Guns Of Brixton (6 page)

    Mark
looked round the restaurant and was aware of the irony of John Jenner's last
remark but let it go.

    'We've
been getting soft over the last few years. I need someone to come in and sort
things out. Someone who knows what they're doing.'

    'You
mean me, Uncle?' said Mark. 'No. No chance.'

    'Think
about it for a minute.'

    Mark
shook his head.

    'And
Jimmy Hunter's due out soon. A few months. And he's going to be looking for
trouble.'

    'So?'

    'He killed
your father, Mark. My best friend.'

    'And
I'll be waiting.'

    'So
wait at the old place. Wait with us.'

    'I
dunno, Uncle. It's so close now, I don't want anything to get in the way.'

    'Nothing
will. What are you doing right now that's so important?'

    'Nothing.
Just hanging around.'

    'So
do what I ask. Come back, son.'

    'Uncle
John…'

    'Come
back home with me this afternoon,' said Jenner. 'We'll talk. You can stay over.
Your old room's still there.'

    'Really?'

    'Really.
Just as it was. I get the cleaners to change the sheets every Couple of weeks.
They think I'm mad of course, but they get well paid for what they do. We'll
talk more. About your dad.'

    'You
never did talk much about him.'

    'No.
And that was probably a mistake. Come on, what do you say?'

    'I
say that this.is excellent goat curry,' said Mark. 'Now come on, dig in or your
mate and his mum aren't going to be best pleased.'

    'You
can say that again,' said Jenner. 'And believe me, Tootsie's someone you don't
want to upset.'

    So
they ate their food, the previous subject left untouched, merely Hiking about
old times and people, many that Mark hadn't seen or thought of for years.

    The
food was good, and when the dishes were all but empty, and their stomachs all
but stuffed, a short, plump black woman in chef s whites with a bandanna over
her hair came out of the kitchen and waddled over to their table. Both men went
as if to stand but she waved them back, grabbed an empty chair from the next
table and joined them. She pulled the bandanna off kinky black hair laid out in
corn rows, wiped the sweat from her face, leaned over and kissed Jenner on the
cheek.

    'How
are you doing, John?' she asked.

    'Fine,
Tootsie, just fine.'

    'Truth.'

    'Not
so good.'

    'I'm
sorry. But you enjoyed the meal?"

    'Fabulous
as ever.'

    'So
why you left so much?'

    'A
morsel.'

    'That
morsel could feed a family back home,' she said with a stern look in his
direction.

    'I
apologise, Tootsie,' said Jenner.

    Mark
could hardly believe his ears. It wasn't like his uncle to apologise to anyone,
let alone a woman. Especially a black woman. Things had' certainly changed in
his absence.

    'I'll
have it put into a doggie bag,' she said. "Snack it up later with a cold
drink.'

    'We'll
do that.'

    'And
who is this fine young man? Delroy informs me he's your nephew. Why have we
never seen him in here before?'.

    'This
is Mark,' said Jenner. 'A nephew by adoption. His father died a long time ago, and
his mother…' He didn't finish the sentence. 'He needed a good home.'

    'And
you gave him what he needed,' Tootsie finished for him.

    'That's
right,' said Mark, looking up and extending his hand to the woman. When she looked
into his eyes, her own widened, and for one moment he thought she was going to
cross herself. My bloody eyes, he thought. Things like that often happened to
him.

    She
recovered quickly and took his hand in both of hers and looked at his palm. 'You
have had troubles, young man,' she said. 'Bad troubles.'

    'Tootsie's
a bit of a soothsayer,' explained Jenner.

    'You're
right there,' said Mark, replying to the woman and making no effort to remove
his hand. 'And something tells me they might just be starting again soon.'

    'A
boy needs a mother,' Tootsie went on, ignoring his last remark. 'I know. The
Lord only knows where Delroy would be without me to keep him on the path of
righteousness.'

    'I
had a mother,' said Mark. 'Two in fact. One wasn't quite up to the job I'm
afraid.' What am I saying? he thought. Why am I telling this woman anything?
Then it occurred to him that it was for the same reason that his uncle had
apologised to her. There was something about her that demanded truth and respect.
'I left her, abandoned her,' he went on. 'It was the worst thing I ever did.
Almost.'

    'You
couldn't have stayed, son,' said Jenner.

    'Let
him speak,' said Tootsie. 'Let the boy speak for himself.'

    'But
I had another mother,' Mark continued. 'A beautiful woman. John's wife.' But
she left us, he thought. Abandoned us, before her time. Although it wasn't her
fault. And we had to watch her die, day by day, bit by bit. Getting old in
front of our eyes. Fading away until she finally left. He didn't speak his
thoughts, but he saw that Tootsie understood.

    'I
know about Hazel,' said Tootsie. 'Many a night your uncle and me have sat up
late with the rum bottle setting the world to rights, and telling stories of
our youth.'

    'We'll
do it again soon, I promise,' said Jenner.

    'Did
that stuff I gave you help with the pain?' she asked.

    Jenner
smiled. 'Yes. At night it helps a great deal.'

    'Good.
And thanks for the drink, John. It cooled me down plenty.'

    'A
pleasure.'

