by Alex Wheatle
‘Another colleague?’
‘No, Tom, just a friend.’
‘Anyone I know?’
‘No, Tom.’
‘OK, enjoy your lunch then,’ Tom said, the tone of his voice disappointed. ‘We’ll do lunch soon, yeah? We’ll strategise then.’
‘OK, Tom, maybe when I haven’t got so much on.’
‘Cool.’
Tom watched Juliet walk down the steps of the Town Hall before disappearing inside. Making her way along Brixton High Street, Juliet felt a harsh breeze slap across her cheeks. She tightened the belt of her coat and made a mental note to buy Breanna a birthday card. She heard an argument coming from the newsagent’s and the cheap noodle restaurant she passed was as busy as ever. Someone was selling international calling cards outside Red Records and some Christian guy was sermonising outside Brixton underground with a loudspeaker. A normal Brixton day, Juliet said to herself.
Opposite the tube station was a walkway that led to the SW9 bar. Juliet checked her watch – twenty past one. She took a deep breath and went inside. Slouched on a sofa with too many cushions and nursing a strong coffee was Tessa, Juliet’s friend. She raised her hand on seeing Juliet. ‘Jules! Over here! What’s a matter with you? You blind?’
Juliet smiled and took a chair opposite Tessa. ‘And you’re late,’ Tessa added.
‘Sorry, Tess, meeting ran a bit late.’
‘So what’s this all about then?’ asked Tessa, flicking her auburn hair out of her eyes. ‘You only saw me yesterday at your mum’s funeral?’
‘Oh and how are you too,’ snapped Juliet, glancing over the menu.
‘Excuse me for asking! You are touchy today. I usually get summoned by you every three months or so. So what is it? The mayor tripped over his robes? Lambeth can no longer afford the free sugar in the Town Hall canteen? Someone dumped a truckload of parking tickets in your office? Clayton still not adventurous enough for you?’
‘Tess!’
A young Mediterranean waiter came over and asked the women for their order.
‘I’ll have the lamb burger, salad and fries,’ said Juliet. ‘And a glass of cranberry juice, please.’
‘I’ll have the quarter pounder and fries,’ ordered Tessa. ‘And another coffee. Don’t make it as frothy as the last one. Thanks.’
Scribbling down the order, the waiter moved away and Tessa took a peek at his behind. ‘Then what is it?’ she asked again.
‘Why do you think there is an it? Can’t I want to see you just to catch up? Didn’t really have a chance to chat yesterday because of the other guests.’
‘Oh stop giving me the twaddle, Juliet,’ Tessa sniped. ‘When I left last night I could see you were stressed out about something. And it had nothing to do with your mum dying. You have mourned for that already.’
‘Not sure if I have,’ replied Juliet staring into space. ‘It was quite something watching her coffin being lowered into the ground.’
‘Yes it was,’ nodded Tessa.
‘How’s the kids?’ asked Juliet.
‘Niall’s decided to stay on to the sixth form and I’ve renamed Candice Miss Glamorous. She’s still only twelve but she wants to dress like she’s eighteen with all the make-up and stuff. You know what I mean? They both miss their dad but they’ll get used to it. He was supposed to come last Friday evening for them but did he? So fucking unreliable he is.’
‘I had the same trouble with Breanna and the make-up,’ said Juliet. ‘They’re all the same. So much pressure on young girls to look adult these days. It isn’t any surprise when you see pop videos. The divorce must be shit for your kids though.’
‘You’re right about that,’ nodded Tessa. ‘But they seem to be coping. They would cope better if their skint-arse dad would turn up when he says so. He was probably fucking that new young girl of his. Tramp! No time for his kids anymore.’
The waiter returned with a coffee for Tessa and a cranberry juice for Juliet. Tessa inspected the coffee. ‘That’s a bit better,’ she smiled. The waiter returned the smile.
‘How is my goddaughter Breanna?’ asked Tessa.
‘She’s doing really well at her accountants’ place. Did I tell you she started off as an intern and after six months they decided to give her a job?’
‘Yes, you did. You kept going on about it like she became the US President or something. What have you got planned for her birthday?’
‘A car.’
