by David Belbin
That injury had ended his footballing career.
‘Doesn’t it give you constipation?’ Nancy asked.
‘Only if you take large doses, regularly,’ Joe told her. ‘Which, of course, I did.’
Everyone laughed.
‘They gave me morphine, in hospital,’ Nick said. ‘God, it was lovely. Nothing mattered. Pain was something that was happening off in the distance. You could float around on your thoughts, drift off into dreams. Helped me empathize with the heroin users that I counsel.’
‘Don’t be tempted,’ Caroline said. ‘How’s the job going?’
‘You don’t want to know,’ Nancy said.
Caroline gave her a sharp glance that said I do want to know, thank you very much.
‘Nancy’s right,’ Nick said. ‘My boss is nervous about me doing anything that might get us in the papers again. I’m not sure I’ll even have a job in a fortnight. Any work going in the taxi business, Joe?’
‘I’m always short on the night-time switch,’ Joe said. He began to talk about the shortcomings of his switchboard operators. They were costing him money and they were costing his drivers money. He’d had to let the best operator, Nasreen, go.
‘Why did she leave?’ Nancy asked.
‘She went to work for Yellow Cars,’ Caroline said.
Nick knew that the real reason Nas had left and wouldn’t be coming back was that Joe had been having an affair with her while Caroline was pregnant. When he missed Phoebe’s birth, Caroline put her foot down. Nick wasn’t sure if she’d worked out who the other woman was. He hoped not, because now Joe was going on about how wonderful Nas was and how he should have talked her out of leaving.
‘Couldn’t you get her back, offer a bit more money?’
‘Perhaps we should wait, see if Nick needs the job.’
Joe topped up everybody’s wine glass. Caroline asked about the film Sliding Doors, which Nancy and Nick had seen. Was it was worth hiring a babysitter so that she and Joe could go and see it together? Nancy slagged it off, giving away the entire plot. Nick helped Caroline clear the plates.
‘Is she always this hyper?’ she asked him in the kitchen.
‘I think she’s a bit nervous.’
‘What’s there to be nervous about? It’s not like she’s your fiancée and we’re your parents!’
Nick kept conversation going over the main course, a fish stew. There was a period when the coke and alcohol balanced perfectly, making him both lucid and amusing. They talked about New Labour, the minimum wage and what school Phoebe would go to when she was old enough.
‘I expect we’ll have moved by then,’ Caroline said.
‘News to me,’ Joe told her and they began on the ins and outs of moving to snooty, middle-class West Bridgford on the other side of the river.
‘I’m just going to powder my nose,’ Nancy said, getting up.
‘Literally?’ Caroline asked.
The younger woman didn’t look back. Joe and Nick exchanged a glance, agreeing that it was wisest not to acknowledge the knowing comment. When she came back, Nancy had clearly been thinking up a subject that she could talk comfortably about. She broke into the schools and property conversation to ask where Joe and Caroline were going on their holidays that year.
‘Nowhere,’ Joe said. ‘Sounds like we’ll be saving up for a new house.’
Nick was divided between annoyance that Nancy had left half of her dinner and the temptation to do another line himself. Nancy apologized for not finishing.
‘I seem to have lost my appetite,’ she said. ‘I never eat much.’
If she was fishing for a compliment about her figure, she had come to the wrong house. There was still cheese and chocolate mousse to come.
By ten, they’d got through dinner and were onto the fourth bottle of wine. They were all drinking at roughly the same pace, but coke raised your tolerance and Joe had returned from his snug with a little rubbing-the-nose gesture aimed at Nick. He put on a CD by the Lemonheads, a group who had evidently been big while he was away. Nick liked it until Nancy, showing a complete lack of tact, began singing along with a track called ‘My Drug Buddy’.
‘I’m just going outside for a cigarette,’ Nick said.
‘Not a joint?’ Caroline asked.
Nick ignored her. Resisting the lure of the line waiting for him upstairs, he stood in the doorway of the kitchen sucking on a Marlboro Red, listening to Caroline steer the conversation to Joe’s drug habits.
