Me and You

by Claudia Carroll

  Stella nods along, like she’s not only heard it all before, but possibly even heard far worse. And Jack is terrific, so sympathetic and understanding. Keeps telling her to stop and take a breather if she’s feeling a bit wobbly.

  But Jean just shakes her head defiantly.

  ‘I’ve been waiting a very long time to have my say, Sergeant,’ she says, ‘please don’t stop me now.’

  ‘Could I ask one thing?’ Jack gently asks her, shoving the pile of official-looking files he had in front of him aside for the moment.

  ‘Fire ahead.’

  ‘You came to Dublin and started calling yourself Kitty Hope,’ he says, blue eyes unflinching. ‘We have all that. But what’s really puzzling me is, why not travel even further afield? After all, you were still less than a three-hour drive from Galway where McGuinness lived, why not go abroad then and put even more distance between you?’

  And for the first time since we got here, Jean surprises me by actually smiling.

  ‘The reason,’ she says, ‘is sitting right here in this room.’

  Everyone turns to look at me and I find myself flushing a bit.

  ‘Because I met you,’ Jean tells me, simply. ‘Do you remember? In that kiphole of a call centre where we slaved away in those little rabbit hutch cubicles? And we started hanging out together and in no time, it was like the pair of us were just inseparable. Angie introduced me to the loveliest bunch of people and, well … we were just having such a ball, I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I had never meant to stay in Dublin for so long, I’d only ever intended it as a temporary place to crash out in while I got a few quid together and moved on … but after I met Angie … well, I just couldn’t leave. Or walk out on this amazing life that suddenly opened itself up to me. I felt happy for the first time in years and yes, of course I know it was a shitty thing to lead everyone on like I did and to lead everyone to believe that I had this whole other name, but believe me, I thought I had no other choice.’

  I’m actually starting to well up a bit now.

  ‘Besides,’ Jean goes on astonishingly calmly, ‘Joe McGuinness loathed and despised Dublin, always did. He owed a lot of people money here, so he used to avoid the place like the Black Death. And with a whole new name for myself and a new social circle, day by day, I just got used to being safe. And of course, the longer I stayed, the more difficult it became to ever leave.’

  ‘Well, we really appreciate your honesty,’ Jack nods approvingly at her. ‘And I know how incredibly difficult it must have been for you to talk about what happened to you all those years ago. But Jean, rest assured, our primary job is in keeping you safe. So in the unlikely event of McGuinness ever targeting you again, he’ll find himself in front of me in no time. And with a list of charges against him the length of my arm. Don’t you worry, I’ll personally see to it.’

  ‘God,’ she says, throwing her head back, ‘I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited, just to hear that.’

  ‘One last thing, though,’ he says, going back to the mound of case files he was working off earlier. ‘In the early days of the search, we were able to track Jean Simpson from Amsterdam to Morocco, but the trail just seemed to thin out after then. So, tell me this. How on earth did you get from there all the way to Cape Town without us knowing about it?’

  ‘You’re sure I won’t be arrested for this?’ she asks him a bit cheekily, sounding so like her old self, it’s heartening. ‘It’s not exactly what you might call … eh … legal.’

  ‘Ah … just off the record,’ Jack smiles easily, sitting back, stretching his legs out and folding one chunky arm over another. ‘I’ve been curious for a while now. And I promise, it’ll go no further than this room.’

  ‘Well, I took a night train to Algeria,’ Jean says, ‘and let’s just say there are many ways of avoiding passport checks on African trains, even now. Border control tends to be a helluva lot more lax than it would be in Europe or the States. Happens all the time. You see people like me pretending to be asleep when they come round to check your documentation for one thing, or else hiding out in the loo … it’s really not all that hard, trust me.’

  ‘Well, you certainly had me fooled,’ Jack grins across at her, then leans over the desk and stage whispers, ‘and strictly off the record, of course, fair play to you.’