‘A car! When I reached twenty-one all I got was a gold-plated necklace from East Street market and a bottle of Pink Lady from my nan. You spoil her too much, Jules.’
‘You’re only twenty-one once.’
‘Have you told Brenton you’re buying her a car?’
‘No. I don’t have to tell Brenton everything we’re doing for Breanna. Clayton is picking the car up tomorrow. He’s sorting everything out, insurance and tax.’ Juliet paused and sipped her cranberry juice. She stared at the floor and for just a short second her expression revealed a deep anxiety.
‘So that’s it,’ guessed Tessa. ‘Brenton! I noticed you two going outside to the garden for a chat. I thought to myself, what’s a matter with them two? It was freezing out there.’
‘We needed some privacy.’
‘Then why didn’t you go upstairs?’
Juliet sipped her cranberry juice again. She met Tessa’s eyes and there was a knowing pause. ‘What is it, Jules?’
Juliet paused for a moment, taking in a long breath. ‘He wants Breanna to know he’s her father.’
‘You told him no, right?’
‘Yes, but …’
‘There ain’t no buts, Jules. It’s a no-no with two big Ns. You can’t ever let Breanna know.’
‘You should’ve seen his face,’ Juliet said, staring blankly over Tessa’s right shoulder. ‘He was so upset. It’s been shit for him watching Breanna grow up with another dad.’
Tessa placed her coffee down on the table and grabbed Juliet’s wrists. ‘You can’t weaken! How’s it going to look after all these years? You told her that you got pregnant after a fumble at a drunken party and that you can’t remember who the dad was. Breanna’s learned to accept that. So has Clayton. Don’t mess it up now ’cos you feel sorry for Brenton. Don’t fall for the oh it’s shit for me line. In that children’s home didn’t they beat him up all the time and weren’t he fiddled with?’
‘He wasn’t fiddled with, Tess.’
‘Whatever, don’t let him have his way on this one. Protect Breanna.’
‘Maybe she will handle it?’
‘No! Jules. What you thinking? Breanna will never trust anything you say to her again. And as for Clayton, well, it’ll certainly knock you off that virginal perch he’s had you on since you got together with him.’
‘Clayton hasn’t had me on a virginal perch!’
‘Yes he has. Sometimes listening to him I get the feeling he thinks you’re the Virgin Mary reincarnated. The last time you invited me to one of your Town Hall dos we was watching you make a speech and he said, “Doesn’t she make Halle Berry look like a zombie in a Michael Jackson video. She’s beautiful.” I nearly threw up.’
‘Stop it, Tess!’
‘It’s true! The way he doesn’t like to talk about who Breanna’s father is or even discuss the issue. It’s as if he thinks you had some kind of divine conception and you never had sex before you met him.’
‘You’re being ridiculous, Tess.’
‘No I’m not. Look how long it took you guys to have sex after you met. Seven months.’
‘It was five months.’
‘That’s just as bad. What was the matter with him? I still think he’s got a fruity streak going through him.’
‘He’s not gay, Tess.’
‘But he might be bi though. Think about all those business trips he goes on. Maybe he goes up Hampstead Heath for a bit of dogging? Or whatever people call it these days. And he seems at home with all your gay political mates.’
‘I haven’t got
any gay political mates.’
‘Yes, you have. That midget one. What’s his name? Tom. That’s it. He’s definitely sooo gay.’
‘No he’s not.’
‘Yes he is! He’s as gay as that Top Gun film.’
‘Tom’s not gay. He flirts with me all the time.’
‘Yeah, to make it look like he’s straight. He’s over-compensating. If he ever had his way with you he’d take one look at your naked body, throw up and start crying for mummy.’
‘Trust me, he likes his women.’
‘If you say so, Jules. Anyway, Clayton seems to like being around men like Tom.’
‘He just likes being around shakers and movers.’
‘Yeah, men who shake and move their arse.’
‘Tess!’
‘Five months,’ Tessa took a slurp of her coffee. ‘How old were you when you met? Twenty-three, weren’t it? If I was twenty-three and my guy didn’t make a move on me I would’ve thought there’s something wrong.’
‘Clayton’s shy,’ said Juliet. ‘He was traditional, respectful and polite. He came from a church family.’
