Bone and Cane (13 page)

‘It’s not necessary. I do not need to know whether you declare it or not.’

‘I appreciate that, but I want to make an honest living,’ Nick said. ‘Please tell your friends about me.’

‘I will, I will. In fact I have a cousin whose son is struggling with . . .’

This could build up, Nick thought, as he wrote down the number. An hour or two every evening would never pay as well as full-time teaching but, combined with the late-night driving, it might keep him going.

‘There’s my taxi,’ he said. ‘See you next week.’

Bob was picking him up here so that Nick could drive him home.

‘Knocking off a Paki, are we?’ Bob slid over to let Nick take the wheel.

‘I’m hiring myself out as a stud,’ Nick said. ‘Know where I can get a cheap answering machine? I don’t want to miss calls from horny housewives.’

Bob chortled. ‘If you’re serious, I might be able to fix you up with one.’ He didn’t quiz Nick any further about why he was where he was. Probably thought Nick shared Joe’s taste for a risky Asian bit on the side.

Nick had another reason not to miss calls. On an impulse, he’d rung the number on Sarah’s leaflets. Better, he’d thought, to arrange a meeting than bump into her on the campaign. That would be awkward, given how close they’d once been. He’d meant to leave contacting her until after the election, then Ed’s bragging got to him. But Sarah would have already rung by now if she was going to. Nick guessed she’d heard that he’d been inside. No way would she call him after hearing that, especially just before an election. She’d be better off hanging out with Ed Clark.

Sarah had suggested the restaurant. He was already there when she arrived.

‘Andy!’

He stood up to greet her, planted a kiss on her left cheek.

‘It’s Andrew now. I got fed up with having a kid’s name.’

‘Andrew, then.’ They exchanged a half serious hug.

Andrew Saint had changed little in the thirteen years since Sarah last saw him. His hair was thinning slightly. The once messy beard was neatly trimmed, with no hint of grey. He was a little paunchier maybe, but not much. Andy had always been on the stocky side. He had always been an inch or two shorter than her, too, but was now the same height. She assumed lifts in his shoes.

‘I’m impressed you’ve come to Nottingham to see me,’ she told him, as they sat side-by-side in the bar of the Lace Market Hotel. ‘I was looking you up on the web. Your name pops up all over the place, but not in the East Midlands, as far as I could tell.’

‘It’s good to have an excuse to come back,’ Andrew told her. ‘I don’t think I’ve been in the city since 1991. Were you here then?’

‘No, I was in London. I only moved back after the by-election.’

‘Did having been union president help with getting the nomination?’

‘A little. But I fought an unwinnable seat in 1992. I paid my dues.’

‘They say Nottingham West can’t be won this time.’ Andrew pointed this out in a tone that was rather too droll for Sarah’s liking.

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’

‘You’re confident? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean . . .’

‘No, I’m sorry for snapping at you,’ Sarah said, quietly. ‘The chances aren’t good. But during the campaign, you have to rev yourself up, convince yourself that you have a fighting chance.’

‘Have you thought about what you’ll do if you lose?’

‘Take a holiday. Then go back to London, get a job.’

‘Anything lined up?’

‘It’d look awful if I was touting for jobs. That’s what Tories do when they’re about to lose. We’re about to gain power, unless something goes massively wrong in the next thirteen days.’

‘Which makes you a valuable commodity, with very good contacts.’

‘I suppose.’ Sarah began to see where this was leading. The waiter came with their glasses of Moët et Chandon. Andrew leant forward.

‘If the worst does happen, I’d like you to come and work for me.’

‘As what?’

‘Lobbyist, public relations, policy adviser . . . name your own title. I can take you on full-time, part-time or as a freelance consultant.’

‘Why do you need me? Don’t tell me it’s a favour for a friend.’

Andrew replied with his Cheshire cat grin. ‘We aren’t real friends, not yet anyway. Never were. We had a mutual friend, that was all.’

‘Do you ever see Nick?’

‘Not since . . .’ Andrew thought. ‘I don’t know when. You?’

‘I haven’t spoken to him in twelve years.’ Something stopped her telling Andrew that he’d tried to phone her. ‘I think he might be in Nottingham though. I saw someone who looked like him, driving a cab.’

‘He could be helping out his brother. Doesn’t Joe have a cab firm?’

‘How do you know that?’ Sarah asked.

‘I hear things. Will you consider working for me?’

