Hearts of Stone

by Mark Timlin

  Meanwhile I stuck a fingernail through the plastic packaging round the coke, stuck in my finger and took a hit. It wasn’t Domestos. In fact it wasn’t half bad. ‘Seems OK,’ I said. ‘I’m sure you’ll hear if it’s not.’

  ‘It is,’ said Seeley.

  By this time they were satisfied the cash was all present and correct. We both closed each other’s cases and picked them up. Done deal. Everybody ecstatic.

  ‘You go first,’ said Hughes. ‘We’ll see you later.’

  ‘OK,’ I said, and left.

  The street outside was empty, but someone was playing opera on their stereo in one of the houses. Loud. Ain’t culture wonderful?

  I walked through a wash of sound to the car, opened it, threw the case in the back, and drove home. Nobody appeared to give a damn. I was there by twelve-thirty.

  * * *

  Brady was sitting in the dark on the sofa, drinking a beer and watching a black-and-white zombie movie on the TV. He looked just like one of the juvenile leads in the reflection from the screen. I switched on the light, and he squinted up at me.

  ‘Got it?’ he asked.

  ‘Got it.’

  ‘Let me see.’

  I gave him the case. He opened it, found the split in the packet, and took a hit.

  ‘Scientific,’ I said.

  He ignored me. ‘This is good stuff,’ he said. ‘Just right.’

  ‘Satisfied?’

  ‘For now. I’ll give it the proper test later.’

  ‘Can you get it out of here, then?’

  ‘Nervous?’

  ‘A little.’

  ‘You’re safe. I’m the law, don’t forget.’

  Then God save us all, I thought. ‘Even so…’ I said.

  ‘Can I finish my drink?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Before he left, I told Brady about the third party who’d appeared at the meet. He got me to describe him, down to the last detail I remembered. ‘Don’t know him,’ he said. ‘Maybe just a minder, but I’ll check around. See if anybody else recognises him.’

  ‘It was him that spoke to me on the phone.’

  ‘Probably just testing that you’ll take orders from strangers. But you never know. Don’t worry. If anyone knows him I’ll find out.’

  He chugged down the last of his beer and got up. ‘Don’t bother to see me out, Nick. I’ll find my own way.’ He picked up the briefcase and headed for the door. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said as he closed it behind him.

  I went to the fridge and found he’d drunk all my beer. So I made a cup of tea and watched the end of the film.

  The zombies lost. It wasn’t much like real life.

  29

  I was working Saturday night and Sunday daytime, so I slept in. Correction: I lay in bed looking at the ceiling and listening to the world go by outside the closed curtains. I felt about as much empathy with it as a grizzly bear does with a parking meter.

  I crawled out of the pit about two. The telephone rang at three. It was Brady. He sounded well pleased with himself.

  ‘Hello Nick,’ he said. ‘Top of the afternoon to ya.’

  ‘You sound chipper,’ I said.

  ‘So would you.’

  ‘Then I assume everything was OK with last night’s little transaction.’

  ‘You assume correctly.’

  ‘Good kit?’

  ‘Exactly as promised.’

  ‘So part one of the master plan is complete.’

  ‘Cor-rect.’

  ‘And part two?’

  ‘Have some patience, Nick.’

  ‘I want this over and done with so’s I can get back to my life – what there is of it.’

  ‘In due time.’

  ‘So what’s next?’

  ‘I’m going to throw a party.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘You heard. A party. A soirée at my place tomorrow night.’

  ‘Who’s invited?’ As if I had to ask.

  ‘Seeley and Hughes. I spoke to them this morning, and told them how delighted I was with the way things went last night. They’ve accepted the invitation. Jools is coming, and a few other friends of mine. Alfie will be cooking one of his chillis. He really is rather good in the kitchen department. Don’t fret, dear heart, it’s all a chance for us to get better acquainted. Good music, good wine and good company. And don’t worry, you’re on the guest list too.’

