by Joe Carter
Dave took Emma and me into his office and thanked us for our efforts, saying he understood that we both had families and that it must be taking its toll. I told Dave that if it hadn’t been for Emma setting the job up so well, we wouldn’t be in the position we were now. We laughed about the fact that it was only by default that I’d come on the job in the first place. He asked us both if we were happy with the plans, and said that the top boss wanted to come over and meet us.
We waited for about ten minutes before we were joined by the head of crime for the force, who was a genuinely nice man. He was a career detective, and fully up to speed with the operation. The first thing he did, after introducing himself to the two of us, was to apologise for the compromise on the evening of the gun purchase. He assured us that it wouldn’t happen again and that he understood the dangers it had placed us in. He knew that we’d overcome a number of challenges and very difficult situations. He said that he was really pleased with where the operation was at, and hoped that we could both progress it further. I had listened to a lot of bosses over the years giving similar speeches and many of them were simply paying lip service. This one was different, and he meant it. I felt that he was on our side and wanted us to succeed.
We finished our meeting, and Emma and I left Dave and the boss alone in the office. I told Emma that I’d see her later, after she’d closed the shop, and we agreed that we’d go out for a few drinks at the wine bar later that evening. I had a lot of things to catch up on at home, and there were a few matters to put right in my personal life. But I hadn’t even reached the house before my phone rang. It was Ray. He asked where I was and said he wanted to meet up, and could I come and pick him up as Chloe had his car. I agreed I would collect him, but I said I wouldn’t be with him for at least an hour.
I wanted at least half an hour to myself; I wanted a bit of peace and calm and quietness. I opened the patio doors at the back of the house, and sat on the bench seat looking out onto the garden. I could see a grey squirrel holding a nut in his two hands, greedily munching on it in a very apprehensive manner. I thought to myself that it must be a nightmare to be a squirrel; they seemed to be permanently on edge and nervous. My thoughts were confirmed as the squirrel scuttled away and out of sight on hearing the sound of my neighbour opening her kitchen window. I didn’t move from the dining table, but the solitude of the moment was disturbed by the annoying tick of the second hand of the huge clock that hung on the wall behind me. It seemed to be getting louder and louder, and it was enough for me to grab some money and head straight back out the door.
I drove to Ray’s house and rang him as I sat in the car outside. As usual, he was happy as a sandboy and wore his customary huge smile on his face. He told me that he had some paperwork to collect, and asked if I minded calling at a few places where the fella might be. He said that the guy had been ignoring his calls, and he didn’t want him taking the piss. He pulled out a steel-and-gold Rolex Submariner from his pocket and handed it to me. He explained that he had been given it by the fella until he could pay his debt, but he’d had the watch checked out and it was a fake. I asked how much the geezer owed him and he said it was only a ‘bag of sand’, but it was the principle. He also said that he needed the money to put into something that I might be interested in.
We drove to a couple of places before we found the fella outside a house that he was in the throes of decorating. As we pulled up, he was bizarrely eating a bowl of cornflakes. He looked at us as I parked the car, and if I had a million pounds to bet on the first words to come out of his mouth, I would have done so. Ray got out of the car and walked over to him with a bit of a swagger that I hadn’t witnessed before. I stayed in the driver’s seat but had my window down to listen to the conversation. The fella put the spoon into the bowl, and as Ray got within five feet of him, I clearly heard him say, ‘I was just going to ring you.’ I laughed aloud and thought about me collecting my winnings.
Ray then took the watch from his pocket and threw it at him, saying, ‘Where’s my money?’ The watch hit the man on the chest and landed at the man’s feet on the grass verge where he was standing. I thought that the man’s next reply would decide what Ray did next.
Ray didn’t walk any closer, but stood his ground and waited for the man’s answer. The fella replied, ‘I’ve got your money in my car.’ Well, I was now pondering whether I should put my huge winnings from my last bet into a 50-50 bet. Did this man have a thousand pounds in his car, and was he about to give it to Ray or not?
