by David Belbin
He kissed her on the cheek, then left, like the gentleman he had always been.
34
There was a message on Nick’s answering machine. His probation officer. He’d missed a meeting. Tough. Sarah hadn’t said anything about having plans for Saturday evening. Nick decided to cook. Maybe they could rent a video. There were tons of films from the last five years that he hadn’t seen and he’d bet an MP didn’t get to the movies often. He and Sarah used to go to the cinema each week. They’d spend ages discussing the latest Lynch or Altman in the pub afterwards. There was a place that rented videos just off the top end of the Park, on Derby Road, a shop that used to be an off-license. He and Sarah used it often when they were students.
First, food. In the old days, he’d have checked a recipe, but most of his cookery books had been given away when he was sent down. There was a limit on how much stuff you could ask your brother to look after for you. Nick decided to take the simplest option. He bought two sirloin steaks, an onion, mushrooms and baking potatoes.
He rang her a couple of times before setting off. Engaged. He decided to risk Sarah having made other plans and go straight round. If Sarah wanted to go out tonight, the ingredients would keep until tomorrow. She didn’t have to be in London until Monday at the earliest. Maybe by then he would have persuaded her to give their relationship another chance, on whatever basis she chose.
He stopped at the video shop on the way over, but they wouldn’t let him join because he didn’t have the requisite credit card or multiple proofs of address to establish his identity. If he’d given an address in the Park, rather than scruffy Alfreton Road, they’d most likely have treated him differently. Never mind. Sarah probably belonged. They could go later, if she fancied it.
It was ten past six when he got to her flat, a bottle of wine in each hand. The car was still outside, so she hadn’t gone anywhere. When he rang the bell, however, she took a while to answer. The door opened on the chain. Sarah was dressed smartly, fully made up, about to go out.
‘I thought I’d cook you dinner,’ he said, giving her his broadest smile. ‘But if you’ve got other plans . . .’
‘Nick, you should have phoned first. I have to go out this evening, a celebration meal with the constituency officers.’
‘Maybe I can leave this stuff here and we can have it to morrow.’
‘Sounds good.’
She took the chain off and he stepped into the hall. He reminded her where his flat was.
‘If you want to call by on your way back, I’ll be in. Or if you need company. It’s not far.’
He saw from the look on her face that he was being overeager.
‘I could do with a little space, Nick. It’s been a huge few days.’
‘No bother.’ He turned to go, not even pushing his luck for a kiss.
‘Wait.’
For a moment, he thought she’d changed her mind.
‘There’s something I need your help with. Do you think you could find out what shift Ed Clark’s working on Monday?’
‘Sure,’ Nick said. ‘No problem. But how does it fit with what we discussed last night?’
‘I’ll tell you later,’ Sarah promised, then gave him a kiss, followed by a small hug. ‘I’m not pushing you away, Nick. I need a little space, time to take things in.’
‘I understand.’ He returned to his flat, disappointed but not dejected. In her situation, he’d need space, too. And, since he wasn’t seeing her tonight, he could get a few cans, smoke some weed, get wasted and watch TV. Not too wasted. He had to do two hours’ teaching before he cooked Sarah her dinner tomorrow. Why did Sarah want to know Ed’s schedule? Nick rang the Cane Cars switchboard and got Nas, which meant that Joe hadn’t sacked her yet.
‘Ed’s on tomorrow from two till eight, then he’s on holiday for three weeks. His compensation came through. Why you wanna know?’
‘A friend of mine needs to see him,’ Nick said. ‘But do me a favour, don’t tell him I asked.’
‘I don’t talk to that baldy-head fascist unless I have to,’ Nas said. ‘I’m sorry you don’t work here any more, Nick. I won’t be around much longer myself. Let’s have a drink soon, yeah?’
‘Yeah.’ Nick’s reply sounded unconvincing, even to himself, so he added, ‘That’d be nice.’
‘You know where to find me.’
