Subway 4

by Violet Hunter

  David stood up. He began reading from a piece of paper. His voice was like Anton’s; he had the same rhythm of speech and the same deep voice. After a minute he put the notes down and looked at us.

  “My brother…” his voice broke up. He looked down at his hands and then began again. “My brother was different to me. He was an artist; he wanted to make people think. He was good at reaching out, making connections with people, that’s why so many of us are here. He was capable of great passion, something that’s a gift and that we will all miss.”

  Listening to him articulate what I’d lost released something and I began to cry.

  “He didn’t deserve to die. He didn’t deserve to be killed in a random robbery or targeted by racists.” There were loud murmurs of agreement. “We must fight to find out who killed him but most of all we must mourn his loss and make a promise to him to live good lives. That’s what he’d have wanted.”

  He finished speaking and stood at the front with his head bowed. There was a period of quiet. Some people were crying, others were praying. I saw their mouths moving, their hands locked together. I thought about the first time we kissed and about the delight on his face the next morning. I tried to cry quietly but some of the sobs broke loose. Renee put her arm around me.

  As the curtains began to close around the coffin they played the last piece of music, Marvin Gaye’s ‘What’s Going On’. It was crushingly appropriate.

  * * *

  Renee said she had to get back to work. She kissed me goodbye and said, “Be strong.”

  Mr Thomas was the last person to come out of the building as if he didn’t want to say goodbye. He saw me and came over.

  “You are coming to the house?”

  “Yes.”

  The living room was crammed with people. I said hello to several of Anton’s friends. Matthew wasn’t there. Maybe he thought he wouldn’t be welcome because the thing he was involved in might be the reason Anton was killed.

  I wanted to talk to David but held back, thinking I wasn’t proper family, then I noticed he was standing on his own so I went over.

  “I’m Valerie. Thank you for the speech, it was wonderful.”

  He looked at me. “Are you one of his actor friends?”

  I nodded.

  “Were you his girlfriend?”

  It was hard to speak without crying. “We’d just started…”

  “Shit,” he said, loudly.

  People turned to look and his dad said, “David.”

  “Sorry. I can’t stand around being quiet and reasonable. I’m going outside.”

  He headed for the door. I followed; it didn’t seem right that he went on his own.

  He was leaning against the wall, his head back. He looked as if he wanted to bang it against the brick.

  Despair encircled us like a cloud of vapour.

  “I hate the way we all just accept what’s happened. I’ve got a kid on the way in Manchester otherwise I’d come down and find the bastards that did this.”

  Anger vibrated through him.

  “Do you think they’ll make an arrest soon?”

  He looked at me as if I was crazy. “There was no CCTV. Only one person’s come forward. He said he thought he saw a small group of people in a corner of the park but he didn’t take much notice of them. They haven’t found a weapon. I want to be able to trust the police to do their job but things haven’t changed much. I still get stopped and searched. The last time there were four of them, all over me. I asked them what it was about and they said, ‘Reasonable grounds, mate, reasonable grounds.’ They didn’t find anything of course.”

  I had to tell him the truth, even if it made him hate me.

  “He’d come to London partly because of me. If we hadn’t started seeing each other he might still be alive.”

  “No way this is your fault,” he said, with such fierceness that I jumped. “You’re innocent, as was Anton. Black people get made to feel that things are their fault.”

  I thought about that and realised I’d been blaming myself since the night it’d happened.

  He moved away from the wall and said, “I better get back and make sure Dad’s OK. He’s holding it together but he’s destroyed.”

  “I have to go now,” I said. “Can you tell him I said goodbye?”

  “Sure but please go to see him again, I can tell he likes you.”

  I went home, got undressed and crawled into bed. I curled up on my side and pulled the duvet over me.

  17

  JIMMY

  I was having nightmares every night. Vivid pictures of swaying trees, branches like fingers. Sometimes it was pitch black and I could hear feet pounding on the path, someone breathing in short bursts, a scream and a long, low groan. When I woke up my body felt as if it’d been pummelled in a boxing ring.

  I bumped into Chris as I was heading out of the estate to work. He stopped to talk which I was surprised about, said we were going to get away with it, asked me to go to football with him that Saturday. He didn’t know about Shelley and the scarf, he might not be so sure then. I was hoping that the mad woman was just that and she knew nothing about the murder.

  We were playing Leicester at home. They were already in the play-offs. It was going to be a dogfight. We had a couple of pints in the Dog and Ball, then joined the other fans walking to the match, draped in blue and white, telling jokes, catching up with news. The path ran alongside the railway tracks, through a procession of arches, kids stopping to jump on the cripple tree, an old oak with one branch hanging down, almost touching the ground, like me and Wayne used to do when we went with Dad.

  Chris had a season ticket and the seats weren’t bad, halfway down the Cold Blow Lane end, in front of Roy, the nutter, who shouted even when nothing was happening, “Oi Pearson, you fucking gargoyle, who let you out then?”

