Forty - Nine

The Coal Hole was in the Strand, a short walk from Charing Cross Station. It was four in the afternoon and, apart from Pran and Tina, there were only half a dozen customers in the bar. Tina topped their wine glasses up, as Pran stared thoughtfully into the distance. He shook his head suddenly as a thought struck him.

‘I really had no idea it would be as bad as that. How frustrating was that? I mean, is it deliberate, the way they go so slowly round in circles? Do they hope you’ll get bored and drop the case?’

Tina shrugged and gave a helpless smile. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me.’

‘I’m glad I told them about that comment Cruella de Ville made about me having a chip on my shoulder.’

Tina laughed. ‘That name just about sums her up. What a bitch!’

‘I think that Asian on the tribunal interpreted it as a racist comment she was about to make. I could tell by his expression.’

‘What expression? None of them gave anything away. They were as inscrutable as rocks.’

Pran stabbed a finger down towards the table, highlighting his point. ‘I could see it in his eyes. It may have been a faint glimmer, but it was there.’

Tina sighed, leaned back, and sipped her wine. ‘And now it’s back to the waiting game again. So much time out of my life. It’s taking its toll.’

‘You stick with it, girl. You’ve come this far. Don’t give up now.’

‘I’ve no intention of doing that. Especially with you helping me, which I really appreciate, because I know how hard it must be. It’s very brave of you.’

Pran shrugged and drained his wine glass. ‘I’d better make a move and catch my train.’

Tina leant forward and stared at him earnestly. ‘Please don’t feel insulted, Pran. I want to pay your fare up here.’

He frowned and shook his head, staring with embarrassment at his empty glass, which reminded him that he’d now got a taste for it, and might not be able to afford another bottle that evening. He began to make a token objection but made it sound deliberately weak.

‘Well, I don’t know if I can take money for this trip,,,’

He was relieved to see Tina was already getting her purse out of her handbag.

‘You’re not. This is your train fare. You wouldn’t be coming up here if it wasn’t for the tribunal.’

As she held out a twenty pound note, he said, ‘It’s not as much as that. And you also got the wine.’

She became mockingly firm. ‘Do as you’re told and take it.’

He gave her a small, regretful smile as he accepted the money. ‘OK. But next time I’ll get the wine.’

***

Jackie came into the kitchen and gasped. The mess was worse than she had ever known. Tears of frustration sprang into her eyes. Nicky, who had been watching a DVD in the living room, came scurrying guiltily into the kitchen.

‘Hello, Mummy,’ she mumbled lamely.

Jackie was staring goggle-eyed at the mountainous pile of washing-up stacked on the draining board. ‘Look at it!’ she moaned.

‘We were going to do it. You should have telephoned to say you were coming.’

‘I live here. I shouldn’t have to do that. I ought to be able to come home whenever I want, without...’ She gestured futilely at the mess.

Nicky wore a sullen expression. ‘Since you came back from your honeymoon, you’ve been staying at Nigel’s house. We thought you were staying round there permanently. If we’d known you were coming home, we’d have tidied up.’

Jackie shook her head vehemently. ‘How can you live like this? You make work for yourselves. If you did it as you went along...’

Impatiently, Nicky interrupted. ‘Most people these days have a dishwasher.’

Jackie gave a bark-like, humourless laugh. ‘Ha! Even if we had a dishwasher, you would never bother to load it. I’ve never known such laziness. And where’s Vanessa?’

‘How should I know?’

Jackie glared at her daughter, as if she was finding it hard from physically attacking her. The telephone rang, and Jackie hurried out to the hall to answer it, relieved to break from the scene with Nicky. Jackie hated scenes.

Nicky sighed, and reluctantly began to tackle the washing up. She was about to turn the tap on but was distracted by her mother’s telephone conversation. She stopped to listen.

‘Oh God!’ A pause. ‘Oh, that’s terrible.’ Another slightly longer pause. ‘How did he ... Yes, I see. Who found him? That must have been terrible. Why not? His two girls have every right...’

A cold clammy feeling ran down Nicky’s body as she suspected the worst. She knew now what it was. She was deathly still as she listened to the rest of her mother’s telephone conversation, and waited for the inevitable bad news.

