Bone & Cane b&c-1

by David Belbin

  ‘I thought your split with Joe was mutual,’ he’d said.

  ‘Is that what he told you? No, I finished with him. I didn’t want to share him. But I don’t want to hurt him.’

  Then, as if to show that the deception was nothing personal, she made love with him again before breakfast. Back then, Nick and Joe had very similar bodies. During their fling, a total of six or seven nights spread over as many weeks, Nick sometimes suspected that Caroline was sleeping with him because of his physical resemblance to Joe.

  Their affair lasted until Joe persuaded Caroline to go out with him again. She’d told Joe that she was seeing someone else, but not whom. Later, in prison, Nick developed a theory that Caroline went out with him in order to find out more about Joe, to get the knowledge that would allow her to get inside his head, learn how to lure him back and keep him. Nick was a means to an end. But Nick had had a lot of paranoid thoughts in prison, many of them unfounded. Caroline was lonely. Nick was available. They had teaching in common, and got on, without any grand passion on either side. To Caroline, Nick was a casual conquest. Joe was her prize.

  Every woman he’d slept with had chucked him, that was another thing Nick often reflected on inside. He could add Polly to that list. The only one who hadn’t chucked him was Sarah. Instead she’d taken a job that made it impossible for Nick to stay with her.

  Prison did strange things to you. For a while, he’d convinced himself that Joe found about the affair with Caroline and, thinking it was still going on, had betrayed him to the police to get Nick out of the way. Joe was the only person in Nottingham who knew about the skunk operation. He’d been right to turn down Nick’s offer of a partnership. If Joe had taken Nick’s money for the cab firm, Cane Cars might have gone down with him. Instead, six years later, Caroline was having Joe’s baby and the cab company was the city’s third biggest. Joe had chosen wisely. So had Caroline. Back then, when Joe persuaded Caroline to start seeing him again, Nick had lost it. He’d begged her to stay with him instead. Caroline said she loved Joe. Nick, foolishly, slagged his brother off. He warned Caroline that Joe would never be faithful to her.

  ‘We’ll see,’ was all she’d said.

  ‘Why? Why him, not me?’ he kept asking, until she snapped.

  ‘Because he’s younger and better looking than you, if you really have to have a reason. And better in bed. Because I love him. Is that enough reasons?’

  ‘That’s enough.’

  ‘He must never know. I don’t want us to come between him and you. You’re his only brother. So this stays our secret, right?’

  ‘Right,’ Nick had said, and he had kept the secret from Joe. Now he was keeping a secret from Caroline. Or maybe she knew about Nas. Caroline was the sort of woman who knew a lot more than she let on.

  Halfway through his shift he rang Sarah but only got the machine. He didn’t know what kind of message to leave and hung up. He realized it was time to make a decision. He worked through the night until he had thought it through.

  ‘I’m packing this in,’ he told Bob when he returned his taxi early on Monday morning. ‘Today.’

  ‘Going back to the teaching?’

  ‘Something like that. I’ve been taking too big a risk.’

  ‘Aye, well, I can’t say the extra money’s not been useful but it was always a short-term thing.’ He glanced outside. ‘Your cab’s here.’

  It was five in the morning, so the car didn’t sound its horn. Nick left Bob to his breakfast. He’d been lucky to get a ride this early. He’d thought he might have to hang around in Wollaton until Bob went on shift. When he got outside, he wished he’d waited.

  ‘A’right, kidder? Had a long night?’

  ‘You’re usually off by now,’ Nick commented, getting into the front passenger door.

  ‘You’re my last call. Been waiting for you, as it happens.’

  Nick wasn’t slow to spot the menace in Ed Clark’s voice. But what was the point of running? Sooner or later, they had to have it out. He fastened his seat belt.

  ‘Wasn’t expecting to see you on Friday,’ Nick said as they hit the ring road.

  ‘Sounded like it.’

  A responsible driver, Ed didn’t turn round when he talked. Nick, too, stared straight ahead, not wanting to see the expression on Ed’s face.

  ‘Maybe I got the wrong end of the stick, but I was under the impression that Polly wouldn’t want to go anywhere near you.’

  ‘Understandable mistake,’ Ed said. ‘But things have changed. That’s why I wanted to see you.’