  The first half was crap, we were useless and they were even worse. It was looking like it was going to be a nil-nil draw, but Kenny must’ve said something to the boys at half-time because they came out looking lively. They started chasing down the ball and stringing half decent crosses together. We were singing, ‘No one likes us, we don’t care.’ Quick as a flash Keogh raced down the left wing, crossed the ball into the box and Taylor was there, flicking it neatly onto his right foot and straight into the net. The stadium rose, arms in the air, cheering. The Leicester fans stayed sitting and silent.

  The rest of the game was scrappy but Shittu kept everything at bay. We ended up a point behind Leicester, next in line for the play-off places. Not a bad result.

  Chris was full of it on the way home, talking about our chances of getting promotion. Three weeks ago he’d stuck a knife in someone, now he was getting on with life as if it had never happened.

  I said, “I asked my cousin about an alibi but he said no.”

  He flashed me a look. “Get onto it, you never know when they might be round asking questions. Talk to Tyler.”

  “What’s he got to do with it?”

  Shrugging he said, “He knows what happened. He sussed it out from the timing, asked me straight out and I didn’t disagree with him. He said, ‘That’s one less on the street’ and he hoped the person who did it gets away with it.”

  I respected Tyler and believed what he had to say about our country but I didn’t know if I trusted him. He could be like everyone else in power. Acting like they’re on your side but next minute they’re shopping their granny to get what they want.

  “What if he drops us in it?” I wanted to say ‘you’ but I knew he was going to make me take half the blame.

  He laughed and shrugged. “They don’t want their names dragged through the mud. They would if there was a trial.”

  * * *

  The more I thought about it the more I realised Chris was right – Tyler was
my only hope. I went to his lettings office to talk to him. He looked up from the desk as I came in.

  “OK Jimmy, what can I do for you?”

  “I need to ask a favour,” I said, feeling like a kid trying to get something off my dad. He always said no.

  “What do you need?”

  “An alibi for 7th February,” I said, straight out because I knew he didn’t like bullshit.

  “I understand there was some sort of altercation that night.”

  “That’s right.”

  “You need to be placed somewhere else?”

  “Yes.”

  He smiled and nodded, as if he’d known all along what I was going to ask. “It will come at a price, Jimmy.” Leaning back in his chair he surveyed me. I shifted from one foot to the other wondering what he was going to ask me to do. I knew I had to agree to it, whatever it was. “As it happens I might have a job for you. You know that our brothers and sisters are coming over from Scandinavia. Communications will have to happen when they get here. We need someone who doesn’t draw attention to themselves – someone who moves quietly. Think you can do that?”

  “You won’t even notice me,” I said.

  “Right, well I hope I can trust you, Jimmy.”

  “I promise I’ll keep my mouth shut.” This was easy. If it was all I had to do I’d got off lightly.

  “I’ll let you know what’s needed nearer the time. I’ve got someone in mind for your alibi.”

  I thanked him, ran down the three flights of stairs and pushed open the door to the street. The sun was out for the first time in weeks. Tyler would defend me. That was the best news I’d had for a while.

  18

  VALERIE

  My shift patterns were long which was good because they stopped me from thinking. The problem was the minute I got back home it all started again, round and round, the scarf, the girl, like a film stuck on a loop. I thought about David, his anger and what he’d said about finding out who did it. It seemed as if my grief had overwhelmed my desire to act. The police still hadn’t charged anyone. Maybe the scarf was real evidence and I was doing nothing about it. I decided to call Matthew, find out if he could help.

  “I’m in the middle of a mailout, why don’t you come over? I could do with the company.”

  “How are you?” he said, when I arrived.

  “I’m OK,” I lied.

  “I just need to finish this pile. Have a seat.”

  He gestured to an armchair, which had a patch of stuffing coming out of the side like a lesion on the skin. I watched as he put magazines into brown envelopes and stuck address labels on them.

  “Have the police told you anything?” I said.

  “Nothing. You could ask his dad, they’re meant to keep the family informed.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to keep bothering him.”

  “No, I understand.”

  “The thing is – I saw someone wearing Anton’s scarf.”

  He looked at me over the pile of magazines. “What scarf?”

  “The one I gave him as a present. He said he’d wear it when I next saw him; that was the night he died. I talked to the girl wearing it and she said she’d argued with her boyfriend, Jimmy, about it.”

  He stopped what he was doing.

  “You better explain.”

  I told him about the conversation at the bus stop, thinking he was going to laugh but he looked serious.

  “The scarf might be a different one but it’s interesting they had an argument.”

  “It was definitely the same. I even went back to the shop and they told me there was only ever one with that pattern. Do you think I should tell the police?”

  “No I don’t,” he said. “Sorry, I don’t think you’ll convince them it’s worth looking into, it’s just a scarf after all.”

  He started sticking on labels again. I looked at him, thinking I shouldn’t have trusted him.

