“I take it you have no objections,” I say.
Jenny opens her mouth to speak, but remains silent.
“I take it you wouldn’t rather Nick dragged you off by your hair, or that I hit him with that cricket bat?” I nod behind me.
Jenny shakes her head. “No, of course not, but, do you think it’ll work? Do you think we have time?”
“I don’t know,” I say, hitting redial. “But I’m gonna give it a go.”
This time a woman answers.
“Hi there,” I say. “I spoke to one of your colleagues before…”
“Oh,” says the woman. “Would you like me to…”
“No,” I say. “Actually, it doesn’t matter. There isn’t much time.”
“Much time?” the woman repeats. She sounds young.
“I’m phoning you because I’m very concerned,” I say. “A friend, well, a friend of a friend actually, is driving to my house from Surrey,” I say. “As we speak.”
“Yes?” the woman says. Her tone is shifting from boredom to excitement as she wakes up from her late shift blues.
“And he’s drunk,” I say. “Like, really drunk.”
“And he’s driving?” she asks, incredulously.
“Yes,” I say. “He’s really drunk. Well over the limit.”
“Oh,” the woman says. “It’s an unusual situation, hold on.”
Jenny nods at me. “So?” she says, her arms around her knees. The shadow from the window-frame moves across her face as she rocks nervously.
I shrug. “She’s asking someone else,” I say. “She says it’s an unusual…”
Jenny grabs my elbow. “He’s on a ban,” she says with a nervous nod.
I frown.
“Hello?” says the woman. “The thing is, it’s obviously a difficult situation, but…”
“Nick’s on a ban,” Jenny repeats.
“Hold on a second, please,” I say. “Someone’s giving me some more information here.”
I hold the phone to my chest.
“What do you mean he’s on a ban?”
“He’s already been banned. He got a two-year ban in April. For drink-driving.”
My mouth drops. I move the phone back to my ear.
“I’m sorry,” I say, collecting myself. “Yes, the driver, he’s already been banned as well,” I say.
“Oh,” says the woman. “That’s very serious then. Hold on please.”
I shrug at Jenny again. “On hold again. Says it’s serious.”
Jenny peers nervously into the street, then reaches out and pulls my watch towards her.
“Hello?” says a new voice. I recognise it as the man I spoke to before.
I hand the phone to Jenny. “You do it,” I whisper.
“Erm, hello?” she says. She shrugs at me. “What?” she mouths.
“Give him the details,” I say.
“Yes, I’d like to report a crime about to be committed,” she says.
I nod, impressed.
Jenny covers the mouthpiece. “It’s what the woman said on the radio,” she says.
“Yes, drink driving, that’s right.”
“…”
“Yes, by a banned driver.”
“…”
“Yes, well, not yet. He’ll be arriving here soon.”
“…”
“Here? Here is 7 Weston Square,” Jenny says. “Yes, Brighton. It’s up towards Kemptown.”
Jenny has to dictate the registration number, Nick’s name, address, date of birth, the date of his driving ban… The details seem endless. I’m actually starting to tremble a little as I wait for her to finish.
Finally Jenny nods at me, indicating closure. “Yes, and you’ll need to hurry,” she says assertively. “He’ll be here at any moment.”
She winks at me. “Thank you officer,” she says, handing me the phone.
I press it against my ear and then hang up.
“That is such a brilliant idea,” Jenny says.
I nod.
“I feel a bit evil though,” Jenny says. “It’s a bit big brother.”
I frown at her. “Big brother?”
Jenny nods. “Turning your relatives into the authorities and all.”
I shrug and glance at the cricket bat beside the door. “I just hope they get here before Nick does,” I say.
Bad Karma
We sit on our knees peering at the road for fifteen minutes, then move back so that we can lean against the bed.
“No police,” Jenny says grimly.
“No Nick either though,” I point out. “As long as it’s both or neither we’re OK.”
Jenny frowns at me.
