“Sssh!” Rajesh ducked his head down in embarrassment. “Not so loud, Eve!”
I glanced around to see if I’d attracted any attention, then I lowered my voice. “And on top of that, if Sahmir sees fit, he can accuse us of kidnap and threats and we’ve only gone and involved Danny’s dad and Oz’s dad’s van…”
“Surely the police will understand it was all just a bit of a joke?” Rajesh suggested.
I pulled a face. Not if I was involved they wouldn’t, I thought. Not with my unspent conviction for GBH and an un-finished Community Sentence. I groaned and put my head in my hands. I was so stupid! What had I just gone and done?
“I don’t feel I should have enjoyed it as much as I did-” Rajesh mused. “You know we missed a trick when we never instructed him to sing like a canary!”
I hunched miserably over my drink. “I suggest we don’t do anything in a hurry,” I said at last. “Let’s sleep on it shall we?”
Since Rajesh was as willing as myself to avoid being made to face the issue, we left it at that and went our separate ways.
Downstairs I could hear HER voice drifting up to me.
“Now then Mr. Twinkle Toes! Behave yourself!”
I could never be quite sure if she was talking to my Dad or the dog.
I was going hot and cold. I couldn’t see an anonymous phone call working. Last time I’d made one of those, Holty had seen straight through it. And although it sounded as though Tariq didn’t know that Jamie and Sahmir were nicking and selling the stuff, he could still point the finger at my brother for coming up with the premises for them. And if the Police made a good job of it and pulled Sahmir in for questioning and asked him to name everyone who knew of the existence of the place, he could truthfully name us as being in the know. And we couldn’t defend ourselves without telling the cops about holding him against his will and issuing threats. If we didn’t go voluntarily to the Police and it was later proven that we’d known about the place, we’d be considered an accessory. This was awful!
So not surprisingly I yet again wasn’t in the mood to agree to a drink with Trev. And when I had a surprise phone call from Rajesh’s sister, asking for me to meet up with her, I was worried sick. He must have told her about last night!
She had asked me where I would feel comfortable meeting up with her, so I suggested the Arts Centre café. I went there straight from work as I was expected over at Jo’s to work on her car.
She was already there at one of the tables with a cappuccino. She smiled and waved in a self possessed rather than welcoming way at me. I ordered a Mocha and waited for it at the service counter before going to sit down with it opposite her.
“Hello Sucheta,” I said as I pulled out the chair, trying not to show how anxious I was.
“Call me Chetsi,” she instructed.
“Chetsi? Ok…” I gingerly sipped at my drink which was too hot but I needed something to do with myself.
“So what’s going on with you and Raj?” She looked directly at me and raised her eyebrows.
“Not sure what you mean,” I muttered, my eyes fleeing hers.
“Yes you do,” she said severely. “I was watching you two the whole day and you are definitely not going out together. His eyes were not following you around the room, and you aren’t his type!”
“Oh?” I challenged. “And what is his type?”
She laughed. “All eyes lowered, submissive, and sweet natured. And you were bossing him around the whole day! Don’t get me wrong, I’m not criticising you, you’re very much like me but since he’s had me as his older sister bossing him around all his life, he doesn’t go in for the assertive sort.”
As I cautiously took another sip of my drink while I worked out what to do, she pulled out her ace card.
“I’m betting you’re a friend of that inamorata of his?”
She saw from my expression that she was right.
“So what’s this girl like? The one he’s so enamoured of that he’s willing to upset the applecart?”
“Oh, kind, sweet natured, and submissive,” I agreed.
“And a Muslim of Pakistani heritage?” She finished off. She rolled her eyes. “Typical! Guess all us Indian girls are too liberated these days to suit his archaic tastes.”
“She really clever though,” I defended Nasim. “If she can manage to not get sent back on the next plane to Pakistan to get married off to some second cousin, she wants to go to Uni to study Law. She’s the cleverest person I know.”