  Jean keeps talking, one of those stories that could only happen to her. How she fell in with a right pair of likely lads from Germany who were travelling by car overland all the way to Zimbabwe, so she hitched along with them and her luck seemed to hold. No one asked any questions, but reading between the lines, it seemed that this pair were every bit as anxious as she was to avoid any kind of official border control checks. And had discovered that just by using interminably long back roads, it wasn’t entirely impossible. Took months to get to Zimbabwe, but from there onto Cape Town had been the easy part.

  And as Jean’s telling her story, embellishing it the way only she can, I notice something else about her.

  Funny, I think to myself. In the past few days, so much of the girl I once knew is starting to return, now she’s back on home soil. That spark, that magic wildness slowly seems to be somehow re-igniting in her. It’s actually beginning to make me think she rightfully belongs here, not a whole hemisphere away from us. Here, where she once had a life and where she could so easily again if she wanted to. Not stuck at the very bottom of Africa, picking up dirty towels from hotel bathroom floors by day, or else serving chips and chicken wings to a load of drunk tourists by night and hating every minute of it. Terrified that she might have to bolt again at a second’s notice.

  In fact, by now I’m seriously starting to wish that she’d reconsider going back to Cape Town. Just doesn’t sit right with me somehow.

  Jean eventually finishes up and surprises me by not looking a bit upset or shaken, more relieved now that she’s finally had the chance to tell her story.

  ‘Well, we really can’t thank you enough.’ Jack says, wrapping it up. ‘But if it wasn’t too much for you, would you mind if I just read the statement back to you? Just to make absolutely certain that there’s nothing you want to change or add in, that’s all.’

  ‘Hey, I’ve come this far,’ Jean says, sitting back and letting out a long, exhausted sigh, now that it’s finally over.

  ‘Well done,’ he says. ‘Five more minutes, that’s all I need, and then I’d safely say you girls are in need of a good strong gin and tonic. You certainly deserve it.’

  ‘I like him,’ Jean says, turning to me, not caring that Jack can hear. ‘Always thought coppers were meant to be boring beyond belief, but this guy’s one of us. Oh, and just in case you were wondering, that’s actually meant as a compliment,’ she throws cheekily back at him.

  ‘Praise from Caesar!’ Jack says wryly, mouth twitching down like he’s trying v. hard not to smile.

  And as he patiently reads her statement back to her, I drift off a bit. That is, drift off a bit and start wondering if he has a girlfriend.

  Just wondering, that’s all.

  7.10 p.m.

  Statement is finished, everyone’s v. happy with it and now Stella asks if she could possibly have a little bit of time alone with Jean. She tells us that there’s a lot to talk about and even mentions the possibility that Jean could opt for counselling if she wanted to. Jean readily agrees and I take that as my cue to leave. We hug each other tight before I go.

  ‘Thanks, Angie,’ she says simply. ‘Couldn’t have managed this without you.’

  ‘I’ll wait outside for you.’

  ‘No, hon, honestly, I’ll be fine. Beside, this could take a good while, so go on home and rest; you’ve had a killer of a day. And I’ll call you later on, OK? I promise.’

  Jack v. kindly sees me out, then just as I’m about to leave, stops me in my tracks.

  ‘You certainly seem a little more like yourself now,’ he smiles.

  ‘Eh … how do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, nothing. Just when you and Jean firs
t came in here, I thought maybe you’d em … well, let’s just say that a liquid lunch might have been involved. Would I be right?’

  I laugh back at him. And after all the tensions of the past few days, it’s actually genuine, relieved laughter now that somehow everything seems to be just fine.

  ‘Jack, I honestly don’t think either of us would have managed to get here in the first place without just a teeny drop of liquid fortification. And come on now, would you really blame us?’

  ‘You feeling OK now?’

  I do a quick audit. Then realise that I’m bloody starving. Liquid lunch, my arse; Jean and I ate nothing, just drank whole afternoon away. Come to think of it, I’ve been so uptight, I haven’t eaten since the crack of dawn, unless you count a few sneaky choccies I wolfed down behind Sarah’s back at work.

  ‘You know, Angie,’ Jack says, correctly interpreting my silence, ‘I’m finishing my shift now and I was about to grab a quick bite to eat on the way home anyway. Don’t suppose you fancy joining me, do you?’

