Highbridge

by Phil Redmond

  She shook her head. Then waited for him to continue.

  ‘Anyway, Luke had put some flowers there earlier. And …’ Joey didn’t have to finish. She nodded, now getting it.

  ‘It spilt over into the Lion?’ she asked.

  Joey nodded. ‘It was just verbals in the car park, but when we went in the pub later he was there. Few mates. Started sounding off about why we shouldn’t be intervening overseas. Creating psychos like Luke coming back. And, well, he just lost it. I was actually fighting to stop Luke killing the guy more than anything else. So, if you came to warn me about it, Hilary, it’s done.’ He turned and leaned forward to make eye contact. ‘We’ve got a lid on it. OK?’

  She stood, considering it for a moment or two. ‘And Matt being back is no more than a coincidence, is it?’

  Joey shrugged. ‘They do happen, you know.’

  She nodded. Considered it for a moment before saying, ‘OK. But keep the lid on, eh?’

  She touched his arm briefly. ‘Please’. Then she headed off to her assembled troops. She still had it, Joey thought as he flopped into the Jag. He watched her stride across the playing fields, remembering how her chest bounced and her hockey skirt flounced as she ran rings round the others on those same pitches. Christ, he thought, with a last look back. Coincidences? How come one of my schoolmates is the top cop and another is the top gangster who tells me it’ll only cost five hundred quid to have someone topped? Properly.

  Luke, now wearing a Berghaus Ulvetanna parka, was half a mile away from the hide before he switched on his phone. It vibrated as soon as he did. Damn. Same old security issue. What was the point of them going dark to make sure the cell data couldn’t put them close to the hide if Joey sent stupid texts like that. Right then, though, his immediate concern was the weather. If it kept up like this nothing would happen this weekend, Luke thought as he saw Joey heading up the road towards him.

  ‘You know, most of the people we take down is not because of surveillance, but because they can’t help broadcasting what they are doing.’ He waved his phone at Joey.

  ‘I know, I know. I didn’t mean to send it but … Sorry.’

  ‘OK. So, who am I supposed to be “doing” then?’

  ‘What?’

  Luke waved the phone again. ‘It’s deleted off here, as I hope it is off yours?’ He saw Joey nod. Apologetically again. ‘And although I very much doubt our chums at GCHQ have us tagged, if it ever comes to someone wanting to take a peek at our data, who am I supposed to be “doing”?’

  Joey looked at a loss. But Luke turned to the cottage. ‘Well, as the cops have a log of our anti-social behaviour the other week, I suggest we need to have a reason why we are in each other’s pockets at the moment.’

  Joey finally nodded. Then added, ‘Hilary Jardine cornered me earlier.’

  Luke returned a vindicated, but wary, look. ‘What’s she guessing?’

  ‘Just thinks we are up to something. Because Matt’s back. And I was talking to Bobby McBain.’

  Luke’s expression changed to one of amusement. ‘Typical. Too busy looking for the conspiracy that they miss the obvious. It’s true, you know.’

  ‘What is?’ Joey asked as he followed Luke up the cottage path.

  ‘Hide in plain sight. Can’t see what you don’t know you’re looking for.’

  Joey twisted that round in his head and thought he got it, as Luke carried on.

  ‘All the more reason we need to have ourselves covered. Got to be something to do with the electrics on this place. What do you reckon?’

  ‘Er, yeah, but …’

  ‘What’s the usual way you get done in your game, Joe?’

  ‘Some prick undercuts me.’

  ‘Exactly. So, if I give you the estimate I’ve just had from that guy on the industrial estate to rewire this place, we …’ it was emphasised, ‘We … could “do him”, couldn’t we?’

  ‘Er, yeah, I suppose …’

  ‘And that look and sound of your voice makes me think you are uncomfortable with such, what, unethical practice? Which is exactly what your text meant to me. Oh, Luke, surely you couldn’t “do that” to a fellow tradesman?’

  Joey nodded. He used to run with Luke and Matt. He could handle the clowns on any building site. Or stand up to guys like Bobby McBain, or that skag bag on the train, but when he brushed up against Luke and his world he always felt like some gawky kid.

