‘Not quite‚’ he was quick to point out. ‘I work directly with Counter Terrorism Operations.’
‘Okay‚’ I said‚ noncommittally‚ not quite knowing if I should be impressed.
‘Parker is our man on the ground. I am overseeing it all‚’ he said. Maybe I should be impressed.
‘Where do I fit in? Who do I report to?’
‘To Parker. He’s handling you.’
I must have displayed a little bemusement because he went on to explain what handling meant.
‘So‚ a handler is somebody who is appointed to you. He is your first point of contact‚ whether it’s to provide information‚ or if you have any issues. A handler will help you to make the transition from a… civilian to a spy.’
‘A spy?’
‘Yes. That’s your primary role in the project. If you do‚ however‚ have any issues with your handler‚ you contact me directly and I will act accordingly.’
I shrugged.
‘Do you have any issues with Parker‚ Jay?’
‘Not really… He’s just not what I expected from an MI5 agent.’
‘As opposed to me?’
He smiled. He was fishing for a compliment and unwittingly revealing a little about himself. I got the impression the two of them did not get along. When I’d met Parker‚ there was something about him‚ like a vibe that came off him‚ as though he’d been damaged. I believed him when he spoke. This guy‚ shielded behind his expensive suit and his smug smile‚ I wasn’t so sure about.
I‚ inexplicably‚ felt the need to defend Parker.
‘But I guess that’s a good thing‚ right?’ I said. ‘You don’t want to be walking round with a sign around your neck telling the whole world that you’re MI5‚ right? Parker’s got that whole drifter look down to a tee. He’s alright‚ man. He’s cool.’
Lawrence’s smile stayed on his lips but drained from his eyes.
26
I didn’t want to go home. The day was too nice to be cooped up alone in my room‚ with only my thoughts for company‚ so I hit the Rising Sun. A worse-for-wear Khan was propping up the bar and by the state of him he looked like he needed the bar for physical support. I ordered myself half a pint of San Miguel and moved to a corner table.
My phone beeped. A message from Idris. He wanted to meet. I had to face him sooner or later‚ may as well do it over a drink. I texted back my location‚ then bided my time wasting gold coins on the fruit machines.
I heard my name being called from the bar. Khan had been replaced by Idris‚ who was gesturing with his hand to ask if I would like another drink. I showed him my glass to indicate that I was good. Idris approached and placed his red wine on the table just as Khan walked out of the gents. He swaggered over to our table and before Idris had a chance to sit down‚ Khan was all up in his face.
‘Looky‚ look‚ look‚’ Khan said. Idris swayed his head back slightly at Khan’s beer breath. ‘We have a Constable in our midst.’ The two of them had never gotten along. Khan had always demanded respect‚ which he received from the majority‚ but Idris was firmly in the minority.
‘Go away‚ Khan‚’ Idris said‚ calmly.
‘You don’t tell me what to do‚ Constable.’
‘It’s Detective Inspector.’
‘Ooh. Detective Inspector.’ Khan‚ was all over the place. Drunk as a skunk and as smelly as one. ‘I’ll tell you what you are.’ He jabbed a podgy finger on Idris’ chest. ‘A fucking shell-out coconut!’
I was pretty sure that he meant sell out. I took a firm hold of my beer and sat back in my seat. If they were going to go at it‚ there was no need for my drink to spill.
‘Why don’t you find a corner somewhere and sober up‚ eh?’ Idris said.
‘What you going to do? Arrest me?’ Khan said‚ loud enough for the few patrons to sit up and take notice.
‘Arrest you? No. Unfortunately‚ being a first-class twat is not yet considered a crime. But when it is‚ I’ll be coming for you.’
Khan’s eyes narrowed and he stared at Idris with intent. I watched from the safety of my seat and nursed my drink. I wasn’t going to get involved unless it kicked off. Then‚ and only then‚ would I have to join forces with the coconut.
‘You sold your soul to the Devil‚’ Khan spat‚ regaining momentum. ‘You know why?’
‘This I would love to hear.’