  Harcourt Street, strolling towards Jack’s car, 7.15 p.m.

  A warm, sunny evening. And for the first time in days, I’ve a lovely, peaceful feeling of being completely relaxed and at ease with the world (although mind you, that could well be the after effects of all the gin wearing off).

  Simon flitters through my mind, as he so often does. I half wonder if I should call him, fill him in on what’s been happening, maybe even invite him along for something to eat?

  But some inner voice tells me not to. Besides, I’ve already called him so many times today and am still waiting on a pile of phone calls, not to mention countless texts, to be returned. Don’t think I could handle hearing his voicemail message yet again. Enough. I need serious face stuffing first. And I’ll think more clearly after that. Always do.

  ‘You know, I’m really delighted you agreed to come for grub,’ Jack smiles down at me, shoving a clumpful of the thick, fair hair out of his eyes. Cute little gesture, I find myself thinking distractedly.

  ‘You’re doing me a favour!’ I smile back. ‘Believe me, I’m bloody starving!’

  ‘No, it’s not that. What I meant is …’ He looks ahead of him now.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Well, now, I could have the wrong end of the stick here, of course …’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘OK, put it this way. When you and I first met two years back … now, I could be wrong, but …’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘But I somehow got the impression you weren’t exactly a big fan of mine. Would I be right?’

  Slight awkward pause. Two options here: tell the truth, or else be polite and lie my way out of it. Seems to be a day for confessions, so decide on plan A.

  ‘Well,’ tell him as he turns to look at me, waiting on an answer, ‘the thing is, Jack, I’m really sorry if I came across as being a bit brusque with you back in the early days, but you have to understand I was just …’

  ‘Say no more,’ he smiles. ‘You were stressed and worried out of your mind. It was a rotten time for you. I get it.’

  ‘Exactly. So if I ever came across as being, well, a bit rude or anything …’

  Bless him, he saves me the bother of having to finish that excruciating sentence.

  ‘Don’t worry a bit, Angie. Happens all the time. No one ever likes having to be the harbinger of bad news, and in my line of work unfortunately it’s an occupational hazard. God, I’ll never forget that awful night I had to break the news about Jean to you and your friend Simon. There are days when I hate my job and, believe me, that was one of them.’

  I fall silent and keep pace with him, remembering that night with a shudder too.

  ‘Anyway,’ he says just as we reach his car. ‘I just wanted to make sure you didn’t have me down as the big bad wolf any more, that’s all I was asking.’

  ‘No, not at all,’ I smile back up at him.

  And drift off again. Wondering, just casually, if a catch like this could possibly be single.

  Elephant and Castle Restaurant, Temple Bar, 9.10 p.m.

  God, I’ve always loved this place! I was seriously chuffed when Jack suggested it; major brownie points for him. It’s kind of my local, actually, just a stone’s throw from where I live, and it really does serve the best chicken wings in town. And another bonus too: Jack turns out to be a proper eater, not just a food picker like … well, like Simon for one, who spends more time toying with food rather than actually getting it into him, with the result that I just end up finishing his grub for him. Whereas this fella, on the other hand, eats like a trucker on death row, who hasn’t seen food in weeks and who’s now about to have his last meal. Might sound odd, but it’s actually a major plus point in my eyes.

  Anyway. After a v. serious amount of face-stuffing, the two of us fall into an easy, companionable banter.

  ‘So come on then, Angie, gimme your top ten movies of all time,’ Jack grins, sitting forward and looking attentively at me. ‘And no pressure or anything, but you did go to film school, so I’m expecting this to be seriously impressive. But feel free to throw in at least one or two mainstream releases just so I don’t feel like a complete dimwit, will you? And not just the less obscure movies of Akira Kurosawa, if you don’t mind. No offence, but Japanese art house wouldn’t exactly be my strong suit.’

  I laugh back at him.

  ‘Ah, now! A top ten list is a helluva lot more complicated than you think,’ I say, dipping the v. last of my too-delicious chicken wings into what remains of a blue cheese sauce. Bloody mouth-watering.

  ‘Explain, please?’

