by Mark Timlin
‘I’ll ring you,’ I said when I dropped her off in Brewer Street.
‘That’s what you said last time.’
‘This time I will. Promise.’ And I kissed her again.
The kiss lasted quite a while, but eventually she disengaged herself and got out of the car. I missed her straightaway.
31
I drove straight to the bar. Being Sunday, it didn’t open until twelve, and there were no deliveries, and JJ did the honours on the cleaning stakes. So it didn’t matter if I didn’t get there until dead on the appointed hour. The church clock opposite was striking as I pulled up, and there was already a couple of thirsty-looking customers standing outside, clutching newspapers. I sleepwalked through the day, not saying much. At six-thirty I handed over to JJ.
I went home and made a sandwich and washed it down with a glass of milk. I wasn’t that hungry, but eating passed the time. I sat around until about eight, then showered and changed into a fresh shirt and a newly dry-cleaned suit straight out of its clingy film of plastic. I put a few quid into the back trouser pocket, cigarettes and lighter into the jacket, picked up the keys to the Cosworth off the table, and got on my merry way. Not that I was feeling particularly merry. I wasn’t looking forward to the evening ahead at all.
I arrived outside Brady’s place at nine-fifteen precisely. There were already a couple of expensive cars parked at the kerb, including a familiar-looking Jaguar XJS. Interesting. My brisk rat-a-tat-tat on the door-knocker was answered by Alfie looking adorable in a baggy rainbow-coloured shirt and black jeans.
‘Do you have to knock like that?’ he asked crossly.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked innocently.
‘It has connotations.’
Connotations of Old Bill turning over some previous drum of yours, I thought. ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I’ll try to remember.’
‘If you wouldn’t mind. Well, you’d better come in.’ He opened the door all the way, and closed it firmly behind me once I was inside the hall. From deeper inside the house I could hear Joanna by Kool and the Gang on the stereo. Real hairdresser’s music.
‘What’s it all about, Alfie?’ I asked. But he didn’t get it. Too young, I expect.
‘There’s a few people here.’
‘Lead me to it,’ I said.
‘Straight through into the living room,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to check the food.’
I followed the sound of music and found the party, what there was of it so far. The living room was next to the kitchen, and also looked out on to the tiny garden at the back. The furniture was modern. All black wood, smoked glass, chrome and leather, and it had been pushed to one side and canapés had been put out on plates on top of a low unit. Enough booze, mixers, ice and glasses to stock a pub were lined up on the dining table next to the patio door, which was open a crack to let in some air.
Brady was standing talking to Pat Hughes and a mean-looking individual wearing a pink double-breasted jacket, black shirt buttoned to the neck without a tie, baggy black slacks and polished black lace-ups, with a long-legged blonde hooked on to one arm. It was the guy I’d seen a few days before coming out of the house. The one with the Jaguar XJS. If he had been playing house with Alfie that afternoon I saw him coming out of the place, and now he was with the blonde, he had to be AC/DC. As Jools had put it, he swung both ways. Interesting.
When I entered, Brady immediately abandoned the trio and came towards me, hand outstretched. ‘Nick,’ he said, too effusively and too loudly, and grabbed my right hand and pumped it hard. By the sound of his voice, and the look in his eyes, he’d been at the goodies already. ‘So glad to see you,’ he went on. ‘There’s someone over here I want you to meet.’
He led me back to Hughes and the geezer in the pink jacket.
‘Hello, Pat,’ I said.
Hughes nodded to me. ‘How are you?’ he said.
‘Fine,’ I replied.
‘And this is Gregor,’ said Brady, introducing me to pink jacket, who close-up looked even meaner than he had from a distance. ‘Nick, Gregor. Gregor, Nick.’
His name fitted him like a glove. Gregor raised one hand in a sort of half salute, half wave. ‘Nick,’ he said.
‘Gregor,’ I said back.
‘I’m Fanny,’ said the blonde, in a high-pitched, little girl’s voice.
I’ll just bet you are, I thought. ‘Hello, Fanny,’ was all I said, and smiled a neutral smile. ‘It’s very nice to meet you.’