  ‘To warn me off?’ Nick asked, keeping his voice light, tentative.

  ‘You’ve had your fun. That’s all it was, is what she tells me. Bit of fun, like me giving that MP a poke. Nothing serious. But Poll’s wi’me now. Understood?’

  ‘No,’ Nick said. ‘I don’t understand why . . .’ He stopped himself.

  Ed knew full well what Nick couldn’t understand, yet he didn’t fill the silence. He turned onto Alfreton Road. They were nearly at Nick’s place. Nick spat it out.

  ‘How can she be with you if she thinks you killed her brother?’

  ‘She doesn’t think that,’ Ed said. ‘I won my appeal, remember?’

  ‘Sure, but . . .’

  ‘But nothing,’ Ed interrupted. ‘This is you.’

  Nick got out of the car, dragged himself up the steps to his flat. Throughout the conversation, Ed had been firm but friendly. Had Nick got him wrong? He needed to think. A smoke would help, but when you got home in daylight, smoking a joint felt out of whack. He made himself a mug of hot chocolate and went to bed. He was knackered, but it took a long time for him to drift off. Even if Ed was innocent of murder, the taxi driver should still be the last person Polly would want a relationship with. How could someone who wanted Nick also like being with Ed? And why did Ed keep going on about Sarah? The thought that he might have swapped girlfriends with Ed kept Nick awake for hours, then crept into his shallow, restless dreams.

  26

  Sarah found a free hour to see Nick for lunch on Tuesday. They met in the Indian social centre at the back end of Forest Fields, a venue where Sarah liked to be seen.

  ‘I don’t know this place,’ Nick said, wiping a thin line of sweat from his glowing forehead. Sarah couldn’t get over how healthy and well built he was these days.

  ‘I thought it was your kind of thing,’ Sarah said, hoping he wouldn’t read too much into her words. The centre served a very cheap vegetarian lunch, mainly to Asian OAPs, in a cavernous former church hall. They queued up for their food, which was served in stainless steel airline-style trays, then got one of the long tables to themselves.

  ‘This is good,’ Nick said, dipping one of his chapatis into the thin dal, which was accompanied by rice, vegetable curry, yoghurt, chutney and a sickly-sweet barfi. ‘A big lunch that’s within my means.’

  ‘You’re not that badly off, are you?’

  ‘I am now I’ve packed in the driving. It was too big a risk.’

  ‘I’m glad you’ve done that. You’ll find something else.’

  ‘I will, given time.’

  Sarah tried to meet his eyes with a sympathetic look, but they darted from side to side, a trait she remembered.

  ‘There’s something on your mind. What is it?’

  Nick gave a facial grimace that she also remembered, but hadn’t seen for a long time – a sign of embarrassment. He used to do it when he’d broken something, or had bad news for her.

  ‘This probably isn’t the time.’

  ‘What? I want to know.’

  Nick looked around as if to see who could hear them. A couple of white, social worker types had just been served but showed no sign of bringing their trays to Nick and Sarah’s table.

  ‘Don’t tease me, Nick.’

  ‘It’s probably a case of somebody teasing me. One of the other taxi drivers, he claims that – I mean, it’s none of my business, only I guess I want to know . . .’

  ‘What?’ />
  ‘He claims that, since he got out of prison, about the same time that I did, he’s been having a thing with you.’

  Sarah closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Ed Clark.’

  Nick leant forward. ‘Yes. You didn’t want to talk about him when I was round yours the other night. Were you and him . . .?’

  ‘No!’ Sarah said. ‘Something happened – I can’t talk about it here.’

  Ed fucking Clark. She got more disheartened when she was thinking about him than she did when fretting about losing the election. Nick still looked suspicious. As Sarah tried to find a form of words to reassure him, Ranjit, the centre manager, came over.

  ‘It’s so good to see you again, Miss Bone. You still like our food?’

  ‘Very much,’ Sarah said. ‘Best value in Nottingham.’

  Ranjit began a long, involved monologue about how the proposals to install a tram network across the city were likely to impact on Forest Fields. Sarah didn’t have anything to say. She doubted that the tram project would go ahead: too expensive. By the time Ranjit took his leave, Nick had finished eating.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Sarah said. ‘I’ve had enough to eat. Want to get out before we’re interrupted again?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Are you in a car?’ she asked, when they were outside.

