Chris Cleave Ebook Boxed Set (58 page)

—Terence? I’m alright. Sorry about this. I’ve just had a little bit too much to drink I’ll be right as rain in 2 ticks. I’m a bit embarrassed so go on and have your drink and I’ll be out in a minute.

—Sure? said Terence Butcher.

—Sure.

I stroked Jasper’s hair. Terence Butcher went away then and Jasper breathed out.

—Oh Jesus, he said. Thanks.

He let his forehead drop onto my shoulder he was still shaking. I stroked his hair and I reached down with my other hand and I took his wrist and I pushed his hand down very gently so his thumb came out of me. I pulled his head in closer to my neck and I whispered in his ear.

—There you go. You’re a good boy really. You’ve just been very lonely haven’t you?

Jasper didn’t say anything. His breathing was shallow and fast in my ear and then very slowly it turned into sobs. He didn’t make any fuss he just sobbed very quietly and it didn’t die down for a long time. I sat there just letting him get it all out. You’d think all that sadness inside us would of been deafening but actually it made less noise than the slow drip drip of the tap in the basin outside the cubicle door.

* * *

When I got back to our table I smiled at Terence Butcher and the drink he’d lined up for me.

—Ah. Gin & Terence. Lovely.

—You sure? he said. I thought you might’ve had enough.

—Yeah well that was 10 minutes ago. This is now.

—Alright, he said. But on your own headache be it.

Terence Butcher stood up and I went up to him and put my arm round his waist. I leaned in to him and put my head against his chest. I closed my eyes and the flames and the shrapnel were gone again. There was just my boy playing on the long grass outside the caravan. I opened my eyes and looked up at Terence Butcher.

—You’re alright Terence Butcher. You know that?

We drank our drinks and I went up to the bar with Terence to get 2 more in but just then the landlord called time. Terence told him to give us a lock in.

—I don’t think so, said the landlord. The police are pretty strict at the moment.

—Listen, said Terence. The police are pretty drunk at the moment. We’ve had a hard week trying to stop you lot getting blown up. If we’re not allowed to get properly drunk now then we won’t let off enough steam. Which means we’ll be all wound up at work next week. Which means we won’t be able to do our jobs properly. Which means every single one of you will die. So I tell you what. I’ll give you a signed order to stay open another 10 minutes for security reasons.

The landlord smiled.

—Very good sir, he said. Always pleased to do my bit for national security.

—Good man, said Terence Butcher.

He wrote the landlord an official order in biro on the back of a beer mat and the landlord gave us 2 free drinks.

We rolled out of the Approach about half 11 and it was chaos out there. Everyone was trying to get home before curfew. There was a line of choppers flying low over Approach Road heading into town. They battered away into the darkness making a noise like death and nobody wanted reminding about dying so everyone was out the front of the pub giving them the finger. The choppers made a dirty twisting wind that raised up all the rubbish from the side streets. It was going everywhere. All the Burger King wrappers and the fag butts and the used condoms were blowing against the car windscreens like a poorly blizzard.

We were lucky to get a black cab. Terence flagged one down and told the cabbie Barnet Grove and when the cabbie said no Terence showed him his police ID and asked if he wanted to keep his licence. So we got in and Terence slammed the cab door. The helicopters and the rubbish were left outside and it was all quiet apart from the cabbie effing and blinding to himself about weren’t we just his typical bloody luck.

—Thank Christ for that, said Terence.

He slid back into the seat. He was sitting closer than he needed to. His leg was touching mine. I felt his weight pressing against me when we turned right onto Old Ford Road.

—God I feel better for that, he said. You were right you know. A night out was just what the doctor ordered.

I just looked out the window. I didn’t feel like answering. I must of had 8 G&Ts inside me. It felt like I wasn’t going anywhere but London was racing past me. Actually it looked like London was trying to get to the khazi before it puked. It was one of those nights you get sometimes in London where every last bastard is drunk. It was
one of those nights where City toffs in Hackett shirts jump out in front of your cab waving their hands and shouting TARXI! TARXI! so the cabbie has to swerve round them and shout can’t you see I’m taken you silly little cunt excuse my French. It was one of those nights where the day can’t come soon enough.