‘I will,’ Sarah said. ‘But you haven’t really answered my question. As what? What aspects of your business do you need help with?’

‘I have emerging interests. Stuff I can’t tell you about until you’ve signed a job contract and a confidentiality agreement. I don’t mean to insult you. That’s the way business is these days.’

‘I see,’ Sarah said. ‘For the sake of argument, if I agreed to work for you, say, three days a week, what kind of deal are we talking about?’

Andrew told her. It was far more than her MP’s salary.

‘There’d be fringe benefits, too. A very large expense account.’

‘You must be doing well,’ Sarah told him.

‘I’m doing extremely well,’ Andrew said, and there was a lascivious edge to his smile that made Sarah wonder whether this job offer wasn’t just an attempt to get into her knickers. Andy had tried it on fifteen years ago, even though he was supposed to be a big mate of Nick’s. She’d made it clear then that she didn’t fancy him. But Andrew was rich now, and Sarah was still single. Hardly surprising if he assumed she’d lowered her standards.

She ate duck and Andrew had veal. While they ate, they gossiped, neither of them dwelling on the past. Andrew told her stories about people he’d worked with in New York, dropping famous and familiar names in a casual but well-rehearsed manner, making it very clear that he’d stepped up in the world. Sarah fed him some juicy morsels of political tittle-tattle. They parted on a warm note.

‘I’ll think about it very seriously,’ she said, before agreeing to have lunch with him the week after the election.

15

T
here were still mornings when Nick woke and was surprised not to find himself inside. Late night working had cured him of waking early, but he doubted he’d ever get rid of the prison dreams. Today, he didn’t hear the doorbell ring, but did hear the voice shouting his name. He thought it was a cellmate and he had overslept. Then he remembered where he was.

‘Hold on!’ Nick pulled on a sweatshirt and tracksuit bottoms before opening the door. He expected a meter reader, but found a familiar face.

‘Are you going to invite me in or just stand there like a dummy?’

Nick had given his old friend the new address, but never expected him to visit. Andrew stood at the window while Nick put the kettle on.

‘Alfreton Road,’ Andrew said with a sigh. ‘We used to come here for pizza when we were flush. What was the place called? Gino’s?’

‘Reno’s,’ Nick said. ‘Next door to the Red Lion.’

‘That was it.’ He looked round the sparsely furnished flat. ‘I paid for this, did I?’

‘In a manner of speaking.’

‘Sorry I didn’t have more when you called. I brought you the rest.’

Andrew pulled a brown envelope from the inside pocket of his Armani jacket.

‘Thanks, Andy.’ Nick used the old name uncomfortably. He opened the envelope. There was around three grand in it.

‘It’s starting-up-somewhere-else money,’ Andrew said. ‘You can’t hang around here for ever, not when everyone knows you’ve been inside.’

‘Where else do I go?’ Nick asked. ‘Are you offering me a job?’

‘I would if I could,’ Andrew said. ‘But it’s a delicate time. I need to be whiter than white. I can’t take on ex-cons.’

‘So what do you suggest?’ Nick tried to keep sarcasm out of his voice. His friend had given him five grand, after all. ‘Maybe I should move to Wales, set up another hydroponics operation.’

‘That game’s moved on while you were away. A lot of dangerous, greedy bastards are in on it. You might find it’s more trouble than it’s worth.’

‘I wasn’t serious,’ Nick said. ‘I’ve got form. I have to stick around here, report to probation, keep my nose clean. But the money’ll help.’

‘I’m glad to hear it, but I’d still move if I were you. You can’t make a new start in a place where you’ve got so much history. What are you working as, a cab driver?’

‘Where did you hear that?’ Nick asked.

‘I hear lots.’

‘I’ve done a bit for Joe. But I’m trying to set up a private tuition business. Schoolkids wanting help with GCSEs, that kind of thing.’

‘Not much money there. You ought to get yourself a nice cushy job in some boarding school. Most of those places don’t do criminal record checks. If you’re stuck for references, I know people who know people.’

‘Thanks,’ Nick said, then changed the subject. ‘Have you seen the posters for Sarah all over the place? How weird is that?’

‘I hadn’t noticed,’ Andrew said. ‘You haven’t got in touch, have you? That’s the last thing she needs.’

‘You told me that last time we met.’

Andrew didn’t reply. Nick handed him a mug of tea.

‘Sugar?’

‘Stopped taking that a long time ago.’