  “I’ve got to go now.” I stood up and started putting on my coat.

  “Hang on a minute, Valerie.” He stood up too. “I don’t mean forget about it all together. It could be significant; it’s just that the police might not think so. Stay a bit longer.”

  He looked worried that he’d offended me. I hovered for a minute then sat down again. He pushed the magazines to one side and faced me. “Let’s think about it logically. We know the scarf was a one-off. We know that Anton was going to meet you when he was attacked and he was wearing the scarf, then somehow this girl got it. What I don’t understand is, if it’s linked to the murder, why didn’t – Jimmy, was it – get rid of it?”

  He was right. It didn’t make sense. I felt deflated. Maybe I was just imagining the connection between them because I wanted it to be true.

  “I’ve heard of people keeping things, like trophies, from the victims, or maybe he’s just stupid and didn’t see its significance,” I said.

  “If he’s a racist it could be that. They’re idiots, those people, dangerous and stupid, being stupid makes you dangerous. There’s not much to go on but I’ll ask around, see if anyone knows someone called Jimmy.”

  “Thanks.”

  I didn’t think it would come to anything but it was something to occupy my mind which, having been so full of plans and hope, was now purposeless.

  * * *

  The days after the funeral seemed worse. Although it was traumatic before it there was something to aim for, now there was just bleak reality and the fact that Anton was no longer in my life.

  I was sitting eating supper alone one night when Matthew called. “I’ve found something out, can you come over?”

  I pushed my plate aside, got up and pulled on my coat. I was at his flat in half an hour. The laptop was open on the table.

  “Jake phoned. He’s just got back from South America.”

  “Who’s Jake?”

  “A member of our organisation who’s been monitoring the activities of the NER. He heard about Anton’s murder while he was away. After he got back and checked his other email account he found one from Anton dated the 7th February.”

  My heart felt as if it’d missed a few beats. It was the day he died.

  “What did it say?”

  He clicked a button on the laptop and a fuzzy picture appeared on the screen. Two men were standing outside what looked like an office building. I peered at it trying to make them out. One of the faces was in profile and all I could see was that he had dark hair. The other man was turning towards the camera, his features were blurred but I could see that he had short hair and a thin face and looked quite young.

  “What was his message?” There had to be something, some words to go with the image but Matthew shook his head.

  “Nothing, sorry.”

  I wanted him to have left something personal, just for me, but of course he didn’t know then he was going to be killed.

  He must have noticed my expression.

  “I don’t know why he sent it to Jake, he probably knew he had to hurry, perhaps it was the first address that came up.”

  “It’s marked 8.15 p.m. The police said Anton was killed about 9.30 p.m.,” I said.

  We looked at each other, trying to take in what it meant.

  “It has to be significant,” he said.

  “One of them could be Jimmy. I wonder where it was taken.” I looked at the photo again. The building didn’t have anything to distinguish it.

  “Maybe Anton thought he was onto something. Jake was doing research into a far right Scandinavian group. We heard rumours that they might be coming over but no one knows for certain. These two could be significant.”

  I could feel fear creeping into my body. “I had no idea he was doing anything like that,” I said.

  “The plan was to keep everyth
ing quiet until we knew more. He was leaving Sheffield wasn’t he? He said he wanted to be more involved.”

  I supposed there were many things I didn’t know about Anton’s life. We’d only just become really close. Before that all we ever talked about was acting.

  “The police probably have ways of working out who they are. Even with the blurring, they can do face recognition and that stuff,” I said.

  “Yeah, we could go to the police,” he sounded doubtful. “The problem is if those two know the cops are after them they’ll probably clam up. Defend each other. I think we should find out who they are first,” he said.

  “How? We don’t even know where the photo was taken.”

  Matthew’s mobile rang. “Hi Jake. She’s here.” There was a silence while he listened to the voice on the other end. “Right, that’s interesting. Thanks.”

  “One of our members who’s doing undercover work says she knows who the one on the left is; she recognises the V-shape hairline, you can just make it out if you look.” He flicked the photo open again and I looked closely.

  “That’s Chris Mayhew. She said he’s more of a street fighter than political but he could have changed. Maybe they want to attract more thugs into the organisation.”

  “Does she know who the other one is?”

  “She didn’t recognise him. We need to get more information, get closer to the NER, maybe infiltrate one of their meetings.”

  “What can I do?”

  He looked at me. “You’re too…”

  “What, too black?”

  He looked embarrassed. “Too visible. It’s dangerous. I don’t want you to become a target too. I’ll ask Jake and the others later.”

  “Maybe we could try talking to that girl again. She’s scared but if we catch her off guard she might tell us more about Jimmy.”

  He nodded. “Have you got any ideas how to find her?”

  “I think she works in a bar in Dulwich. When I first saw her she was coming out of there; she looked like she was leaving work. I don’t even know her name. When I told her about Anton she was shocked but as if it made sense too, if you see what I mean.”