by Alex Wheatle
‘You coming over every year,’ said Brenton. ‘Or whenever you can. I can live with that.’
Kissing Brenton on the forehead, Juliet cradled his jaw with her palms. ‘I’ll come over whenever I can … but …’
‘But what?’
‘What if Breanna comes with me?’
‘Then we go back to brother and sister.’
Juliet thought about it again and then nodded.
‘Don’t ever bring him over here though,’ said Brenton. ‘I don’t think I could stand that. Back in the UK the jealousy t’ing was slowly killing me.’
Juliet nodded again.
‘Oh, by the way,’ said Brenton.
‘What is it?’
‘The laundry basket is in the laundry room next door to the kitchen.’
Juliet burst out laughing and picked up a pillow and smashed it against Brenton’s head. They started a play-fight with Juliet winning, two submissions to one.
Brenton watched Juliet stretching out on the bed. ‘You’re still gone clear,’ he said.
‘Gone clear? What does that mean?’
‘Something Floyd used to say about really pretty girls. Gone clear!’
‘It can be a bitch too,’ said Juliet. ‘Looking like this.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If you’ve noticed, I haven’t got many close friends. Only Tessa.’
‘Join the club,’ said Brenton. ‘I’ve only got Floyd who I can be real with.’
Juliet gazed at the ceiling. Brenton kissed her on her forehead but he detected sadness in her eyes. ‘I was real popular at school,’ she said. ‘But as I got older and friends started dating, they were different to me. They wouldn’t trust me. If I said hi to any of their boyfriends they’d automatically think I was trying to steal him from them.’
‘Their boyfriends probably fancied you,’ suggested Brenton.
‘That was the problem,’ said Juliet, still staring at the ceiling. ‘A few of them did. I didn’t lead any of them on but two of them asked me out while they were still going with my friends. Did my friends believe me? Oh no! I was labelled a relationship breaker, a fucking bitch. They reckoned I thought I was too pretty and all that and I would go for any man I wanted and not give a shit. One of them threatened to scar my face.’
‘Must have been rough,’ said Brenton.
‘It was. At the time I met you, friends were just drifting away from me. I didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘Their loss,’ said Brenton. ‘You’re with me now. Fuck them.’
Brenton kissed her again on the cheek and gave her a reassuring hug.
She fell asleep in Brenton’s arms for two hours and when she woke up they made love again. They showered together before leaving for a South American steak restaurant. Following their meal they departed holding hands and shared a kiss before Brenton switched the ignition on.
‘How is Breanna?’ asked Brenton.
‘Opinionated,’ answered Juliet. ‘Headstrong. Ever since Malakai passed away she’s become more confident, outgoing. We should always be thankful to him. She doesn’t worry so much about her looks anymore. Finally she likes herself. She’s comfortable in her own skin.’
‘That’s good.’
‘Yes, it is, but she argues with me over everything.’
‘How’s her job?’
‘She loves it. She’s just done a course about identifying children’s behavior that could mean problems within the home and she’s taken over the youth club’s homework sessions. Clayton’s a patron of the organisation so sometimes we drop in to where Breanna works. I tell you what; she’s much more patient with kids than I ever was.’
‘Yeah, I hear that,’ said Brenton. ‘When she was over here all she would talk about is the kids she works with. How she likes making some kind of difference to them. I’m seriously proud of her.’
‘Me too,’ nodded Juliet.
‘Any boyfriends on the scene?’ asked Brenton.
‘Not that I know of,’ answered Juliet. ‘It doesn’t bother her that she hasn’t got a man like other girls of her age I know.’
‘She might as well wait for a good one.’
‘Yeah … by the way, I bumped into Sean the other day.’
‘How’s he doing?’
‘He’s working and going to college,’ said Juliet. ‘You know you were great for him.’
‘He wasn’t that bad, you know,’ said Brenton. ‘Just made some wrong choices. He just needed someone to tell him that yeah, he’s OK; he can do shit and get a good job. He can be a part of society. I just gave him stuff to do. I was strict about him turning up on time and I wouldn’t take any fuckery. He soon learned that I wouldn’t take his chatting on his mobile every minute. One time I told him to give me his phone first t’ing in the morning and I gave it back before he went home. He got used to my ways.’