Ray allowed him to walk to the car on his own. I watched the man put his bowl of cereal on top of the estate and climb into the driver’s seat. I expected the car to start up and roar away – well, as much as an old Rover estate was capable of roaring. Within seconds, the fella was back out of his car and holding a tattered white envelope in his hand. He walked over to Ray, and casually bent down and picked up the watch on the way. He stood two feet away from him, face to face, and counted out what appeared to be half the contents of the envelope. Ray put it straight into his pocket, and without even saying thank you, turned away from the man and walked back to the car.
He waited until I pulled out of sight of the man before he burst out laughing. ‘Fuck me, Joe. I thought there was more chance of meeting Beyoncé in the office tonight than him giving me my money.’ Ray was a thoroughly happy man, and he had a thousand pounds in his pocket that I knew he would want to ‘put to work’. He looked over at me, but before he could speak I said, ‘Whatever you’re going to say, can’t it wait until we’ve had something to eat?’
I drove the short distance to the Spanish café and parked the car. I wanted a full stomach to listen to Ray’s next proposition.
Thirty
I sat with Ray and Ricardo in our usual corner table in the office. The pub was our little haven – a cosy, warm and safe place. We were having a few drinks, and I was trying to convince Ray to go back to his legitimate job. I told him that he was a great salesman, that he was charming and polite and I thought he could sell ice to the Eskimos. Why didn’t he end this villainy and be a straight-goer? I told him I wished I could do it. There was nothing I’d like more than to say to my daughter that I was an accountant or teacher, or anything that made her proud of me. I didn’t want her to grow up knowing that her dad earned his living by doing ‘this and that’.
I told Ray that I wasn’t proud of what I did, and if I had my way again things would be different. Ricardo started to laugh. ‘Fuck me, I’m welling up here. Ray, get me a tissue.’ I told Ricardo to fuck off and said I should’ve realised I was wasting my time on the two of them.
I knew that Ricardo would slip away shortly, and I wanted a proper chat with Ray. There was no doubt that he was a good villain. He had contacts for every commodity you could imagine. He was a placer: he could put two people in contact with each other, knowing that one had a product that the other wanted to buy. He was very good at this, though there wasn’t a huge profit in introductions. But he was introducing me to many people.
Ricardo finished his drink and said goodbye; he had his beloved Jamaican rice and peas to get home for. I looked at Ray as Ricardo left the office, and said, ‘A tenner says he goes home to toad in the hole or shepherd’s pie.’ Ray laughed out loud and asked me if I fancied another Courvoisier and Stone’s ginger. Of course I wanted another. Ray returned with two heavy crystal tumblers, half full of the lethal combination. I moved seats so I could be a tad closer. We clinked glasses and I said, ‘This time next year, Ray.’ We both laughed.
I said to Ray that he had been a good friend to me and that I trusted him. I told him that I needed a favour, but I had been waiting for Ricardo to go before I asked him. In the morning I was meeting a fella who was collecting twenty-five bags from me for a bit of graft. I was meeting him at the train station, and it would be a short meet before he got the first train back into Liverpool Street with my money. I told Ray that my old man had grafted with this fella’s uncle back in the day, but I’d never d
one any graft with him myself. I wasn’t worried about the fella, but I was going to tell Emma that Ray and I were going to look at a house together. I explained to him that I wanted him to tell Chloe the same, in case Emma checked with her. I said that he needed to make himself scarce between 10.00 a.m. and 11.30 and I’d meet him at the Spanish café at 11.30, once I’d done what I needed to do. I told him not to tell a soul about my meet, and all being well, we would have a ‘nice little drink’ tomorrow evening together.
Ray said it stood to reason he would not say a word to anyone. Then he said, ‘As we are on favours, you can do me one back.’ He went on to explain that he had a lovely young girl who was bothering him about spending the night together. He had arranged to see her Friday evening, and was going to tell Chloe at the last minute that he was staying with me. He asked me if I was OK with that. I took a long sip on my drink, and held it in the back of my mouth before I gulped it down and felt the heat of the drink warm my throat as I swallowed. I said, ‘What colour is the duvet in my spare room?’