“If we get Nick and no police, or the police and no Nick, we’re in the shit,” I say.
“Yeah,” Jenny says vaguely. “It’s warm I think,” she says. “But I feel cold.”
I nod. “Me too,” I say.
I reach behind and pull on the quilt so that it drapes over our shoulders.
“Nerves, I guess,” I say.
“So have you really never been hit?” Jenny asks.
I frown at her then shake my head. “With the exception of when I was a kid and Nick of course. I learnt to run quite fast,” I say.
Jenny nods. “You’re lucky,” she says.
A lightweight motorbike buzzes down the street.
“It’s not really luck though,” I say.
Jenny frowns at me.
“The not-being-hit thing,” I explain.
Jenny snorts. “Well, you’re a bloke,” she says. “That helps.”
I nod. “But I’ve walked away from a lot of conflict,” I say. “Or I’ve run away. Violence really scares me. In a way what scares me most is what I might do. If I lost it, you know?”
Jenny nods. “I see what you’re saying,” she says. “But you don’t always have a choice.”
I peer out at the street. A man in a suit is getting into a Smart car below.
“I guess I think you do,” I say, listening to the engine start. “Almost always. There’s usually a moment when you can walk… Hey, look. Policeman.” I nod towards the other side of the street.
Jenny moves onto her knees and strains her neck. “That’s just a beat bobby isn’t it?” she says.
I push my lips out and shake my head. “I don’t know,” I say. “He’s looking this way though.”
“And walking on,” Jenny adds.
I sigh.
“God this is awful,” Jenny says. “This waiting!”
I nod in agreement.
“I almost wish…” Jenny says.
“Shh,” I interrupt, raising a finger. I can hear a car door opening.
I lean forward and sure enough in the space where the Smart was parked is a BMW. It’s too big to fit, so it’s parked diagonally, the front left wheel upon the pavement. The two doors are opening.
“Shit, they’re here,” I say, moving back from the window.
Jenny sneaks a look and then slides back beside me. Her eyes widen, her face pales. “They,” she says.
She leans forward again, but then jumps back out of the way. “Shit,” she says. “Nigel drove him. He looked up at me.”
“Nigel?” I frown.
“One of Nick’s builders, a dodgy bugger. I don’t like him.”
“Fuck,” I say. “Dodgy? How?”
Jenny nods. “He’s always bringing knock-off stuff to our house. DVD players, shit like that.”
I shake my head. “So he didn’t drive,” I say. “Crafty.”
A thud against the front door makes us jump.
“What the…” I say. It sounds as if Nick is trying to knock the door down.
There is a moment’s silence, and then the letterbox creaks. “Jenny!” Nick shouts. “JENNY!”
She glances sideways at me. “He is drunk,” she says quietly. “I can hear it.”
I nod and lean forwards again to check out the street. Nigel has the same stocky build as Nick, only with the addition of a beer gut. He’s wearing
a faded blue polo and chinos. He’s standing on the other side of the street staring straight at me.
I freeze and somewhat pointlessly hold my breath.
He reaches inside his trouser pocket and pulls out a Marlborough packet, then pulls a cigarette from the box with his mouth.
“They’re not in,” he says, lighting the cigarette. It wobbles up and down as he speaks.
I sit back.
“Is the policeman still there?” Jenny asks.
I shake my head. “Not that I can…”
Nick raps on the door again making me start. “Shit!” I say.
“Nick, let’s go get a pint and come back later,” Nigel whines.
I snort. “A pint,” I say. “That’ll help.”
Nick raps on the door again. “JENNY! MARK!” he shouts.
This time, I too can hear the slur of his voice.
Jenny nods outside. “Look,” she says.
Other than the fact that Nigel has moved out of sight I can see nothing. And then I do notice something, a strange flickering on the building opposite, a pulsing blue light.
The police car glides silently into view and pulls up beside the jutting rear of Nick’s BMW.
The whole terrace throbs with the light from its blue strobe. Nick rattles the front door heavily, apparently unaware of the police car behind him.
