Subway 4

by Violet Hunter

  “I’m Valerie, a friend…”

  “I know who you are, we’ve met.”

  “Is it true?” A second passed and I felt a rush of hope.

  “Yes.” There.

  I pressed the disconnect button.

  * * *

  In the photo taken at the showcase Anton and me had our arms round each other and we were smiling. His face was alive and full of hope. I remembered the feeling of his breath on my neck and his words in my ear. I wanted to kill whoever had killed him. To make them feel like I did, to hurt them, to twist their balls and put a gun to their head. I wanted to blind them and shout obscenities, tear out their fingernails.

  I pulled a pillow onto the floor and curled up, crying into it, “I can’t lose him, please, I can’t lose him,” over and over again until I was exhausted, then lay holding the photo to my chest. At some point I must have slept.

  Renee called again. I told her about Anton and me. “I always knew you two should be together. It’s tragic.”

  Was that all there was? I had him for a passing moment and then the light went out.

  Matthew phoned in the afternoon and said if I went over he’d tell me what he knew. There was nothing else to do. I should have been with Anton; instead I was going to talk to someone about how he died. I got dressed, pulling on as many layers as I could. It was meant to be spring but winter wouldn’t let go.

  Matthew lived in a block of flats in New Cross. When he came to the door we stood awkwardly for a moment. Then he said, “Come in. Do you want some coffee?”

  I nodded, not because I did but because it would make things seem normal.

  The living room was strewn with papers and piles of magazines, some still in packages.

  “Have a seat,” he said, sweeping stuff off a chair.

  Coming back from the kitchen he put a mug in front of me and sat opposite. He tried to smile but it faded quickly.

  “I need to know what happened,” I said, clenching my hands in front of me as if to protect myself from whatever he was going to say.

  “Someone found him in a park, he was injured and they called an ambulance. They tried to save him but he died in hospital.”

  I looked down, trying to keep the tears in and failing.

  “I’m really sorry,” he said.

  “Do they know who…?” It was a pointless question; they never knew immediately, sometimes they never knew at all.

  He shook his head. “I haven’t heard anymore than that. They’ll only tell his family.”

  I thought about his dad who I’d met once and his brother who I hadn’t.

  “Did you know Anton was getting involved in the AF?” he said.

  I looked up. “Who’s that?”

  “Anti-Fascists, I’m a member too.”

  I shook my head. I knew he’d seen Matthew recently but I thought they were just friends.

  “We got word about some new activity in the NER, that’s the New English Right, something more sinister than their usual stuff. We think they were meeting last night. I saw Anton earlier and we discussed monitoring. We have a rule that anything we do is in twos or threes, nothing on your own. Later I got a call from someone who said there’d been an attack on one of our members and found out it was Anton.”

  He talked really fast and it was hard to take in what he was saying. I needed to ask how he died and braced myself for the blow.

  “How…?”

  He stood up abruptly and went to the window. I watched his back. His wavy hair stood out like a dark halo. His shoulders drooped. When he swung round I could see there were tears in his eyes.

  “He was stabbed I think. I don’t know much more than that. It’s terrible.”

  I put my hands over my face. I wanted to scream.

  “He was found on the common. Maybe he was taking a short cut to the Tube.”

  All I could think was that I wasn’t there with him.

  “We were meant to be seeing each other this weekend.”

  “Were you in a relationship?”

  “We’d been friends for ages and when he split up with Leila, we…” I stood up. “I have to go,” though going meant being alone.

  * * *

  The next morning I woke early with a sense of dread, the air around me seemed to be permeated by a heavy mist. I got up and dressed in my black top and leggings. I was meant to be starting work again at the cafe but when I tried to open the flat door it felt like a dead weight. Walking slowly back to the bedroom I took off my jacket, sat on the bed and cried.

  I stayed in the bedroom all that day – sleeping and waking, looking at the outline of the window and the light coming in around the edges of the curtains. Renee called to see if I wanted her to come round but I said no. Mum begged me to come over and have a meal with her but I told her I didn’t want to eat. I needed to let the grief drown me and pierce me, enter every pore. I wanted to remember all the things we’d done and imagine all the things we’d never do. I needed to hold onto him, cradle him, while I could still remember what it was like to be close.

  11

  JIMMY

  A car alarm pierced my sleep. For a second it was just another day then I remembered. We were drinking – there was a fight – Chris stabbed someone.

  I jumped out of bed, opened the laptop and clicked on the news. Man attacked on common dies in hospital. Died, dying, DEAD. I stared at the words, unable to move, until the screen went black.

  We were in deep shit. I was in deep shit. Chris was a fucking maniac. My heart was pounding and I felt sick. I had to think and quick. I listened at the bedroom door – Mum was moving around downstairs. Waiting until I heard her go out, I grabbed the clothes I’d been wearing the night before, ran downstairs and shoved them in the machine. Then I had a shower, as hot as I could stand, using the last of the soap. Back in my room I stood looking out at the estate. The long grey blocks stared back. I could hear a siren on the main road and wondered if it was heading my way.

