One of Us (12 page)

“I hear.” I tried to be very serious and look like I meant what I said. “And the second thing?”

Daniel looked amused, ushered me into the taxi, handed over a note to the driver.

“Look after her,” he said to the driver. Then he turned to me. “Person I’m meeting,” he said. “Not as pretty as the one I’ve just met.”

“Not bad,” I said. “How much less?”

“Well, put it this way. He wasn’t that much of a looker when I went to school with him, and he’s gone downhill since then.” He tapped on the roof, and the taxi pulled away. When we had driven a few yards down the street, I turned and looked through the rear window. Daniel was standing in the street, watching us, waiting. When he saw I had turned round, he grinned, and walked away. I cursed myself for looking. That round went to him.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Elena was late, but that did not matter because it was a beautiful autumn day, the air cool and clear, the sun bright, and Sean had bought me carrot cake and coffee. We sat at one of the little round metal tables outside the café, sipping at our drinks and watching the shoppers go by.

“Nice this,” Sean said. “We could be in Italy or somewhere.”

I looked out at the shopping area, at the cheap stationery shop and the discount bookstore, the shoe shop that promised nothing over twenty pounds and the branch of Mothercare that was busy with children who had children of their own. Someone had dropped a bag of chips on the pavement, and a big gull swooped down and stabbed through the greasy paper, glaring around and daring anyone to come too near.

“Well, somewhere,” he said.

A family went past, all wearing the same colour football shirt, but with different names on the back. The children were arguing, and one voice rose in a squeal of indignation. The mother told them to pack in shouting, and then shook her head with a grin on her face. The father smiled also and shrugged, what can I do, and then he stopped her for a moment and gave her a kiss, not caring who was watching. The children noticed that they were walking on alone, and ran back, wrapping their arms around both parents, trying to worm their way between them, all now in the hug.

“They look happy,” I said.

“They do,” Sean said. “Happy families. Not that I’m jealous, mind.”

“You are sometimes though? Happy, I mean.” I straight away wished that I had not asked in case the answer was no.

“Sometimes,” he said. “I guess.” He took a sip of his coffee, stretched his arms, blinking up at the sunshine. “Now is pretty good.”

“It is,” I said. I was wary of where this conversation might go, but I did not want to discourage Sean if he was being happy. “I think it is a mistake to look for happiness in the big things in life, as something always comes along to let the joy out. Better to take it in all the little moments. A cup of coffee. A cake. A sunny day.”

“Being with a good friend,” Sean said.

“Yes.”

The conversation hung for a moment, and he was about to say something else, but then I spotted Elena walking down the street towards us. I waved at her, and she did not see at first, but then she noticed, and she crossed over, threading her way between the few tables that were out on the pavement. Most of the customers looked at her, except for those who were with their wives, who looked at everything else instead.

She was lighting a cigarette. “I missed a bus. All this walking. I will die.” She collapsed down on my chair and took in a lungful of life-saving sweet fresh smoke. “Fucking buses.”

A middle-aged couple at the table next to us gave us a look. Sean looked embarrassed. Elena glared at them and they looked away, the well-dressed woman muttering something to her husband over their paninis and espressos. He nodded his head in agreement, then when his wife took a bite of her sandwich he took as long a look at Elena as he dared, as if he was trying to commit her to memory for later.

When Elena’s coffee had arrived, Sean reached into his jacket and put a small plastic bag on the table.

“There we go,” he said.

Elena looked at me, then she opened the bag and took out what was inside. “Recorder?” she said.

“Yeah,” Sean said. “Digital. Voice-activated. Brand-new battery.”

“Looks expensive,” I said, and I wondered where the money had come from.

“Not these days.” Sean shook his head, but did not look at me, and I could not tell if he was lying or not. For all I knew, this was next week’s rent.

“Here, look, let me.” He took it from Elena, and pointed at buttons. “Switch on. Press this. Leave it out of the way. That’s all you have to do. You follow?”

Elena had started to look bored after the first button.

“Did you get that?” Sean said.

“Yeah, sure. This then that.”

“Look, I’ll go through it again, I’ll—”

“Is OK, you think I am stupid? You think I don’t know how to work it?”

Sean lifted his hands in surrender.

“If it runs out, does it beep?” I asked. Elena looked at me horrified, and I knew that the thought had not occurred to her.

“Won’t happen,” Sean said. “It runs for about four hours in long play, But anyway, I’ve set it not to signal when it runs short.”

“You sure?” Elena said.

“Sure.”

“Fucking sure?”

“It’s off.”