Nick hung up. Nas was about to be sacked. She would be vulnerable and she was into him. He liked her too, but wasn’t going to see another of his brother’s cast-offs, not even if Sarah blew him out. Nick reminded himself that he might be reading too much into the offer of a drink. After so many years without female company, he saw sexual nuance in everything. If Sarah could read his mind, she’d run a mile.
He went out onto the fire escape and listened to the city: cars, conversation, wailing sirens and snatches of song. The endless clatter of everyday life blended into an exhilarating hum. When he was sure nobody was looking, Nick removed a brick from the wall, pulled out the tin containing his stash, and went back inside to skin up.
35
Sarah phoned Andrew Saint mid-afternoon on Sunday. He answered his mobile on the third ring.
‘Sarah! Well done.’
‘Thanks for the flowers. I appreciated them.’
‘Called to invite me to dinner?’
‘Afraid not. I’m still in Nottingham. But we’ll meet up soon, I promise. In the meantime, I have a favour to ask you.’
‘Anything.’
She had deliberated all day over whether to do this. ‘It’s for a mutual friend.’
‘Intriguing. What mutual friend would this be?’
‘Nick Cane. I . . . happened to run into him this week and we’ve been catching up. I don’t know if you’re aware, but he’s had some serious bother.’
‘I was aware,’ Andrew said, in a different, more formal voice. ‘But I didn’t want you getting drawn into it. You and Nick are ancient history.’
‘Maybe so, but I still care about him. And he used to be your best friend.’
‘What’s the favour?’ Andrew asked, tersely.
‘He needs to get out of Nottingham, make a fresh start. London, ideally. I wondered if you could find him some sort of job.’
There was a long pause. ‘Did he tell you he’d been to see me?’
‘No. We haven’t discussed you . . . there’s not been time.’
‘He came to see me almost as soon as he got out, hit me up for a few grand. So I feel like I’ve discharged my obligations to him. In my business, Sarah, clients have to depend on your integrity. Nick’s blown his. There are a lot of police checks. I’m not sure I could have him on my books. This is probably making you think badly of me and I’m sorry, but I have to be straight with you.’
‘That’s all right. Like I said, Nick doesn’t know I’m calling you. Let’s pretend this conversation never took place.’
‘Agreed. I’d keep your distance from Nick if I were you. He got involved in some heavy stuff. Remember, you can’t change your family, but you can change your friends. You’re not bound together unless you choose to be.’
‘That’s good advice, Andrew, thanks. I’ll see you soon.’
Sarah hung up. She shouldn’t have called Andrew without first asking Nick how things stood between the two of them. It didn’t sound like Nick, pressuring his old friend for money. But people changed. Prison must change people. Parliament had changed her. Sarah had become more ruthless and, according to Dan when they split, she had steadily become less playful, less take-people-as-they-are. She wanted to be relaxed, but a necessary uptightness went with the life. Last night, despite the exhilaration from the victory, none of the constituency officers really let go, even after a few drinks. They wanted to gossip, and made sure they remained sober enough to remember what was said the next morning.
Afterwards, it would have been wonderful to have a lover to come home to. She had walked back from town, looked up at what she presumed was Nick’s flat and nearly rung the d
oorbell. But that would have been so, so weak. Instead, unwilling to walk through the Park’s badly lit streets so late, she had hailed a cab for the three-minute ride home. Having talked to Andrew, Sarah was relieved she hadn’t succumbed to temptation. It was only just beginning to sink in. She was still an MP. For the last few weeks, she’d had the wobbles – certain of losing, obsessed with the Ed Clark affair which, when put in perspective, was just one out of hundreds of cases she had on her plate. She couldn’t get them all right, no matter how hard she tried.
Sarah made her weekly phone call to her mother, who, true to form, had failed to call and congratulate her on being re-elected. Mum had been angry with Sarah for taking a year out to become Union President and had supported none of her career choices since. All Mum wanted was to be a grandmother. Sarah was her only, fast-fading chance. They stuttered through a few minutes of strained conversation.
‘Guess who showed up at my post-election party?’ Sarah said, before she was forced to return to discussing the unseasonably warm weather. ‘Nick Cane.’