Nick needed to do something to break the ice.

‘Excuse me a mo.’ He went outside. The Golden Virginia tin where he kept his kit was stashed behind a loose brick above the fire escape.

‘Fancy a smoke?’ he asked on his return.

‘Haven’t touched the stuff for ages,’ Andrew explained. ‘And you shouldn’t have it around the place. Get done for possession and they’ll put you back inside.’

‘Maybe. But it helps me to keep sane.’

Nick began to roll himself a single skin spliff.

‘Not driving today?’ Andrew asked.

‘Only in the evening. I work a lot of nights. Like it that way.’ Nick lit up. ‘Remember when Trevor Blackwell got lifted for looking like the Canning Circus rapist and the police went back, searched the house?’

Andrew chuckled. ‘They told him they weren’t interested in the dope plants he had growing at the top of the stairs outside his room. Your dope plants.’

‘Minute they’d gone, he helped me clear them out. Five minutes later, the drug squad shows up.’

Andrew laughed. ‘The dogs went crazy, but couldn’t find anything. I still remember the look on their faces.’

‘That was Sarah,’ Nick said.

‘Who drove the plants away? Shit, of course it was. I’d forgotten about that. You’d only just started seeing her.’

‘She’d borrowed her mum’s car to bring her stuff up to Nottingham. When she took it back, her mum wanted to know how she’d got earth into every crevice of the upholstery.’

Andrew laughed. ‘Maybe I will have some of that.’

Nick handed the spliff to him. Andrew took several hits.

‘S’nice,’ he said, handing back the nub-end.

‘What really brings you to Nottingham?’ Nick asked.

‘The university want to give me an honorary doctorate for my contributions to society,’ Andrew said.

Nick laughed. ‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously? A little business, that’s all. I wanted to see you, make sure you were okay. But now I need to be off.’

‘Want me to call you a cab?’

‘Only ten minutes’ walk to Slab Square from here. I can use the exercise.’ Andrew put on his jacket, then paused at the door. ‘We didn’t discuss this last time, but it’s been playing on my mind. Have you any idea who grassed you up?’

Nick shook his head. ‘The police claim they got a lucky break. Better to believe that than the alternative.’

‘I suppose,’ Andrew said, ‘but if you’ve got enemies, it’s best to find out who they are. Then you can watch your back if you need to.’

‘Thanks for the advice,’ Nick said. ‘And the money. It’s appreciated.’

Andrew took his leave. When he’d gone, Nick lay on his bed, glad Andrew had come, and not just because of the money. Only two people knew about the growing operation in the caves below his flat. Nick had shown Joe the caves as soon as he discovered them. Andrew had advised Nick on security, and given him contacts to help sell the stuff. Nick insisted on giving him a cut. Andy was in the States when Nick was arrested. Nick had never seriously thought that Andy had betrayed him. But it was nice to be sure. Andrew didn’t need to bring the money. He didn’t need to ask that awkward question. He gained no advantage from Nick’s arrest. It was time to stop doubting him. Time to leave Nottingham, too? Andrew had a point. There wasn’t much for him here. The phone rang and he answered it.

‘Nick, hi. I’m returning your call. It’s Sarah.’

His voice on the other end of the phone was higher than she remembered. He sounded nervous, as though she’d caught him unawares.

‘Sarah? Um, thanks for calling. It’s been . . .’

‘An age. How long have you been back in Nottingham?’

‘Just a few weeks.’ She waited for him to fill in what he’d been doing, but there was another awkward pause.

‘I thought I saw you driving a cab the other day.’

‘That would have been me. One of my brother’s cars. I’m doing a bit of driving while I decide what to do next.’

‘Where are you living?’

He gave her the address of his flat on Alfreton Road. A relationship had broken up, Sarah guessed. He’d walked out or been kicked out and was rebuilding his life.

‘It’d be good to meet,’ she said.

‘Yes. But I understand you’re kind of busy for a few more days.’

‘You can say that again.’

‘I understand you’re kind of busy for a few more days.’

She laughed at the corny joke, one of their silly secret habits from their first days together. Nick chuckled too, but nervously. He might be intimidated by her being an MP. How could she show him she was still the person he used to know?

‘I could really do with a break from the campaign. Why don’t we meet sooner?’

‘I don’t want to . . .’ His voice trailed off. She remembered the times when he couldn’t be bothered to finish his sentences. He wasn’t stoned, was he? At this time of day?