He looked perplexed. ‘What are you on about?’
‘How many pillows are on the bed and what’s the wallpaper like?’
I could see the confusion spread across his forehead. ‘Fuck me, where are you going with this, Joe?’
I took another mouthful of the Stone’s combo, realising that a few more of these and I’d struggle to hold a meaningful conversation. I then explained to Ray that these were the questions that I was asked when I last did exactly what he was intending to do on Friday night. I didn’t know the answers as I’d been staying in a plush hotel with young attractive company, and it came back to bite me on the arse.
Ray started shaking his head. ‘Fuck, I’d never have thought about that, mate, that’s genius. Is Emma home, or can we pop round now and have a butcher’s?’ The two of us finished our drinks and drove the short distance to my house.
Ray was like a kid running to his bedroom after school to open a present. He took two stairs at a time, and as he reached the landing, I shouted up, ‘It’s the one next to the office – give your eyes a treat.’ I could hear him plodding around the bedroom and opening a few drawers. ‘Keep your hands in your pockets, Ray. I know what’s in them drawers, you tea leaf.’ I could hear him laugh to himself. A few minutes later, he joined me in the kitchen. He sat on the bench seat at the large antique pine table, and with a beam on his face said, ‘Go on, pretend you’re Chloe and ask me anything.’
I handed him a Le Creuset mug of steaming-hot tea, and a bowl of sugar for the four spoons he’d heap into the mug. He was confident now, and I sat in the big pine seat at the head of the table, I put my mug down on a coaster and flicked one across the table for him to use. My first question caught him off guard: ‘What blinds do they have in their spare room, Ray?’ Straight away, he was out of his seat and bounding back up the stairs. I could hear him pulling the blackout blinds down and then drawing the curtains shut and opening them again.
‘This ain’t straightforward, is it, Joe?’ he said as he sat back down. We continued the interrogation, and Ray only returned upstairs once more to look at the colour of the towels in the bathroom that he’d have used after he showered. He was quite pleased with himself.
His smugness was only interrupted by the sound of Emma pulling up in the driveway. He went to get up and leave, but I told him to sit down and say hello to her. I wanted to use her arrival to my advantage.
She came through the back door laden with shopping bags, and Ray got up like a gentleman and helped her. I gave her a kiss and said it was lovely to see her so early. She asked what Ray and I were plotting and planning; I explained that Ray had a mate that had a couple of houses that weren’t yet on the market, and he and I were going to look at them tomorrow morning. I told her that if they were nice, me and her would go at the weekend before they went on the open market next Monday. Emma looked at us both and said, ‘And there’s me thinking you two were up to no good!’
I could see from Ray’s face that he wanted to get out of there before he got asked any difficult questions. He said goodbye to Emma, and I walked him out to his car. I held his door open and told him not to forget to make himself scarce in the morning from ten o’clock. I’d meet him at the Spanish café at 11.30, all being well. Ray looked up at me and thanked me; he told me he was really glad he’d done his homework on my spare bedroom. As he pulled away, he shouted out the window, ‘Cracked-black-pepper handwash in the bathroom, check me out!’
I went inside and listened to Emma telling me about her day as we put away the shopping together. I had seen a recipe for quinoa left in one of the drawers, so I grasped the moment, quickly saying that I fancied a Ruby’s takeaway and it would save Emma cooking after a busy day. I’m fairly sure Emma knew that I couldn’t face pretending to enjoy another one of her meals. You could never ever fault her effort in trying to create a dish worthy of eating, but unfortunately, apart from sausage pasta, none was edible.
Emma rolled her eyes and agreed with my suggestion. Before she could change her mind I threw her a copy of the menu, though I already knew exactly what she would order. She always spent three or four minutes peering at the menu and then said, ‘I know it’s boring, but chicken korma, pilau rice and a garlic naan.’
