Brian sat slouched on the sofa, legs stretched out, reading a magazine called Smash Hits. He barely looked when Jed came in, managing a tired sounding, “Switch that off, will you?”
Jed went to the music-centre and pressed the button. The speakers gave a thump, then went dead. He stared at the record label. Metal Guru.
“It's from The Slider,” said Brian, by way of explanation. “Their new L.P. You can borrow it, if you like. Or, I can copy it onto cassette, if you prefer.”
“You can do that?”
Brian grunted. “That's a music-centre. See the cassette deck? It records from the turntable, and the radio. I'll record it for you, and anything you want.”
“Thanks.” Jed kept his eyes on the carpet. “Er – I need to talk to you about a package.”
Brian nodded, without reacting. “What about it?”
That should have thrown Jed, the almost casual manner in which Brian spoke. But it didn't. All of this was the most natural thing in the world to him, so Jed decided to go along with it, keeping up his own pretence. “You know what happened to it?”
“Of course I know.” Brian stood up and stretched. “It was burned in the club. Why do you ask?”
Jed shrugged, feeling a little confused. Brian will tell you what to do, Jon had said.
“You haven't got a clue, have you? Who sent you, Sullivan?”
“Sullivan? Why the hell would Sullivan—”
Brian held up his hand, “I don't care, Jed. I'm not in the least bit interested. I'm getting out of all this, you tell Sullivan that. Tell him I know what he's up to, and he'll never find anything which he can pin on me. You tell him that.”
“Brian, I'm not working for Sullivan, or anyone from the police.”
“Yeah, right. Like I said, I don't care. I'm going to make one more deal, then I'm finished. Me and Mum, we'll be leaving. Going down south probably. Start again, away from this shit-hole.” He went over to the window. It was quiet outside. It was always quiet. “That package, it was worth – difficult to be accurate but – fifty grand?” Brian caught sight of Jed gaping at him in his reflection in the glass. He turned around, laughing. “Didn't you know? Fifty grand. That's a lot of money, eh?” Jed nodded, completely dumbstruck. “And it all went up in smoke. Imagine that. Bit suspicious, don't you think? Makes you wonder who would do such a thing, and why.” Brian pulled out a packet of cigarettes, automatically offering one to Jed, who refused. Lighting one up, Brian pulled in the smoke as if he'd been resisting it for a long time. He gave a little cough. “I hate these things…” He continued smoking as he went back to the sofa and flopped down. “My guess is that Sullivan did it. Murdered Tony Laine, burned the place down.”
Barely recovering from his shock, Jed sat down in the armchair next to the electric fire, which wasn't switched on. He leaned forward, hands on knees. “Why would he do that?”
“Take over, skim off the cream, send a message, who knows. The guy is due to retire so he wants to set himself up.”
“But – burn down the place, along with that package? It doesn't make sense.”
“Try not to be too stupid, eh? It was a mistake. He obviously didn't know the package had been delivered.”
Jed squeezed his eyes shut, trying to recall the night, but only managing tiny fragments, snippets in a tangled up brain. There was something that wasn't adding up, something he knew wasn't right in what Brian had said, together with a distant memory of what Jon had said, about the package. He tried hard, but he couldn't remember what it was. He knew it was important, but…His fist came down hard on the arm of the chair, frustration boiling up to the surface. “Damn – I feel I've missed something, something significant.”
“You've missed something? Why would you think that?” Brian stubbed out his cigarette angrily, “Sullivan needs to understand where I'm coming from, Jed. My suppliers, they're not kids. They're serious businessmen. They don't take kindly to being rushed. I'm going to make one last deal, and Sullivan will get his cut. But there will be no more. That fire was stupid – totally stupid. He could have ruined everything. You tell him that.”
“Brian, for God's sake – I told you, Sullivan didn't send me.”