  ‘How about our mysterious friend from last night?’

  ‘If he wants to come.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  ‘I know. Don’t worry, we’ll get round to him in time.’

  ‘I’m sure you will.’

  ‘You don’t exactly sound ecstatic at the invitation, Nick. Got a problem with it?’

  ‘I don’t like parties,’ I said.

  ‘You’ll like this one.’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  His voice hardened. ‘I am,’ he said. ‘You’ll be there, my friend, or I’ll want to know the reason why. Nine o’clock, and don’t be late.’

  I hesitated and sighed down the phone. My stomach was turning over with tension, and I felt hemmed in by his voice and the four walls of the room. ‘OK,’ I said. ‘I’ll be there.’

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t find it in yourself to refuse.’ And he hung up. When I put down the phone, it rang again straightaway. I picked up the receiver, but said nothing.

  ‘Nick?’ said a woman’s voice.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Kylie.’

  ‘Oh, hello,’ I said. Even as I did so, I could hear the flatness in the tone of my voice.

  ‘You don’t sound in a very good mood.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said.

  ‘Bad time?’

  ‘When isn’t?’

  ‘If you want to leave it…’

  I suddenly realised how pleased I was to hear her voice. ‘No, not at all. I was thinking of something else. It’s great to hear from you. Really.’

  ‘I believe you, thousands wouldn’t. Is that why you haven’t called?’

  I remembered my promise when we’d parted. ‘Yeah. Sorry, babe. I’ve been up to here,’ I said. ‘You know how it is.’

  ‘I do. That’s why I rang you. What are you doing tonight?’

  ‘Working. I’m afraid.’ And I was.

  ‘Oh,’ I loved the way she said it.

  ‘I thought you would be, too – being Saturday night and all.’

  ‘I work when I want to. It’s a perk of the job.’

  ‘I’d like to know the others.’

  ‘I thought you would already. What time are you through?’

  ‘Eleven-thirty, twelve.’

  ‘Whereabouts exactly is the place?’

  ‘West Norwood.’

  ‘Where the hell is that?’

  ‘About fifteen minutes from the arse-end of the universe.’

  ‘Sounds like it. Do cabs venture there?’

  ‘If the passenger looks like you, they do. Otherwise it can be a bit iffy. Why, are you thinking of making the trip?’

  ‘If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed, I might. Would I be welcome?’

  ‘As the buds in May.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Give me the address, then, and I’ll see how I feel later.’

  I told her. ‘There’s a class Indian just down the road,’ I said. ‘Stays open late on a Saturday night.’

  ‘Wow. Be still, my beating heart. For the local public-bar crowd I imagine.’

  ‘No. The clientele is impeccable.’

  ‘In West whatever-it-is.’

  ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d been here before.’

  ‘Places similar. I�
��ve been around.’

  ‘Well get around here later and I’ll buy you a lager and lime.’

  ‘A double?’

  ‘You got it.’

  ‘Sounds better all the time.’

  ‘So it’s a date?’

  ‘Yeah, OK. About ten-thirty?’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  ‘See you, then.’

  ‘See you.’

  I let her hang up first. I haven’t done that for a long time.

  30

  Kylie was a little late. I imagined she’d had a harder job than she thought she would getting a cab to venture this far into the black hole of south London. I swear taxi drivers think they’re going to drop off the edge of the earth if they venture past Waterloo Station. Mind you, I was surprised. Looking the way she looked as she came through the door of the bar, if I’d been a cabbie I’d’ve volunteered to drive her to Tibet, or someplace even more remote. I suppose she arrived at JJ’s at twenty to eleven or thereabouts, near closing time, and the place was Saturday-night busy. Buzzin’, as you might say. But she managed to lower the volume of conversation, if not the worn-out, original 45rpm Top Rank single recording of Quarter to Three by US Bonds that was booming out of the mighty Wurlitzer jukebox.

