Guns of Brixton (2010)

by Timlin, Mark

  She shook her head once more.

  ‘I’ll play it for you one day. You’ll like it…’ he hesitated. ‘At least I hope you will.’

  ‘I’m sure I will if you do.’

  He felt ten feet tall at that. ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’

  ‘Actually, I didn’t know if I should come.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Family reasons. You know…’ She didn’t finish her sentence. ‘My mum. She’s not been well the last few years.’

  Mark could easily guess why. It’s not every woman’s husband who gets life for killing a policeman.

  ‘Does your mum know you’re meeting me?’

  ‘God no.’ She put her hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean…’

  ‘That’s OK. So where are you supposed to be?’

  ‘Meeting the girls for window shopping. I hate lying to Mum, but…’ Once again she didn’t finish.

  ‘I didn’t mean to cause you problems,’ he said.

  ‘It’s not you. Any boy would be the same.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, but he grinned to show he didn’t mean it.

  ‘Sorry.’ Then she saw his face. ‘Are you teasing me?’ she asked.

  He couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do right then. ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘You are terrible.’

  ‘No I’m not. So what do you want to do? Now, I mean.’

  ‘Go window shopping like I said I was going to.’ She stopped herself again. ‘Sorry. Boys don’t like window shopping, do they?’

  ‘You might be surprised. I don’t mind what we do. Just as long as I’m with you.’

  She gave him a look that could have meant anything. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘But I hope you’ve got comfortable shoes on.’

  They finished their drinks and left the restaurant and spent the next few hours wandering through Croydon, from the Mall to the market. By three they were both exhausted and Mark suggested a drink.

  ‘Do I look eighteen today?’ asked Linda. ‘We’ve been thrown out of most of the pubs round here for being underage.’

  ‘You bad girls.’

  ‘We have our moments.’

  ‘I bet you do, especially Brenda, eh?’

  She frowned. ‘Do you like her?’

  ‘Why not?’ Then he saw her look. ‘I don’t fancy her,’ he said, ‘if that’s what you mean. But she seems like good company. Has she got a boyfriend?’

  ‘One a week, our Bren,’ said Linda.

  They went into the Market Tavern and Linda sat in a quiet corner away from the staff and asked for an orange juice with ice. Mark went to the bar and ordered it, plus a pint of lager for himself. The place was buzzing and Buck’s Fizz were loud on the jukebox.

  ‘What are you doing later?’ Mark asked casually when they were sitting comfortably.

  ‘Revision,’ she said.

  ‘OK.’

  ‘You don’t mind?’

  ‘Course not.’

  ‘And they’re expecting me for my tea soon.’

  ‘They?’ asked Mark, although he was well aware who they were.

  ‘Mum and Dad. Well, he’s my stepdad really, but I never really knew my real dad. And my brother.’

  ‘What happened to your real dad?’ asked Mark casually although he knew he was stepping on thin ice.

  ‘He died,’ said Linda. And by her tone he knew that she knew exactly what had happened to him.

  ‘Mine too,’ said Mark, not digging any deeper.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I didn’t know him either,’ said Mark. ‘I live with my uncle and his wife now.’

  ‘Your aunt.’

  ‘No. See, he’s not really my uncle. I just call him that. He was a friend of my father’s. They took me in.’

  ‘And your mum. Is she dead too?’

  ‘No. But she might as well be for all I see of her. She got into some bad ways. Drinking too much. Running with bad men. She’s married now, but I couldn’t live with them.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He’s a bit too fisty for my liking.’

  ‘He hit you?’

  ‘Me and Mum. I had to get out.’

  ‘That’s terrible.’

  ‘I survived. But I worry about Mum. But she won’t leave the bloke. He’s had a few warnings, but… well, you know.’

  ‘What kind of warnings?’

  ‘From my uncle. But Mum’s soft… Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘My stepdad’s great,’ she said. Then hesitated. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. It’s not your fault my mum’s a bloody fool. You’re lucky.’