‘What’s got into you tonight?’
‘In truth …’ Joe said, then seemed not to know what to say next.
‘Truth, truth, truth,’ Caroline repeated, starting to sound seriously drunk. Nick had never heard her like this before. ‘Let’s have nothing but the truth, shall we?’
Nick went into high-alert mode. Caroline wasn’t used to the wine. She wasn’t going to tell Joe and Nancy about them, was she? It would do none of them any good to dig that body out of the ground tonight.
‘You know what I wish?’ Caroline said. ‘I wish that I could snort every last line of coke, blunder through life high on ecstasy, have sex with whomever I fancy whenever I fancy then chill out afterwards with a spliff and a Scotch and a sleeping pill or two if I need one to come down. It looks like a fantastic life, and if I didn’t have a six-month-old baby upstairs –’
‘If we didn’t have a –’ Joe interrupted.
‘Let me finish! Now, what was I …?’
Nick returned to the room.
‘Here he is!’ Caroline announced. Nick suspected that she barely knew what she was saying. ‘The man who started it all. You know, when I met Joe, he’d never touched dope, never mind anything stronger. But then football finished with him and he started spending time with his big brother.’
‘Don’t blame Nick,’ Joe said.
‘Maybe Caroline’s right,’ Nick said. ‘I did start you off.’
‘I remember the first spliff we shared,’ Joe said, in an attempt to lighten the mood. ‘It was Red Leb. What happened to Red Leb? You never get it any more.’
Caroline wasn’t finished, but she turned on Joe now rather than Nick. ‘I thought when Nick got sent down you’d stop, or slow down anyway. But no.’
‘You used to like a joint,’ Joe pointed out.
‘To keep you company. So as not to look like a prude. I used to like the way it made me horny. But it had the opposite effect on you, didn’t it?’
‘Maybe,’ Nick suggested, ‘we should all share a spliff for old times’ sake.’
‘Maybe you should … oh, forget it.’ Caroline got up from the table and Joe hurried to the kitchen after her.
‘I left you a line chopped out upstairs,’ Nancy said.
‘I know, but I’ve had enough for now.’ He was having trouble handling Caroline as it was, and Joe wasn’t helping.
‘Then you don’t mind if I do? Your sister-in-law’s hard work.’
‘She’s been pretty tolerant, considering she has to deal with the new baby and everything,’ Nick pointed out, but Nancy was already on her way back upstairs.
Within half an hour, Caroline had gone to bed, accepting with tired grace their exaggerated praise for the meal she’d cooked. Nick and Joe shared a spliff in the snug. Nancy, wired on coke, only took a few puffs.
‘I don’t want to chill out,’ she said. ‘I want to go dancing. Nick, will you take me dancing?’
‘We can dance here,’ Joe said. They went back to the living room, where he put on Pulp’s ‘Common People’. Nancy flicked through Joe’s CDs and came up with a single called ‘The Key: The Secret’. Nick liked it, at least he did until Nancy insisted on playing it three times in a row. Joe, gamely, danced beside her, but after the second play, Nick collapsed into an armchair. He’d never been much of a dancer. He was relieved when Nancy suggested that he call a cab. They were home by one and in bed by five past.
‘That went well in the end, didn’t it?’ Nancy said. ‘I like your brother.’
&nb
sp; ‘He liked you, too.’
Coke made her into a hyper-charged courtesan in bed. Nick’s disappointment with the earlier part of the evening soon vanished.
25
On Friday evening, Sarah left a message on Nick’s machine, asking to meet him. She wanted to know what was happening at the Power Project. He didn’t return the call until Sunday lunchtime.
‘Sorry about the delay,’ he said. ‘This is the first time I’ve been home since you called.’
‘You dirty stop-out.’ A month since, she would have felt jealous about him spending the weekend with another woman. ‘I came to see you at work three weeks ago,’ Sarah added. ‘I thought you might get back to me.’
‘I had … a situation. I’ll explain when I see you.’
‘If the problem’s what I think it is, I’m not sure if I can help, but I have a bit of time this afternoon.’