We all sat there in silence for a little while. I picked my cup up, but it was empty. Elena played with her cigarette box, turning it end over end on the table. Sean sat and read the card about the different ice creams. After a while, he looked up and said, “We’re going to do this, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Yes,” Elena said. “
I
am going to do this.” She looked at us both with a mix of pride and fear. “For my son.” She pulled her coat around her, picked up her cigarettes and the recorder, and walked off down the street. The man at the table next to us sneaked a look at her legs while his wife was busy blowing her nose.

“She’s scared,” Sean said.

“Yes,” I said. “Me too.”

“Well, good,” he said. “I didn’t want to be the only one. You want another coffee?”

“No,” I said. “Thank you.”

“That’s good,” he said, fishing in his pocket. “I don’t think I’ve got enough left for one.”

We began shrugging coats on, pushing chairs back under the table.

“Well,” a voice said. “This is cosy.”

“Daniel,” I said. Sean just curled his lip in contempt and looked the other way, even though there was nothing there to look at. My stomach knotted and went hot, and I wondered whether Daniel had seen us with Elena. “We were just having a cup of coffee.”

“I didn’t ask. But if that’s all you’re doing, why you looking so guilty then?” he said. He lowered his voice. “You’ve not been stealing the spoons, have you?”

“No,” Sean said, turning back and acknowledging Daniel’s presence for the first time. “
We’re
not thieves.”

Daniel rolled his eyes and ignored him. I wanted to be out of there, not in this situation with them both, not wondering what Daniel knew or did not know, not feeling like a little girl caught with her hand in the sweet jar.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” Daniel said. “Just thought I’d stick my head in and say hello, as I was passing.”

“Thank you,” I said. “It was nice.”

Sean muttered something.

“Mind,” Daniel said. “I wouldn’t come here if I was you. I mean look, you’ve been sat here how long, and they haven’t even cleaned the ashtray out from the people who were here before.”

Sean and I both looked down at the butts from Elena’s cigarettes that lay in the ashtray.

“Ta ta,” Daniel said. “See you around.” And he turned and walked away.

“Do you think...” Sean said.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

We got on with life, as best we could, waiting for the phone to ring. But every time it did, it was for someone else. When I was at the hostel I had to make myself go to my room, not sit on the stairs near the payphone. Every time I entered or left, it seemed like one of the other residents was on the phone, looking as if they had been in the conversation for hours already, sounding as if they would be in it for hours more. I glared at them all, but my stare either bounced off somebody’s back or they glared back, so what, I will be on the phone as long as I like and what are you going to do about it?

At work, the office phone never stopped ringing. If Peter was out, Sean always rushed to answer it first, and always when he came off the phone he stuck his head out of the kitchen door so I could see him shake it to let me know it was just a supplier, a wrong number, or someone looking for a job, anyone but Elena.

I was going to call round with Sean to see Elena in the evening because we were not at work, but I felt terrible. I had cramps, and a splitting headache, and I just wanted the world to go away. Sean called for me, and I snapped at him because he was five minutes early and I was not ready, and I snapped at him because the jeans I wanted to put on needed more of a wash than I had thought they did, and I snapped at him because I could not find any paracetamol, and I snapped at him because of some other reasons that I cannot even remember. Probably just for being there.

“Tell you what,” he said. “Let’s go down to the kitchen here.”

“Why?” I said. Snappily.

“Because there’s bound to be a frying pan down there, and it’s probably quickest if we cut to the chase and you just beat me over the head with it a few times. Maybe there’s some knives down there, too?”

“Don’t tempt me,” I said. “Am I really being that bad?”

“Worse,” he said.

“I am sorry, Sean. I feel like shit, and I just want to have a hot water bottle and curl up with it and think black thoughts about the world.”

“So go on then,” he said. “I can go and see Elena.”

“No, it’s not fair,” I said, thinking that I did not really care if it was fair or not, it sounded like a wonderful idea that I stayed at home.

“I’ll be fine. Seriously. She trusts me now. Much as she ever will, anyway. I’ll just see how she is, see if she’s heard any news, try and tip any coffee she makes me into one of her plants when she’s not looking.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, knowing that I would kill him if he changed his mind now, as part of me was already back in bed.

“Sure. Except about the coffee. Her plants don’t deserve that,” he said. “Anything I can get you first?”

“Chocolate,” I said.

“No problem, I’ll nip down to the shop at the end of the street—any particular kind?”

“Don’t care,” I said. “Just bring me chocolate.”

~

“Four chicken burgers, one no mayonnaise, right, one with no salad, one with—wassat? Right, one with no salad on, one with salad on, but no onions—”

“Can’t fuckin’ stand onions, makes me burp all night.”

