by Merle Nygate
‘Of course, and I would certainly like to add that besides athletics I have trained in martial arts in the past although I didn’t put it on the CV as I didn’t think it was appropriate.’
Deanna had shuffled up the folder and stood up. If Petra said any more it would weaken her position as a desirable candidate; she would seem desperate or worse, argumentative.
Petra eyed the folder. Could she lean across the desk and knock it to the floor? Find out who the other applicant was?
No, not with Deanna watching her so closely.
‘I’ll look forward to hearing from you, thank you for seeing me,’ Petra smiled as she stood up. ‘Where are you off to tonight?’
‘France, on the eight o’clock shuttle,’ Deanna said.
‘Have a wonderful weekend away.’
Petra found Rafi sitting at the back of the Prêt à Manger drinking a smoothie and reading the sports pages of a free newspaper. Petra sat down on the opposite chair. He raised the plastic tumbler, ‘You should try one of these. They're good.’
‘No thanks,’ she said.
‘How did it go? When do you start?’
‘I messed up; I wasn't offered the job.’
‘Okay,’ Rafi shrugged. He stood up. ‘Let me get the coffee. You want something with it?’
She shook her head, ‘Just a latte.’
Soon, armed with her coffee and a fruit salad for himself Rafi placed both containers on the table and resumed his seat opposite Petra. Elbows on the table, he rested his chin on his hands. ‘Let’s start from the beginning.’
Petra relayed the meeting in chronological order. There was only one omission: her overconfidence and her certainty that the job was hers. That was something she preferred to process alone.
‘Okay,’ Rafi said. ‘The problem is that if the other guy's references are better than yours –’
‘I don't get the job. I know that; so we need to find another way of getting to the girl. There’s got to be something I can do. What if I go back to Deanna and tell her some hard luck story like... how badly I need the job? Debts to pay off, sick mother, appeal to her compassion, something like that?’
Rafi pushed the drink aside. ‘It will put you in a weak position. Let’s think; what do we know about the other applicant?’
‘Only that he’s sporty and his details are in the folder that I couldn’t get a look at. If only the wretched woman had offered me a coffee I could have pushed it over the desk but she didn’t. There’s got to be something we can do.’
Taking a pen from inside his light jacket he started to draw on the corner of the newspaper.
‘Tell me about the layout in the office,’ he said.
‘Why?’ she said.
He went on, ‘You said there's a file on Deanna's desk with the other guy's details in it. You said the house will be empty because they're going on holiday tonight. So we find out who this guy is.’
‘Then what? Oh... I see what you’re thinking. Okay... Do you need to clear it with someone?’
In answer Rafi stood up and looked at his watch. ‘I'll be back in, say, three hours. I'm taking the car. You go to the hotel, make a scale drawing of the office, then have a rest this afternoon. It may be a late night.’
19
Summertown, Oxford – Nine Hours Later
The street was still damp from the storm. The day had surrendered to a mizzle and on the bush outside the car window rain drops decked the leaves like drops of mercury. Inside the car Petra and Rafi sat in silence. They could have been a couple out on a date; a couple who had stopped to make a phone call, check an address or have a row. During their preparation they’d decided that their cover story would be the row. It would easily explain why they were in the area if they were stopped by police, neighbour or community officer. A row was attractive because no one likes to get involved in a domestic between adults.
Petra inhaled deeply and observed the tight sensation in her gut; it might be uncomfortable but she was aware that she liked this sensation. Even yearned for it.
‘Are we ready?’ she said.
‘As ready as we’ll ever be,’ Rafi looked at her and smiled. She could see that he was as primed as she was.
‘Then let’s get on with it.’
In synchronisation, they opened the doors and stepped out of the car. Petra reached on to the back seat and pulled out the bunch of flowers and the bottle of wine while Rafi took a black rucksack. Still only dusk at 9 pm this was the kind of street where people went to bed early, where curious curtains twitched and helpful neighbours kept an eye on holidaymakers’ homes.
Petra and Rafi strolled past Deanna's house chatting softly to each other. Pausing to find something in her handbag, Petra rootled around in the depths muttering about finding the address. Meanwhile, Rafi, in his role as the dutiful date, held the wine and the flowers. While she searched, apparently in vain, apologising for the loss, they both had the opportunity to study the closed windows that spelt empty house and the security light visible in a room beyond the hall.
There was no one on the street. They walked on fifty more metres then turned and walked back. Now certain they were unobserved, when they drew abreast of the house, Rafi peeled off and Petra saw his silhouette slide into the darkness and disappear down the basement steps. Alone, Petra walked back to the car.
As soon as she was settled into the driver's seat she called Rafi using the disposable phone he’d bought earlier. He answered instantly, ‘Hey.’ He sounded breathless as if he’d just climbed over a wall.
‘Am I seeing you tonight?’ Petra said using the safety word code.
‘For sure, looking forward to it. I’m just getting everything organised, here,’ Rafi said. ‘And then I’d like to spend the night with you.’
‘Fuck off,’ but she was smiling. ‘I don’t want to spend the night with you so don’t get any ideas.’
Tunelessly, Rafi droned, ‘Let’s spend the night together.’