  I replayed the scene in my mind – could see the man running, hear the sound of his breathing. I saw him fall, heard him groan. It was over so quick, one blow, that’s all it took. I lit a fag, my fingers shaking. I had to talk to Chris and figure out how to get our story straight. I thought about CCTV. We weren’t wearing hoods – we could easily have been picked up on cameras. I didn’t have previous but Chris did. He got done for beating up his brother’s mate who was a queer. He did nine months for that. I hated the police, worse was the idea of being locked in a cell, no way out.

  There was a war going on between us English and the immigrants, between white and black. People died in wars. Plus he was taking photos of us and we had a right to stop it. We could say it was self-defence and he went for us first. Who was to say any different? For a split second the image of the man’s upturned palm appeared in my mind. I shook my head trying to clear the vision. I needed to keep things normal. Get to work.

  I was pulling on my clothes then thought of something. The man had been wearing something pink, what was it? I stopped dressing to think. It was round his neck, it was a scarf, like a woman’s. By the time we got to the trees it had gone. It must have come off when we were running or when I first made a grab for him. I remembered feeling something soft. If I’d touched it, my DNA would be on it. I lit another fag, trying to hold back the fear flooding through my body then I called Chris.

  He picked up after a couple of rings and hissed, “Don’t call me, I’ll meet you later.”

  I paced round the room, trying to work out what to do. I had to find that scarf. There’d be cops crawling all over the place by now but I’d have to risk it.

  I made myself a coffee and sat in the kitchen, telling myself I could do it. Liam came in, yawning.

  “Alright? You up for fishing again this weekend?” he said, sounding
like he didn’t have a clue what was going on, which he didn’t.

  “Sorry mate, too busy.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said and shrugged.

  Before he could say anything else I went out the door. I was back at the common in half an hour. It was raining. A police van was parked near the main entrance and I could see stuff happening in the distance. I watched for a while trying to decide if I could get away with it. It started raining harder. There was CCTV on a lamp post but I couldn’t see any in the park. A black man walked past. I avoided his eye and began walking along the diagonal path trying to act casual, shifting my mouth into a position that didn’t look guilty.

  As I got closer to where it happened I could see people clustered around, some were wearing white suits. A large area was taped off. If he’d dropped the scarf there I was stuffed. Paths went in several directions. I tried to remember which way we’d gone. He’d run all over the place trying to shake us off. There was an area of trees and shrubs to the right. I moved slowly towards it, trying not to draw attention to myself. No one spotted me so I darted in. As I pushed through the branches a bunch of wet leaves hit me in the face. Cursing I started searching the ground but there was no sign of the scarf.

  Closer to where the police were was another group of trees. I didn’t think I’d get away with it but I had no choice so I headed across the grass. I was halfway there when someone from the crime scene started coming towards me. I froze, not knowing whether to keep walking or turn and run. After another gut-wrenching moment the person turned back and, with my heart pounding, I ducked into the trees. I scanned the ground, more and more desperate, then seeing a flash of colour I made a grab for it. It was the scarf, covered in grass. I crushed it into a ball and shoved it in my pocket. Pushing my way through the branches to the other side I looked out; there was no one around so I walked quickly away. Reaching the road I zipped my pocket up tight.

  * * *

  “You’re late,” Ray said.

  “Sorry.”

  I needed to stay on the right side of him, so I got to work on the living room straight away. Ray was in the hall, whistling along to the radio. The news came on and I stopped painting and listened intently. Right at the end the voice said that the police were investigating the death of a man attacked on the common. I missed my footing on the stepladder and a blob of cream paint dripped onto the slate fireplace. I climbed down, grabbed a cloth and wiped it off. Ray didn’t stop whistling.

  I wanted to talk to Shelley but knew I was going to have to make it sound better than it did – ‘I was just trying to get him to delete the photos, I didn’t mean anything by it, Chris is a fucking idiot,’ but she didn’t always agree with me about things; in fact recently she’d started defending some illegals, saying she thought people were giving them a hard time. She might not be sympathetic.

  At lunchtime Ray said, “You alright Jimmy? You’re looking a bit pale.”

  “Got a headache, that’s all,” I said, trying to sound calm.

  He found me an aspirin and I felt bad because he was being sympathetic. Somehow I made it through the day.

  At home I went straight to my room and took the scarf out of my pocket. I looked at it closely. Even though I’d crunched it into a tight ball it wasn’t creased. There was a small smudge of green on the corner but no other incriminating evidence. It was long with wavy stripes, pink and orange. I looked at the label, 100% pure silk. What was a man doing wearing that?

  I couldn’t put it in the bin in case mum saw it so I folded it up and put it back in my pocket. I’d get rid of it later.

  At 8 p.m. Chris texted, ‘usual place now.’

  “You keeping quiet, Jimmy?”

  He looked like his normal self but there was an edge to his voice.

  “Act normal. Get an alibi, as soon as. I’m sorted. There’s this girl – she’s been trying to get me to shag her for weeks, I’ve promised her everything she wants. She’s not bad as it happens, she’ll swear blind I was with her all night. And you didn’t see me, right?”

