Arriving at the large four-storey house in West Dulwich I climbed the steps and rang the bell. Leonard opened the door. “Welcome.”
We went into a high-ceilinged room that seemed to be full of things. One wall was entirely covered in a bookshelf and the mantelpiece was crammed with framed photographs. On the large desk were piles of folders.
“Sit down,” he said, gesturing to a seat. “I’ll just get us some coffee.”
He went out and came back with a coffee pot and mugs on a tray. He poured me a mug of the dark, aromatic liquid and then we both sat at his desk.
We went through everything that’d happened since Anton’s murder. Some of the order was confused in my head, especially in the days soon after, but gradually I got it straight. Shelley at the bus stop wearing the scarf, her reaction when I first confronted her, meeting Matthew, the photo sent to Jake, then later the NER meeting with Jimmy and Chris.
Leonard noted everything on his computer, which I then checked.
“Because of Rosalind’s reputation the police will take her seriously. At this stage you don’t need to go but I’m sure they will want to interview you at some point.”
I felt a spark of fear, as if it was me who had done something wrong and had to remind myself that it was progress.
He looked at the clock. “I have to go now I’m afraid. I’ve got another meeting.”
We came out of the house and down the steps. It was another freezing night and the streets were deserted. We began to walk in the direction of the Tube, treading carefully through the ice and snow.
31
JIMMY
Shelley’s visit shook me up. Whatever happened with her and the baby I needed money fast. The rent was due and I was down to my last packet of fags. None of my mates had any money so I had to get some sort of work.
I went to Tyler’s office and said I wanted to earn some quick cash. I’d do anything.
“As it happens I do need someone. If there’s a good outcome I’ll make sure you’re well paid.”
He didn’t tell me much about the job but I got the idea someone was digging dirt on the organisation and they wanted him stopped. It meant I was getting in even deeper but I didn’t have a choice. It was that or begging.
I was given an address in the posh part of Dulwich and told to watch the house in the evenings, see when the man came in and out and if there was a pattern to his movements.
The first night it snowed. There was a shop doorway across the road from the house so I hung out there, smoking fag after fag, trying to keep warm. Not a lot happened. The next night a tall grey-haired man came out of the house at about 7 p.m. He came back an hour later. The next night it was the same and the next. He was always alone and moved slowly. It was hard to believe he was much of a threat. After five nights I reported to Tyler that the pattern was the same. He told me I was to do one more night and this time when the man came out I was to call him straight away. After that I was getting paid.
It was as cold as ever. I walked up and down not caring if I drew attention to myself. It was nearly 8 p.m. when I saw the door open. Close behind him was someone else. When the person came into the light I saw it was her.
She was everywhere – in my dreams, outside my house, now here. For a moment I forgot the phone call. I watched as they came down the steps, then I remembered and dialled the number, letting it ring three times. They passed me on the opposite side of the road then began to cross over. At that moment a car flew round the corner. Instead of swerving or sounding the horn the driver headed straight at them.
Without thinking I shouted, “Look out!”
The woman screamed and grabbed the man’s arm. I waited for the sound of a thump but the car missed them by inches. It almost hit a parked vehicle then swerved back to the other side of the road and with a screech of tyres sped off. I caught the last two letters of the number plate – BZ – Billy’s car.
They were both on the ground. For a moment nothing happened then she got up and started helping him to his feet. She looked around as if frightened the car might come back. I ducked my head down and started to walk away, trying to stay upright on the freezing snow.
32
VALERIE
There was a shout. A car, headlights blazing, was heading straight for us; the shiny metal bumper level with my hips. I grabbed Leonard, he knocked into me and we both fell backwards. I heard a groan as the breath was knocked out of him. I lay still for a second, snow cold against my cheek, convinced that the car was going to come back a second time then I got up, my heart beating fast. I looked around to see where the voice had come from. Across the road a figure in a dark jacket was walking away. I could have sworn it was Jimmy.
Leonard was sitting up and I put a hand under his arm to help him up.
“Are you hurt?” I asked.
He was brushing snow off his trousers. “Nothing broken, are you alright?”
“OK I think. That was scary.”
“The car must have skidded on the ice,” he said.
It seemed obvious that it was deliberate though I didn’t know if it was aimed at me, or him. How would anyone have known I was going to be there? I’d only been to the house once before.
I got my mobile out. “I’ll call the police.”
“No, no.” He put his hand on my arm. “Don’t waste their time.” He looked up and down the street, which was now empty. “There are no witnesses and you didn’t get a number plate, did you?”
I shook my head. “I wasn’t quick enough.”
“The main thing is that you’re OK.” He smiled his sorrowful smile. “Shall we carry on?”
I had the feeling that he knew the car was aimed for him. I hesitated then said, “I think I’ll go the other way. There’s someone in Deptford I’d like to see.”
“Of course. We’ll be in touch soon. Take care.”