‘That’d be great,’ Nick said. ‘Want me to come to you?’
‘Sure.’ They agreed on three.
Had Nick got wind of the news about the project being wound down? Sarah doubted it. Kingston Bell hadn’t been told yet. She had another meeting with Suraj this week. Budget week. The Tory spending limits had been adhered to, and it was time to start handing out a few sweeties. But not to the Power Project. Nor to the prisons budget, she feared. Not sexy enough.
*
Nick came by an hour later, looking a little the worse for wear.
‘Good night last night?’ she asked, and he smiled bashfully.
‘I’m seeing a woman called Nancy. A teacher I used to work with.’
‘That’s nice.’ A teacher was more Nick’s style than his last girlfriend.
‘How about you? With anybody?’
‘No time. I was asleep by nine last night, utterly exhausted.’
‘The rest must do you good. You’re looking great these days.’
‘Thanks.’ She had spent ten minutes making herself up for him – and for Paul, who might call round later, after taking his kids to the ice stadium.
Nick followed her into the flat and she noticed that he was walking awkwardly. ‘Started playing football again? You look like you got the worst of a bad tackle.’
‘I haven’t played since I finished uni.’
‘Did I tell you that I’ve started to play? We have a women MPs team at Westminster, game every Tuesday morning. Not that I have time to play most weeks since I became a minister. What happened?’
‘I took a kicking. I had a hairline fracture, a cracked rib, a few other aches and pains.’
‘Jesus. Who did it?’
He told her. Random street violence on a Saturday night.
‘You don’t think it was connected with your job?’
‘Why would it be?’
‘You work with addicts who have pimps, dealers, people who might want you to stay out of their lives.’
‘Nothing comes to mind. The only person who doesn’t seem to want me to do my job is Kingston Bell. But I shouldn’t be telling you about that.’
‘I disagree. I’m on the board and I was your referee. I need to know.’
‘I’m glad you said that.’ He told Sarah how he had received a written warning. ‘My probationary period ends this month. I could be out on my ear with no notice.’
‘Lots of the Power Project workers’ contracts expire in the next few weeks,’ Sarah said, carefully. ‘The future funding’s not guaranteed.’
‘The papers say the budget’s going to be a generous one.’
‘That doesn’t mean it will be generous to the project.’ Sarah got a few more details from him, could see the disagreement from both sides. There was no point in sugar-coating the situation. ‘Best I can do is see Kingston on Monday morning before I catch the train to London, make it clear I’m still backing you. What you’re doing with the girls in the hostel sounds fine, but that story in the Mail didn’t do you, or the project, any good at all.’
Nick nodded acquiescence. She was sorry to have put a glum expression on his face. The coffee was ready. They talked about family. Nick’s baby niece. He asked after her mum and she told him about the operation, which was scheduled for the week after next. A biopsy had confirmed the presence of a cancerous tumour, but it was in the early stages. Nick sympathized.
‘So I expect you’re seeing more of her.’
‘I’ve been three times this year, which is a record in recent times.’
‘You two getting on any better these days?’
‘Not really. It was easier when Grandad was alive. We both behaved better when he was around.’
‘You know he’d have been very proud of you,’ Nick said.
‘Thanks for that. I still miss him, you know. I –’
The doorbell rang.
‘Expecting somebody?’
Sarah looked out of the window. There was Paul’s car. He was very early. Normally, her heart would have leaped, but the prospect of her new lover and her ex-lover sharing the same air made her feel uncomfortable.
‘It’s a colleague from the Home Office. He’s early. I’m sorry, Nick, it’s an urgent policy discussion. I’m going to have to throw you out.’
‘No problem. Thanks for fitting me in.’
She answered the door, standing back so that Paul would not try to kiss her.
‘Paul, this is Nick Cane. Nick, Paul Morris.’
The men nodded at each other rather than shaking hands. Despite what Sarah had told Nick, he gave Paul a suspicious look, as though he suspected a relationship between them. Paul no longer wore a wedding ring. Could Nick read her so well? Paul, also, looked momentarily ill at ease.