Juliet leant over to her left and kissed Brenton on the cheek.
‘Wasn’t I the same?’ asked Brenton. ‘I wasn’t any different. But you came along. Remember that first time I saw you?’
Juliet nodded. She smiled.
‘You told me I could do shit,’ resumed Brenton. ‘What was it? You told me to get my backside to college and ask about courses.’
Juliet grinned at the memory. Brenton glanced at her before concentrating on the road again.
They arrived home and Brenton helped carry Juliet’s luggage into his room. They made love again before getting up together in the middle of the night to share chocolate ice cream and Dominican rum in the lounge beneath a large framed photo of Charlie Chaplin and a very young Jackie Coogan in a still from their silent movie The Kid. Hanging from the opposite wall was a poster from the classic musical Oliver!
Juliet was lying on her back on the leather sofa as Brenton fed her the ice cream. He was making her laugh and the ice cream didn’t go where it was meant to go. Brenton kissed the chocolate off her face.
The next day they toured around Miami Metrozoo in a tandem and Brenton accused Juliet of not doing her share of the pedalling. In the afternoon they drove to Southridge Park where they picnicked, massaged each other and lazed under the hot Miami sun. They went home and started to make love in the shower before finishing in the bedroom. They fell asleep naked on top of the bed, spooned together. A lovers’ rock CD was playing on a loop.
They both rose in the early hours, not bothering to put on any clothes. They snacked on mango and melon chunks and finished off the Dominican rum.
Driving down to the Keys the following day, Juliet was dressed in a black bikini, a wide-brimmed straw hat and a rainbow-coloured sarong. Brenton decided to drive with the windows open and while Juliet was marvelling at the views of the blue Atlantic on either side of her, Brenton was admiring her body. Her wraparound sunglasses perched on the top of her head, she was sipping from a carton of guava juice and eating a bunch of red seedless grapes. The trailing wind messed up her hair but she had no thought about that. She glanced up at the cloudless sky and then to Brenton. You always get what you want, she recalled Tessa telling her. Why shouldn’t I get what I want, she said in her mind. Just for a little while. Two weeks of the year. Why not? Brenton knows my situation. He’s OK with it. He’s more than happy that I’m with him. What Clayton doesn’t know can’t hurt him or anybody else for that matter. So much for this being a sin. Fuck it! If there is an all-powerful God then He made me fall in love with Brenton. I can’t choose not to love him. Nothing will stop me from seeing him. Nothing!
‘So what’s it like being an MP?’ Brenton asked, interrupting Juliet’s thinking.
‘Frustrating,’ she said. ‘We’ve just been re-elected but instead of getting on with what we should be doing, the talk and memos are all about how we must appeal to the public, how we must come across on TV and forums. Even now they’re thinking of how they’re going to get re-elected in the next election. Can you believe that?’
‘So not how you thought it would be?’
‘Not really. The
whips go on like they’re enforcers …’
‘Whips? Who the fuck are the whips? Brothel madams and t’ing? I always knew MPs were kinky.’
Juliet laughed. ‘They’re just people in the parliamentary party who try and tell you what to vote for, toe the party line, what to say and all that. They walk around Westminster like they’re your parents.’
Brenton glanced at Juliet. ‘And you put up with that?’
‘Fuck no!’ Juliet answered. ‘I tell them what to do with themselves. I won’t let them intimidate me.’
‘So how is it working at the … what is it? Where do you work?’
‘I’m a junior minister at Works and Pension. I was offered a junior ministry at Health and the Home Office but I turned it down. I really wanted the Children’s minister job.’
‘So what’s it like then?’
‘To tell you the truth all of us new junior ministers and the so-called ministers of state didn’t have a clue the way the whole thing worked. We’re so reliant on the civil service. Trust me; it’s them who really run the country. MPs might pretend they know what they’re doing but we haven’t got a clue. One ex education minister told me he was in the job for four years and still didn’t totally know what he was doing. After five years he had a little idea but then there was a reshuffle and he got sacked. Now he’s saying what he always wanted to say from the backbenches while the new education minister sits in his office all confused. At the end of the day it’s all about jobs for the boys from Oxbridge. Most of them don’t care about people. They only care about who might be the next Foreign Secretary or Chancellor or who gets to chair some jumped-up select committee or what City job might fall into their laps when they leave office. Now and again they might give a woman the Home Office or Health just to make it look like they’re not sexist. But really, it’s a boys’ club, looking after themselves.’
