Birmingham Friends

by Annie Murray

  ‘Sorry,’ she heard Jake saying. ‘God, I’m so sorry. Anna – it’s OK. It’s only me. I’m sorry.’

  There was a click and the room sprang up round them again in the light. She squinted, bewildered, into Jake’s face. He was sitting on the bed beside her, eyes wide with worry.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again.

  ‘Why?’ She was dazed, couldn’t think straight. ‘I was dreaming. When I was little I sometimes used to dream I was being suffocated – pushed down and down. It’s come back again since – since Mom died.’ She remembered waking, as a child, out of the tight hold of the dream, gasping, with Kate’s arms round her and her voice, ‘It’s all right, you’re safe now. Quite safe with me.’

  Jake was saying, ‘It’s just – I think it was my fault. I touched you. I was stroking your hair.’

  ‘Were you?’ She looked at him stupidly. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because . . . I don’t know. I suppose I wanted to do something for you. I thought you were asleep. Sorry. I feel ridiculous.’

  ‘No – don’t.’ She was moved by his care, felt a great need for it rise in her. ‘You were being kind.’ She looked up into his eyes. ‘If I’d been awake I’d have liked it. I feel so lonely.’

  He moved closer to her, put an arm round her and pulled her to him, so her head was resting against his chest. She heard his voice quietly, ‘Me too.’ He stroked her hair again, gentle as a parent, and she held his other hand and listened to the beating of his heart. After a time both of them slept, comforted.

  Chapter 36

  Birds, she thought, when she woke the next morning. Even before opening her eyes she knew she was somewhere new. The light was different, coming from high on her right, bright, no curtains.

  The window had been opened above the bed, and moving air touched her face.

  ‘Birds,’ she said.

  ‘Not the dawn chorus, though.’ Jake came across, offering her a mug. ‘Tea all right?’

  She sat up, gratefully, trying to smooth her hair down. ‘Oh, I need this. What’s the time then?’ He was already dressed.

  ‘ ’Bout half-nine. I’ve just been down to open up. Sleep OK?’

  ‘Fine – thanks.’ She felt herself blushing. She last remembered falling asleep leaning against him, and vaguely recalled him moving her, lying her down again. She thought of his touching her hair, of this area of need and intimacy which had opened up between them. She looked up and smiled shyly at him.

  He sat down at the far end of the bed. ‘Considering how little sleep we had last night, I don’t feel too bad.’

  ‘Nor me,’ she said, though she did feel muzzy. Silently she sipped the tea, strong, with a tang of something, Earl Grey perhaps. A bee flew in through the window, bumped its way a short distance along the wall and back, then found the white air again and disappeared.

  ‘Thanks for letting me stay.’

  ‘No problem.’ He smiled, face transforming. ‘I was enjoying the novelty of having someone else around.’

  She could tell neither of them was going to mention last night, now daylight had come, both embarrassed or afraid.

  ‘How often does Elly stay?’

  ‘Every other weekend usually. Unless that upsets some other arrangement her mother has made.’

  Anna nodded. Jake obviously found the situation difficult to talk about and she didn’t want to push it.

  ‘What were you doing before this – before the business, I mean?’

  ‘I told you – selling insurance.’

  ‘What? Really?’

  ‘Did you think I was joking?’ He gave a reluctant laugh. ‘I was training to be the man from the Pru. Nice safe job, suit, haircut, the lot. Life mapped out nicely.’

  ‘And you couldn’t stick it?’

  His eyes moved sharply to her face, expression wary suddenly. ‘You sound like Sal. Why? D’you think I should have done?’

  ‘No!’ she said, alarmed. ‘Of course not. And anyway – it’s none of my business, is it?’

  ‘It’s absolutely terrifying having your life stretching ahead of you like that, doing something you’re indifferent to for the next thirty years. And I was doing OK at it. Personable, they called me. I was good at sales, always got on well with clients. But I got to thirty and I just couldn’t do it any more. I was suffocating.’

  ‘This seems much more you,’ she said cautiously.

  ‘I gave up work with the Pru when Sal was pregnant with Elly.’ Jake talked in a steady voice, eyes fixed on the floor in front of him. He talked about it as if it was something he just wanted over, needing to be told but best out of the way. Anna listened, the empty mug cradled against her chest.