I laughed to myself as I phoned the order in. I could’ve had it delivered, but I loved to spend ten minutes chatting with the owner of the curry house whilst having two spicy popadoms, some chutney and a Cobra beer. It was the best part of every Ruby’s meal by a country mile.
I ran into Dave on the way back from the curry house, and arranged to collect £25,000 from him at 8 a.m. I told him that I’d just picked up a curry to avoid being poisoned by Emma, as I had found a recipe for quinoa. Dave laughed and said that his missus had made him eat that as part of his diet. I said she’d have me living barefoot in a tree house drinking nettle tea by next month.
Emma had made the house all cosy, and there were candles in the front room and kitchen. She had laid the table and poured us each a tall glass of ice-cold beer. She had really made this house feel like a home. She had good taste, and an eye for interior design. We were never quite sure when we would get a knock on the door or an unannounced visit, and we always had to be prepared for that eventuality. But she had created an oasis – a place we could spend time together. It was a loving, warm and comfortable home, and we were both in a happy place.
Emma was a great talker and I suppose I was a good listener; I was always interested in what she had to say. She started telling me about Ricardo, and how whenever he came into the shop, a string of wrong’uns normally followed after he left. Every time he came in he would tell her, ‘I made a promise to Joe that I’d look out for you and that’s what I’m doing.’ She said he would sit and chat and have a cup of tea with her. She told me that he really liked me and was genuinely looking out for her.
I finished my meal but, as usual, Emma had eaten very little of hers. She always said the same: ‘I’ll freeze this and it’ll save me ordering anything next time.’ Of course, there were already three or four boxes of leftover korma sat in the freezer, awaiting further use, so I put the contents of hers in the bin. I blew out all the candles, and we went to bed.
Thirty-one
I was up with the larks and singing to myself as I filled the espresso pot with Illy coffee and water before placing it on the gas hob. I’m a morning person, and from the moment I wake up I’m full of beans. I’ve always wanted the ability to lie in, but it’s a talent that’s evaded me all my adult life. I have sleep envy towards those people who can sleep in until lunchtime. Once I’m awake, that’s me up for the day. And obviously, the rule is that once I’m up, I see no reason why everyone else should not also be awake.
I prepared the warm milk for my coffee in a separate saucepan and took Emma’s bone china cup and saucer out of the dishwasher, ready to pour her Americano. I noticed that Emma had bought some of Marks and Spencer’s finest croissants and so I heated them unde
r the grill. I knew that it wouldn’t be long before the lovely aromas of buttery croissants and fresh coffee would tempt Emma down the stairs. And before I had finished pouring the hot milk into my cup, there she was at the table. She held her frizzy bedhead hair in her hands as she yawned and said, ‘How come you’re always so happy in the morning – how do you do it?’
I ignored her question and passed her the cup and saucer full of hot coffee, together with a croissant covered in lashings of proper butter. I looked at her and said, ‘At this point you say, “Thank you, Joe, you’re the best.”’ I sat with her at the table and tried to make conversation, but I knew her well enough; until she finished her coffee I had no chance of lengthy responses. And she sipped her coffee so slowly that I didn’t have the time to wait. I kissed her on the top of the head, held my nose and said, ‘A little bit of shampoo wouldn’t go amiss on that barnet.’ I laughed and went upstairs to brush my teeth. By the time I came back down, she had moved to the sofa. She was sat with her feet tucked up underneath her, and I caught her sniffing the ends of her hair.
I grabbed my keys and told her that I’d see her tonight, but that if she even thought about cooking quinoa, I wasn’t coming home. She giggled as I shouted, ‘Don’t you forget to have a shower!’
It felt like I had been up for hours. I was wearing a crisp white shirt I’d ironed with starch that morning, as well as a smart pair of Seven jeans and a pair of polished brogues. I waved at the neighbour opposite; he was always out early, busying himself in his immaculate front garden. I thought that there was very little on our road that he didn’t know about. I wasn’t quite sure what he made of me, but I was always very polite to him, and I’d once helped his wife up the drive with her shopping and I think he was grateful for that.