  ‘I walked.’

  ‘I’ve still got twenty minutes,’ Sarah told Nick. ‘Can I give you a lift?’

  Her car was parked by a small, deserted playground up a hill.

  ‘I’m okay.’

  She didn’t push it. Possibly he didn’t want her to see where he was living.

  ‘Let’s talk in here.’

  He followed her into the playground. By unspoken agreement, she sat on the bright red merry-go-round. Nick started it going, then jumped on. Sarah figured that her in MP mode had been putting him off, so began to reminisce about the one time she’d taken acid, with him. The pair of them had sat on a Lenton merry-go-round for hours, talking, occasionally remembering to spin the carousel again. Then they would watch the world whirl and distort before it froze back into dull dusk.

  ‘I remember,’ Nick said. He didn’t add to her reminiscence, or fill the silence that followed it. The merry-go-round began to slow down.

  ‘Nothing happened between me and Ed Clark,’ Sarah said. ‘I had no interest in him, except . . .’ she watched his frown and chose her words carefully. ‘The night of his release, there was a party and he tried it on. I turned him down nicely but firmly. Later – I was a bit pissed or I wouldn’t have got myself into this situation: he pulled me into his room and tried to . . . force himself on me.’

  Nick put his foot down. The sole of his shoe squeaked on warm tarmac. He brought the merry-go-round to a halt. ‘He tried to rape you?’

  ‘He didn’t get that far. He was off his face on coke, speed, crystal meth . . . something. He knocked me over. I fought him off, sort of – I kneed him in the balls. But he could have raped me if he’d wanted to. Instead, he humiliated me.’

  Nick got out a tissue. Only when he handed it to her did Sarah realize that she was crying. ‘It sounds like he did more than humiliate you. Did you report it to anyone? What did you do?’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Sarah said. ‘He humiliated me by telling me that I’d made a fool of myself: that he really did kill Terry Shanks, then raped and murdered his wife.’

  27

  It was ten past nine the next morning before Nick made up his mind how to play it. This was a quiet time of day. Ed Clark would have just finished his school runs. A few drivers often had a late breakfast at the greasy spoon on Rawson Street, near the Indian social centre. Nick sometimes used the place himself. He could walk there in fifteen minutes. Nick did a lot of his best thinking while walking. Maybe by the time he got to the caff, he’d have worked out what to do and say.

  Thin drizzle spattered the shabby cobbles. Apart from the café, Rawson Street was all light industry – a garage, a warehouse, a fizzy-pop company. There was no reason for Ed to be in the caff. He was more likely to go to Polly’s for his breakfast and the rest once the kids had gone to school. All yesterday evening, Nick had been tempted to go round to Polly’s, have it out with Ed. But he didn’t know if Ed was living with Polly. Nor did he know if, in a fair fight, Ed could have him. Nick might have muscled up inside, but he hadn’t got into fights. He didn’t really know how to fight, and it felt too late to learn. He was tempted to pick up some broken brick, shove it into the wide, inside pocket of the denim jacket he was wearing. Suppose he were stopped? Would a brick count as carrying a concealed weapon, revoke his probation? If Nick was going to risk that, he might as well carry a knife. No, make that a dagger, or a rope, or a piece of lead piping . . .

  It was nearly ten by the time he got to the caff. Ed wasn’t there, but Bob was, tucking into a full English with chips.

  ‘Missing me already?’ he asked Nick.

  ‘Just hungry.’ Nick ordered a sausage sandwich and a pint mug of tea, then sat down. ‘Seen Ed today?’

  Bob shook his head. ‘But I’ve only been here five minutes. Get on with him, do you? S’pose you knew each other inside.’

  Nick didn’t answer. Bob was reading the Sun which, to Nick’s amazement, seemed to be supporting Labour. The sandwich arrived and he smothered the contents with brown sauce before disposing of it in half a dozen rapid mouthfuls. Nick was only halfway down his mug of tea when Bob declared that he was leaving.

  ‘Mind if I come out with you?’ Nick asked. ‘Use your radio.’