“Don't treat me like an idiot, Jed, because I'm not. And here's some advice, yeah. You might be hard, but these guys, they're in a different league. You mess with them, you or Sullivan, and they'll crush you like a bed bug. So, tell Sullivan to be patient and wait. I'll phone you when the deal is going to go down, and then that will be the end of it. I'm out. If Sullivan wants more, he'll have to arrange it with them himself. I'm retiring.”
He stood up. The conversation was over. Jed, still confused, went out into the hall again. He was surprised to see Hannah Randall standing there, leaning against the stairwell, her bathrobe not as tightly closed as it had been. Had she been listening? He gulped, trying to avert his eyes. But almost as soon as he looked away, his gaze went back again. Her skin gleamed, tanned and smooth, shimmering against the sharp contrast of the white robe.
She pushed herself off the wall, went to the door and opened it. Jed squeezed past her again, the smell of her perfume wafting into his nostrils. She hadn't been wearing perfume before. It was intoxicating. On the step, he turned and as the door closed, was that a little smile she gave him, or was that just wishful thinking?
They ate tea in silence, Dad in another dark mood, locked in a place far, far away. Jed, his own thoughts swirling around in his brain, was grateful of the chance to think. But the more he thought, the more confused he got. He knew, if nothing else, that he had to get to the bottom of what was going on. If only he could clear the fog from his mind, release the memories. He'd gone to the club that night and seen Tony Laine. He remembered that much, and remembered how angry Laine was. What was it he had said? Something about…He pressed his lips together, exasperated. This was the point where it all became cloudy. No matter how hard he tried, Jed couldn't remember Laine's words. He remembered the bouncer pushing him out of the club. And then…
Jed opened his eyes wide. It was like looking at an old film through a misty lens slowly being wiped clean, gradually becoming clearer. The pictures were coming into focus. There had been two men. Big men, and they had taken the package from him. And that might mean that the package hadn't been left in the club to be burned along with the building after all. Who were those men, who did they work for, and how did they know that he would be there at that time?
The telephone rang, bringing Jed out of his reverie. He answered it and his heart almost stopped when her voice came floating down the earpiece. “Hi Jed. How have you been?”
It was Janet.
For a long moment, he couldn't find the strength to think, let alone talk.
“Are you there? Jed, are you all right?”
Pulling himself together, Jed's words tumbled out of him in a rush. “Yes, hi, yes, of course, hi – I didn't think you'd get in touch. I tried to talk to you, called your number, but your dad, if it was it your dad, I guess it must have been but anyway, he sounded, you know…” He was rambling. He knew it. She must have been laughing at him. “Sorry – I didn't think, you know, I didn't think you wanted to see me again…you know…again.”
He heard her, laughing, as he suspected. Laughing loud. “Jed – you're so weird! Why wouldn't I want to see you again? Look, do you want to meet up. I need to talk to you about something. I'll pick you up, if you like.”
Pick him up? “Pick me up? How – I mean – I didn't know you could drive.”
Another laugh. “Oh, Jed, you're sweet. Really sweet. Just be ready, in half-an-hour, okay?”
Half-an-hour! How could he possibly get himself ready in half-an-hour? No sooner had he put the phone down than he was racing up the stairs, taking them two at a time, ripping off his clothes and getting under the scalding water of the shower. But he didn't care, he had no time to adjust the temperature. He lathered up a sponge and rubbed his body all over, as fast as he could. It was times like this that he w
as grateful he kept his hair short. Thoughts of creating that Rod Stewart look would have to wait.
By the time the doorbell sounded, he was ready, having pulled on a fresh t-shirt and his best jeans. He'd also splashed on some of his dad's most expensive aftershave lotion. As he bounded down the stairs, Dad was opening the door. He caught the first whiff of the scent and Dad turned to frown at him. Then he smiled and Jed looked past his dad's shoulder to see Janet standing there. No words of explanation were required.