‘And you can’t sing either. Night or day,’ Petra said. ‘Let’s get this straight, I’m not that desperate Rafi, and you’re not that charming.’ During each speech Petra checked the wing mirrors and swivelled round to make sure that she hadn't missed anything.
‘I could be, I could be very charming if you give me a chance. Tonight could be ours.’ Rafi’s voice sounded as if he was moving around. He must have disabled the alarm and was inside. Presumably he was inside the office.
A light went on in a house across the street and a hand drew the curtains shut. Petra was still, waiting to see if anyone peered out or there was further movement. No, it was quiet. No twitching curtain, no curious face at the window.
‘You know, I never realised until now just how little I have in common with you,’ Petra said. ‘I don’t even know how we ever managed more than one night together. But then I suppose I didn’t think about it at the time. It was just fun and sex.’
‘A night of passion,’ Petra heard the excitement in his voice. He must have found the file and was photographing the application form. ‘Seriously, was that it?’ Rafi said. ‘Was that all it was for you? I remember when we met; you were so different Petra, so different from any girl I’d ever met. Was it really nothing for you?’
‘Can’t remember. A few nights all those years ago. Another time and place. Great sex but...’
‘That’s a start. Let’s work on that tonight,’ Rafi said. ‘Two minutes.’
Petra glanced into the left wing mirror and started. She swivelled round. A short shape had come into view. Petra said, ‘Better in daylight.’
There was a pause at the other end of the phone. When Rafi spoke there was tension in his voice. ‘Daylight?’
‘Yeah.’
The shape was drawing closer. It was a woman and a dog.
‘Okay, if you say so, Rafi said.
The woman was walking past the car. She was small, just over five-foot, square, wearing shorts, trainers and a fluorescent cagoule. But the dog was the real problem. It
looked like Freddie, the Spaniel that had been sitting on her feet earlier that day.
‘Yeah, definitely daylight,’ Petra said.
Holding the phone in her left hand Petra wound down the window on the car. She had no idea what she was going to do. The only certainty was that if the dog and the woman were heading towards Deanna's house, they’d walk straight into Rafi.
‘Excuse me,’ Petra called out. ‘Excuse me, sorry to trouble you but... Winchester Gardens? Am I anywhere near there? I took a right and now the satnav’s not getting a signal.’
‘Let me think... now, if you go straight and take the second right past the house with the Wellingtonia, and then left, that should bring you out to the main road,’ the woman said.
Petra gesticulated with her hands as if she was trying to memorise a complex set of instructions. ‘You said, straight and then, sorry, so sorry, would you mind saying that again?’
The woman repeated it twice and still there was no sign of Rafi coming out of the house. Either Petra waited and made herself look suspicious or she drove off and waited for Rafi around the corner. There was nothing else she could do without inviting unwanted interest.
‘Thanks,’ Petra said. The phone was in her lap and the line was still open so at least Rafi would have time to prepare if he was still in there.
‘Well, I'll be getting along too,’ the woman said. ‘Come along, Freddie.’
There was a tap on the window of the passenger side and Petra turned. Rafi walked around to her side and Petra felt a rush of relief. ‘I’ve found out where Winchester Gardens is.’ Rafi pulled open the door and tossed his black rucksack on the seat. ‘We’re a long way away.’ He loomed over the dog sitter and smiled at her.
‘So, it seems. This lady has been kind enough to help with directions. Apparently, we need to get to the main road.’
‘Exactly – what a great dog,’ Rafi said. ‘Doesn't he look just like Benny! Same markings, same look in his eyes as if he's so clever. Good boy.’
Rafi knelt on the ground and tickled the dog behind its ears, looking as if he might linger there all night, as if there was no hurry in the world.
‘You know I always wanted a dog like this,’ he said to the woman. ‘My girlfriend won’t let me have one. Don’t you think that’s cruel?’
‘Why don’t you get in the car?’ Petra said.
Rafi looked up at her, and then Petra saw him wink at the dog sitter trying to include her in this fake lover’s tiff. What was the matter with him? Why was he dragging it out?
‘If you don’t get in the car we’re going to be even later than we already are,’ Petra said.
‘Only if you promise that tonight’s gonna be a good night...’
Petra pressed the ignition and slipped the car into gear and Rafi opened the door and sat in the passenger seat beside her.
‘What the fuck were you playing at?’ Petra said when they were moving off.
‘Relax, you never used to be so uptight. It was little bit of keyf,’ Rafi said. ‘Fun. We were out of there. We’ve got everything we need and no one’s the wiser.’
‘And if that woman with the dog remembers the nice young couple she chatted to, then what?’
‘Then nothing. Take it easy, Petra. We’re on top of this.’
‘What if you left something behind, moved something and then she remembers you?’ Petra said.
‘Do you know how much plumbing I’ve done in my career? I’ve lost count of the number of locations I’ve broken into and if there’s one thing I know about it’s how to get in and out and not leave a trace. Relax, okay?’