‘And boring,’ added Tessa. ‘You went from one extreme to the other. You might’ve known Brenton in the biblical sense and when you first told me I couldn’t believe it but at least he weren’t boring. What was it? Weren’t you tearing off each other’s clothes on the fourth or fifth time you met?’
‘The fifth,’ Juliet remembered.
‘He didn’t place you on any pedestal,’ said Tessa. ‘Going by what you told me it was just raw, animal sex. I could do with some of that right now. Since the divorce I’ve had to resort to all things that buzz. I do miss that part of being married.’
‘Your lamb burger, Miss, and your quarter pounder, Miss,’ the waiter said, placing the plates on the table. ‘I hope it is to your liking, yes?’
‘I’m sure it is,’ nodded Juliet, trying to kill her embarrassment.
‘Thanks,’ giggled Tessa, picking up her knife and fork.
The waiter moved away and Tessa dropped her tone. ‘As I said you went from one extreme to another.’
‘Mum really liked him,’ said Juliet. ‘They got on really well.’
‘You don’t marry somebody all because your mum likes them! Your mum didn’t have to fuck him so why does she have to like him? I still say you marrying Clayton was a guilt thing.’
‘No it wasn’t!’
‘Yes it was! You felt so guilty after the Brenton thing that you tried to make up for it and make your mum feel better by going for boring, safe Clayton. It would have been more exciting in the bedroom if you married a dead castrated pope.’
‘Stop taking the piss, Tess. Clayton’s alright.’
‘Hmm? Only alright?’
‘He’s dependable, never let me down.’
‘Dependable? My fucking hoover is dependable! So is my hot-water tap and my Duracell batteries! The thing I keep in my knickers’ drawer never lets me down either. Jules, not once have you ever told me that you want to rush home and shag his arse off. Not once! And by the way if it was a contest of arses then Brenton wins hands down; he’s still very fit. How long have you been with Clayton now?’
‘Seventeen years.’
‘And in those seventeen years you have never told me what he’s like in bed or if he satisfies you.’
‘Tess!’
‘You told me about Brenton though. In fact you told me in such detail I thought I was shagging him myself.’
‘Enough!’
‘You are touchy about this,’ remarked Tessa, jawing her quarter pounder. ‘I think you still have feelings for him. Admit it.’
‘Of course I do. He’s my brother.’
‘I’m talking about biblical feelings.’
‘That’s ridiculous. It happened a long time ago.’
‘Jules, it’s me you’re talking to. Not one of your Town Hall la-di-da mates.’
‘What are you buying Breanna for her twenty-first?’ Juliet suddenly changed the subject.
Tessa offered Juliet an accusing stare. She took a big bite of her quarter pounder and chased it with a gulp of coffee. ‘You think you are so crafty changing the subject, but I’m going to talk this out with you one day. Breanna? If you’re getting a car for her then I s’pose I’ll get her something for the car. Maybe a toolkit, jump leads and stuff. Something like that. It’s not good for a woman to be stranded. She should know something about starting the damn thing if it breaks down.’
‘That’ll be nice.’
‘She’s my goddaughter,’ said Tessa. ‘And if you go telling her that Brenton is her real dad then I’ll take that flashy handbag of yours and clout you with it.’
Laughing, Juliet replied, ‘Don’t worry, it won’t come to that.’ ‘It better not!’
‘By the way, how you coping financially?’
‘Graham’s already said I can keep the house. He’s moved in with his young slut. I’ve put away a bit and I’ve got a feature film coming up.’
‘Who’s in it?’
‘No one you know, Jules. But I’ll be doing their make-up. Shoot should last about five weeks and fuck if I’m gonna let the taxman know.’
‘So you’re alright for now?’
‘You know me, Jules. I’m a survivor. Fuck all men … apart from the hard-arsed ones … hang on a sec, you think you’re so crafty changing the subject. Don’t you give in to Brenton. Never tell Breanna the whole, dirty biblical details.’
‘I won’t,’ said Juliet. ‘I promise.’
Chapter 7
Insecurity
‘MAYBE THAT NEW PLACE in Clapham Common,’ said Breanna on her mobile.
‘Nah,’ came the reply. ‘The guys in there are too dry. Too many of them are wastemen.’