‘I always liked Nick. Is he still in Nottingham?’
‘He’s just moved back.’
‘I suppose he’s married now, with lots of children.’
‘No, same old Nick. A little heavier, not much more mature. Single.’
‘Just like you, then. You ought to snap him up.’
‘I’ve been thinking about it,’ Sarah confessed. Was still thinking about it, despite what Andrew had said earlier. ‘He’s cooking dinner for me tonight.’
‘Did he stay in teaching?’ Mum asked.
‘I think so. We haven’t really discussed work.’ Nick had said something about private tuition, Sarah remembered. He was working this afternoon, so he wasn’t a complete no-hoper. One could even argue that he was a good project for rehabilitation.
‘Take my advice. Make your move. Second chances don’t come often.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind, Mum.’ She brought the call to a close, feeling foolish that she’d brought up Nick to keep her mother interested. Then the doorbell rang and Nick was there. It was a little after five. Early to be cooking her dinner.
‘I thought you’d want to know,’ he said. ‘Ed Clark’s compensation came through. He’s off on holiday for three weeks from tomorrow.’
‘With Polly?’
‘I presume so. He’s working until eight tonight. So, if you want to see her, the next couple of hours may be your only chance.’
‘Will you come with me?’
Nick winced. ‘I’d have thought my presence would make the meeting even more awkward. Polly’s no threat on her own. Why don’t I stay here, cook you that dinner?’
Sarah saw the sense in that. She showed Nick where things were in the kitchen then drove to New Basford alone. How to play this? As a copper, like most coppers, she’d had aspirations to join CID. But she’d barely got beyond her probationary period, and her interrogation training had been minimal. She was cleverer than Polly, or at least, more educated. Their last conversation had been interrupted by Ed’s return. Sarah needed to dig deeper into Polly’s motives. She ought to be able to catch her out.
‘I wondered when you’d show your face again,’ Polly said, letting Sarah in. ‘How did you know he’d be out?’
‘Nick checked his shift.’
‘You and him, back on, is it?’ Polly said, her back to Sarah, voice almost cracking. ‘Ed told me you used to shack up together.’
‘We’re old friends, that’s all,’ Sarah said, not wanting to stir up any latent jealousy.
‘That’s why he went home with you t’other night, is it? Rodney told Ed and Ed told me. You won, I hear.’
‘Yeah, I won. Nick saw me home.’
‘And you’ll be taking him to London with you.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Sarah said. ‘I hear you’re off to the Caribbean with Ed.’
‘Do you see any bags packed?’
Sarah looked around. The place was the usual mess. A copy of Hello lay open on the ironing board. Dirty mugs and sweet-wrappers were strewn around the carpet. But there were no summer clothes waiting to be ironed, no suitcases.
‘He’s not taking you?’
‘If it’d been just me, he might have done. Sex on tap for three weeks. I’d have had to get a passport first, mind. But me and four kids? Ed’s far too selfish.’
‘You said he got on well with the kids.’
‘I lied. I’m good at lying. Maybe I should be in your job.’
‘Is he coming back?’ Sarah asked.
‘Tonight? Doubt it. He’s got an early flight. From holiday? Your guess is as good as mine. Why are you here, anyhow? To show off that you’ve got Nick back and I’m on my tod again?’
‘No, I . . .’ Sarah tried to remember the argument. ‘Since I’m going back to Parliament, I needed to know about your case. I’ve spent three years trying to get Ed out, get the case reopened. Do you want me to carry on, to push the police to find the real killer or killers?’
‘I don’t know what I want.’
‘You told me that Ed convinced you he didn’t do it. But if Ed didn’t kill them, somebody else did. Have you any idea who?’
‘I’m not going to do the police’s job for them, or yours,’ Polly said. ‘I just want this to go away. I want Ed to stay away too.’
‘If he went back to prison . . .’
‘Oh, fuck off, will you!’ Polly raised her voice for the first time. ‘You and me, we’re both frightened of Ed. We’ve both done things we shouldn’t have done, ’cos of him. I hope he never comes back. I’ve got nothing. You’ve got Nick. You’ve got your job back. You’ve got it all.’