  ‘It seemed to rock the foundations of something for Sal. Some insecurity or expectation she had that neither of us had known about. My fault, I suppose. Not a good time when she was pregnant and wasn’t sure how it was going to go with her own job. She works in admin over at the Poly. And I suppose she thought she was settling down with one sort of person and I turned out – in her eyes at least – to be someone very different. The business wasn’t too good at first either, of course. So things were already wobbly. Then Elly was born and everything changed again.’ He paused. ‘I don’t know. Too many changes all at once. We could never seem to reach each other after that. Even now it’s not easy, having to keep seeing each other because of Elly. There’s a lot of resentment. But we do it for her . . . I could never not see her.’

  ‘It must be so difficult,’ Anna said, feeling inane. Her mind flashed to Richard, to the miscarriage. What if she had had the baby? For the first time she was half glad. It would not have been right to have a child together.

  Jake looked round and gave her a wry smile. ‘Let’s get off all that. Breakfast? It’s toast or toast, I’m afraid.’

  ‘In that case I’d like toast.’

  She pulled her jeans on and quickly manoeuvred her way into the rest of her clothes as Jake sliced bread and clicked down the toaster.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be down in the shop?’

  ‘There’s a bell – rings up here too if anyone comes in. But yes, I should really. I’ll just get this down me. I don’t usually do a roaring trade at this time in the morning.’

  They were eating thick, slightly singed slices of toast and honey when Anna suddenly exclaimed, ‘Oh, no. What’s the time?’

  ‘Nearly half-ten. What’s the matter?’

  ‘Roland. I promised I’d see him this morning.’ She was flustered, driven to action, flapping round the room, toast still in one hand. ‘Anyway, I must go and let you get on.’ She shoved her things into her bag with her spare hand. ‘Listen, thanks ever so much.’

  Jake stood up. ‘No thanks needed. It’s been a pleasure.’

  ‘What about tonight – Krish?’

  ‘Fancy a balti?’

  ‘Love one.’

  ‘I’ll pick you up if you like. Seven-thirty?’

  She gave him the address, then hesitated. Jake looked down into her eyes. There was a moment of awkwardness, of not knowing how to part.

  Anna went to the stairs taking refuge in the need to hurry. ‘Bye then. See you later.’

  In the street she lit her first cigarette of the day, thinking that by now she would normally have had a couple already.

  The growling of Jake’s Transit van sounded incongruous in the suburban street. She climbed up into the cab, slim in jeans and a round-necked navy top which followed every curve of her.

  Jake gave her a broad smile. ‘You ready for this?’

  ‘Doing my best to be.’ As Jake reversed into Kate’s strip of drive, she said, ‘Does Krish know we’re coming?’

  ‘I phoned.’ The van accelerated loudly. ‘He sounded very low. Didn’t say much.’

  ‘But he’s coming?’

  Jake nodded.

  ‘Did he say anything about last night?’

  ‘No. He never says much on the phone. Always afraid she’s listening.’

  ‘What a life.’


  Jake inclined his head in agreement. ‘My guess is he won’t have had the easiest of days.’

  As they drove along the Alcester Road towards Moseley, the two of them talked rather abstractedly. Had she got to Roland’s in time? Had he had many customers that day? Anna was feeling nervous about seeing Krish. Not because she didn’t want to forgive him, to give him support, but because those feelings had somehow to be made clear.

  They saw him waving to them from the corner of the road before they even reached Olivia’s house. Jake braked sharply and Anna moved up into the middle seat of the cab. Seeing Krish again she was struck once more by the enormous appeal of his puppy-like looks.

  ‘Been forced to camp out on the pavement now, have you?’ Jake joked as they pulled away.

  Krish seemed slightly breathless. ‘I thought if she saw you two it’d make things worse. It’s been bloody awful in there today.’ He shifted uneasily beside Anna, avoiding her eyes. ‘She’s not speaking to me – not a single word. Ben’s been out all day, so there’s just Sean. Jesus, is he a moody bloke. Must be living with us that does it.’