‘You too,’ she replied, and stuck out her hand like a duchess. I didn’t know if I was expected to kiss it, or what, so I just gave it a gentle squeeze.
‘Gregor is cool,’ said Brady. By that I assumed that Brady meant he was a villain. I think I could have worked that one out for myself. ‘Let me get you a drink,’ Brady continued. ‘Champagne?’
‘It gives me a headache,’ I said. ‘Got any vodka?’
‘Of course. With?’
‘Orange juice.’
‘One screwdriver coming up.’ And he went over to the table and started clinking bottles and ice and a glass together.
‘Where’s Roy?’ I asked Hughes.
‘He’ll be along,’ he said. As if on cue, the doorbell rang. ‘That might be him now.’
A few seconds later Roy and Jools, led by Alfie, came into the room. Roy was wearing a very expensive-looking pinstriped suit, and Jools wore a little black dress that showed off the tops of her breasts to perfection, and strappy high-heeled shoes. She was carrying a tiny black velvet evening bag in one hand. Brady gave me my drink and be-bopped over to welcome them.
‘Hello, you two,’ he said. ‘Glad you could make it.’
‘Hi,’ said Roy, who looked like he’d snorted half of Bolivia before coming out to play, and appeared somewhat the worse for wear for it.
‘Let me get you something to drink,’ said Brady. ‘Champagne?’ There it was again. The worst alcoholic drink ever invented by man, wheeled out like it was a big deal.
‘Yeah,’ said Seeley. ‘But I’ve got something better in me sky rocket.’
‘Groovy,’ said Brady, like a schoolboy who’d just heard that gobstoppers had come off the ration. He went over to the table and poured two glasses of champagne, and gave one each to Seeley and Jools, then dragged them over and introduced them to Gregor and Fanny. After the introductions were complete, they excused themselves and made for the food.
Then Seeley came and buttonholed me. ‘Hi, Nick,’ he said. ‘Listen, I’ve got some business to talk with Brady and Pat. Look after Jools for me for a minute. We won’t be long.’ He winked. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after you later.’
I knew just what business he was on about. ‘No problem,’ I replied.
He went over to Brady and whispered in his ear. I saw Brady nod in affirmation, and Seeley tapped Hughes on the shoulder, and the three of them left the room together. Seeley took the bottle of champagne with him. They passed Alfie at the door, who gave Brady a dirty look and then waltzed over to Gregor and Fanny to check how the food was going.
‘Seems like I’m always being left to look after you,’ I said to Jools.
‘The booby prize,’ she said, but she didn’t specify which one of us was the booby. ‘This looks like being a riotous affair,’ she went on.
‘A real jolly up,’ I agreed.
The front-door bell rang again, and Alfie broke off his conversation to answer it. He reappeared with a pair of junior hitmen for the mob dressed in sharp navy-blue suits, white shirts and narrow black ties.
‘Who’s this?’ said Jools. ‘The Blues Brothers?’
‘In their dreams,’ I said. ‘Want another drink?’
‘Yeah, and something to eat.’ We got re-fills and wandered over to the canapés, and I held both glasses whilst she loaded two plates. The food wasn’t bad, as it goes. Either Alfie was as good a cook as
Brady had said, or else he had a charge card at Harrods. There were six different kinds of smoked meat, prawns and caviar with slices of hard-boiled egg, lobster vol-au-vents and pâté.
‘Very nice,’ I said through a mouthful.
‘A bit like a tart’s tea party,’ said Jools. ‘But not bad.’
When we’d finished she said, ‘I’d better go and find Roy – see what state he’s in.’
‘OK,’ I replied. ‘I’ll mingle.’
By that time a few more faces had shown up. A couple of the blokes had young women in tow. Good-looking they were, too. But strictly property to be bought and sold like meat on a rack. There were a few men on their own, too, or in pairs, like the Blues Brothers, but nothing overtly gay. Nothing that would upset the sensibilities of the real hard men present.
As I circulated, I got snatches of the conversations. You know the sort of thing: houses, cars, clothes, holidays. I didn’t mingle. Just drifted. Nobody paid me much attention and that was just the way I liked it.
32
Eventually, as I drifted round, I got back into Gregor’s sphere of influence.