‘Oh no. That’s disgusting. Thank you for warning me. I’ll try ... I’ll have a think about it and try to sort something out.’

When Jackie returned to the kitchen, Nicky saw the tears flooding down her cheeks, but they were almost on automatic pilot. There seemed to be no emotion behind them, other than a trace of anger perhaps.

‘I’m sorry, Nicky. It’s your father. He passed away.’

Nicky felt numb, but no tears came. Her mother saw the frightened, confused expression on her daughter’s face, like a vulnerable animal being startled, and threw her arms around her and squeezed tight. After a while, Nicky drew back and calmly stared into her mother’s eyes.

‘Tell me about it.’

‘That was one of your dad’s drinking cronies in East Peckham. You know how he went to the pub every single night. Well, apparently he hadn’t been for four or five days, so someone went round to look for him. They knew something was wrong and had to break in. That’s when they found him. They think he’d had a heart attack. The chap from the pub wanted me to know before the police call. There’s something...’

Frowning, Nicky waited for her mother to finish.

‘It’s too disgusting.’ Jackie shuddered hugely. ‘How could he? The filthy disgusting animal!’

***

Mary wiped the top of the cooker hurriedly. She didn’t like letting the boys out on their own, but because Simon was older, and seemed very responsible for his age, she had agreed to them going off to the Grosvenor recreation ground, which was only a short walk from where they lived. She intended following them to the park after fifteen minutes had gone by. She wanted them to learn to be independent. It was a difficult balancing act to pull off these days, what with there being so many dangerous people around. Yet she knew she couldn’t wrap them in cotton wool either.

So letting them go on their own, then following them a little later, seemed a perfect compromise. What could possibly go wrong in the space of ten or fifteen minutes?

But when the jarring sound of the knocker made her jump, followed by the muffled cries of Simon calling her from outside the front door, she immediately knew she was going to regret it.

She ran down the hall and threw open the door.

‘Mum!’ screamed Simon. ‘He’s got Thomas.’

Mary grabbed Simon by the shoulders as she felt waves of panic beating her. ‘Who’s got him? Who?’

‘My dad, that’s who. He stopped his car just as we were about to go into the park across the little footpath over the railway bridge. I told Thomas not to go with him, but he wouldn’t listen. My dad offered to buy him an ice-cream and give him some pocket money. I told him! I told him not to go with him but he wouldn’t listen.’

In the hallway, the telephone shrilled. Mary ran back and snatched at it.

‘Hi, babe. Don’t panic. Thomas’s here with me. Ain’t you, son.’

Mary screamed down the telephone, ‘Ronnie! Bring him back now! You’ve no right to take him like that...’

Ronnie’s voice was calm and businesslike when he interrupted her. There was a smooth coldness in his delivery, as if he’d rehearsed the speech. ‘Listen, sweetheart: I can get at my son whenever I like, and there’s nothing you nor anyone can do about it. So just listen up and I’ll tell you how it’s going to be. He’ll be back with you in less than five minutes. We’ve only gone round the corner to buy an ice-cream. But bear this in mind, sweetheart: I can, and will do this again, and put the shits up you. You know, don’t you, what I’m capable of. So here’s the thing: I want you, baby. Just once. One night with you. Then, I promise, I’ll leave you alone. I’ll be out of your life for good.’

Mary’s breathing was shallow and she felt as if she was hyperventilating.

Ronnie chuckled as he waited for her to speak.

‘Ronnie,’ she said, ‘if I thought you would be out of our lives for good...’

Ronnie laughed louder. ‘You’d agree. Look, sweetheart, I just want one night with you. Think of it as lust ... a sort of magnificent obsession ... with you preying on my mind, I need one night. Then it’s closure, I promise you. I’ll bugger off back to the old US of A again. So how about it?’

Mary drew in her breath before answering. Then was surprised at how calm she sounded ‘OK. Come round tonight, after eleven-thirty, when the kids are sound asleep. I don’t want them to know.’

‘A wise decision, babe. I’ll drop young Thomas off in less than five.’