As soon as he’d gone I turned and walked back the way Jimmy had gone. The snow was falling hard, flakes drifting into my face, some onto my lips. Once or twice I skidded but managed not to fall. Jimmy was probably way ahead of me by now. The streets were quiet, as they always were when it snowed, sounds muffled so that London almost lost its identity. I wasn’t sure where I was but didn’t want to waste time by stopping to look at a map.
After a while I came to a main road which had shops on both sides. I stopped and looked around. There were a couple of people at a bus stop and several in a kebab shop but no one who looked like Jimmy. I hesitated, shivering, while I tried to decide what to do.
A bus went past going to London Bridge so I started walking in that direction. I passed the last of the shops and came to a grassy area in front of a tower block. Ahead of me, slumped on a low wall, was a figure huddled into a jacket, smoking a cigarette.
A force propelled me forward until I was standing in front of him, just out of his reach.
“You,” he said, looking at me briefly. His skin was covered in red, scaly blotches.
“Was it you who shouted?”
He took a long drag of the cigarette and shrugged which I took to mean yes.
“They want him, not you.”
“Who does?”
“I can’t tell you that. He’s investigating people, he needs to stop.”
“He won’t.” I couldn’t believe I was only a few feet away from a man responsible for Anton’s death. On his own he seemed powerless. “If you care about what happens to us then tell me what happened that night. The night Anton was murdered.”
I stepped back as I said it, half expecting him to leap up and grab me.
He took a drag on his cigarette then dropped it in the snow. It fizzled out.
“All I can say is it wasn’t me.”
From the way he said it I knew he meant it was Chris.
“You don’t know wha
t it’s like when someone you love is murdered; the pain of it. If you did you’d do something about it.” I was shaking and my bottom lip was trembling but I wasn’t going to cry.
He looked up and for a moment straight at me and I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Then he got up.
“You better warn your friend,” he said, and walked away.
* * *
As I watched the dark figure recede the shock of the near accident and being so near to Jimmy began to sink in. I knew I couldn’t be on my own that night. Even though it was getting late I made my way to Renee’s.
“What’s up? Come in, you look freezing.”
She made me a cup of tea and I sat on the sofa, surrounded by colourful cushions. I told her about the car that nearly hit us although I said it was just me because she didn’t know about Leonard yet and I couldn’t tell her I’d talked to Jimmy.
She put her arm round me. “That’s awful, God I’m so glad you’re OK.”
The after-effects were starting to hit me and I felt exhausted. I leant against her and could feel my eyes closing.
“Can I stay here tonight? I can’t face going home.”
“Of course. We could hang out together tomorrow.”
That night I slept better than I’d done for ages. There was a tingling feeling in my body when I woke, as if it had been numb and was slowly coming back to life. I stretched, feeling strength running though my muscles. I remembered the physicality of Wounded Home and could sense a desire for that life returning. To have my whole being absorbed in a piece of creativity. Nothing else gave me such a sense of myself.
I was starting to see that giving up on my dreams wasn’t going to get justice for Anton.
33
JIMMY
When I looked in the mirror I didn’t recognise myself. Eczema had spread to my face and my lips were dry and cracked. My mind was jumping all over the place. The woman’s face appeared as if she was standing behind me. She was watching, her eyes following me around the room, she wasn’t ever going to go away. I knew I had to talk to someone. There was only one person who might listen.
Liam answered straight away. “What do you want?”
“Can you meet me at the pub?”
“Why?”
“Just being friendly. I’m buying,” I said, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.
“I’ve got college work.”
“Just one drink.”
There was silence then he said, “Half an hour at the most.”
He arrived after me. I hadn’t seen him for a few weeks and he looked different; taller, more handsome, grown up.
“What’s up with you Jimmy? You look a right mess, by the way.”
“I need to talk.”
Words… I was there when a murder happened… churned around in my head but none came out of my mouth. I gulped from my pint. Liam had hardly touched his.
“This is a waste of time. If you don’t tell me what we’re here for I’m going.”
I thought about the last time we went fishing, it was only a few weeks ago but it felt like another world. He was getting up.
I said into my drink, “I saw a man get killed.”
“What did you say?”
“A man was murdered. Right in front of me.”
“How?”
“He was stabbed. Chris did it.” As soon as I said it I regretted it and hoped by some miracle he hadn’t heard but he was leaning forward, looking at me in horror.
“Are you saying Chris murdered someone?”
I looked around, frightened someone might hear but no one seemed to have noticed anything.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes you did and you need to go to the police.”
“He’d kill me.”
“You’re a fucking coward, Jimmy. You’re involved in racist shit and now murder. You’re my big brother. I used to look up to you. What happened?” He got up and threw some coins on the table. “I don’t want your beer money and I don’t want to see you again.”
He walked away. I called after him but he didn’t turn around.
* * *
I stayed hunched in a corner drinking. Even Liam hated me. The image of the dead man lying on the grass ballooned in my mind. His jacket, his jeans both splattered with mud, blood too if I could have seen it. There was other violence, my violence – the accordion player, the fight in East London. They could easily have turned bad.