‘Nick,’ he said, when I got close. ‘Come and talk to me. We didn’t have a chance earlier.’ He was standing in the darkest corner of the room, furthest from the door, drink in one hand, long-legged blonde still attached to the other arm like a successful transplant. As I moved in closer, she fixed me with an unblinking stare from her wide blue eyes. ‘You remember Fanny don’t you?’ he asked.
How could I forget? ‘Of course,’ I said.
‘So what do you do, Nick?’
‘I work behind the bar in a restaurant.’
‘Really. I’m in the restaurant game myself.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Sure. I own half a dozen nice places round Lewisham, Blackheath – that part of town. But they’re just a sideline.’ He winked and moved closer to me, dragging Fanny like a sheet anchor. ‘I make my real money in other ways. You’re a friend of Brady’s. You know what I’m talking about.’
‘Sure,’ I said.
‘Nothing too heavy. Just a few fingers in a few pies.’
‘Sure,’ I said again.
‘Maybe you and I could do something. Any friend of Brady’s… you know what I mean. You must pay us a visit. Pop over and have a meal with me. Best in the house. Anything you want is yours.’
‘I’d like that,’ I said.
‘We’ll fix it up. Soon. Call me.’ He unhooked Fanny and fished in his jacket pocket and came up with a pasteboard card. ‘My office number,’ he said. ‘Any time. Bring someone with you. We’ll make up a foursome. Just ask for me. I’m always around.’
‘Sounds good,’ I said, and glanced at the card. The address was in Greenwich. I stuck it in my breast pocket.
Gregor re-attached Fanny like an intravenous drip, then something caught his eye behind me. ‘I think your friend is looking for you,’ he said.
I looked over my shoulder. Jools was standing in the doorway. When she caught sight of me she waved half-heartedly.
‘I’d better go see what she wants,’ I said.
‘Sure. I’ll catch you later.’
‘You got it.’ I left the pair and went across the room.
When I got close to Jools I could see she looked stressed out. ‘What’s up?’ I asked.
‘It’s Roy. He’s being a pain.’
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Too much coke. He’s been at it all day. And now the booze on top. He can be such an arsehole sometimes. Now he wants to see you. He wants you to have some. Come and help calm him down? He won’t listen to any of us. He’s already picked a fight with Pat and he went before it got serious. Roy’s impossible when he’s like this. Brady’s worried he’s going to ruin the party.’
‘I don’t know what I can do,’ I said.
‘Anything. Just try. He’s upstairs.’
I followed her up a single flight and into what I assumed was the master bedroom. It was decorated in pastel shades and softly lit. A right passion palace. I’d bet Brady and Alfie got up to some performances in the massive double bed covered by a flower-patterned duvet. Seeley was sitting at a dark wood, glass-topped dressing table, cutting out huge lines from a mountain of coke next to the empty bottle of champagne he’d liberated from the living room downstairs. Brady was standing beside him looking well pissed off.
‘Nick,’ said Seeley when we walked in. ‘I see the jailer found you.’ I looked at Jools, but she just shrugged. ‘That cunt’s no fun anymore. She just wants to stop me having any. Come and get it, mate. There’s plenty here for my friends.’ If anything, he was looking worse than when he’d arrived. The top button of his shirt was undone and his tie had been pulled loose, and the skin on his face was grey and slack and sweaty-looking.
‘What’s up, Roy?’ I asked.
‘Nothing’s up. Who said it was?’ He looked accusingly at Jools. ‘That fucking cow, I suppose.’
I ignored him. ‘Having a good time?’ I asked.
‘Fucking awful. Everybody’s being a drag. But now you’re here it’s going to get better. Take a fucking line and cool out.’ He brushed two hundred quid’s worth of charlie on to the carpet with the sleeve of his jacket as he gestured towards the table top and he thrust a rolled-up bank note towards me. I sat down next to him on the edge of the stool and snorted up a line. ‘Good man, Nick,’ he slurred. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down. You’re from the old school. I recognised that the first time I talked to you.’ Now he was getting maudlin. There’s nothing worse. ‘Have some more,’ he urged.
‘Not now, Roy,’ I said. ‘I’ve had enough.’