  He gave a nervous little laugh and turned to Anna. ‘I’m really, really sorry about last night,’ he said disarmingly. ‘I got completely above myself and I regretted it straight away. Can you forgive me?’

  Anna smiled. There was an adroitness in the apology which made her realize that he had become well practised at saying sorry, keeping things smooth. Living with her, no doubt.

  ‘It’s OK.’ To her annoyance she felt herself blushing. ‘I hope you didn’t get into too much trouble over it?’

  ‘I expect you’ve gathered my mother’s rather possessive?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Jake said. ‘Anna’s on your side.’

  ‘I thought you’d fallen under her spell like everyone else seems to.’ His voice was bitter.

  ‘Not for long,’ Anna said.

  Jake parked in a side street off Stoney Lane, and they walked across to the little restaurant. The street was busy, most of the shops still open, with people milling in and out of the grocer’s a few doors away, leaning over the rickety trestle tables outside to select from the boxes of green bananas, okra, garlic, oranges. A string holding paper bags shifted in the breeze. One of the passing cars blared Asian film music, a woman’s voice reaching high. The evening air was warm and full of the smells of cooking.

  Inside many of the tables were already taken and the atmosphere was busy, full of spice and smoke, a mixed-race clientele, the waiters holding dishes high, wriggling their hips to squeeze between the chairs. A huge white man sat alone at the back of the room pulling at naan bread with stumpy fingers. The waiter seated them with great courtesy, a metal jug of water and a small metal dish containing chopped onions in a runny white sauce rippled with tomato ketchup. Each table was covered by a sheet of glass with the menus tucked underneath and a sprinkling of paper napkins on the top.

  ‘You familiar with this cooking?’ Jake asked.

  ‘Oh, yes. Richard was very keen on these places and got me hooked. I brought my mom here a few times.’

  Jake smiled. ‘And?’

  ‘She loved it. Said it was the nearest she’d get to travelling now.’

  They ordered Cokes and food.

  ‘Kebabs,’ Krish said. ‘It has to be kebabs.’

  Once they’d got past the activity of ordering, there was a sudden awkwardness. Anna asked Krish about his course, whether he was enjoying it.

  ‘It’s fine,’ he said ‘Really interesting.’ She couldn’t help feeling that this, too, was a stock reply.

  ‘And the Bengali – you obviously already speak it?’

  ‘Some. She brought me up almost bilingual – that was the idea. She speaks it very well herself.’

  He changed the subject quickly then, asking Jake how the business was going, and the two of them talked through the starters. The main dishes arrived, the dark, well-used balti dishes like small woks, half filled with bright, sizzling food, and thick naan breads and rice alongside.

  ‘Enjoy your meal,’ the waiter said, retreating.

  There was a long, embarrassed silence. They tore the bread, scooped up the spiced meat and vegetables.

  ‘So things are bad again?’ Jake said eventually, with a directness which suggested they settle down to the real business of the evening.

  Krish nodded. Anna expected him to feel ill at ease with her there, but he seemed to trust her. She saw that as a measure of the trust he had in Jake.

  ‘It’s the longest I’ve spent in the house since last summer. A few days is OK. I can cope with it. Things don’t build up too much.’ He looked round at Anna. ‘You might think I’m being very critical of her. Most people think she’s marvellous – charming and sensitive, life and soul of the party. She is, of course, some of the time. In fact in some ways there’s no one I’d rather have a conversation with. That’s the good side of the lodgers being there. She’s gifted with shy people – draws them out, makes them feel interesting and part of things. And she’s very clever. I admire her a lot for all she’s done. She had a hard time, bringing me up on her own and all that.’

  ‘My mother brought me up on her own,’ Anna remarked.

  ‘Did she?’ Krish looked intrigued for a second. ‘But I expect she’s a very different sort of person. My mother’s had so much to deal with – me coming along, not only the bastard baby but the wrong colour as well, and her parents throwing her out . . . She’s heroic, really.’

  ‘Why did they throw her out?’ Anna asked, feeling compelled to interrupt this hymn of praise. She wondered what version of events Olivia had permitted Krish.

  ‘Oh, they wanted her to have a nice little job, marry someone rich and influential. You know, all the respectable things. She wanted to play the piano – she’s very gifted, you know – and study. Branch out. She was really a sort of Bohemian at heart.’