    'Well,
I'll leave you boys now,' she said. 'I can see you have much to talk about. But
don't be strangers. Come again soon. And bring Martine. She lights up this
place like a lantern.'

    'Just
like her mother would've done,' said Jenner, and smiled again at the memory of
his wife.

    Tootsie
stood, collected the dishes and headed back to the kitchen. Delroy came and
took their orders for sweets and coffee. When he'd gone Jenner said, 'So. You
going to stay tonight or what?' 'If you tell me about my dad.' 'Not all of it.'
'Some.' 'All right.' 'Then it's a deal.'

    It
took his uncle what seemed to Mark like an age to settle the bill, and included
a trip to the kitchen to shake hands with the other staff and collect the
leftovers, all neatly parcelled up in foil containers. When they finally got
outside, it had been snowing again, the pavements were dusted with white and
the black clouds were in a holding pattern over south London.

    Once
inside the Vogue, Jenner said, 'You know the way,' and the car took off towards
Tulse Hill and the house where Mark Farrow had spent so much of his youth,
still tailed by the Merc. When they got close, Jenner hauled out his mobile and
phoned Chas. 'We're outside, open up,' and as they approached the detached
house, which sat behind high walls with twin automatic gates allowing access to
the short U-shaped drive, the gates opened and Mark parked the Range Rover next
to the Bentley. The Mercedes took up a position half straddling the pavement
opposite.

    'Come
on in and have a drink,' said John Jenner.

    The
inside of the house was warm and comfortable with lights glowing against the
late afternoon London gloom.

    'You
haven't changed it much, have you?' said Mark, taking off his coat and muffler and
throwing them over the back of a chair.

    'What's
the point?' said Jenner. 'Hazel had it done up nice. It always suited us,
didn't it?'

    'It
certainly did,' said Mark, sitting on a long, plush sofa and accepting the
brandy that Jenner gave him. 'So where's Chas live?'

    'In
the granny flat,' said Jenner. 'But don't call it that, he gets a bit peeved.'

    Mark
laughed and took a sip of his drink.

    Jenner
sat in an armchair opposite, winced, and took a hand-rolled cigarette from a
silver box and lit it.

    'You
smoking spliff?' said Mark when he smelt the smoke.

    'Medicinal
purposes only. I get a bit of pain about this time of day. It helps. This is
the stuff Tootsie got me. Best St Lucian weed. Want one?'

    'No.
I'll stick to these,' said Mark, taking out his cigarettes and lighting up.

    'Did
you hear they made it semi-legal round here?' asked Jenner.

    'I
heard something like that on TV.'

    'I'm
glad you've heard something at least. Who'd ever have thought it? After all the
bloody fuss and bother they used to make over it. Once upon a time this spliff
alone would've got me a couple of years inside.'

    'Hard
to believe,' said Mark.

    Jenner
took a long drag of weed. 'But we had some fun. Happy days.'

    'Tell
me about them. You never have.'

    'Later.
First of all I want to know if you're going to come down and give me a hand.'

    'It
could get heavy, couldn't it?'

    'Very.
I don't like to ask, but with me being the way I am I'm not up to it any more.'

    'I
can't very well refuse, can I?'

    'You
could've just not bothered to get in touch.'

    'I
knew it had to be important. You haven't tried to get me before.'

    'Not
because I didn't want to. I just thought it was better to let you have your
head.'

    'And I'm
grateful for that. Grateful for a lot of things. You know that. The way you
took me in…'

    'I
always wanted a son,' interrupted Jenner.

    'You've
got one.'

    'Good.
So? You up for it?'

    'I
suppose so.'

    'Good.
It's good to have you back home, Mark.'

    'Home.
Now that's not a word I've used much lately.'

    'You
can now.' And so they sat together recalling good times as the afternoon turned
to evening, the sky grew darker and the snow fell fitfully on the just and the
unjust alike.

    Around
seven they heard the front gates open and the rumble and grumble of an engine.
'Martine's home,' said Jenner.

    'What's
she driving?' asked Mark. 'Sounds interesting.'

    'One
of those new Mini Cooper S models,' said Jenner. 'Dev got hold of it and
tweaked it up a bit. Goes like shit off a shovel.'

    'Dev,'
said Mark. 'I can't wait to see him.'

    'You
will, soon enough.'

    'Sounds
ominous.'

    The
sound of voices came from the hall, Chas's deep vocals and a woman's surprised
response, the living room door burst open and in she came. Martine Jenner was
dressed in a long camel hair coat. Her red hair was damp from the snow, and its
curls corkscrewed halfway down her back. Her skin was very white and her dark
eyes sparkled as she spotted Mark.

    'Hey,
blue eyes,' she said. 'Long time. I thought you were dead.'

    Mark
looked at the young woman standing in the doorway and laughed out loud.
'Christ,' he said 'The brat has grown up.' He could hardly believe it. The last
time he'd seen her she'd been attractive. But now she had matured into a
beauty, the spitting image of her mother as he remembered her. It was uncanny.
He looked at John Jenner and knew that he saw the same.

    'You'd
better believe it,' she replied. 'And you've grown old.'

    "Tine,'
warned Jenner.