‘Who was that guy?’ Paul asked, when Nick was gone. ‘Didn’t I see his face in the paper recently?’
‘Yes, that was Nick, who works at the Power Project.’
‘What was he doing here?’
‘We’re old friends.’ Sarah didn’t elaborate on the reason for Nick’s visit. ‘How long have you got?’
‘An hour or two. I promised I’d eat dinner with the family.’
‘Then let’s go to bed. We can make up your cover story later.’
The sex was hurried, less satisfactory than their love-making in London. Sarah was beginning to wish that she had stuck to the rule about keeping clear of each other in Nottingham. Especially when Paul asked about Nick again.
‘You went out with him?’
‘At university, yes. It was him who persuaded me to campaign for student union president. But keep that to yourself, would you? I don’t think that having had a relationship with a notorious dope dealer would do my reputation any good.’
‘My lips are sealed. Now, regarding what I’m supposed to have come round for …’
She’d been hoping against hope for some new funding streams for the Power Project, but instead the Home Office was looking to back away from schemes that employed former drug users. No matter what strings Sarah pulled, Nick was unlikely to have a job for much longer.
‘Did the Home Secretary have a word with you about my policy unit?’ Paul wanted to know.
‘No. Should he have done?’
He looked away evasively. Sarah figured she had guessed right.
‘I’m meeting him tomorrow. He said there was something he wanted to ask me.’
‘Ah. I was premature, sorry.’
Not for the first time today, Sarah thought, but was tactful enough not to say.
26
‘Is Kingston in?’ Nick asked, when he showed up at work on Monday morning.
‘He’s with someone at the moment,’ Chantelle said.
Nick hoped that it was Sarah. ‘Can I make an appointment?’
‘You know he don’t work that way. I’ll tell him you want to see him.’
Five minutes later King came straight into Nick’s office without knocking.
‘Nicholas. We need to talk.’
‘Yes.’ Nick couldn’t quite figure the expression on King’s face, but he didn’t like the way he�
�d used his full name. If King had seen Sarah, he was likely to be pissed off with Nick for getting her to interfere. Yet his face was doing a reasonable impression of kindly.
‘Your probation period ends this week,’ King pointed out, sitting down in the plastic chair opposite Nick. His close-cropped hair was starting to go white behind the ears. ‘I’m not going to fail you.’
‘Uh, I see.’ Nick was surprised. ‘Thanks.’
‘Unfortunately, I can’t pass you either. Thing is, most of the project’s funding is short term, and coming to an end. I’m going to have to let people go. Unless there’s some good news in this week’s budget, I may be out of a job myself. So, listen, we’ve had our differences, but this is nothing personal.’
‘Of course not,’ Nick said, trying not to sound sarcastic.
‘I’ll be happy to write a reference saying that you made a promising start.’
‘Thanks.’
‘In the meantime, you’ve accrued a week’s holiday. We can’t afford to pay you after this week, so I’m instructing you to take the whole week off.’
‘You mean that’s it? I’m finished.’
‘No hard feelings.’
‘Of course not,’ Nick said again, then shook Kingston’s hand.
It took him two minutes to gather his stuff and get out. He handed his keys to Chantelle at reception.
‘I guess you’ll put my P45 in the post.’
‘Yours and everybody else’s,’ she said, then gave him a sweet, sympathetic smile that he hadn’t realized her face was capable of. ‘Good luck.’
‘Thanks,’ Nick said, trying not to sound gutted. ‘Same to you.’
He was on holiday, he reminded himself, walking through the Lace Market. He could do whatever he wanted. But there wasn’t much he felt like doing late on a Monday morning. He headed for the Central Library on Angel Row, where he looked through some jobs pages, borrowed an oral history of the New York punk scene and ate a buttered scone.
It was a clear, fresh day, so he walked up Derby Road towards his flat. He considered ringing Andrew Saint, but decided to leave it. He could go and see Nancy tonight, tell her what had happened. But Nancy wasn’t big on sympathy and Monday wasn’t one of the evenings he spent with her. She preferred to keep work nights and pleasure nights separate. He was the same when he was a teacher.