  Luke recognised the look. ‘It’s OK, mate. Our game’s about mindset. It takes years to get into it. Then you never lose it. Someone’s always watching.’

  Joey nodded, then turned to the cottage. ‘You really got a quote for the electrics?’

  Luke nodded in return as he opened the front door. ‘Promised Janey I’d do a bit every time I came home. Just want to finish it now.’

  ‘Why? It must, well it must do your head coming back all the time?’

  Luke gave a wry smile. ‘My head’s well done in, Joe. And what else am I supposed to do? Move on? That’s what Matt’s always banging on about. Get on with my life? She was it, Joe. Besides, what else would I do with the cash? Put it in a zero-rate savings account? Or spend it? On what?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. There wasn’t one. He just headed for the cottage door. ‘Do you want a coffee, while you give me a quote to undercut the other fella?’

  ‘Is it Colombian?’

  ‘Most of the good stuff is.’

  As Joey followed Luke into the living room, straight off the street, as all good artisan cottagers used to do, he saw nothing much had happened since Luke had hacked back to the brickwork and exposed the floor boarding. The old rubber-sheathed cables hung from the exposed first-floor joists.

  The kitchen was the only room in the house that not only looked like part of a house, but was actually fully fitted and fully working, as Luke demonstrated by taking a couple of clean mugs from the Neff dishwasher that was colour co-ordinated with the combination oven, hob and microwave.

  Joey was already compiling a mental estimate. He couldn’t help it. ‘Do you want sockets in each corner. Lights switched from either side?’

  ‘Whatever. So long as it’s cheaper than that.’ Luke offered him the estimate he had stuck behind a fridge magnet on a brand new Smeg fridge. He then went over to rinse out the cafetiere, tapping the head of a nodding Buddha on the windowsill as he did. A Buddha that matched the one Janey had on her dashboard. It had gone when they eventually found her car. Something that added to Luke’s sense of loss. Sense of violation.

  They had bought them on a trip to Thailand, after she flew out to meet him on a 72. All that way for three days together before he was deployed again. He thought it was precious at the time. For three days they lived the dream. Then it became priceless. Three weeks later she was dead. Crushed with her own car by some druggie looking for the next score.

  After all this time. After all the verbiage he had spent and wasted, the questions were still always there. Especially at night. Lurking in the dark. Refusing to be dislodged by the cold light of day. Why? The question. The one he and everyone else kept coming back to. Why did it happen? And why her? Why did she go out that night? Why didn’t someone help? Why didn’t the police catch him? Why, why, why? And the biggest why always came back to why wasn’t he there to protect her? Why was he even in Afghanistan supporting the Yanks? What was that all about, anyway? What’s changed? He knew it was irrational. Shit happens. None of it made any sense. It never would.

  ‘You still do that?’ Joey asked, having noticed Luke tap the Buddha.

  ‘Yeah,’ Luke smiled. ‘We used to say if Buddha was laughing, so were we. Been everywhere with me, this fella. This, and her voicemail on my real phone. Which is backed up to a USB in my lock-up. She was so excited about this kitchen, Joe. We’d just been on a two-week search and destroy. The Yanks lost a couple of guys and that voicemail … The sound of her being so happy … Better than all the debriefs and shrink stuff. Makes you realise … Well, did at the time. Thought I was doing it t
o protect, what, our way of life? Keep her safe … Then she gets killed back here.’

  Luke turned and handed Joey his coffee. ‘There you go. One dose of Colombian. We drink this drug. And another killed Janey. One farmer may have provided both. What do we make of that then, eh?’

  The following day, the question still hung over Joey as he pulled the Q7 into the Old Mill car park, stopping right by the restaurant door so Natasha and the kids didn’t have to fight the driving wind and rain. Another druggies’ den that had been socialised and formalised over time but at its heart was one of history’s greatest killers, alcohol.

  ‘Don’t start, Dad,’ Tanya said as she slowly, delicately, started to climb out of the back seat.

  ‘Start what?’ Joey asked, looking at her in the rear-view mirror.

  ‘Your sermon about drinking. It’s all over your face.’

  ‘Don’t have to. Looks like you’ve got the hangover that proves my point.’ Tanya just threw him another teenage lip curl of death. ‘At least I’m here, aren’t I?’ It was her parting shot and, as if to illustrate the point, she slammed the door and then swung her bag at her two annoying brothers, while protectively escorting her younger sister towards the restaurant door.