“Right, no salad, I mean salad, but no onions, and nothing else, and one just as it comes. How many’s that then?”

“Four,” I said. The two men staggered about, in front of the counter, like they were on a boat on the stormy sea. I do not think they even knew that they were moving.

“Right. How many chicken burgers was it? Right, four, there we go, that’s them done.” I think the two most sober had been sent to the counter, while the other four draped themselves all over a table and chairs and talked in loud voices about dog racing. “Two cheeseburgers, the works, one with extra cheese. Six chips. Four cokes—”

“Phil wanted diet coke.”

“Diet coke, fuck him, he’s having a fucking
cheeseburger
and he asks for diet fucking coke, the cheeky cunt. Should put some extra sugars in it. Four cokes, one fizzy orange, one coffee. Black. My shift starts in two hours and I got to start sobering up. Dunno how I let these bastards talk me into it. One drink, that’s all it was going to be, quick lunchtime pint. Fucking hell. Anyway, you get all that, darlin’?” He slowed his words down, made his voice louder. “You understand me? Speak English, do ya?”

“Four chicken burgers, one no mayo, one with salad no onions, one just ketchup, one with everything, two cheeseburgers with everything—one with extra cheese—six chips, four cokes, none diet, one fizzy orange and an extra strong black coffee.”

“Fuck me,” he said. “So you do. Anyway, they can eat what they’re fucking given. Diet fucking coke.”

I passed the order through to the kitchen, and got on with the drinks. The cheeseburgers came through quickly, and I handed them over the counter. “If you want to sit, I will bring the chicken burgers out to you.”

A moment later Peter appeared. My heart sank. I did not want to have to tell these drunk men that there was a problem with the chicken burgers.

“Phone call for you,” Peter said. “In the office. I’ll finish serving up here. But be quick, and I’ll tell you, Anna, I’m not happy. It’s not a damn answering service, that’s a business phone, and I’m not happy with you just giving out the number to anyone. Right lads, you’re waiting on four chicken burgers, am I right? Any more drinks there while you’re waiting? Extra fries?”

I quickly went through the kitchen and towards his office. Sean was on grill, and he made a questioning face while he flipped the chicken burgers. I nodded, and went into Peter’s office and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Anna?”

“Yes Elena, it’s me. Are you OK?”

There was a bitter laugh. I did not push it.

“And?”

“He has been. I did what Sean said. I switched it on when I heard him on the stairs, put it under the bed. And some time, later on, he said things. Boasted. As he hurt me. Things about how important he is, why Corgan sucks up to him, how he is such a big man and I am just a slut who should be grateful for all he does to me. Now I have a long bath, the longest bath, and another bottle of wine, or maybe two, and I want to sleep. You come for the recording in the morning, and then we fuck up this bastard’s life. Him and Corgan both.”

“Do you need me now? I mean, are you hurt?”

“Nothing that cannot wait, or cannot be drunk away,” she said. She sounded quite drunk already. “I just want to be left alone tonight, can you understand this?”

“OK. I understand. Sean and me will come tomorrow morning and get the recording. I will talk to this Lomax, tell him what we have. You’ll be out of there in a day, Elena, maybe two. It’s over, this life. Think of that tonight. Think of your son.”

“There is not ever a moment when I do not,” she said, and hung up.

I took a deep breath, put the phone down, and walked back through the kitchen. Sean stood by the grill, waiting.

“It’s done,” I said. “Tomorrow, first thing, meet me outside mine at eight, and we will walk round together and get it.”

“Christ,” Sean said. “It’s really happening.”

“It is,” I said.

“And he…said what was needed?”

“She said he did.”

“Right, we’ll go round when we finish work, get the recording.”

I shook my head. “Elena does not want us there. Not until tomorrow. She needs a bit of time after...what she’s had to do.”

Sean had obviously not thought of that, because when I mentioned it, he went red.

“Christ,” Sean said. “Poor girl. Bastard.”

“We go to hers for eight. Might as well do it early.”

“Christ. It seems kind of, I dunno, so real now.”

“It always has been,” I said.

“I know. And I know we’re doing a good thing here. It’s just...ah, nothing.”

I squeezed his arm. “I am scared too. But it will be OK.”

“Who said I was scared?” Sean said, and grinned. But he put his hand on top of mine and squeezed, to say thank you. And he left it there, holding me, for a moment longer, and then Peter bellowed through an order, and Sean slowly slid his hand away and went back to the grill.

You are in my sights, Corgan, I thought. And when I take this recording to the ones who will listen to it, you will be in their sights too.