“Getting interesting,” I say, crawling forward and lying on my stomach.
The window of the police car slides down. “Is this your car sir?” the policeman asks.
Nick spins on the step, swaying slightly then putting a hand on the railing to steady himself.
“Oh bollocks,” he says.
I glance at Jenny, and nod for her to come watch. She too crawls forward on all fours.
The policeman opens the car door and stands.
“Sir? Is this your car?” he repeats. His fluorescent yellow jacket glows in the darkness of the street. I lean over and look down at Nick. I can see a bald patch on the top of his head.
“What if it is?” he says aggressively.
I glance sideways at Jenny. She bites her bottom lip.
The policeman peers in at his mate, nods, and then turns back and squeezes through the gap between the BMW and the car parked next to it.
“Not a very well parked car, is it sir?” he says.
Nick mumbles something. Jenny nudges me.
I shrug. “Didn’t hear,” I whisper.
“Sorry sir?” the policeman says. “I didn’t quite catch that.”
The policeman’s voice is so perfect, so official, so policeman. “Where do they learn to speak like that?” I wonder.
Nick stumbles down a step and sways towards his car. “I said,” he says laboriously, “Why don’t you fuck off and do something useful.”
The policeman touches his nose thoughtfully and glances back at his driver.
“You seem a little worse for wear, sir. Been drinking have we?” he asks.
Nick sways. “Yeah. ‘Snot a crime is it?” he says.
The policeman licks his lips. “No sir. Though driving under the influence…”
“I didn’t drive,” Nick spits. “Nigel drove.”
The policeman nods and looks left then right theatrically.
“And where might Nigel be?” he asks.
Jenny and I ape the policeman, scanning right and left. “He’s fucked off,” Jenny says. “Brilliant.”
Nick shrugs exaggeratedly. “I don’t fucking know do I,” he tells the policeman.
The policeman scratches his head and turns back to the police-car.
“Yeah,” Nick leers. “Fuck off.”
I nod, mentally egging him on. “Yep,” I say. “Go for it.”
I glance at Jenny. She has her eyes closed. She’s wearing a pained expression as if she has stomach ache and I remember that this is her husband.
The policeman leans in consulting with his colleague, then stands, straightens himself, and returns to the pavement.
“Well, I’m afraid the car can’t stay here,” the policeman says. “I’m going to have to call for a tow truck.”
Nick sways gently like a tree in the breeze. “All right, all right,” he says. “I’ll move it, I’ll move the fucker...”
I frown and press my nose against the window. The policeman’s expression is changing. Just the start of a smile, a well-restrained smirk is appearing on his lips.
“It’s karma,” I whisper. “They’re setting him up.”
Jenny frowns at me. “Eh?” she says.
“The car, Nick’s going to drive it right in front of them.”
The police car rolls backwards and quietly moves behind the BMW, blocking it in.
Nick wrenches open his driver’s door and slides into the seat. “Fucking pigs,” he says.
“Sir, If you persist in using insulting…” the policeman says.
Nick gesticulates wildly at him. “I’m moving it, OK? I’m moving the fucking car.”
As he reaches and starts the engine, the policeman grins. I see it clearly, a fully-fledged smile. Sheer job satisfaction.
He leans on the top of the car, only inches from Nick’s face. “Hand me those keys will you sir?” he says.
Nick looks at him and shakes his head. “I’m moving it!” he says. “What more do you want? Jesus!”
“I suspect you of having consumed alcohol over the legal…” the policeman starts to say. But as he says this, the BMW lurches backwards.
We both gasp. There is a deep crumpling sound as the rear of Nick’s car crunches into the door of the white police Rover.
“No-oh,” Jenny breathes.
The BMW’s engine has stalled. The policeman has stepped back up to the window.
“What the fuck…” Nick starts to say.
In a calm movement, the policeman swipes his baton from its holster and thrusts it against Nick’s throat, pushing him back against the seat.