  Joey turned back to a grinning Natasha. ‘Aye, at least she is. Heavy night up at T’House was it?’

  ‘Heavy date more like.’

  ‘Not surprised after what she was nearly wearing when she went out. Or is that a typical dad-like comment?’

  ‘Yes. Especially thinking about what you’d have me wearing, given your own way.’

  ‘Ah – and you were, are, someone’s daughter?’

  Natasha grinned and leaned over to kiss him. ‘And remember whose daughter she is. If she goes off the rails it’s …’

  But he’d been through this one before. ‘No. It’s your fault. You seduced me, remember. Laid a trap for me with that see-through chiffony blouse …’

  ‘It was not see-through. That was the wind, but if that’s what makes your memories better. So don’t go on about it over lunch and don’t get your Sean started.’

  Joey followed her look to see Sean’s Mercedes 500S indicating to turn into the car park. ‘But ask him when he’s delivering those panels for the back fence.’ She jumped out and hurried in against the rain to join the kids.

  Joey moved the Q7 to park up and let Sean stop by the door. As he walked back Sandra was already out trying to shield her hair from the wind, as she dashed inside followed by the new teenage queen, daughter Megan.

  ‘Why couldn’t I have come with Noah?’ Megan was back on another familiar item.

  ‘You know why,’ Sandra responded.

  But Megan pointed at Joey. ‘Uncle Joe lets Alex and Ross go with him.’

  As Sandra guided Megan towards the door she smiled back at Joey, but remained focused on Megan. ‘Uncle Joe allows a lot of things that your father and I don’t agree with. So for the last time: you are not travelling in your brother’s car until he has done twelve months on the road without killing himself. Especially in weather like this.’

  ‘She off on one today then?’ Joey asked Sean as he made his way back from the car.

  ‘My fault. Jumping ahead of myself again, with an idea for sprucing up the restaurant – sorry, café – at the garden centre.’

  ‘Oh. Fence panels.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nat told me not to forget to mention them.’

  ‘Right.’ The two brothers hugged and stepped under the entrance porch out of the rain.

  ‘And we’re not to talk about alcohol being a drug and all that,’ Joey added with a laugh.

  ‘It’s cannabis this week.’

  ‘What, like Disability Week or something?’

  Sean laughed, then took a quick look through the glass door as though he didn’t want Sandra to hear him. ‘I’m hosting a CAD event next week.’ Then, in answer to Joey’s quizzical look, ‘County Against Drugs, CAD. It’s a private–public anti-drugs partnership and they’ve got some new idea about showing people what cannabis plants look like. So if they spot any growing where they shouldn’t …’

  ‘They’ll suddenly lose all fears of being kneecapped by the local druggies and turn in their neighbours, will they?’

  ‘No. But we’ve got to start by educating people.’

  ‘You should start by doing something more useful. More direct.’

  ‘Like what? Beating them up in the Lion car park, perhaps?’

  Joey held up an apologetic hand. But then added, ‘Although it would be cheaper.’

  Sean gave a slightly nervous glance at the door. ‘You’re sounding like Sandra now.’

  Joey grinned. ‘Go on then. How much is this spot the pot plant campaign going to cost? Couple of grand? For a few weeks? A few posters, leaflets, talks and visits to schools and then on to something like “get your three, oh no, five a day”? And when they want to waste more of our cash they change it to seven a day?’

  ‘I get it. But most of it has been raised through private donations.’

  ‘Still a waste of money. They’ll never solve anything like that. The druggies, Sean,’ he nodded inside to make the point, ‘are like the brewers. They’re out there 24/7. To fight it you have to meet it with a similar level of resource. And commitment.’

  ‘Which is exactly why we need things like the CAD Partnership. To backfill. Plug the gaps in awareness.’

  ‘It’s not awareness you need to worry about, Sean. It’s taking away the opportunities. And those who will exploit those opportunities. And other people.’

  Megan came out of the door. ‘Come on Dad, or Mum will make me have that salad thingy.’