‘There’s never enough. Never enough of anything.’ He leant over and put his arm round my shoulder. ‘Except fucking nagging fucking women. Isn’t that right?’
‘I don’t know, mate,’ I replied, gently disentangling myself. ‘I don’t know any.’
‘You’re lucky.’
‘Why don’t you have a little lie-down,’ I said.
‘Lie-down. Why?’
‘You’re out of it. The rest’ll do you good.’
‘Am I? Will it?’
‘Yeah. Come on, I’ll help you,’ I said, and stood up and helped him to his feet. He was high as a kite and pissed up, and he didn’t resist as I led him over to the bed, and helped him off with his jacket and he lay down. With any luck he’d pass out and remember nothing when he came to. ‘Take off his shoes,’ I said to Jools.
She did as she was told, and he sighed. ‘That feels good,’ he said. ‘You’re a mate, Nick. Now, look after my darling for me.’
I looked at Jools again, and she shrugged once more, as if it was par for the course for him to hate her one minute, love her the next.
‘I’ll do that,’ I said. ‘See you later.’
‘Later,’ he replied. And I herded everyone outside on to the landing and closed the door behind us.
‘Well done, Nick,’ said Brady.
‘No big deal,’ I said. ‘I’m sure you could have handled it yourself.’
‘I didn’t want to knock him out, did I? Pat had to split before he did. Roy was calling him every slag under the sun.’
‘He gets like that,’ said Jools.’
‘Sorry he was rough on you,’ I said.
‘Forget it, I’m used to it,’ she replied.
‘He’ll sleep it off with any luck,’ I said. ‘But we’d better check on him every so often.’
The other two nodded, and we went downstairs to rejoin the party. ‘I need a drink,’ I said.
‘Me too,’ said Jools, and we made for the booze supply. I poured a vodka for myself, and Jools asked for a scotch. Alfie had cleared away the canapés and laid out a big pot of chilli, another of rice, a tray of pitta bread and a bowl of salad.
‘Hungry?’ I ask
ed.
‘Not just now. Maybe later.’
‘Suits me,’ I said. We stood and drank and chatted for half an hour or so, as the rest of the party circulated round us. Then she decided she wanted something to eat, and of course the chilli bowl was empty.
‘There’s a pot on the stove,’ said Alfie. ‘Help yourself.’ So I collected Jools and took her into the kitchen, and that was where Seeley found us, alone. He was still looking rough, but maybe a little better. He’d put on his shoes and jacket, and adopted another bottle of champagne which he was drinking from the neck.
‘What’s going on?’ he demanded.
‘Just having something to eat and talking,’ said Jools.
‘Make sure that’s all it is,’ he said.
‘Slow down,’ I said. ‘You heard what she said.’
‘Who asked you?’ he said nastily.
‘You did,’ I said. ‘You asked me to look after her.’
‘You did, Roy,’ said Jools. ‘Twice.’
‘Shut up, you slag,’ he said.
‘Oh, Roy, don’t start again. I can’t stand it.’
He put his face up close to hers. I could see the foam in the corners of his mouth, and the flecks of flying spittle as he spoke. ‘I said shut up, you slag,’ he said very slowly.
‘Back off, Roy,’ I said. ‘Cool down, mate. Take it easy. Everything’s all right.’
He poked the bottle into my chest. ‘Don’t tell me. I’ve found her “just talking” before. But usually she’s got her knickers round her ankles while she’s doing it.’
Jools lifted up first one foot, then the other, and studiously looked at them. ‘Not this time, Roy,’ she said. ‘And even if they were, it’s none of your fucking business. Anyway, it’s been such a long time since you’ve shown any interest in my knickers that I’d be surprised if you’d recognise a pair if you saw them. Unless you were wearing them yourself, of course.’
He hit her then. An open-handed slap around the face, with all his strength behind it, that knocked her head sideways.
So I hit him. Right on the nose, where even a light blow can cause much pain, distress, and even tears. The works. And, believe me, it wasn’t a light blow. He went backwards across the kitchen, hit the oven and crashed to the floor, dropping the champagne bottle but acquiring the pan of hot chilli all over his suit in the process.