‘Alright‚ Detective. I’ll tell you. We need Pakis like you and me and Jay to start fighting‚ to make our voices heard‚ to show the world that we are not afraid‚’ Khan said‚ with surprising clarity considering his state. ‘We need to stick together and give it to them. We have every right to walk this land how we see fit‚ we have every right to knock a few white heads if we see a Brother in distress. If we want to govern our countries with our rules‚ who the fuck are the government to send in soldiers to tell us any different? It’s people like you who decide to join the fight‚ but end up picking the wrong side.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about‚ mate.’ I could see from Idris’ expression that Khan’s words had affected him.
‘The fucking police‚’ Khan spat‚ literally. ‘You’ve joined the most racist institution in the country. You have no idea‚ mate! Harassing Pakis on nothing more than a whim. Feeding the media with bullshit propaganda. Your fucking white commissioner‚ sitting there in front of the world’s cameras‚ telling them about the muslim sex ring in Birmingham or whatever other crime‚ making the rest of the world hate us that little bit more. And then they question our retaliation!’
‘Hold on. The police would never say that it was muslims behind it. That’s all on the media.’
‘You thick cunt‚’ Khan said‚ sadly. ‘Who do you think it is that leaks that information to the media? You ever think about that? It’s you. It’s fucking you.’
Idris all of a sudden looked exhausted. He stepped back away from Khan and sat down opposite me. We made the briefest of eye contact and before he broke it I saw something I couldn’t quite figure out in his eyes‚ something I had never seen before. Guilt. Remorse. Defeat. The truth. I stood up. It was time to quash this. I walked to Khan and put my arm around him and slowly guided him away from us.
‘I’m right‚ aren’t I‚ Jay?’ Khan said softly. ‘He knows I’m right.’
I asked him about his wife and kids‚ trying desperately to change the subject. I sat him down at a table at the far end of the pub and he rested his head on his arms. I mouthed water to the barman and left Khan to it. I walked back and took my seat opposite Idris.
‘That was some entrance‚ Idris‚’ I said‚ trying to lighten the mood.
‘I was having a good day until then‚’ Idris mumbled.
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah!’
‘Well are you going to tell me about it?’
‘I’ve been offered a promotion‚’ he said flatly.
‘Oh‚ you gangster. That’s fantastic news‚’ I said. I thought about clinking glasses but for some reason it didn’t seem appropriate. ‘What post?’
‘It’s not confirmed yet. But if it goes ahead I’ll be heading a small team of my choosing. Working directly with the Met Drugs Directorate.’
‘Sounds‚ uh‚ cool‚’ I said‚ acutely aware of my own drug dealing past.
We sat in a rare moment of awkward silence.
‘So‚ I guess you want to know what happened to me today.’ I said‚ trying to get together in my head what and what not to feed him.
‘No. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know‚ not anymore. I can’t…’
‘You can’t what?’
‘I can’t get involved.’
‘With me.’ It wasn’t a question. He nodded anyway.
‘Sorry‚ Jay. But this is a very big deal for me. We can’t be seen together‚ not for a while anyway. They’re going to be watching me closely for the next few months. I can’t afford to slip up. When all this shit dies down‚ we’ll—’
‘We’ll fucking what?’ I snapped. Maybe I was being unreasonable; it was his precious career in question‚ but maybe I didn’t give a fuck. Our paths had always moved in different directions but it was always the strength in our friendship that allowed us to share space and time. We were like brothers‚ and for him to even suggest… No. No fucking way. At that moment I could not handle it. I was still really feeling the loss of my mum‚ and now Idris too! Well‚ Idris can fuck right off.
‘Congratu-fuckin-lations‚ mate!’ I said. His untouched red wine sat on the table and I clinked it deliberately hard with my glass‚ watched it topple over and spill red all over his trousers. He was up like a shot‚ dabbing at the wet patch with his hands.
I took a sip of my beer and watched him. The sip turned into a gulp as I knocked back my drink and stood up.
‘Khan was right. You are a fucking sell-out.’
‘Grow up‚ Jay. Just fucking grow up!’
I’ve known for a long time that those words were never far from his lips. I had finally grown up; it was just a shame that he would never know just how much.