  ‘On our way.’ He then turned back to Joey. ‘Sandra hates me spending money on these things, but,’ he shrugged. ‘It’d only go on a necklace or something. And, well, this might help. A bit. So, why not?’ He let the question hang in the air before following Megan back inside.

  Joey waited for a moment and looked out at the hill dominating the skyline. Why not, indeed. It was his money that was funding Luke and Matt while they waited for their opportunity. It was money he was hiding from Natasha. And how long would he have to keep that up? Luke had told him that it definitely wouldn’t be this weekend. They wanted the right opportunity. At least three settled days so that the wind and rain wouldn’t compromise what they were doing. They wanted a few good clear nights. The weather forecast was crap for the whole of next week. Fatchops might be a dead man walking, but he might just see another weekend. The thing is though, thought Joey, as he went inside to join the now traditional family Sunday lunch, can I hold it together for another week?

  3

  First Contact

  BY THE TIME Joey settled into his seat on the Monday 5.36, he knew his daughter had become the target for some young buck’s raging hormones; her mate Becky was being stalked by some foreign bloke; his brother Sean was as idealistic as ever; there’d been three drug-related deaths in the past six months; Fatchops was still alive, and he still hadn’t fixed that fence panel. Just another typical weekend at home really. He took a quick glance round the carriage. The usual weekly nomadic tribe of mixed gender and skills heading off as latter-day hunter-gatherers to the richer pastures, or jungle, of London. He nodded to one or two he had shared the journey but nothing more with over the past year or so and flicked open his iPad to catch up on the news. It wasn’t long before his mind drifted away from the irrelevant world of sports headlines, political adultery and celebrity trivia.

  Would Luke stick with the agreement simply to scare off Fatchops, or would he take it further? Joey just couldn’t call it any more. When they were young bucks cruising the streets he’d seen what he thought was a killer look in Luke’s eyes many times. When the adrenalin was pumping and he was itching for a fight. Yet, over the past few weekends he’d seen glimpses of something else. But as Joey had told Hilary Jardine, it was Luke who had been acting as the calming influence on him. Until that night at the
Co-op and the Lion. That was when it changed, Joey thought. That was when the look in his eyes had changed. He’d heard about the thousand-yard stare. About guys having it after battle. Becoming detached from the reality of war. But Luke now seemed far from detached. It was almost the opposite. Luke was totally engaged. On a mission. And that, Joey reasoned, probably proved he was detached from reality.

  He automatically reached for his phone but knew he couldn’t contact Luke. He’d have to wait while everything took its course. He’d have to wait for the updates. Instead he scrolled to Natasha’s number. Another weekly ritual. ON TRAIN. MISSING YOU. SPEAK 2NIGHT. LXXJ He then went back to the iPad and opened the latest revision to the electrical layout he’d downloaded the night before. The steam shower had been doubled in size, the spa had got bigger, again, and now Ivantmoreofich wanted the mood lighting in the pool to be co-ordinated with the cinema, and a separate ring main installed in the kitchen to run at 110 V so he could bring over appliances direct from the US. That, plus the mark-up on the transformers would go a long way to buying a car for Tanya. Keep it coming. Live the dream, mate. And let Benno scavenge at the weekends.

  His concentration was broken as the train cruised through Stafford, momentarily projecting an image on to the reflective black of the windows. Another hour for the sun. Instead of refocusing on the drawings, his mind went back to Fatchops. From somewhere on the hill that dominated the town, Luke and Matt would be watching, waiting for that one static moment. When the conditions were just right to take the shot. Or take him out? Christ. The usual nagging question. How did he get involved? Well, he knew that. The typical pub chat about something needing to be done. And Luke saying he knew how to do it.

  Joey glanced down the compartment. There were several guys about his and Luke’s age. City warriors suited and booted with their laptops out and smartphones at the ready. Most slightly overweight. Some with the polished and honed look that only comes from the controlled conditions of the gym culture. They could probably run a marathon and bench press double their own weight but how many could sleep for ten days on the hill overlooking the town? How many would he want to be standing next to him on a Saturday night, or on the site in London, protecting his back? He reflected again on the ironies, perhaps cruelties of life that determined who and what you became almost as soon as you were born. We all start from different places but the rules of the game never change. Learn to blend in and survive.