I want. Just for as long as you can.”

He did not say anything for a long time.

“Yes,” he said in the end. Then with more certainty, “Yes.” Then he stopped on the path, put his hands on my shoulders, and looked into my eyes. “Yes.”

I thought for a moment that he was going to kiss me. I stood still, my heart in panic, not knowing what to do if he did. But he did not. Or he could see that it would not be wise, and so he did not. Instead he smiled, and said, “Jesus, look at the pair of us.”

“See, we have to stick together,” I said. “The two of us.”

“Yeah,” he said. “So tell me. What’s happened?”

“You really want to know?” I said.

“I really want to know,” he said, and he tightened his hands on my shoulders, just a little, just to show he meant it. And then we started walking back out of the park again, while the mist crept in between the trees and followed us out, and I told him about Corgan, and I told him about Elena, and I told him that I was going to save her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

When we arrived at work, Daniel was sprawled behind one of the tables, his long legs stretched out in front of him, one booted foot crossed over the other. The table was littered with torn sachets of sugar and snapped plastic stirrers.

“Anna.” Asif was behind the counter, covering for Yanni from the day shift who had some complicated matter going on involving his sister and her baby that made his absence necessary often, and tested Peter’s patience very much. “Someone is waiting for you.” Asif looked bored. He did not like covering in the restaurant, because it meant travelling at the same slow speed as the rest of the world.

“Oh, so here you are,” Daniel said, his face like a sulky child. “At last.”

I felt Sean draw himself up beside me, losing his usual slouch, his shoulders going back. “You here for a burger, then?” he said to Daniel. “Only, we don’t do toys with ours.”

“Shouldn’t you be hurrying to get changed into your lovely uniform for your high-flying career in food retail?” Daniel said, not bothering to look at Sean. “Don’t forget your name badge, in case anyone asks what it is, and you need to check.” He didn’t move, his decision not to even notice Sean’s aggressive posture an insult that was as deliberate as every word that he said.

“Yeah, it’s a shit job,” Sean said. “First thing I got to do today, is clean out the bins out the back. Stinking grease, half-rotten food. Drunks pissing up the sides of them. End of the day though, my hands are still cleaner than yours.”

Daniel shrugged. “But they don’t smell it, and that’s what counts. Now fuck off and put your paper hat on, there’s a good boy.”

Sean stepped forward and Daniel stood up and I walked in between them and for the first time they both looked scared. Asif hovered half behind the counter, half out, making faces at me, should he get involved? I shook my head, and he stepped back, putting something down behind the counter. Asif liked Sean. Sean took time to talk with him, which is more than many people did, because to them he was just the driver.

“Do I have to get cross?” I said. “You two stop this now. You understand? Otherwise it will be me you have to answer to and I will not stand around making stupid threats like I am in a movie, I will just kick you in the balls, very hard. You understand?”

They both made shrugging shapes, tried to stare each other out. “I mean it, and you know it,” I said. “Now.”

“All right,” Sean said. “Just keep him out of here. There’s not enough air freshener in the stockroom to get rid of the stink. I’m going to get changed. So should you.”

He walked through to the back, and Daniel opened his mouth as if to say something, but I raised my finger and pointed it at his face and he thought better of it.

“You leave him alone,” I said. “I mean it. He’s my friend.”

Daniel laughed. “That what he thinks too, is it?”

“What?” I did not understand what he meant.

“Nothing, nothing. Look, I came here to see you, not to get into an argument.”

“I have to start work,” I said. I was conscious then of my stupid uniform, the red shirt that made me look ill in the face, the grey trousers that made me look like I was a child’s bear leaking its stuffing.

“I know, that’s why I waited. I’ve been here for an hour, waiting for you to come in.”

“What for? Does Corgan want me to do something?”

“Hey, I don’t have to account to Corgan for everywhere I go. I just wanted to see you. For me, for fun, ’cause I like you. That’s not illegal, is it?”

“No—but Daniel, I have to work. I will get into trouble—”

“If you want rid of me, you have to tell me when you’re not working next.”

“Why? The coffee I make is that bad?”

“So I can take you out,” he said.

“Daniel,” I said, and I started to tidy up the mess on the table so I had something to do and did not look as uncertain as I felt. “I do not know if that is a good idea.”

“I do,” he said. “And it is. Go on, we had fun the other day. Didn’t we? Didn’t we? Yeah, look, you’re smiling, you know it, girl.”