Terence Butcher put his hand on my knee. My tights were ripped and I felt his skin on my skin. I looked at him and I smiled.

—Not here Terence. There’ll be time for all that.

I turned and looked out of the window. We’d just turned down Cambridge Heath Road and the traffic was all jammed up. People were running to catch the last buses and there were coppers with megaphones bawling at them to get a move on.

I closed my eyes and I felt something on the back of my neck. It might of been his lips. Or it might of been my husband’s lips or Jasper’s lips I had 8 G&Ts inside me telling me it made no difference. Terence’s hand moved on my thigh. I gasped and it moved up my leg. I felt his hand push under the elastic of my knickers. Oh god I thought here I go again. I felt his fingers combing through my pubes and I felt the white van behind us blow up and I felt our cab flying eighty feet up in the air high above Bethnal Green tube. I felt the red blood gushing out of me while our cab spun black in the night under the smiling faces of the Shield of Hope. I felt his weight on mine as we lay burning in the wreckage. Oh god it was so bloody nice not to die alone.

The rush of booze got stronger. I opened my eyes and we were turning right onto Bethnal Green Road and we hadn’t been blown up after all. I felt sweet saliva in my mouth.

—Oh dear I think I need to get out.

The cabbie stamped on the brakes and pulled the cab over quick sharp. They know from the tone of your voice when you’re serious. I got out and puked on the double yellows while Terence Butcher held my shoulders. My puke was pure gin you could of cleaned brass with it. When we got back in the cab I felt much better. I smiled at Terence.

—Sorry.

—Don’t apologise, he said. There but for the grace of god and all that.

We were driving past the KFC and the sari shops now we were only 2 mins from my flat.

—Oh look I’m nearly home.

—Are you sure you’re going to be alright? said Terence.

The driver turned onto Barnet Grove.

—Let me come in with you, said Terence.

—It’s almost curfew. You realise if you come in you’ll be stuck with me for the night.

—Yes, he said. That was the general idea.

—What about your wife?

—I’ll call her, he said. I’ll tell her I’m overnighting at the office.

I held on to his hand. My skin was tingling and my stomach was jumping. The emptiness inside me was howling like the wind round tall buildings. The driver slowed up for the speed bumps on Barnet Grove. My street was all grey and dismal with Tesco bags blowing down it like the ghosts of value shopping.

—Anywhere in particular? said the cabbie.

—Anywhere here.

The cab stopped and I squeezed Terence Butcher’s hand.

—Terence. I like you. Let’s not spoil this. Go home to your wife tonight. Get up tomorrow morning and feel good. Look after your kids. Believe me you don’t know how important it is. And then think about it and if you want me then you can have me. Only let’s not do it like this. Please let’s do it so your wife and kids don’t ever find out.

Terence blinked at me. He looked so sad. I wanted him so badly I could feel the emptiness inside me shouting NO NO NO but I did it anyway. I squeezed Terence’s hand one last time then I let it go and I opened the cab door. I got out and grabbed the door handle and slammed Terence Butcher safely back inside his life and his kids and his wife in her Dunlop Green Flash. I waved
good-bye and watched his tired face pressed up against the window glass.

I stared up at the dead faces of the Shield of Hope floating in the orange sky. I stared for a long time and then I went inside and up to my flat and I got Mr. Rabbit and I curled up with him on the floor of my boy’s room. I slept and I dreamed of my husband and my boy. They were setting off for heaven in our old blue Astra and their Arsenal away strip. They were ever so excited to be going. I’d made them packed lunches in case it was a long journey. My husband smiled at me. He was tall and handsome and he was all in one piece. I smiled back at him. We’ll be off now love he said. You come after us as soon as you like. I waved them good-bye. My boy was smiling and waving with his nose stuck up against the back window. I watched them drive off up Barnet Grove and into the rising sun.

When I woke up my boy’s room was rosy pink from the new day coming in through the curtains. And me? Me I was still smiling.