  ‘Be my guest,’ Bob said, handing him the keys. ‘Need a slash first.’

  Bob’s car was parked opposite the caff. Nick got in and turned the radio on. He was about to call Nas, see if he could find out where Ed was, when Clark’s car pulled up alongside him. Ed wound down the window and Nick did the same.

  ‘I heard you’d stopped driving.’

  ‘That’s why I’m in the passenger seat,’ Nick said. ‘I need a word with you.’

  Ed grinned. ‘I’m on the way to Polly’s. Meet me there. Never know your luck, she might be in the mood for a threesome. And if she isn’t in the mood, you might get lucky wi’ me instead.’ His laugh was obnoxious yet ingratiating, as though he and Nick were mates.

  Ed drove off. Bob came out a minute later and Nick asked to be dropped down the road in Basford.

  ‘You found him then?’

  ‘Yeah, I found him. But I dunno what I’m going to do with him.’

  ‘You talk like you’re up for a fight, youth.’

  ‘It may come to that.’

  ‘Ed’s a hard lad. He’ll have you, unless you’re kitted up, like. Want this?’

  Bob pulled out the flick knife that he kept beneath his seat.

  ‘I might be tempted to do something stupid,’ Nick said.

  ‘And Ed might be tempted to kill you,’ Bob said, then showed him how the catch worked. The knife was small enough for Ed not to know Nick was carrying. It was insurance, that was all. Nick was good at keeping his temper, always had been, but if Ed came at him with a blade, Nick needed to be able to strike first. Prison had taught him that.

  ‘Okay, mate. I’ll take it. Appreciated.’

  Bob gave him a wry smile. ‘Want me to wait for you?’

  ‘I don’t know how long I’ll be.’

  ‘I’ll stick at the end of the road for a few mins.’

  It wasn’t as though they were friends, or Bob was in Nick’s debt, but if this were prison, what Bob was doing would make him Nick’s mate for life. Bob drove three doors down and parked. Polly answered the door.

  ‘Can’t keep away, can you?’ she said. Her manner mingled mockery and affection. It annoyed him, because she was right, he still wanted her. Her short, blonde hair was mussed like she’d just got out of bed. Until a few days ago, this woman had let him do every dirty thing his imprisoned mind had imagined. And more.

  ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘I suppose. You’re expecte
d,’ Polly said. She looked at him as if he was a wounded animal that one of the kids had brought in. ‘Are you sure about this?’

  Without answering, he followed her into the living room, where Polly resumed ironing one of the kids’ grey polo shirts for school.

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Ed’s on the loo. He’ll be down in a minute.’ She finished the shirt and put down the iron. ‘What do you want, Nick?’

  ‘I want to know why you’re with him.’

  Polly shook her head, then reached over to touch Nick’s face. She stroked his cheeks and felt under his chin. He couldn’t tell whether she meant this to resemble a doctor’s examination or a caress.

  ‘You’re filling out,’ she said. ‘I didn’t notice at first. Thought you looked the way you always do. Then, when I found out you’d been inside, it made sense. Guys inside, they don’t eat well, but they work out a lot. They get these hollow faces, dark lines below the eyes, like ghosts. Ed was like that the first time he came out. This time, too. And he’s hardly put the weight in his face back on. But you, you’re a softboy, aren’t cha? Mister university graduate who used to go out with an MP.’

  ‘Who told you that?’ Nick asked.

  ‘I did,’ Ed said, doing up his flies as he walked in. ‘Got the word at the cab office. Still in touch with her, are you?’

  Nick didn’t reply.

  ‘I’ll bet you are. One or two looks you gave me when I talked about her, they make a bit of sense now. Jealous of what you’d lost, eh? Still, she were nought in’t sack compared to our Poll, was she?’

  Polly gave them both a strained look.

  ‘Ne’er mind that threesome we talked about, let’s go the whole hog, get Sarah round for a foursome – cocks and cunt all over t’shop. What do you say?’

  Bob’s knife felt heavy in Nick’s pocket. He didn’t know if Ed’s exaggeration of his Nottingham accent was deliberate or unconscious. Either way, Nick ought to get out. Yet he owed something to Polly, and to Sarah.

  ‘Listen,’ he said to Polly, ‘there are things you need to know.’