They all looked at him.
‘Think about it,’ he said.
They did. All the way back to Newcastle.
Argued about it, tossed the idea back and forth. Came up with an answer.
Yes.
And a name for the company. Because it couldn’t be Knight Security and Investigations any more.
‘What was that word he said earlier?’ said Jamal, speaking for almost the first time.
‘Which one?’ asked Donovan.
‘Albun, or something?’
‘Albion, you mean?’
‘Yeah, yeah. That one.’
They looked at each other.
‘Albion it is,’ said Amar.
‘Albion?’ said Nattrass, when Donovan met her for coffee next.
He nodded.
‘Good name. Will we still have our reciprocal arrangement? Share mutually beneficial tips on ongoing investigations?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Donovan.
Nattrass took a mouthful of coffee. Her eyes became steely over the rim of her cup.
‘Are you going to play the cowboy like I warned you not to? Or are we still going to be on the same side?’
Donovan sighed. ‘I hope so.’
She replaced her cup. Unsmiling.
‘So do I. For your sake.’
Donovan looked around the room. A vast improvement. He looked at Jamal, still working furiously.
‘You wanna break?’ he asked.
Jamal looked up. ‘Sure.’
He put down his brush, stood up and back. Admired his workmanship.
‘You’re doing a good job there,’ said Donovan.
‘Thanks, man.’ Jamal’s smile told Donovan that he knew that already. But it was still good to hear it.
Donovan went into the kitchen. Made tea for himself, got apple juice for Jamal. Took them back into the living room. Looked around. Yes, he thought, it’s starting to take shape.
Jamal was settling in. It didn’t look like he would be going anywhere soon. Donovan didn’t know how he felt about that. The boy had a lot of problems. It wouldn’t be easy. But in time, and with the right help, he hoped they would diminish. Disappear altogether, hopefully.
He crossed over to him, handed him his juice.
‘Thanks, man.’ Jamal turned, kept looking out of the window.
‘What you looking at?’
‘That bit there,’ he said. ‘In front of the house. Before you get to the road. That yours?’
Donovan nodded. ‘You mean the garden.’
Jamal laughed. ‘You call that a garden? Just weeds and stuff, man. That ain’t no garden. Garden’s got flowers an’ shit in it. That’s just a mess.’
‘Well,’ said Donovan, ‘come spring, when winter’s over, we can weed it and plant things in it.’
‘You mean like flowers an’ shit?’
Donovan laughed. ‘Exactly that. Flowers and shit.’
‘An’ it’ll grow, yeah? Be like proper?’
Donovan looked at the boy. Remembered Peta’s words to him outside Father Jack’s: We can’t do everything, Joe. We can’t save everyone …
And his response: Just one … just one …
Donovan smiled. ‘I hope so, Jamal. I hope so.’
Jamal smiled.
Breaktime was over. They still had a lot of work ahead of them.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to Deb Kemp, Nick Kemp, Jane Gregory, Anna Valdinger, Kate Lyall Grant, Digby Halsby and my wife Linda.
Apparently there is a ‘Get Carter’ tour which features many of the locations used by the one in this novel but any resemblance between the two is entirely coincidental.
Find out more about books by Martyn Waites and Tania Carver on his website:
www.martynwaites.com
And follow him on Twitter:
@MartynWaites
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