  ‘Yes we are,’ she agreed. ‘He loves me and Sean.’

  ‘That’s your brother?’

  ‘Yes. He’s older than me. Nearer your age.’

  ‘Almost a pensioner,’ said Mark.

  ‘Silly.’

  ‘What does he do?’ Mark asked.

  ‘He’s at college.’

  ‘A smart boy.’

  She nodded. ‘So what do you do?’

  ‘I work for my uncle.’

  ‘Has he got his own business?’

  ‘You might say that.’

  ‘What kind of business?’

  ‘Leisure.’

  ‘And what do you do?’

  ‘This and that.’

  ‘You’re a bit secretive.’

  ‘No. It’s just that I’m more interested in you.’

  She blushed again. ‘I’m not that interesting.’

  ‘I think you are.’

  ’Tell me something,’ she said after a moment.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Why did you come over to me last week?’

  Mark thought for a moment. ‘I told you that already.’

  ‘Tell me again.’

  ‘Because I thought you were beautiful.’

  She shook her head. ‘There are lots of beautiful girls in the world. Much more beautiful than I am. Why me?’

  ‘That’s it. I wanted to talk to you.’

  She seemed satisfied by that. ‘OK. Listen, I’ve got to go soon. The books call.’

  ‘Can I see you again?’

  ‘It’s difficult.’

  ‘I know. I’m too old for you and you’ve got your exams. When are they? Next month?’

  She nodded.

  ‘But I would like to see you.’

  ‘And I’d like to see you too.’

  ‘Give me your phone number.’

  ‘No, I can’t. It would be just too much of a problem. With Mum, you know. I know it sounds daft, but I’ve never had a boyfriend. Not a proper one. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Well, I can’t wait for it to rain so that you’ll take pity on me again. Summer’s coming.’ She laughed at that.

  ‘I’ll give you my car phone number then,’ said Mark. ‘I’m out most of the time so it’s easier than leaving messages at home.’

  She seemed impressed that he had a car, let alone with a phone in. Those were the days before every hooligan had a mobile and they were still a bit of a novelty. ‘I have to be around and about for work,’ he explained as he jotted it down on a piece of paper from her bag.

  ‘OK,’ she said and tucked it away in one of the pockets.

  ‘You will call me, won’t you?’

  ‘If I can.’

  ‘Please, Linda.’

  ‘All right, I’ll call, but I can’t say when.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Now I really must go.’

  ‘Do you want me to give you a lift?’

  ’I can walk, it’s not far.’

  ‘I’d like to.’

  ‘All right,’ she said with a bit of reluctance. ‘But you’ll have to let me out round the corner. If my dad sees me getting out of a strange car, it’ll be the Spanish Inquisition.’ They finished their drinks and walked out into the Croydon sunshine and Mark took Linda’s hand as they went back to the car park under the shopping precinct. She didn’t object, and her warm fingers felt goo
d intertwined with his. She admired the brand new car he was driving and he felt that everything was going his way. He put the problem of telling her how her father had gunned his down in a dirty gutter to the back of his mind. As he drove out of the garage he almost turned in the direction of her house before he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to know where she lived, and asked directions.

  She told him, and it just took a few minutes to get to the suburban streets on the outskirts of Croydon where she asked him to pull in about a quarter mile from her address. ‘Call me soon,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘Please,’ he said again, and he really meant it. He hadn’t had such a happy afternoon since before Bobby Thomas had come into his mother’s life and she’d taken him shopping up west for nothing in particular. Just a wander, as she’d called it. A look around the shops, and an ice cream for Mark on the way home.

  ‘I will,’ she said and kissed him quickly on the cheek before jumping out of the car and slamming the door behind her.

  He watched as she trotted down the street in her high heels, her bottom swinging provocatively in her tight jeans, and he knew that one day they would be together.

  She did call, but not for several weeks, and Mark had almost given up on her. ‘Blimey,’ he said, when he answered the phone and she’d identified herself. ‘I thought you’d left the country.’