Chetsi sat back in her chair and folded her arms. “Ok, now you’re talking! I’m warming to the girl.”
“Only when they found out about Rajesh, they took her phone off her and locked her in her room so she had to run away to me.”
Her eyebrows raised.
“And then when her older brother firebombed our house in the night, Dad said she had to go. And Rajesh was too much of a wimp to do anything to help her, so she ended up having to go home.”
“That sounds more like my idiot brother,” she agreed drily.
“And after her brother and his mates had chased me and Rajesh down the streets and we had to escape on my motorbike, Rajesh was too scared to go back to his flat and went home to your parents.”
She frowned. “I thought Raj went home to help out with the wedding?”
“A male, voluntarily help with a wedding?” I said scornfully.
She laughed. “Ok, point proven!”
“So then Raj asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend for the day to throw all those Massijis and Mamajis off the scent,” I explained. “Even though I tried to explain to him that he was just digging the hole deeper for himself. But men never get it do they?” I sighed.
“So he’s still seeing her?”
“No, she’ll never be allowed out on her own ever again,” I said. “So he just talks incessantly and nauseatingly about her instead.”
She laughed at my revolted expression.
“Tell you what,” she said. “I’m going to go back to my parents and really insist they tell me their reasons for their opposition. I did ask them about the Partition thing, but my father just looked studiously at the ceiling and my mother swiftly changed the subject. So if they feel that strongly about it, there must be a reason…”
I glanced at my watch.
“You have to go? Well thank you for being so honest,” she said with a smile.
Little did she know, I thought as I got up to leave, what her meek little brother had been getting up to last night.
Late that night, it occurred to me that Raj might need warning about his sister’s accurate deductive powers so I rang his mobile. He sounded a tinsy bit relieved. Especially when he heard that she was going to try to sort it all out for him.
“So what have you decided to do about what we found out last night?” He asked as though it had nothing to do with him.
“Don’t know,” I said gloomily. “If Naz ever found out that I’d been the cause of putting her brother in jail, she’d never speak to me again.”
“Well can you imagine what she’d think if she found out it was me that reported him?” He protested. “It’s much better all round if you take the blame. I couldn’t bear it if she never spoke to me again!”
“Ta very much,” I said drily.
“Well it was your idea in the first place!” He pointed out. “I never wanted to do it.”
“Ok,” I said heavily. “I suppose that’s fair enough. But you’ll have to promise to make it alright between me and Naz in the future if it causes trouble. I don’t suppose it’ll hurt to have Sahmir really scared of you for the rest of your life. It’ll keep the monstrous little blackmailing brat in his place.”
“Thing is, Eve. We really do want Tariq put away don’t we?” Rajesh said. “Not that either of us would ever admit that to Nasim, but all our lives will be that bit easier without him rampaging around won’t they? How about anonymously ringing ‘Crime Stoppers’?”
“I s’pose I could…” I
said reluctantly. “But if I specifically name Tariq, Sahmir will be sure to know it is us, and if I just tell them the co-ordinates of the place and tell them to take a look, they might never connect Tariq with the place and Sahmir will eventually tell him about what we did and he’ll come on the rampage anyway.”
“Oh God, do you think so?” Rajesh groaned. “In that case I vote you specifically name him so he gets safely put away!”
After I got off the phone from him I googled Crime Stoppers. Apparently it was an independent charity who passed your information on to the police and guaranteed to keep your identity anonymous. That sounded promising. On the other hand, it also said that the police would have to check out your information and make sure you weren’t trying to fit someone up before acting on it. So it could take some time. But at the very least it would mean that Rajesh and I would be able to prove at some later date that we’d passed the information on the very next day because the police would have had a report from Crime Stoppers that matched our claims.