  Her hair was loose, and fell to her shoulders, and it was the shade of blonde that was in TV commercials for Sunsilk Shampoo. If you’d asked me, I’d’ve said she was wearing minimal make-up, but that was a trick. She’d just made it look that way. She was wearing black high-heeled patent-leather court shoes, black fishnets and a little black dress that she filled to within an ounce of overflowing. But it was that ounce that she and every man in the room lived in. Over one shoulder was a black leather handbag on a long strap, and over the other arm was a black cloth coat. She ignored the stares and the dropped jaws and interrupted conversations that preceded and followed her path, and made straight for me.

  ‘Hello, Nick,’ she said as the record faded into the scratchy run-out. ‘Sorry I’m late.’

  ‘It was worth it for that entrance,’ I said.

  She cocked a look at one of our regulars who was sitting next to her on a bar stool. He resisted her gaze for a nanosecond before offering her his seat. Previous to that moment, I’d have doubted that he would have made the gesture to a nine-month pregnant woman whose water had just broken.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, and perched up on the vacant seat, showing enough fishnetted thigh to give any man ideas of trawling as a career. ‘So where’s that drink you promised me?’ she asked.

  ‘Lager and lime, wasn’t it?’ I said.

  She nodded, and the next record started to play. Pretty Flaming’ it was, by Manfred Mann. Perfect, I thought, and went to the fridge for a bottle of Sol.

  When I fetched her the beer, with a slice of lime in the neck, I could see and feel most of the eyes of the customers in the place still on us. ‘Do you always cause such a stir?’ I asked, under the sound of the music.

  ‘I try to.’

  ‘You succeeded. My charisma count just went up a point or ten.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I wanted.’

  By then the next-to-last-order merchants were clamouring to be served, so I had to leave her. As I poured drinks, I saw one or two of our likelier lads trying to put the bite on her, but she deflected them like a heavyweight boxer taking on a six-year-old.

  I called last orders at eleven, and herded the reluctant punters out as quickly as drinking-up time allowed. By half-past the place was virtually empty, and JJ put in an appearance. He pulled the sort of face that people do when they want to know if the other person was someone I was involved with, and I pulled the sort of face back that said yes. He tossed me the spare keys I’d need to open up the next morning, and told us to go. I didn’t need to be told twice. I helped her on with her coat and we split.

  Outside she turned to me and said, ‘Where’s this class Indian you were telling me about then?’

  ‘Just down the hill,’ I said. ‘Come on, I’ll race you.’

  ‘Not in these heels,’ she replied, and attached herself to my arm and we walked down slowly.

  As it goes it’s not a bad Indian, as Indians go in that neck of the woods. Not exactly subtle, but not bad. And they served Kingfisher lager. Freezing cold in bottles.

  When we’d got a table, I asked her what she wanted to drink and she said beer, so I ordered two, plus a stack of papadums and the chutney tray. They don’t serve the spicy tomato thing, so that was a point against them. But, as I’ve noted before, nothing’s perfect.

  When the beer had washed down a couple of the big crisps, and the most urgent hunger pangs had been sated, I said, ‘I’m glad you came over. It’s good to see you.’

  ‘I thought you weren’t going to ring.’

  ‘Like I said, I’ve been up to here.’ I put up my hand and touched the top of my head.

  ‘Business?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Funny business with Roy and Pat?’

  ‘Don’t ask.’

  ‘OK, I won’t. But, Nick, be careful. Those two are no good.’

  ‘I will. Now, can we talk about something pleasant?’

  ‘Course. Sorry.’

  ‘Right. We’re here. They’re not. Let’s forget about them.’

  So we did, and the meal was a great success.

  Afterwards I drove her back to my place. It was after one in the morning by then, and she seemed in no hurry to go anywhere else, so I just rode with the flow. I let her into my flat and switched on the light.

  ‘Nice,’ she said. ‘If a little – how can I say – cramped.’