‘I want to help.’
‘Help? You’re the one got Ed out of prison.’
‘The appeal court did that. The evidence against him wasn’t safe. Look, Polly, if you know who did it, then you owe it to your brother to see them prosecuted. Don’t you?’
‘You want to know who was really responsible for Terry’s death?’ Polly spat. ‘It was his own fault.’
‘His?’
‘If it weren’t for Terry, nothing would’ve happened.’
‘What do you . . .?’
‘Just fuck off, will you?’
When Sarah got in, Nick told her that the phone had been ringing.
‘Your mobile too. I let the machine take it, like you asked. How did you find her?’
‘Different.’ Sarah summed up the conversation, including the thing Polly said about her brother.
‘You think she’s split up with Ed?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know if she knows. The way she talked, Ed might not be coming back. What got to me, though, was the way she talked about Terry being responsible for the murders. I mean, if she thought that before, why did she protest so hard about Ed’s release?’
‘Ed must have told her something that convinced her.’
‘Anyway, that’s it. Over. We’ll never know what really happened.’
‘That doesn’t sound like you,’ Nick told her.
‘Call it realpolitik. How’s dinner coming along?’
‘I can put the steak on whenever you want. Then it’ll be ten minutes or so.’
‘Make it soon. I’m starving.’
While Nick cooked, she went to the machine. She had eleven messages waiting, but before she could check them, the phone rang.
‘Sarah, I find you in at last.’ It was the Chief Whip.
‘Sorry, I was out on constituency business, case work.’
‘That’s what local councillors are for. You’d better find some tame, reliable ones quickly, you’ll be needing them. I’m calling on behalf of the Prime Minister. He wants to offer you a job.’
Sarah was to be a Junior Minister. That was a huge deal. As soon as she’d put down the phone, and told him, Nick knew their chances of being together were over.
He congratulated her. ‘That’s an incredibly responsible job. You were made to do it.’
‘There were hints I’d get something, but I was so sure that I’d lose my seat, I didn’t let myself think about them.’ She told him how the job fitted with the areas she’d concentrated on in the Commons. She felt vindicated for campaigning to stop the spread of HIV in prisons. ‘I guess even the Ed Clark thing helped.’
‘I suppose.’ He had to say something, so chose his words carefully. ‘That’s it for us, isn’t it? I’m too big a risk. The quicker I go, the better.’
She squeezed his hand. ‘At least nothing really happened between us,’ she said. ‘It wouldn’t have worked, Nick. You can’t go back. We were kidding ourselves.’
‘Sure.’ He smiled ruefully and she went back to talking about her new job. Soon afterwards, he left. It was the dignified way to behave. The future was out of their hands. He couldn’t blame himself for the thing with Sarah going wrong. At least nothing really happened between us, she’d said, forgetting the kisses, the promises made prior to her passing out on election night. The absence of sex made it easier for Sarah to move on. Women were like that. For men, it was the other way round. If he’d made love to her one last time, it would be easier to put this behind him. The more time he’d spent with Sarah this last fortnight, the more he’d wanted her in bed. One night could, at the very least, have satisfied some of his curiosity about how it would be between them. As it was, he knew he would obsess about her for months.
36
When Nick got home on Sunday evening, he rang the Cane Cars office.
‘Has Ed Clark booked a cab to take him to the airport tomorrow?’
‘Yeah. Four-thirty a.m. pick-up to get him to Birmingham. Why?’
‘I need to do the job.’
‘Didn’t you get stopped by the police for driving without a permit?’ Nas asked.
‘I won’t charge him,’ Nick said. ‘I’ll use my sister-in-law’s car, rather than a cab. Just don’t give anyone else the job.’
‘What’s your game? You going to stop Ed having a holiday?’
‘I need a chat with him, that’s all. What’s the address?’
He cycled over to Joe’s, made an excuse and collected Caroline’s car. Then he went to bed and set the alarm. Impossible to sleep, but he mustn’t drink any more. He needed to be sharp when he picked up Ed.