‘Sounds like a lot of fuckery,’ remarked Brenton.
‘I will serve out my time and then maybe do something else. Maybe work for a children’s charity or something.’
‘Enough about politics,’ said Brenton. ‘Sometimes I don’t know half the fuck of what you’re going on about.’
Juliet burst out laughing.
‘You’re seriously going to love this beach,’ he added.
An hour later, Brenton pulled up within walking distance of Big Pine Key beach. He walked hand in hand with Juliet across the sand towards the curved shoreline. The ocean shimmered in tones of blue; the darker the further they looked out. Brown seaweed rode on the gently breaking frothy waves. The smell of salt filled their nostrils. The sea was calm. Juliet found it hard to believe that hurricanes ripped through these beaches on a regular basis. She looked out to the ocean. Quiet, still vessels skirted the wavy horizon. Excited shouts from children playing with lilos and rubber rings broke the serenity. Sunbathers on long towels glanced up at the only black couple on the beach.
Finding a clear spot, Brenton and Juliet rolled out their towels. Juliet lay down looking at the sea and Brenton took out his bottle of lavender oil and started to massage it into her shoulders. She closed her eyes.
‘I’m only doing this for ten minutes,’ said Brenton. ‘Then I’m going for a dip.’
‘One hour then you got a deal,’ said Juliet.
‘Half an hour.’
‘Forty-five minutes.’
‘Forty minutes,’ chuckled Brenton. ‘But a break after twenty.’
‘Deal,’ laughed Juliet. ‘But you have to make up the hour when we get home.’
‘Deal!’
Three days later
Checking in at the Blue Moon Hotel that overlooked Miami South Beach, Clayton asked the receptionist if she could arrange for his rental car to be ready and waiting in two hours.
He went up to his room and showered, changed his clothes and had a light meal. He then checked his messages on his laptop computer but every now and again he took out a scrap of paper and read the address written on it. Before leaving his room he took out his wallet from his back pocket and looked at the image he always kept in there; a photograph of a three-year-old Breanna, Juliet and himself. Carefully he placed it back in his wallet and made his way to the hotel’s reception. He picked up his rental car keys along with a flyer advertising the hotel’s spa swimming pool. He made a mental note to check out the fountains and waterfall feature of the hotel and thought Juliet would enjoy seeing it … if she returned with him.
Stepping outside he was hit by the heat of the afternoon sun and he quickly climbed into the car and adjusted the rear mirror. He took out the address from his back pocket and keyed it into the satellite navigation system. He turned the ignition, switched on the air conditioning but before he pulled away, he looked at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. ‘Juliet,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t let this be true.’
He drove out of the hotel car park and made his way to the South Dixie Highway – US One. He glanced at the graphics on the satellite navigation system and it read South Miami Heights. He checked the time on his watch. Three twenty p.m.
‘You’re not getting dressed?’ shouted Brenton from his kitchen. ‘You’ll have to get ready sooner or later. I wanna leave here by five. It’s half past three already.’
‘Do we have to go out this evening?’ said Juliet, dressed only in one of Brenton’s old T-shirts. ‘Can’t we stay in?’
‘I’ve already told Ramirez about you,’ replied Brenton. He turned over four rashers of turkey bacon in the frying pan. ‘He wants to meet my sister. His wife is cooking something for us.’
‘Can’t we see him tomorrow?’
‘I have to work tomorrow,’ said Brenton.
‘I’m tired,’ argued Juliet.
‘You can sleep tonight.’
‘I would sleep but you won’t let me! I’ve hardly slept since I’ve been here.’
Satisfied that the turkey bacon was cooked, Brenton placed two rashers on each plate to complete a meal with scrambled eggs and toast. He placed Juliet’s plate on a tray and brought it to her.