I stormed through the pub and out into the rain.
I walked to my Nova‚ unlocked it and opened the door. Before getting in I glanced behind me‚ towards the pub‚ expecting Idris to come rushing out‚ trying to make amends.
He didn’t.
27
I spent the rest of the day in my bedroom. I had the run of the whole house but I didn’t want to set foot into the living room. I was still feeling a little guilty that Parvez had cleaned it after I’d massacred it.
Every so often‚ actually almost every minute or so‚ I would check my phone. Just in case Idris had left a message of apology. He fucking owed me one. I repeatedly checked the signal on my phone‚ and made sure that the volume was up high‚ and each time I did I felt like an idiot for doing so‚ and cursed myself. And then I cursed Idris. And then I checked my phone to see if he’d texted.
On a whim and after boredom had set in‚ I decided to go into the loft. I convinced myself it was to just have a nosey around‚ see if I could find anything of interest‚ but I knew deep down that I was looking for something specific. Something that had been on my mind lately.
My Dad.
It was rare that I’d give him any thought. Odd occasions when I was younger maybe‚ father’s day I guess‚ and sports day‚ watching all the other kids busting a gut trying to impress their dad. I got through all that shit with my mum‚ I didn’t let his absence shape me‚ but… I think it may have. And now I’m alone‚ in need of some fucking guidance‚ there he is‚ uselessly popping back into my head again.
I flicked on the light in the loft and got started. I rooted through boxes and found some old school stuff. Runner up or third place medals‚ never a winner. School reports damning me and breaking Mum’s heart. I found an old broken lawnmower and tried to figure out how it got up there. It hit me with a certain sadness that Mum would have lugged it up there by herself. The Dad-shaped hole in her life evident in mundane everyday chores.
I went through every box‚ through every folder and every photo album but I couldn’t find a single photo or reference to my old man. It was like he’d never existed. Although I did find‚ rubber-banded‚ a load of old bank paying-in books that belonged to Mum. I picked one at random and flicked through it. On every page‚ on every stub‚ dated a month apart‚ there was a payment for £3‚000. I looked through another‚ this one years old‚ 1990. The same entries‚ three grand‚ every month.
Mum only ever worked part-time‚ so it wasn’t like she was bringing in that kind of figure‚ and shamelessly I hardly ever contributed. So where was this money coming from? I wondered about the house we lived in‚ the area. It wasn’t bad. Even though we were in less than glamorous Hounslow‚ we still had a decent house on a decent street. We had a big-screen Plasma‚ surround sound‚ games consoles‚ nice clothes‚ and always good food on the table. Growing up I don’t think Mum had ever said‚ That’s too expensive‚ Jay or Not this month‚ Jay. I used to have the baddest BMX bike. I remember it getting stolen when I was ten and bawling my eyes out. It was replaced within days. It had never even occurred to me how we were actually able to afford these things. How we never went without.
Now I knew.
Well‚ actually‚ no‚ I didn’t. I knew somebody was helping us. Though I could not work out who.
A spider scuttled across somewhere in my eye line‚ making me jump. I knew that my time in the loft was nearing an end‚ so I got out of there before the spiders put their heads together and formulated a plan of attack. I dusted myself off‚ returned to my bedroom and glanced at the phone. No messages. Then it rang. A number I didn’t recognise. But I knew by the odd formation of the numbers who it was and my heart beat that little bit faster. I answered it.
‘Mum?’
I stood stock still. There was no way I was risking losing phone signal.
‘Can you hear me?’ Mum asked.
‘Yeah‚ Mum‚ I can hear you‚ clearly‚’ I said‚ loudly.
‘Jay‚ Beta‚’ she gushed.
‘It’s so good to hear from you‚ Mum.’
‘Sorry it took so long to call. It’s been hectic. How are you?’
‘I’m fine‚ Mum. Really. All good over here. Don’t worry about me‚ tell me how you are?’
‘We are good‚ Jay. We’ve been in a hotel for the last couple of days‚ but just today we’ve been given the keys to our new place.’
Our new place. Not mine.
‘Sounds exciting. Have you unpacked?’