  ‘I’m going to soon,’ she replied. ‘Two weeks in Spain with Mum, Dad and Sean.’

  ‘Don’t get arrested,’ he said. ‘You know what Brits abroad are like.’

  ‘I won’t. I’m going to be a good girl.’

  ‘You’re always a good girl as far as I can see.’

  ‘Yeah, well.’ There was a wistful tone in her voice.

  ‘So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about you.’

  ‘Have you?’

  ‘You stopped coming round.’

  ‘You made it pretty obvious you didn’t want me to.’

  ‘I never said that.’

  ‘Not in so many words maybe.’

  ‘You know what it was like…’

  ‘No, I don’t actually. You never let me get that close.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It was exams, and Mum and Dad. Bren said I was barmy, and could she have your number.’

  ‘She never phoned.’

  ‘Because I wouldn’t give it to her. You’d’ve had her knickers off on the first date.’

  ‘Would that have worried you?’

  ‘Course it would.’

  ‘I never would’ve guessed.’

  ‘Well, it would.’

  ‘So are the exams over?’

  ‘S’right.’

  ‘How did you do?’

  ‘Pretty well I think, but the results won’t be through for ages.’

  ‘So you’re free now?’

  ‘More or less. Until we go away.’

  ‘Can I take you out then?’

  ‘It’s still difficult…’

  ‘But can I?’

  ‘Suppose so.’

  ‘Don’t sound so keen.’

  ‘I am, honest.’

  ‘So, let me take you for a meal one evening.’

  ‘I’ve never been for a meal with a boy.’

  ‘There was the Wimpy.’

  ‘That’s different.’

  Mark laughed.

  ‘Don’t laugh at me.’

  ‘I’m not. Tonight?’

  ‘No. Saturday. There’s a party for the girls. End of exams. I could go then, they’ll cover for me.’

  ‘Secret Squirrel.’

  ‘No, secret Brenda.’

  ‘She’s all right, that Brenda.’

  ‘I knew you fancied her.’

  ‘I fancy you.’

  ‘And I fancy you.’ So there it was. She’d finally admitted it, and Mark felt like king of the world.

  They went for their meal that Saturday. Linda looked even better than Mark remembered, and years older than her age. When he took her home, before eleven, like she’d promised her family, they kissed in the front of the BMW. But Mark didn’t force anything.

  They dated all that summer, with the exception of the two weeks Linda spent on holiday. She wrote him eleven postcards, which he kept for years.

  Finally, on a warm September evening, Linda surrendered her virginity in the back of the car. Mark was as tender as any nineteen year old could be, and afterwards she cried, and he didn’t know if she was happy or sad, and she never told him. She smoked her first cigarette that night too, sharing a Silk Cut with Mark on the drive home. ‘Do you want to see me again?’ she asked when they stopped at the usual place, just round the corner from her house.

  ‘Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?’

  ‘You’ve got what you wanted, some boys don’t. After. You know. So I’ve been told.’

  ‘I’m not some boys.’

  ‘So you do?’

  ‘Try and keep me away.’

  ‘Because we’ll have to do it all the time now.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why then?’

  ‘Because I love you, Linda.’ His mouth was dry and his hands trembled on the wheel as he said the words.

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Since the first day I saw you.’

  ‘In the park.’

  ‘Yes,’ he lied. Although it had been before, at her house that morning, but he’d never told her.

  ‘You mean it?’

  ‘I’ve never meant anything more.’

  She started to cry again. Mark wasn’t used to so much emotion, and he held her close. It was all he could think to do. ‘I love you too,’ she whispered.

  He could hardly believe his ears. ‘Do you?’

  ‘Since the first day I saw you.’

  ‘In the park.’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘In the park.’

  They stayed close for what seemed like hours. Mark was as happy as he could ever remember. There was just one problem. One day, and he didn’t know when, he would have to tell Linda that her father had murdered his. And he didn’t know how he was going to do it.