Sitting up in bed, Juliet was flicking through the TV channels. ‘I can’t watch American TV,’ she remarked. ‘Too many adverts.’
‘That’s why I don’t bother,’ said Brenton. He presented the tray to Juliet. ‘I just listen to the radio or play my music.’
‘Thanks, Brenton,’ said Juliet accepting the tray. ‘I have to see if I can find this turkey bacon in England. This is bad. Having breakfast after three o’clock?’
‘Don’t worry about it. You’re on holiday.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Juliet repeated. ‘If that’s the case, let me eat this and have a nap afterwards. I really need to catch up on sleep. Can’t you call Ramirez and tell him we’re going to be a bit late?’
Brenton kissed Juliet on the forehead and said, ‘Yeah, OK. No worries.’
‘Looking forward to going to Orlando at the weekend,’ said Juliet.
‘Yep, you’re gonna love it.’
‘I want to check out the Epcot Center. How long does it take to get there?’
‘About four hours. It’s one straight drive.’
‘And we’re spending the weekend there?’
‘Yep. One day at the Epcot place and the next day at Universal or Disneyland. Your choice.’
‘I’ll sleep on it and look at the leaflets again,’ said Juliet.
‘OK, I’m going to eat in the front room; got to catch up on my taxes and t’ing. Oh, and I got to reply to Floyd’s e-mail.’
‘OK,’ said Juliet. ‘Don’t be too long and join me when you’re finished.
Fifty minutes later Brenton’s doorbell rang. He got up from his computer desk in the lounge to answer it. He pulled the door open and saw Clayton in front of him. He reeled back slightly. He blinked and re-focused his eyes. Before Brenton could react or say anything, Clayton walked into the reception area. ‘I thought I’d surprise, Juliet,’ he said. ‘I’ve lined up a Caribbean cruise. Where is she?’
Stil
l standing by the front door with his hand on the door-handle, Brenton stuttered and couldn’t get any words out. Clayton offered him a suspicious glare before turning right into the hallway. ‘Juliet!’ he called. ‘Juliet!’
Something within Brenton allowed Clayton to look for her. He remained in the reception area. Shock was written on his face.
Clayton checked the first bedroom. He quickly walked into the second. As he was coming out into the hallway he met Juliet under the doorframe of Brenton’s bedroom. She was wearing a pair of Brenton’s tracksuit bottoms and Brenton’s T-shirt. Clayton scanned the room. He noticed the untidy bed. He saw Juliet’s suitcase. Her toiletries. His deodorant. Her make-up. His shaving cream. Her slippers. His sandals. Her underwear. His socks. Juliet’s long pink towel was covering the foot of the bed. One of Brenton’s towels was draped over a chair. Juliet retreated until her legs hit the bed. She sat down. Clayton followed her every move. Something stopped him from entering the bedroom. Juliet could hear Brenton’s naked feet padding along the hallway. Clayton still glared at her. He turned away. Brenton walked towards him. He stopped.
‘I always had a thought in the back of my head,’ Clayton said calmly. ‘Even before Ms Massey passed away. I didn’t want to think …’ Clayton spun around again. He searched Juliet’s eyes. ‘For years I was praying it wasn’t true.’
His black shoes echoing off the ceramic tiles, Clayton about-turned and brushed past Brenton. Juliet remained on the bed motionless. She gazed into the palm of her right hand. Brenton stared at her. Clayton reached the reception area. ‘Breanna will find this interesting!’ he shouted.
Juliet and Brenton stared at each other. For a long moment they couldn’t move. Juliet finally found her voice. ‘He can’t tell Breanna!’
Frantically searching for his truck keys, Brenton found them on the bedside cabinet. He ran along the hallway and out of the house. Clayton had just pulled away. Brenton jumped into his cab and fired the ignition. He screeched into reverse and chased after Clayton. Clayton turned left at the next junction. Brenton changed gears and signalled left. He looked right for oncoming traffic. He didn’t see the big truck speeding from the left. It smashed into his cab with such power that what was left of Brenton’s small pick-up truck spun five times before it came to a standstill. Brenton was killed instantly on impact.