And I was smiling. So I said yes. There were not many things that made me smile and feel good about myself. So much shit in the world. You have to look for the good things, and when they come, do not ignore them.

When I went through to the kitchens, Sean looked at me and made a face.

“Don’t,” I said. “He’s all right. He’s not one of them.”

Sean snorted. “He’s not. But I’m not going to change your mind, am I?”

“No,” I said. “You are not.”

“Does anyone, Anna? Change your mind on anything?”

“Not often,” I admitted. But Daniel had. On the surface, Daniel was all charm and grace, the easy grin, the long look from his puppy-brown eyes, the shine of his black hair as he pushed it back away from his eyes, the way he looked in a pair of jeans that made me wonder how he would look out of them. Did I say me there? I had not meant to. Daniel dressed casual, often in just dark jeans and a t-shirt, an old and battered jacket, but they looked right the way they did when you saw the models wearing them in adverts. Sean bought similar clothes, but they never looked quite the same on him, and he always seemed to put the wrong ones together. In just a t-shirt Daniel looked right, and Sean looked under-dressed.

It was a bad thing to compare him to Sean, but I could not help it. They were about the same height, but Daniel always looked the taller, because he carried himself as if he was comfortable living in his own skin. That was not something you could ever say of Sean. One of the first things I noticed about Daniel was his hands. It was the first time we met, in that café by the station. He cradled a plastic coffee cup, and even though I was caught up in worry and fear and tiredness, it all stopped for a moment and I thought: you have beautiful hands. Long, strong, fingers. And then I made myself look away from them, because I was not there for that, and because it made me feel like I was not in control of myself, and me being me, I did not like that. In this uncertain country, in my uncertain life, I wanted to be in charge of my own thoughts, not this boy and his beautiful hands, this boy who was buying me lunch in a restaurant the next day.

~

“Three pounds, seventy-five please,” I said, and pushed the plastic tray of burger and chips across to the customer. Asif was leaning on the counter next to me, back to his usual job but killing time with no orders to deliver.

The customer screwed his face up. “Eh?” He was a short dog of a man. Those ones that pull hard at their leads all the time, and do not have a neck.

“Three pounds, and seventy-five pence please,” I said again, speaking more slowly in case he was deaf, or maybe stupid.

He put his hand behind his ear, just as if he was deaf. “How about in English, love.”

I said nothing, just looked at him. My English was better than his was.

“Aye, you lot can fucking ask for money all right,” he said. “Know that much fucking English, don’t you. Always with your hand out.”

I said nothing. He was drunk. I could smell the alcohol. What was there to say that would make any difference? The man snorted a laugh, nodded as if my just being there had confirmed to him the gospel truth of everything that he said. He counted out some money, and slapped it down on the counter, as if he did not want to risk dropping it into my hand in case he caught something.

“Fucking disgrace,” he said. I dropped his change down onto the counter. He scooped it into his pocket, picked up his food. “What? What?” This was addressed to Asif, who had come to stand behind the counter, saying nothing.

“Nothing,” Asif said. “Just looking.”

“Aye, I fucking bet.” The man strutted out of the door, not bothering to close it behind him.

“Just looking,” Asif said again, “So when you come in here next I remember your face so I can go stick my finger up my arse then wipe it in your burger.”

I laughed. “Asif, that is very bad.”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “It is, innit.”

“Wash your hands afterwards,” I said.

“Course,” Asif said, looking offended. “What you think I am, unhygienic or something?”

~

I had arranged to meet Daniel for lunch, because lunch said less things than dinner did. Friends had lunch. Besides, I was at work late in the evening, and I did not want to have a nice dinner and then go to work and stand in the thick smell of chargrilling meat all night.

“What do you fancy?” Daniel said when he picked me up outside the hostel. “Other than me, obviously.” He was wearing a dark blue jacket over what looked like expensive jeans, a shirt open at the collar to show a very slim gold necklace that almost was not there at all. I felt scruffy in my dress that I had bought from a sale in a shop where everything was already cheap before the sale. But I liked my shoes. I hoped he had noticed my shoes.

“Somewhere nice,” I said. “Anywhere nice.”

“I can do nice,” he said, and he pulled out into the road, and I felt like I was leaving a life behind as we left the kerb.

Daniel took me to an Italian restaurant, which was all wooden panels and bunches of plastic grapes, candles and shadows. It was quiet, and the waiters treated me like I was the most important person they had seen that day. I was not used to this. Not any more. But I could like it, I thought. I could like this. This is life like the normal people lead, a life like I once had. The normal people do jobs, they have worries, but now and again they go to a restaurant and enjoy a few hours where they feel special. I realised how long it had been since I had felt special.