I filled in the first part of the online form with little compunction. Then hesitated before adding the names ‘Tariq, Bijan, Lol and Scott’ as people potentially involved. There was a place on the form to put the address of the offender. Should I do this? Or was that a step to far? I decided not to give Tariq’s home address so that it would seem like the information the police had was rather vague, and therefore not from me. But I did elect to be given an anonymous login so I could go back on line and find out if they were asking for more information from me – just in case.
Jamie wasn’t back home, even though it was nearly eleven, so I still had no idea what Sahmir had told him about yesterday yet. Maybe he was keeping out of my way deliberately now he knew that I knew.
But next morning at breakfast he was there yawning away, and behaving in a perfectly ordinary fashion. And it occurred to me that in the safety of his own bedroom, Sahmir had probably suddenly realised how ridiculous he’d look if he admitted to Jamie that he’d been so terrified of a mere girl, and Jamie’s own sister to boot, that he’d totally gone and blabbed everything. And worse, got so caught up with showing off what a big man he was, that he’d even given away names of people we’d never even asked about. I suddenly realised that Sahmir was going to keep shtum, even from Jamie. Which was actually quite convenient. Sahmir must be shitting himself that the police would arrive and it would all be his fault. Which really served him right.
“No Trev, really! I’m just so busy-” I said, jamming my helmet down on my head. And I wasn’t even fancying him so much anymore. Which was both a relief and a bit of a disappointment really. That familiarity could so soon breed indifference. I could barely remember that breathlessness that hit me at the Walter Trout gig when he pressed up against me.
As I glanced in my mirrors before I pulled out I could see him still standing there looking after me, his lips compressed and his eyes narrowed. Didn’t like being turned down, huh? He’d better get used to it.
As I drew up at home I saw Siân coming out of her house and standing motionless against the wall. There was something a bit odd about the way she just stood there with her arms wrapped around herself but I took little notice and went inside my own house. These days I always momentarily tensed before walking through the front door but today it turned out that no one was home, so I went to put the kettle on and tried to decide what to graze on before going out for a take-away. It had been forever since I’d been shopping to stock anything up. I had no idea what Jamie was living on. I figured that was Dad and his floozy’s responsibility now.
The doorbell rang. Again, I tensed. I nearly couldn’t bring myself to open it. But when I did, it was just Siân, which was almost unheard of.
“Oh,” I said awkwardly. “Hi.”
She looked very pale. Her hands were shaking.
“Do you want to come in?” I asked, after mentally putting aside fifteen years of history.
She took a step inside then suddenly burst into tears and threw herself into my arms. I suddenly felt really really sick and scared. Please not Adam. Not Adam killed in some terrible accident in Germany on that stupid flash stunt of a bike. Not with my last words to him being ‘Piss off’.
“What is it Siân? What’s happened? What’s wrong?”
She sobbed a second longer, keeping me in suspense, then gasped out. “Mum’s got breast cancer and she can’t have any treatment unless she aborts the baby and she’s refusing to do that, so by the time it’s born it might be too late for the treatment to work. And I don’t want her to die, but I don’t want the baby to die either cos it’s a girl and I want a sister. I really want a little sister!” She clung to me and sobbed some more.
I led her over to the still islanded settee and sat down with my arm around her. I felt a bit weak and wobbly myself from the momentary shock when I thought it was about Adam.
“I’m sorry Siân,” I said sympathetically. “I’m really sorry.”
“I don’t want Mum to die. I know I say lots of mean things about her, but she’s my mum and I don’t want her to die.”
“Course you don’t,” I said.
I thought about Kathleen’s sudden question as to whether I was still missing my mother. Now I knew what it was about. She must have been sitting there thinking about having to leave her children behind and never getting to see any of her grandchildren. At least my own mother hadn’t had to face knowing in advance about her own death.
Siân tried to pull herself together. I guess she didn’t want me able to hold this weakness against her later on. She scrubbed roughly at her face. “We’re not to tell Adam,” she said urgently. “Mum and Dad want to wait to tell him when he gets home so it doesn’t spoil his holiday.”