  ‘Well, for starters, that’s way too broad a field. Many, many sub-divisions exist here, you know. Like, for instance, do you mean top ten thrillers, top ten war movies, Westerns, romantic comedies, musicals, historical movies? Kindly deal in specifics, please!’

  He laughs back at me and between us we somehow narrow a long, long list down to approx fifteen. Even find ourselves agreeing on loads. Which is actually surprising, because normally I can never get anyone to agree with my own personal all-time favourites.

  ‘So Hitchcock’s Vertigo is in then,’ Jack says, waving over to the waitress for dessert menus.

  ‘But The Hurt Locker is out?’

  ‘Definitely. Hurt Locker’s very worthy, but ultimately boring. Rule one, Thou Shalt not Bore.’

  ‘Seriously over-rated. Totally agree.’

  ‘And out of curiosity, where do you stand on movie actors?’

  ‘Of all time, throughout movie history or present day?’

  ‘Start with present day.’

  ‘You go first.’

  ‘Well, it’s not a popular theory and no doubt someone clued in like you, who’s actually studied at film school, will roar laughing at me, but I’ve always thought Tom Cruise was just an all-round terrific actor …’

  ‘Snap! Totally agree with you! I mean, did you see him in Magnolia? He was stunning.’

  ‘And hysterically funny in Tropic Thunder.’

  ‘It’s just that no one actually likes him. Not even his wives.’

  ‘Are you an RPatz fan?’

  Shake my head. ‘Sorry, Jack. Again, not a popular theory, but the guy can’t do it. A pretty boy flash in the pan, but sadly no more.’

  ‘Completely agree. He’s no DiCaprio, that’s for sure. In ten years’ time he’ll probably be …’

  ‘… Doing infomercials for shaving mousse or similar.’

  ‘Couldn’t have put it better myself. Mind you, if my teenage niece overheard this conversation, she’d have the pair of us stoned to death.’

  I throw my head back and guffaw laughing.

  Essex Street, just outside my apartment, 10.35 p.m.

  Jack drops me home. Absolutely insists, even though I only live a stone’s throw from the restaurant.

  ‘Angie,’ he says, just as I’m about to hop out of the car. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Sure, go ahead.’


  ‘Well, em …’

  But he peters out. And there’s silence now. Slightly awkward silence, like he’s a bit nervous. Which is strange. First time all evening he’s been a bit tongue-tied with me.

  ‘Thing is,’ he goes on hesitatingly, ‘and I’m sure you’re probably busy … I mean, I know you’re up to your tonsils with The Chocolate Bar and everything, but you see … Now only if you really fancied it that is … and please just feel free to say no if you want to …’

  I wasn’t imagining it! The guy is definitely acting bit weird and uncomfortable! And now I find myself looking at him fondly. It’s actually endearing.

  He takes a deep breath and really goes for it this time.

  ‘Thing is, Angie, there’s a new Sam Mendes movie opening tomorrow and I just wondered if you fancied coming along with me to see it? Only if you’d like to, and of course I totally understand if you’re busy.’

  I smile gratefully back at him. And now it’s my turn to be a bit hesitant.

  ‘Jack,’ I say falteringly, ‘thing is … well … I’ve had such a laugh with you tonight and, believe me, there’s nothing I’d love more than a lovely movie night this weekend. But you see, it’s a bit more complicated than that …’

  ‘Don’t tell me! You’re married? Living with someone? Engaged? Go on,’ he grins, ‘tell me, I can take it.’

  ‘No, none of the above! But I am seeing someone. I mean, I sort of am. I mean, I was … But now it’s all a bit … Oh, look, it’s just that I kind of think I’m seeing someone and it just wouldn’t be fair on him, really. I hope you understand.’

  There’s just a half-beat of a pause as I try to gauge his reaction. Hard to tell if I’m imagining it or not, but … somehow he looks a bit … a bit what? Resigned? Disappointed, even? Or am I reading this arseways?

  ‘Sure I do,’ he says easily. ‘And like I said, no worries at all. But can I just say one thing before you go?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Of course, it’s absolutely none of my business, but if you only think that you’re seeing someone, chances are you’re not.’