  ‘I see,’ Anna said, carefully. She felt Jake’s eyes on her.

  Krish pushed his chair back. ‘I need a proper drink. Coke just isn’t enough for the day I’ve had. Back in a minute.’

  ‘There’s an off-licence just along the way,’ Jake explained as Krish disappeared. He looked at Anna. ‘At least we’ll be able to deliver him home safely.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Anna asked. ‘We’re back to the Blessed Martyr Olivia Kemp bit again.’

  ‘He does that. When he’s most angry with her he has to get all this stuff in first – how marvellous she is. It’s a kind of pledge of loyalty, I think.’

  ‘Before he says what he really feels?’

  ‘Sometimes.’ Jake offered her more rice. ‘He doesn’t find it easy to say anything bad about her.’

  Anna refused the rice. She sat back in her chair. ‘I feel I know so many things about her that he doesn’t.’

  ‘Then tell him.’

  ‘D’you think it’d really be any help to him to know?’

  Jake considered this. ‘He only knows what she’s chosen to tell him. Perhaps it would help to have another version of events.’

  ‘I can hardly tell him here.’

  ‘It’s not ideal I know, but I don’t think we’ll get too many chances.’

  Krish came back with chilled wine and a four-pack of beer. He pulled off one of the cans and drank thirstily.

  ‘That’s more like it.’ He grinned at the two of them. ‘Go on, help yourselves. Wine’s open. I got them to do it.’

  Anna took a beer and pulled the ring. Cautiously she said, ‘Krish – how much do you know about your mother’s life?’

  ‘Hardly a thing,’ he said, jovial suddenly. ‘I mean, I have a sort of outline, without much detail. Great parents, nice house. Wrens in the war. London. My father – MY FATHER, in capital letters heavily underlined. The great Krishna Chaudhuri. Me. That’s about it. Don’t know what’s missing – except a screw, in her case!’ He laughed, loudly, but it was drowned by a sudden cheer from one of the other tables. Someone’s birthday. Krish’s dark han
ds played nervously with the red and green can. He drained it and took a second one. ‘Go on,’ he said to Anna. ‘Let’s have it, then.’

  ‘We could talk about it later,’ she said gently. ‘Get out of here?’

  ‘That bad, is it?’ he said with a foolish giggle. ‘What’s she done then? Hasn’t murdered anyone, has she? Sometimes, the look in her eyes, I think she could. I really do.’

  Anna glanced uneasily at Jake as she started talking. She began with the early parts, the friendship, easing them in. Krish listened without interrupting. His cheeks had deepened in colour and his eyes were beginning to have a slightly glazed look. As she spoke, couching what she had to say in the gentlest terms possible, Krish drank steadily, ignoring the remains of his food. He sat back on the hard chair, eyes fixed on Anna’s face. In the middle of her account he leaned over and picked up the bottle of wine. Jake tried to restrain his arm.

  ‘Go easy.’

  ‘Piss off, Jake,’ Krish protested. ‘What d’you think I bought it for?’

  It was only when she got to the part about Arden he began to react. He leaned across the table, clutching the bottle to his chest with one hand like a teddy bear. ‘So you’re saying she’s a loony. It’s true!’ He laughed almost triumphantly. ‘I knew it. My mother’s a loony.’ He lifted the bottle and drank it back like fizzy pop. ‘That’s more like it.’ He offered it round. ‘Go on, have some.’

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ Jake whispered to Anna. He stood up. Between the two of them they put together enough money to pay the bill. It was a struggle getting Krish out between the tightly packed chairs. He refused to give up the bottle and kept letting out bursts of laughter so that people at the other tables turned and stared at them.

  ‘My mother’s a complete fruitcake,’ he told one table amiably and Anna felt their eyes all momentarily swivel to her, trying to work out if she was his mother, then concluding she probably wasn’t.

  Outside, Jake held him round the waist and Anna took his arm. It was growing dark, the sky a very pale blue, edged with yellow, the street still full of life, cars passing.

  ‘Come on, Krish,’ Jake said. ‘Let’s get you to the van. It’ll be OK.’