  He took a puff of his fag. It was hard to believe he’d just killed someone. He could convince anyone of anything. He’d covered himself but what about me? I couldn’t think of a single soul who would help.

  “Mum and Liam were in bed when I got home.”

  “You better find someone. What about Shelley?”

  I knew he was going to say her before he said it. I also knew that I wasn’t going to ask her.

  Luckily he didn’t wait for my answer. “We can’t meet up again, don’t want the old bill seeing us together, plus the NER don’t want loose cannons. They’ll be happy about what we achieved but they won’t take the rap.”

  He smiled. It wasn’t a friendly smile. He was trying to make out it was as much my fault as his.

  “Right, go then,” he said. He was lighting another fag, big hands cupping the flame.

  I walked back through the estate. Rain was slanting between the tower blocks. Large puddles were collecting at the bottom of the stairwells. By the time I reached the flat door I felt like I was drowning.

  I was putting the key in the lock when I remembered I hadn’t got rid of the scarf. I started back down the stairs. At the bottom I bumped into Shelley. She didn’t look happy.

  “Where were you last night? You didn’t answer your phone.”

  There’d been a missed call from her, must have been around the time we were in the park.

  “I was down the pub, I didn’t hear it, sorry.”

  “Who were you with?”

  I couldn’t say Chris because I wasn’t meant to have seen him.

  “The usual, you know, Ian and Danny,” I said, trying to sound casual.

  “Not Chris then?”

  “No, he was out with some girl.”

  She flashed me a look like she didn’t believe me.

  “So why didn’t you call me later?”

  I thought quickly.

  “I got too pissed, I didn’t want to call you when I was like that. Sorry.”

  “Well, I hope you feel bad now then,” she said, giving a scornful shake of her head.

  “I do Shelley, honest. I’ll make it up to you.” I put my arms round her and went to kiss her but she turned away.

  “Please Shelley, it won’t happen again.” Right then I needed her to be on my side. I went down on one knee and pleaded with her. “Please…” She looked at me, trying to be angry then she started laughing.

  “Alright then, I forgive you. Your jeans are getting wet, stupid.”

  We went back to the flat and into my room. I lifted up her top. I felt the smooth skin on her stomach and the dip in the small of her back where her spine curved.

  I tried to forget about the killing but even when I was inside her it was bothering me. I kept pushing it out of my mind hoping she wouldn’t notice anything. Afterwards I fell into a deep sleep and she woke me up saying she had to get back. Things were going round and round in my head. I thought, hoped, that there wasn’t anything to link us to the murder, hardly any CCTV and I didn’t remember seeing anyone else in the park. On the Tube I’d kept my head down. I still needed an alibi though. I thought about my cousin, Alan, Ray’s son. He owed me. When we were younger we hung out together – once he stole a car and burnt it out. He’d needed an alibi and I’d given him one. I hadn’t seen him for years but I had to do something and it was the best idea I’d had. That was that decided and it was time to get rid of the scarf. I had the idea of feeding it down a drain a few streets away. The sewers could take it.

  I put my hand in my jacket pocket expecting to touch silk but all I could feel was an old fag end. I checked the other side. It was empty. I tried the inside pocket, nothing. Shit. I started to panic, scouring the floor and under the bed but it wasn’t there. I must have dropped it when I was talking to
Chris, maybe when I pulled my fags out, which meant it must be lying around on the estate, anyone could find it. I took one more look round then went out, walking the same way I’d gone earlier, checking the pavements and gutters. The scarf was nowhere to be seen. I checked the route again but there was still no sign. Scared and frustrated I kicked the wall.

  Back at the flat Mum was there. I hadn’t seen her since it happened.

  “Jimmy, I want you to tidy the living room, your stuff’s all over it.”

  “I haven’t got time. Liam can do it, half of it’s his anyway.”

  “He does his share of the housework. It’s time you did some.”

  She had that look on her face that she got when she’d been thinking about something for a while.

  “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

  “No Jimmy, I know what you’re like, you’ll go out and stay out and that will be that.”

  She was blocking the stairs. I tried to push past her but she stopped me. I knocked into her and she fell against the wall. She didn’t make a sound but her face turned pale and she looked shocked. For a moment I wanted to stop and say sorry; instead I went into my room and shut the door.

  12

  VALERIE

  On the third day I went with Renee to where it happened.

  It was misty and cold. The common was wide, interspersed with paths and a stretch of water. We followed the path that led from north to south passing a playground and a cafe before reaching an area of trees and shrubs. Blue and white ribbons stretched across the grass tied to trees. I started walking in that direction; a bit of me wanted to be where it happened but Renee caught my arm.

  “Let’s stay here.”

  Renee kept hold and I leaned close to her, needing her certainty. I tried not to imagine his last minutes or hours. My eyes were drawn to a tree with low branches. There was one that had broken off and the newly exposed wood was orange-coloured and fleshy. Did that happen when he was trying to get away? Something rustled in the undergrowth and I spotted a blackbird rooting through dead leaves.