Then he calmly reaches in and pulls the keys from the ignition. “I’ll have those I think sir,” he says.
He withdraws his baton and straightens up. “Thank you sir,” he says. “Now step out of the car please.”
Morning Clarity
I open one eye and peer blurrily at Jenny who is sitting on the edge of my bed. “I made you some tea,” she says.
My eyes are caked over with a sticky, sleepy film, and though, by straining, I can see the alarm clock, I can’t make out the figures.
“What time is it?” I ask.
“It’s only nine,” Jenny says, “but…”
“Nine!” I groan, rolling away from her. “I didn’t get to sleep till nearly six!”
“I know,” Jenny says. “I only got to sleep half an hour ago, but my mobile woke me.”
I groan again, and blinkingly look over at her. She rubs my shoulder affectionately.
“I need your advice,” she says. “Sorry.”
I sigh and click my tongue against the roof of my mouth, then pull myself up and push a pillow behind me for support.
Jenny smiles weakly and hands me the tea.
“Nick phoned,” she says. “He asked me to get his wallet, his passport and his cheque-book; he says he’ll be needing them for bail.”
I sip my tea and frown at her. “You spoke to Nick?”
Jenny purses her lips and shakes her head. “I didn’t answer,” she says. “He left a message.”
I yawn. I feel as though I have simply dozed off for a few minutes, as if we watched the tow-truck take the BMW away only half an hour ago, an impression exacerbated by the nightmarish dreams I had all night; dreams precisely of handcuffs, police cars and tow trucks.
I blink hard in an attempt to clear my vision, and then smile tightly at Jenny.
“Let me drink this and I’ll get up,” I say. “We’ll decide what to do.”
I almost fall asleep again; I actually slop tea on the bed as my arm slumps, but in the end, with a deep groan I drag myself to the shower.
When I get downst
airs Jenny is standing in the kitchen blowing smoke out of the window.
“Jees, that stinks!” I say.
Jenny pulls a face and stubs the cigarette out in the sink. “Sorry,” she says.
“And since when did you smoke?” I ask.
Jenny shrugs. “I only gave up three months ago,” she says. “When I realised I was pregnant.” She nods at the packet. “I only bought ten,” she says.
I pour a cup of coffee, and then stretching my stiff neck, I move to the table.
“OK, well, bin those please and come over here,” I say.
Jenny mockingly pokes her tongue at me and drops the cigarette pack into the bin. I make a mental note to pour water on them later.
As if she has read my mind, she says, “They’re all gone anyway.”
I shake my head. “So where is Nick?” I ask. “Do we know?”
Jenny nods gravely. “Brighton police station. In a holding cell.”
I nod. “Right, so if… when he gets out,” I correct myself, “he’ll be straight back here.”
Jenny shrugs and nods. “He’s got no money, his car’s been impounded. He’s on a ban. He doesn’t have a lot of options.”
I shrug. “He can call someone else to sort him out though,” I say.
Jenny nods dubiously. “But if he knows I’m here, he’ll come here, won’t he?” she says.
I roll my eyes and nod. “And if you go get his cheque book for him, he’ll definitely know you’re here,” I say.
Jenny nods. “He kind of knows anyway,” she says.
“It’s a shame you never pressed charges,” I say. “We could have requested that he stay away… As a condition of bail I mean.”
Jenny nods slowly. “Yeah, I hadn’t thought of that,” she says glumly.
I lick my front teeth thoughtfully.
Jenny shakes her head. “This has just made everything worse really, hasn’t it?” she says.
I shrug. “Worse than what?”
“I mean…”
“I know,” I interrupt. “But it’s not worse than me killing Nick with a cricket bat is it?” I say.
Jenny smiles thinly.
“Or him kicking shit out of you?” I volunteer.
Jenny shrugs. “I guess not,” she says.
I frown at her and sip my coffee. “He phoned you on your mobile you say?”
Jenny blinks slowly at me and almost imperceptibly nods.
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