She drove white Viva, with red seats and twin exhausts. An SL-90. Impressed, Jed leaned back as she headed towards Belvidere Road, feeling like a movie-star. She handled the car expertly and he wondered, not for the first time, about how old she was. Twenty at least, maybe more. Something about her self-confidence made him suspect she might be older. He caught sight of her legs as she changed gear, the skirt too short, white like the car. Legs so long, the muscles rippling as she depressed the clutch, or applied the brakes. It was heaven and he hardly dared believe it was all real.
They left the car in a side street and walked through Harrison Park gates. Already the sun was sending orange streaks across the sky and as they reached the top of one of the hills, they looked out across the Irish Sea, lost in their thoughts, the evening still and pleasantly mild. She slipped her hand inside his and he looked at her awe-struck. This close, in this light, she was truly gorgeous.
She leaned over and gently kissed him on the lips. His legs almost went out from under him. “I want us to go away together,” she said softly.
Gaping, he shook his head, confused. “Away? I don't understand. Go away? Go where – when?”
“You're on study leave, so you have some time.”
“Time? Well, yeah, but, it's study leave – I need to, you know—”
She pressed her forefinger against his lips. “Don't worry so much. You're going to be fine, I know you will. You're so clever.” She smiled, letting her finger fall away from his mouth. She took his hand in both of hers and played with his fingers. “Jon talked to you about going to Scotland, I think.”
Jed frowned. Jon, Scotland? Yes, there was something, but he couldn't remember the details. “Scotland? I'm not sure…”
“Well, I'd like us to go. We can drop him off, then spend some time together – alone.” She raised her eyes, drank him in. He went limp, thought for a moment he would faint, that look so alluring, so full of not-so-subtle innuendo. Alone. My God, to be alone with her. “What do you think?”
“Think?” He laughed. “I think it's the most wonderful idea I've ever heard.”
She hugged him, very tightly.
It was only later, when he was alone in his room, lying in his bed, that he realized she hadn't said anything about her dad, why he had been so angry, why he had called Jed sick. Perhaps there was nothing in it, perhaps her dad was under pressure. Everyone seemed to be under pressure lately, and the thought of getting away, even if only for a few days, was so wonderful, and give him a chance to recharge his batteries, get things into perspective. A few days to escape from the rigours of this world, with all its pressures. Could there be anything better? He'd have to okay everything with Dad, but there wouldn't be any problems, surely. Jed had shown he was back on track, that all that nonsense with the police was nothing but a blimp.
He tore his mind away from thoughts of Brian and packages, Sullivan and deals with criminals, Craig Watson and fights in pubs. All of that was something he would have to disentangle himself from eventually. Right now, Janet made everything so much cleaner and brighter. She was worth fighting for, worth holding onto. And worth keeping out of all the dirt and danger he was embroiled in. A few days away, time to think things through, to make firm decisions, get it all sorted out. Once and for all…
Closing his eyes, one thought still burned. Why had her dad called him sick?
Yet one more mystery to solve.
23
The first morning of his exam leave arrived, but not the promise of lying in bed for a few glorious hours. No sooner had his dad closed the door and stomped off to work than the telephone range. It didn't stop. Relentless. Eventually, Jed dragged himself from under the covers and groped his way downstairs.
“Have you spoken to your dad yet?”
Jon, voice as dispassionate and detached as ever, nevertheless bringing with it that familiar buzz, the yearning. Jed, his weariness disappearing as if it had never existed, went light-headed, joyous, happiness brimming over in a wild upsurge of adrenalin. He pressed his palm against the wall for support, tongue thick with desire. “Jon! My God, where have you—”
“The trip to Scotland? Remember, we talked about it? Have you asked your dad whether you can go or not?”
Jed did remember, thanks to Janet, but he hadn't mentioned anything to Dad, not yet. After Dad's outburst, things were still not quite right between them, despite the awkward apologies. Dad was continuing to go through his own personal hell and Jed wasn't sure that he should burden him with the idea of being completely alone, if only for a few days. Even if it meant being alone with Janet. “I haven't really had the chance – sorry.”
There was a pause, during which Jed imagined the look on Jon's face. A look of intense displeasure. “Well, my suggestion is that you mention it to him, tonight.”