Finishing my pint I left the pub and started walking down Cold Blow Lane. It was freezing, wind swirling between the boarded-up warehouses, rattling through the spiked metal on top of the massive gates. I passed a man on his mobile, he was laughing loudly.
At Subway 4, where the fast trains passed over the road, I noticed that someone had cut a hole in the fence. I went to look. A thought occurred. Checking to make sure there was no one about, I forced my way through and started to climb the bank. It was steep – I slipped on a patch of ice and fell forward, scraping my hands on the frozen mud. I needed to get to the top so I grabbed the branch of a small tree and pulled myself up. There were two more fences. The first had no footholds but I pressed my trainers into the chain link, climbed and jumped down into the narrow gap.
A fast train surged past sending a blast of noise and air that hit me like an explosion. The next fence had a wide metal bar on top. I took a deep breath and hauled myself up onto it, holding one of the uprights to stop me falling. The tracks were about six feet in front of me. I could hear another train coming and a second later it hurtled past at 100 miles an hour. It was what I wanted, the noise, the dirt, to be able to disappear along with it. A man was dead, another nearly was, Shelley was pregnant and didn’t want me, nor did Liam. The next train was mine.
I heard a shout and turned to see where it came from. A man was standing below me, looking up, the same one that’d been laughing on his phone.
“Are you OK?” He sounded foreign.
“Leave me alone.”
“It’s not safe, one slip and there’ll be no tomorrow.”
“I don’t want tomorrows.”
“Whatever’s gone wrong can be sorted out.”
“No it can’t. Anyway, I like it up here.” I did a little skip on the bar, balancing on one leg like a high-wire walker.
“I’m impressed. I’ve got a son about your age, he goes crazy sometimes too but we talk about things, make it OK.”
He sounded like he cared. He’d run a mile if he knew.
“Some things can’t be fixed.”
When I said it I knew I meant it. It was the only way out because what I’d done couldn’t be erased from my mind. I turned away from him.
There was a lull in the trains. I thought the man had gone away. I was pleased – he was probably just trying to make me feel bad or something. Then I heard a noise and realised he’d come up the bank and was climbing the first fence.
“What the fuck are you doing? You’re insane.”
He had a determined look on his face and was getting somewhere. He got to the top, then he slipped and fell into the gap but he picked himself up straight away and was climbing the last fence. He pulled himself up onto the bar near where I was, panting like crazy. He had to be at least fifty.
“Thought I’d join you. I don’t like heights much.” He wobbled slightly and grabbed the upright.
“There’s no point two of us dying. Get down before the train comes.”
I heard it coming. It was my chance but if I jumped he might too, he was that mad.
He shouted, “I’ll hold on if you do.”
I shut my eyes, I felt myself leaning forwards, pushing towards the void but my fingers were still glued to the metal upright. The noise grew louder – it was now or never. The sound reached its peak and then it w
as gone, the only thing remaining was the clicking of the rails. I opened my eyes and he was still there.
34
VALERIE
My agent called and left a voicemail message. She had the perfect audition for me, a role I’d always wanted – Viola in Twelfth Night. She knew I was taking a month off because of Anton but not that I’d decided to give up acting.
After I’d listened to her message I went out for a walk. I was torn. There was still no justice for Anton but something was calling me back to acting. My perfect role, the one I’d always wanted. I loved the idea of pretending to be a man and all the humour that comes from the deception. I’d seen the all-male Twelfth Night at the Globe Theatre with Anton when he’d got back from the States. Mark Rylance was Olivia and from the moment he appeared on stage I was gripped. He wore white make-up and a black dress and his face conveyed sadness, arrogance and trickery. It was difficult to take my eyes off him.
The cold spring had turned; one day, two days, three days. Nature had started to breathe again. The sun was warm on my skin and for a fleeting moment I thought it was possible to be happy again.
That night I lay thinking of Anton. If he’d been alive he might have played my brother in the play. I felt as if I was leaving him behind. Was I being selfish, following my passion? I tossed and turned, wishing I could talk to him. In the morning I knew I had to go to the cemetery.
Anton’s ashes had been scattered beside his mother’s grave. Cremation was so different to burial, there was nothing left of the person, but still it was a place to go to and perhaps something of his spirit remained. The stone was engraved: ‘In Loving Memory to Rose Ada Thomas’. There were three orange lilies in a vase so I knew someone had been in the last few days. As I stood there a man walked past carrying a watering can. He gave me a small smile as if to say, we are two of a kind in this place, joined together in our grieving. I watched as he watered some daffodils on a grave nearby.
It didn’t feel right that Anton was in such a quiet place. He hadn’t wanted peace, he’d wanted life and everything there was. I kept trying to make sense of it but there was no sense to be made. I spoke to him silently, mouthing the words, telling him of my decision to go for the audition. I said I would never give up fighting for justice but I needed to act. It was who I was. I listened for a response but all I could hear was the sound of small birds in a tree nearby.
Subway 4 Page 12