* * *

Later that morning I took my hangover into the shower. I say the shower Osama but actually I was standing in the bath. Our shower was one of those rubber hose efforts you stick on to the bath taps. My boy used to love it. He used to take it off the taps and make you hold the rubber ends to your ears so he could talk to you through the showerhead like it was a microphone. What he used to say was COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP I suppose it was my husband taught him that.

The boy loved that game it used to take hours to actually wash his hair. Still you saved me that chore didn’t you Osama. So it was just my own hair I was washing when the doorbell went. I was washing it for the third time. I never could get the smell of smoke out of it since May Day.

I wrapped a towel round my head and I put on my pink bathrobe and went to the front door. I put the chain on the door and opened it a crack and looked out. It was Petra Sutherland standing there.
She was wearing maroon stiletto boots silky flower-print skirt pink cashmere rolltop sweater and her hair was long and straight and shiny. She stood there looking at me. Her face was very white there was no blood in it.

—What must I do to get rid of you? she said.

I tried to shut the front door but Petra jammed one of her boots into the gap. Both of us started pushing at the door but she couldn’t open it on account of the chain and I couldn’t close it on account of her foot.

—What do you want?

—I want you to stop chasing after Jasper, she said.

—I never chased after him.

—Liar, said Petra. Trollop.

She pushed her face right up into the gap of the door and sneered at me.

—He came home reeking of you last night, she said. I know your smell. You smell of this place. I spent a whole night in it.

—You don’t understand.

—Oh I understand perfectly well, she said. He wouldn’t look me in the eye. Let me in.

—Nah I don’t think so.

—People don’t tell me no, she said. Let me in. We’re going to have this out once and for all.

—Please. I’m not feeling well. Can’t you and Jasper both just leave me alone?

—Us leave you alone? said Petra. Oh that’s funny. That’s a good one.

—Please. You don’t know the situation. It’s Jasper you want to have a word with. Not me.

—No, she said. Let me in. I’m prepared to stay here all day if that’s what it takes.

—Suit yourself.

I went back and finished my shower. It wasn’t the sort of shower you see on the Timotei adverts with a Swedish girl in a waterfall.
The water was a bit brown from the rust in the pipes and I could hear Petra banging on the front door the whole time and screaming at me to OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR. By the time I got out and started drying my hair she was trying something different she was yelling THERE IS A PAEDOPHILE IN THIS FLAT. I suppose she thought an angry mob would appear out of nowhere like they do in the
Daily Mail
and help her storm in but she still had a lot to learn about the Wellington Estate. Round here they wouldn’t piss on themselves if they were on fire let alone the neighbours.

I went into the bedroom and put on a white T-shirt and white trackie bottoms. I lay on the bed just minding my own till the banging and the shouting went quiet and then I went back to the front door. Petra was sitting on the floor with her back against the wall and her foot still jammed in the door. Her head was down on her knees.

—You finished are you? Got it all out of your system?

Petra looked up at me her eyes were red and puffy and there were streaks of black mascara down her face. It was a bit of a shock I hadn’t put her down for the sort of girl who has feelings. The timer ran out on the stairway lights and the landing went dark behind her. We just stared at each other for a long time through the gap in the door. Petra sniffed.

—You’d better come in.

I took the chain off the door and opened it wide and Petra snapped her head up to look at me.

—Come on get up before I change my mind.

Petra started to put her hands down on the floor to push herself up but the floor was all mucky and she had a good look at it and held her hand out to me instead. I took hold of her hand and pulled her up. When she was up we let go of each other’s hands as quick as we could.

—I need to clean up, said Petra.

—Yeah. Well. You know where the bathroom is don’t you?

I went into the kitchen and I didn’t know what to do with myself so I took all the mugs out of the cupboard and then I put them back in with their colours in the same order as the rainbow from right to left and all of their handles pointing outwards except for the one mug that had a handle on each side. I didn’t know what to do with it and I was still holding it in my hands when Petra came into the kitchen. She’d washed all that streaky mascara off and her face looked very white and new without makeup. I held the mug up.

—Coffee?

Petra looked at the jar of instant sitting on the worktop.