“Ok,” I said. Not that I was planning on texting him anyway. “Can you tell Kes though?”
She shook her head and fumbled around for a tissue. I found a slightly oily one up my sleeve and handed it to her. “No, not till after Adam gets back. I’m not to tell anyone. They’re not going to tell the little ones – at least – only that Mummy’s a bit ill. But I just had to talk to someone about it - sorry…” She blew her nose loudly. “And I knew you could keep your mouth shut, Eve.” She added thickly.
“Ok,” I said. I was beginning to lose track on just how many things I wasn’t supposed to be telling anyone, and exactly who I wasn’t to tell. Might be easier just to enter a Trappist monastery and be done with it.
I reached out and sort of rubbed her back. Just briefly, to let her know that it was alright to have come round. And scared of embarrassing herself any more, she left.
Phew. I couldn’t wait to get out to Jo’s and stick my head under a chassis again.
“My idiot brother is being let out on Monday,” Jo informed me when I got there.
“Great,” I said. Then I had a thought and tried not to say it aloud but found it blurting out of my mouth anyway. “If he’s doing so well, do you think he’ll want the car back in six weeks or so?”
“He was saying to me yesterday that they’d told him not to put any undue strain on it for at least three months, which would take us to August, and by then there’d only be three months left of the season, so he won’t make up enough points to make it worthwhile, so he might as well start fresh in the new year.”
I was glad she had her back turned to me checking what level the oil was at, so she couldn’t see the naked relief on my face.
On Sunday, Quinn got home. I hung out waiting for him, pretending to work on my bike.
He waved airily at me as he took off his lid. The dog was rushing round and round his feet, barking loudly, its short stubby tail wagging its backside.
“How was Germany?” I asked.
“Fantastic!” He grinned.
“I see you’re back in one piece then,” I observed.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“New bike. No speed limits. 138 mph. Recipe for trouble.”
“Only if you’re a novice driver,” he dis
missed in superior tones.
“How’d the bike run?” I couldn’t help but rub salt in my own wound.
He patted the leather seat proudly. “Genuine pocket rocket. Crisp, precise handling. Brilliant engine. Cornering on a smooth road impeccable. Incredibly clear feedback from the tyres cos of the super stiff forks.” He was sounding like he was composing his review for some online forum. “You can get your knee nearly down to the road,” he reported smugly. “The engine starts to redline at about 14500 revs by which point the engine is screaming like a banshee.” His grin grew annoyingly broad. “The noise is addictive though. Bloody brilliant. Though I probably ought to fit some baffles.”
“Those ZXRs are renowned for the cam becoming dislodged and wrecking the engine,” I pointed out grumpily. I’d done some jealous Googling while he was away.
He shrugged. “I’m going to take real good care of it...”
I was dying to somehow drop it into the conversation that I’d already started my F2 career while he was away, just to get my own back. But I thought of Kathleen and Con waiting inside to tell him the difficult news and backed off.
“Ok, glad you had a good time,” I said mildly, and pretended to have something to do on my bike.
It seemed he was staring fixedly at my bent back.
I half turned, “What?” I demanded.
“You’re being nice, McGinty,” he accused suspiciously. “Why are you being nice?”
I don’t know what expression must have flitted across my face, but he saw something. Maybe pity?
“What?” He demanded ferociously.
I was saved by Con coming to the door. “Is that you Adam? Have you had a good time? Come on in, your mother’s got the kettle on.”
For the family conference no doubt. I studiously bent over the non-existent job on the bike and Quinn followed his dad inside.
I had meekly eaten HER cooked breakfast earlier this morning. I was just grateful for some real food handed to me on a plate that I hadn’t had to scavenge myself. I’d ignored her day of painting and wall papering, planning on heading off somewhere if it looked like I was going to get asked to help out, but didn’t need to as she seemed quite happy humming to herself, and ordering my Dad about.
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