  FOURTEEN

  ‘Didn’t you?’ John Jenner said again to Mark. ‘Didn’t you?’

  ‘What?’ said Mark, suddenly jolted out of his reverie. ‘Fancy her. That Linda Pierce. And she nearly screwed you up for life.’ Fancied her. Mark had loved her since that first time he’d seen her, and now, all these years later, it seemed that John Jenner knew something of her whereabouts. And as for the other, well that had always been his business. He tried to keep the tension out of his voice when he spoke. ‘You know where she is?’ he asked.

  ‘Course I do. I’ve kept up with all of them. I told you that.’

  ‘So? Tell me.’

  ‘Why are you so interested?’

  ‘I just am. Where are they?’

  ‘Marje and Tom are both dead. You know, the bloke she married.’

  Mark nodded.

  ‘Little Linda got married, but her husband was killed in an accident.’ Mark gave him a look. ‘Oh don’t be silly. I had nothing to do with it.’ Mark said nothing.

  ‘She had a couple of kids. Luke and Daisy. And Sean moved in with her after the accident. She’s got a nice place in Croydon again as a matter of fact. She didn’t move far.’

  ‘What’s the address?’

  ‘Mark.’

  ‘What’s the address, Uncle?’

  ‘You’re not going to…’

  ‘I just want to see her,’ Mark lied. ‘I won’t speak to her.’

  John Jenner shook his head. ‘OK, son. On your own head be it. But you remember what happened last time.’

  ‘I was just a kid. So was she.’

  Jenner gave him the address.

  ‘Fine. I’m going out.’

  ‘Christ, but I wish that bastard hadn’t turned up this morning,’ said Jenner, also wishing he’d kept his big mouth shut about it.

  ‘But he did,’
said Mark, and with that he went out to his car. He sat inside for a few minutes trying to calm the shaking in his arms and legs. Linda, he thought. Christ. I never thought I’d see you again.

  He started the car, opened the gates and headed towards Croydon. Black clouds, like broken promises, loomed up before him as he drove. The road through Norbury and Thornton Heath had changed too in his absence, but he could have found his way there blindfold, so vivid were his memories.

  He found the address John Jenner had given him without any trouble. It was a move up in the world from Tom Pierce’s old place, in one of Croydon’s smarter suburbs, a detached house with garage extension, with what looked like a tiny flat over it. He parked on the opposite side of the street and got out of the car and took a slow stroll, his eyes never off the building.

  Parked on the short drive was a red Toyota Land Cruiser on a four year old plate. It was still in good nick, its paintwork gleaming. The thunderheads brought squally rain and Mark pulled up the collar of his overcoat as he walked. Just like May 14th, he thought. Me getting soaking wet waiting for Linda to show up.

  He went back to the car and sat inside. Around three-thirty a procession of vehicles, mostly big four wheel drives like the Toyota, came down the street. It was the home from school run. He watched as a Fiat saloon pulled into the drive of Linda’s house and a young blonde got out and unloaded a small boy in a red school sweatshirt, jeans and trainers. ‘Luke,’ said Mark to himself. The boy was dark haired and lively and ran to the front door which was opened by a dark haired woman. Mark was too far away to see the boy’s face, but he knew he’d be the spit of his mother. It was something in the way he moved, and Mark felt a stab of jealousy that the boy wasn’t his son. He peered through his rain-speckled windscreen and his heart turned over. It was Linda in the doorway. The boy jumped up at her and she swung him indoors and out of sight. The blonde, presumably a nanny or au pair or babyminder or whatever they called them these days, collected a kitbag from the car, followed the boy through the front door and closed it behind her.

  Mark had seen enough. With all the kids about he felt even more out of place, like some kind of peeper, so he started the engine and drove home.

  ‘Satisfied?’ asked John Jenner when he’d arrived and slumped into an armchair. ‘I assume you’ve seen her.’

  ‘Yes, I saw her. And I’m going to see her again.’

  The older man said nothing. Just walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him.