Petra gripped the steering wheel and her knuckles turned white. Unperturbed Rafi went on, ‘We do some work on his social media accounts, or what looks like his social media accounts. When the school checks him out he isn’t the best candidate. Maybe they make some pictures of him drunk at a stag night; maybe some comments about young boys. You know the sort of thing that would disturb a private language school. All in all – terrific job. And let me just say, you were great.’
‘Don’t try to change the subject and don’t patronise me.’ Petra flicked the indicator and pushed into the moving lane of traffic. She flashed a tight smile at the driver she’d forced out of the way and a heavy-set man scowled back in response.
Rafi covered Petra’s hand with his own. She snatched it away.
‘Get off.’
‘I’m not patronising,’ Rafi said. ‘Please don’t think that. You gave me all the time I needed to finish up and get out of there. Like I said, it was as near a perfect job as it could be, and I’m sorry if I stressed you by talking to the woman with the dog.’
‘You didn’t stress me, you pissed me off.’
The traffic was stationery and Petra tried to change lanes again. This time no one would let her out and by the time she had righted herself in her original lane the bonnet of the car was in a box junction. She looked in the mirror to see if she could reverse. She couldn’t. So, she pushed forward and jammed the car in between a Fiat and a Mini. The traffic moved, Petra shoved the car into gear to get ahead of the Mini and as she accelerated she heard the sound of metal scraping metal.
‘Oh shit,’ she gesticulated to the Mini driver who was glaring and pointed ahead to a bus stop.
‘That’s what happens when you don’t concentrate. You’d better pull in and we’ll exchange details,’ Rafi said. ‘The hire car company will sort it out.’
‘I told you not to patronise me, didn’t I?’
‘I’m not – you just drove into another car.’
Petra had shifted into the left-hand lane and she was getting closer to the bus stop. Up ahead, the Mini was parked but the driver hadn’t yet got out. Petra spotted a turning on the left, before the bus stop.
When Petra was abreast of the turning, she wrenched the steering wheel around and slammed her foot down. The car sprung forward, thunked over a speed bump and in her peripheral vision Petra had the satisfaction of seeing Rafi grab the ceiling handle.
‘Are you crazy?’ he said.
‘Didn’t you say the hire car company would sort it out?’
The road was downhill and with a screech of brakes, Petra threw the car around the corner and shimmied between two rows of parked cars.
With his free hand, Rafi studied the map on his phone, ‘Okay, if you drive up on to the pavement and go down that road, take a sharp left, it looks like there’s a way through.’
The rush surged inside of Petra, ‘Now where?’
‘A hundred metres, turn right.’
Petra swerved to avoid a pedestrian who dodged out of the way between two cars; then she slammed her foot on the accelerator loving how her body was forced back in the seat.
‘Nice,’ Rafi said. ‘Take a left after that red car.’
The brakes screeched as she turned and a warning light flashed on the dashboard.
‘Now right, fifty metres,’ Rafi said. ‘That gets us to the roundabout, then we’re on the main road out of town.’
They didn't speak again until they were two streets away and then Petra beat out a staccato rap on the steering wheel.
‘Wow, that was good.’ Petra’s heart was pounding and her skin tingled.
‘That’s how I remember you. You haven’t changed.’
‘Neither have you,’ she said as she put her hand on his thigh. She was burning with an intensity she hadn’t felt for years. ‘Never did a cold beer taste so good... or a man so sweet.’
‘What?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she moved her finger up his thigh. ‘One night only, Rafi, okay?’
Part 2 – THE RIGHTEOUS
Whoever works righteousness benefits his own soul
Quran 41:46
The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and his ears are attentive to their cry.
Psalms 34:15
20
Watlingford Public School, Oxfordshire – One Week Later
I’m awake before dawn and in the quiet
of the new day I make my morning prayers. I imagine the glow of the sun over the white buildings, the hazy heat and the soothing call of the muezzin. Here, there is only birdsong to break the silence beyond the walls of my room. Here, there’s barely enough space to lay down my mat between bed and desk. Here, I’m alone.
My room is like a cell with one exception: the window is not barred. It’s high, wide, and through it I see fields of green grass; the colour is so intense it looks fake. I’m blessed that the window faces east as the sun rises as I pray for guidance and strength.
Afterwards I sit at the pale wood desk. Above my head there are bookshelves. This is a place to read and study, a place to look out of the window and it’s here that I write in my book.
I know I shouldn’t be writing down my thoughts but I’ve got to get them out of my head otherwise the fears go round and round. Maybe I’ll take this book with me when it’s time and it’ll be destroyed. Or maybe I’ll find a way to send it to Wasim, so he understands and isn’t angry. I can’t decide and I don’t have to, at least not yet.
Last night as I lay in this unfamiliar bed I had a fresh fear to chase away my sleep. What if something’s happened to my contact? I’ve heard nothing since I was dropped at the bed and breakfast a week ago with my suitcase full of new clothes, a train ticket to Oxford and an envelope of cash. Not one word. What am I supposed to do? How long do I wait? I did exactly what was asked of me. I played the tourist, I visited museums, went to Madame Tussauds, the London Eye. It was so strange wandering around with nothing to do. And London wasn’t at all what I expected; wherever I went I heard different languages, it’s like the whole world is here.