  ‘Bloody cramped,’ I agreed. ‘Even poky, runty or puny. But also compact, bijou, snug or cosy. Depends how you look at it. It suits me. Like I told you, I’m usually on my own.’

  ‘I remember. But not tonight.’

  ‘That’s true, and is it going to be all night?’

  ‘Of course. If you think I’m going to go out and find a cab at this hour…’

  ‘You know I’d drive you home if you want.’

  ‘But I don’t want. Now I’m in Tulse Hill, I’ll stay here.’

  ‘Are you sure you haven’t been here before?’

  ‘What?’ She looked confused.

  ‘You know this is Tulse Hill.’

  ‘You told me.’

  ‘Did I? I thought I said West Norwood.’

  ‘The other night. You told me you live in Tulse Hill.’

  ‘Then I forget. Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Drink?’

  ‘Please,’

  ‘Beer? Gin? Vodka? Jack Daniel’s?’

  ‘Jack Daniel’s sounds good.’

  ‘A woman after my own heart,’ I said, and got a pair of drinks together.

  When I took them through from the kitchenette, she was still standing in the middle of the room, coat on, like she’d changed her mind about staying. I put the drinks down on the low table next to the sofa that converts into a bed.

  ‘Let me take your coat,’ I said. ‘Sit down.’

  She took it off. That dress. Boy, that dress.

  She sat down demurely, pulling her skirt lower on her thighs. I sat next to her and she passed over my drink.

  ‘Cheers,’ I said.

  ‘Cheers,’ she replied, and we both drank.

  ‘Want some music?’ I asked.

  ‘No. I like it like this. This time of night in the city. It’s like it’s closed down. Or maybe not that at all. It’s as if you could open the curtains and just see deserted countryside for miles.’ She looked embarrassed. ‘Or is that silly?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘You have a very lyrical turn of phrase.’

  ‘But you know what I mean?’

  I nodded. I did. I’ve walked hundreds, no, thousands of miles through the streets of London in the n
ight-time. When the orange sodium lamps give colour to the wet streets. Not real colour. Just a veneer of colour. A sheen, like oil on black skin.

  ‘I knew you would,’ she said and came closer to me. I touched her, and the touch turned to a caress. And the caress to something else. And the something else to something else again.

  We woke up in bed as close as two spoons. She smiled and I smiled, and it was great just to be there. I told her I was due to open up the bar, and we got up and took turns at the bathroom, and I made breakfast. When we’d finished eating she said, ‘I forgot. I’ve got something for you.’

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  She got up from the table and fetched her handbag. She took something out and placed it next to my plate. It was a chromed Zippo lighter.

  ‘What’s this?’ I asked. Stupid question, really.

  ‘What does it look like? You’re always lighting your cigarettes with that horrible plastic throwaway thing. I saw this and bought it for you.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have.’

  ‘Why not?’

  I didn’t know. ‘I don’t know,’ I said.

  ‘Well, there you go. Take it. It wasn’t expensive.’

  ‘Cheers. It’s nice to know how much I’m worth.’

  ‘You know I didn’t mean it like that.’

  ‘I know. I’m only teasing. But I always lose lighters. That’s why I use a disposable. Perhaps I should put it somewhere safe.’

  ‘No, don’t do that. Please.’

  ‘OK, I won’t,’ I said, and got up from my seat and kissed her. ‘Thanks. That was kind of you.’ If I hadn’t had to go to open up the bar, the kiss might have lasted all day. ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I’ve got to go to work.’ I looked at my watch. ‘I’ve just got time to get you home.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. I’ll get a cab.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s OK. After all, you did give me this.’ I held up the lighter.

  ‘Promise you’ll use it.’

  ‘I’ll never go anywhere without it again.’

  She smiled and I dropped it in my pocket, got my keys, took her down to the car and up to town.

  ‘When am I going to see you again?’ she asked.

  I’d considered asking her to Brady’s party, but thought better of it. I really didn’t think that Kylie and Jools in the same room would be a good idea, considering.