“I’ll order the wine,” Daniel said, as if by not doing so we would be swapping my skirt for his trousers. He looked down the wine list with a frown.

“Sure,” I said. “You’re the man. But just to let you know, number thirteen is good.”

“Mmm,” he said. The waiter came back, and asked us what we would like to drink. “What do you recommend?” Daniel said.

“The Barolo is very good, sir,” the waiter said. “Number thirteen.”

“That’s what I thought,” Daniel said. “We’ll have a bottle of that.”

“Excellent choice, sir.”

“I make a lot of good choices,” Daniel said, and he nodded towards me and winked. The waiter smiled and retreated to the kitchen, and I kicked Daniel under the table. But not very hard.

Hours passed, in our cocoon. We ate and we drank and I laughed a lot, and the dim light made me feel like there was nothing but our little world, here, now, the red and white check tablecloth, the guttering candle, the rich taste of wild mushrooms and the soft bite of the wine.

“Nice this,” Daniel said.

“Yes,” I said. “It is.”

“See, I treat you well,” he said. “Life can be better, you know. You ain’t seen the half of it.”

I thought about birthday meals in expensive restaurants, my father the laughing host at the end of the table, looking after everyone, more brandy here, another bottle of wine there, the best, always the best. Men in dark suits standing by the far wall. Some of them waiters. Some of them not. I thought of a hotel in Paris where the carpets nearly swallowed my little feet whole. I did not need this Italian restaurant to show me how life could be better. I had lived that life, once, a life that went beyond what Daniel could think of. I got cross with myself. Now is not the time to think of the past, Anna. Now is the time to enjoy this moment. Because it will not last. I became aware that Daniel had spoken.

“Sorry?”

“Tell me if I’m boring you,” he said, annoyed the way a child would be. “I said this is better than that burger bar.” Daniel looked around him, flicked his hair out of his eyes, and smiled, as if to himself. “Prefer the staff here,” he said. “Present company excepted.”

“Daniel,” I said. “Do not start this.”

“I know, I know, he’s your friend, shoulder to cry on, mops the floor when it’s your turn. But he’s weird, Anna. He is. Something wrong with him. He’s too starey and intense. You’ll be nice to him one time too many and then the next thing you know, you’ve got yourself a stalker.”

“He is not like that, don’t be cruel. He is my friend.”

“Yeah,” Daniel said, spearing a piece of ravioli. “But does he think the same about you?”

“Yes,” I said. “I think so. He confides in me.”

Daniel shook his head. “Anna, Anna. You’re a smart girl. Have to be, to do what you’ve done, the doctor thing and all that. But sometimes, you’re like a kid in the woods. There’s wolves out there, girl. Trust me on this.”

“Are you saying that he is not my friend? You don’t know him, or me, enough to say that.”

“I know him enough,” he said. “Bloke, isn’t he. Look, Anna, when he’s tucked up in his shitty little bedsit of a night, do you think he’s lying there thinking ah, what a lovely friend Anna is, I am so glad she is my friend? Is he bollocks. He’ll be thinking about when he saw you bend over the grill at work that day, and he’s going to be thinking about bending you over the grill himself and—”

“Daniel, stop it.”

“Yeah, he’ll probably fantasize about you saying that an’ all. But not really meaning it. Look, I know his sort. Oh, I’m so sensitive. Oh, confide in me. Oh, I’m so friendly, and sensitive. Come here and let me cuddle your worries away in my sensitive arms. And while you’re there, let me cop a feel of your tits.”

“I said stop it.” I was annoyed. Annoyed at Daniel for saying this, annoyed at myself because I could not help but wonder if he was right. Sean was a good friend, but Sean was a man and there were times when he looked at me and I wondered if he was thinking there is Anna, my good friend. Or if he was thinking something else.

“All right, all right, just saying. For your sake, you know? Be careful, Anna.” He leaned over the table towards me. “You’re a good person. Kind. I can see that. But sometimes, men, they’ll take that the wrong way. Confuse kindness with something else. If you really like him, you’re not going to want to hurt him, are you? Wouldn’t be you, that. But you might be. Every day. Making him think...you feel differently.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said.

He shrugged. “Said my piece. Don’t want to get you cross.” He took a long drink of wine, smiled. “After all, I’ve heard what you’re like when you’re cross.”