‘But you got a man,’ returned Breanna.
‘No harm in looking though, is there.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘When you gonna introduce me to Malakai?’
‘Never! Don’t trust you.’
‘Screw you!’
‘Screw you too.’
‘No, seriously. When.’
‘You might see him tomorrow night if we can decide on a bar or club to go to. In fact, I’m just about to go to Nando’s. Meeting Jazz there. Malakai’s linking me there too.’
‘So you’re letting Jazz see Malakai before me? That is bad-mind! Mind they don’t leave the table together.’
‘Jazz ain’t like that.’
‘Ain’t she? I’d meet you there if I didn’t have to cook tonight. Mum’s late from work and my two brothers don’t know where the kitchen is. I’ll see you tomorrow then.’
‘OK, tomorrow, Joanna. And when you see Malakai keep your eyes to yourself.’
‘Don’t worry, Breanna. He’s probably ugly anyway. And if he ain’t you better keep Jazz’s flirting on lock.’
‘You joker. See ya.’
Breanna snapped her mobile closed and opened her wardrobe. She considered changing her clothes but couldn’t be bothered. Instead she cleaned her face with a wet wipe, sprayed her neck and wrists with fragrance and then pondered over her shoe collection. She decided to pull on her cream Ugg boots over her black Adidas tracksuit bottoms and her green waterproof body-warmer over her grey hoodie.
She left her house and made her way to the bus stop near West Norwood train station. It was a cold evening and she cursed herself for forgetting her gloves. She checked her watch. Seven fifteen. She hoped Malakai wouldn’t be late. She hoped Jazz liked him; Jazz didn’t like the last guy she dated and they didn’t last long. God! she thought. There’s her worrying about what Jazz would think about her new man but Gran is dead! Bree, you’re a dog-heart!
It didn’t seem real looking into her coffin, Breanna recalled. At least that haunted look in her eyes was gone. She wondered what lay behind it. She’d always had it in mind to ask Gran what troubled her over the years but never got around to it. No. That ain’t true, Breanna reconsidered. I was just too scared to ask. Mayb
e it was just regrets? Or was it living on her own for so long? Mum’s face is beginning to look like Gran’s. She’s starting to develop that same tormented expression. It was there at odd times when she was reading one of her books or when she was watching one of her romantic mini-series DVDs. From a warm smile her expression could change into a sad look in the space of a blink. She’s still so much better looking than me though.
She wondered if Mum ever thought it was a mistake marrying Dad. After all, she pondered, I’m not his. How many men take on women with kids? Maybe because Mum was so good looking it didn’t matter to him that she was a single mother. But their body language is messed up. They sit apart watching television. They never kiss in front of me, not even a goodbye kiss when one of them is leaving for work. Man! Their generation’s weird. Malakai and me won’t go on like that if we last that long.
Uncle Brenton’s got a chance of a long relationship with Lesley, Breanna thought. She’s alright. He can be intense sometimes but you can have a laugh with him; can’t have a giggle with Dad. Uncle Brenton should settle down with Lesley. It’s obvious she really loves him but her two kids are spoilt. Maybe that’s what’s holding Uncle Brenton back. Wonder what he and Mum were arguing about in the garden?
A 68 bus screeching to a halt stopped Breanna’s thoughts. She had to stand on her journey to Brockwell Park and longed for the day when she could afford a car. She caught the 37 from the park to Brixton and as she passed the Town Hall she guessed her mum was still working there. She wondered if her place of work would be Westminster one day. You’re too damn ambitious, Mum, she said to herself.
Nando’s restaurant was opposite Brixton Academy; some band Breanna had never heard of was playing there next weekend. Across the road a bus driver was refusing to proceed because a passenger didn’t want to pay his fare. A toddler was playing up in his buggy at the bus stop and his mother was trying to calm him with chicken nuggets. Breanna kissed her teeth.
Breanna found Jazz sitting in a corner of the restaurant. There were some uppity young blacks there too who wouldn’t be seen dead in a McDonald’s or Kentucky, she reckoned, but they couldn’t afford much more than a Nando’s. She didn’t like the place but Jazz loved it, especially as it was located in the centre of Brixton.