“I will, Jon. I promise.”
“Never make promises you can't keep Jed. That can be dangerous.”
What was that supposed to mean? “Okay. But I will. As soon as he comes in.”
The line went dead and Jed went through to the kitchen, uneasy and a little afraid.
Dad seemed disinterested as he busied himself preparing tea. Jed sat at the kitchen table, hands clasped together, staring down into nothingness. “Well, Dad? Do you think it'll be all right?”
Without turning around from the cooker, Dad shrugged his shoulders. “You can do whatever you want, Jed. As long as you're sure you can get some studying in.”
“I will.” Jed bit his lip. He recalled Jon's words. “I promise.”
“Well in that case,” He looked at Jed over his shoulder. “When?”
“In the next few days. It'll only be for a short while.”
“Bring me back a haggis, will you?” He went back to his cooking. Jed should have felt some slight elation, it all having gone so well, but he didn't. His sense of unease grew with the thought he was about to embark on something that wasn't going to be as wonderful as he had at first believed.
Things happened quickly after the phone call. Janet called him that evening to tell him Jon had everything in hand and they would pick Jed up at six o'clock the following morning. She brushed off his complaints of barely having enough time to pack, saying, “What exactly are you going to need Jed? It's only a two day trip – you'll be back home by Thursday.”
Unfortunately Dad's reaction wasn't as nonchalant as it had been earlier, deflating Jed's sense of excitement. “Tomorrow? What's the rush?”
“I suppose Jon has an appointment to keep. I'll be back by Thursday.”
“I could have done with a bit more warning.” Dad ran a hand through his sparse hair. “But, it'll be all right. I'll manage.” Dad had such an annoying knack of making Jed feel so guilty over anything he wanted to do. His mother used to do that. No, don't get up! I mean, I've only been cleaning the house all day, wouldn't want you to get your hands wet by washing a few dishes, would we?
“I'll phone as soon as I get there.”
“Jed,” his dad looked at him meaningfully, “I'll be fine. You just go and enjoy yourself. You tell Jon to look after you, yeah?”
Jed suddenly realized that he hadn't mentioned anything about Janet. But it was too late now and, besides, perhaps it was for the best that Dad remained in the dark about that particular aspect of the trip. His mood wouldn't be quite so cordial if he knew.
* * *
Jed couldn't sleep. Lying there, beneath the covers, staring up at the ceiling, he tried his best to keep his thoughts neutral. He didn't
want to tempt fate by conjuring up little scenarios all to do with him and Janet, alone together. He felt a surge of pure lust rush through his loins whenever he did, but he managed to keep them at bay, but not enough to aid him sleeping.
Getting up at five, he threw a few things into a holdall and then remembered his camera. It was only a little Kodak but it would do. He would have to get some flash-cubes from a shop on the way. A swift breakfast, thrown down, then yet another visit to the bathroom. How many times had that been since he'd got up? His stomach churned around as if it were inside a spin-dryer. Every other second, he glanced at his watch. The fingers never moved. It was painful, all this waiting. And then, as is always the case, when he flopped down on the sofa and tried to be patient, his eyelids grew heavy and sleep beckoned. Fighting against it at first, when a great wave of exhaustion hit him, he drifted off into unconsciousness.
The doorbell rang shrilly and he sat up with a jerk. It was ten minutes past six! How could that be? Rubbing his eyes, he ran to the door and tore it open. There was Jon and, behind him, parked up against the curb, Janet. She smiled and waved from the driver's seat. At last the time had come! Jed felt like a little boy at Christmas and, eagerly grabbing his holdall and coat, followed Jon out to the car.
“Aren't you going to say goodbye to your dad?”
Jed frowned, looking at Jon, then followed his friend's gaze to his father's bedroom window. Dad was there, dressed in his pyjamas, hand raised in farewell. Jed felt a shudder of guilt, forced a smile, and returned the wave before bundling himself into the back of the car and away they went.
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