‘Not yet. Today we’re going to be rebels and hit the beach‚ and leave the grown up stuff until later on‚’ Mum said‚ laughing. It sounded beautiful‚ a proper happy laugh.
‘I’m so glad‚ Mum. Listen‚ give Andrew my best and go out and enjoy the sun‚ yeah?’
‘Hang on just a minute‚ can’t I talk to my son for a while?’
We talked for a bit longer. I could hear Andrew in the background and Mum laughing at him. We covered the standard stuff – the weather (hot‚ apparently)‚ and what side of the road that they drove on in Qatar (right side‚ apparently). We talked about nothing really‚ and then we were saying our goodbyes.
‘Okay‚ Jay. Keep in touch‚ you have all my contact details.’
‘Yeah‚ will do‚ Mum. Enjoy it. We’ll talk soon. But not too soon.’
We said goodbye to each other‚ like five times. I took the phone away from my ear and I was just about to kill the call when I remembered I wanted to ask her something. I quickly put the phone back to my ear.
‘Mum‚ Mum. You still there?’
‘Yes‚ Jay‚ I’m still here.’
I almost bottled it. The last thing I wanted her to think about in her new life was Dad.
‘I‚ um‚ actually‚ it doesn’t matter.’
‘No‚ Jay. Come on now‚ tell me. You know you can tell me anything.’
‘Honestly‚ Mum‚ really it’s nothing.’
‘Jay!’
‘It’s just‚ I was in the loft.’
‘You‚ in the loft? That’s a first. Did you get over your fear of spiders?’
‘Ha. Yeah. No. Just having a nose around. Thought I would look through some old photos.’ I said. ‘I couldn’t find any‚ I found some but none of… You know?’
Silence on the other end for a beat‚ then she said quietly‚ ‘Yes‚ I know.’
Silence on my end for a beat‚ then I said quietly‚ ‘Do we have any?’
‘Are you missing him?’ She asked for the first time ever.
I laughed without expression. ‘Missing him?’ How can I miss someone who I’ve never met? Who I can’t remember what he fucking looks like? ‘No‚ I was just curious‚ just killing some time.’
‘Oh‚ ok.’ Her voice sounded distant.
A noisy silence‚ then she said‚ so gently‚ ‘Are you missing me?’
I gripped the phone so tightly that I though
t that it would crush in my hands. I looked around my room and knew that it would never again magically tidy itself up. That she would never again text me to come downstairs. I knew with certainty that I would never hear her movement around the house or her gentle rhythmic snoring at night‚ which never failed to help me sleep. The false bravado came rushing back.
‘Nah‚ Mum. You’ve only been gone five minutes. I’m having the time of my life. Nightly house parties‚ girlfriends coming and going‚ you know how I do it.’
She wasn’t buying it. ‘Do you want me to come home?’
‘What? No‚ Mum! It’s cool. I’m cool.’
Everything is just fucking cool.
‘Jay?’
‘Don’t stress. I was just curious‚ alright. No big deal. Go get some sun tan lotion on and have a drink on me. Make sure Andrew doesn’t burn.’
She still wasn’t buying it. But she let it go.
After the call had ended‚ I realised that I was still gripping the phone to my ear. I placed it on the table in front of me and just stared at it.
Enough of this moping around bullshit. I had to get myself together.
28
I showered and I shaved and I put on some clean clothes. Maybe Idris wasn’t going to call to apologise. But the least I could do was call and apologise to Parvez.
I looked out of the window towards his house. The front door opened and out he stepped. I picked up my phone and dialled his number. I watched him root through his pockets for his phone. He slipped it out and looked at it‚ as if trying to weigh up whether or not to answer. The cheeky fucker ignored it and pocketed the phone. It was hard to discern if he was still angry at me or just busy. The thing was‚ Parvez was never busy. A busybody‚ yeah‚ but not regular busy. He always seemed to have all the time in the world‚ especially for me. So he must have still been pissed at me for snapping at him. I suddenly felt bad for him all over again‚ going about his business with my shit hanging over him. It would have been hard for him; he wasn’t as strong as me.
East of Hounslow Page 11
