Second Opinion (7 page)

‘— man in the livery stables said,’ she chorused with him. ‘Yeah, I know. Time you changed that gag for a new one, Gus, say one from around 1950. It’s getting as high as the livery stable man’s work. Goodbye.’ She went to the door and held it open.

‘I’m goin’, I’m goin’. Listen, about tonight …’

‘What about tonight?’ She waited, her head on one side as, somewhat uncharacteristically, he hesitated.

‘We’ve done up the Leman Street place all posh — looks a bit like a shopgirl’s dream, to tell you the truth — but the grub’s as good as ever, and we could have a nice tuck-in tonight of halibut and maybe this time you’d try some of our jellied eels. They’re the best in London and —’

‘Nothing in this world or the next will ever get me to eat jellied eels,’ George said fervently and he grinned.

‘OK, then. Plain old fish and chips it is. You’ve got basic good taste, girl, even if you’re a bit unadventurous in the cuisine department. Never mind, I’ll make a good foodie of you yet. Pick you up at around seven-thirty, then? We’ll have a noggin at the Crown and Anchor and then go and tuck in. Lovely.’

‘I haven’t said I’ll go yet!’ she protested and this time he laughed aloud.

‘Oh yes you have, ducks,’ he said. He flicked his forefinger
at his forehead to tip an imaginary hat and went, leaving her more pleased than irritated — and that of course was irritating in itself.

5
  
  

‘The Plaice To Be’ in Leman Street was bursting at the seams with people when they got there. It was a raw night with the reek of the river thick and acrid in their nostrils, quite overwhelming the usual diesel stink of the traffic, and she’d been glad of the snug half-hour they’d spent at the Crown and Anchor to start the evening. She had ordered gin and tonic — an English drink she’d learned to prefer to the New York Martinis that had once been her choice — and he had sunk a couple of half-pints of best bitter while they had talked easily and a little lazily of the world news as seen on the TV at the end of the bar, arguing amiably over the rival merits of CNN and the British service, while the chill of the day seeped out of her bones and she began to feel a deep sense of wellbeing. Now, as they reached the brightly lit front of the fish-and-chip shop and restaurant that was the pride of Gus’s fleet she felt even more warmed, and that made her feel warm towards him, too.

‘It looks great, Gus,’ she said as they pushed open the door and went in. And indeed it did. The large plate windows were engraved thickly in the old public-house fashion, but only around the edges; passers-by could still see in easily to the great bank of glittering chrome fryers and the bustling staff in their natty blue-and-white outfits with anchors and mermaids embroidered over the left breast.
Beyond them in the interior were the tables with their blue-and-white gingham cloths and striped blue-and-white china, and the vast fish tank at the back in which gaudily coloured tropical fish swam in aristocratic splendour, clearly unworried by the fate of their humbler cousins who, encased in the crispest of batters, were being slapped down on the tables before hungry eaters. It all looked extremely inviting, and she was happy to tell him so. ‘You ought to be really proud of it.’

‘I am,’ Gus said and beamed as one of the waitresses spotted him and darted over to fuss them to a table bang in the middle of the restaurant. ‘Wotcha, Kitty. Like the new uniforms, do you?’

‘Dead fancy, Guv,’ the girl said. ‘Bit snug, mind you,’ and she wriggled a little as she pulled the tight skirt down over her neat round bottom.

Gus leered. ‘I’m not daft, girl. I make sure they’re so tight so’s you won’t eat me outa business. And it makes a nice view for the customers, don’t it?’

“N’t ‘e a right MCP, Dr B.?’ the girl said, but without any rancour. ‘You ought to teach ‘im better ways.’

‘I’ve tried,’ George said and sat down. ‘I thought you were at the Watney Street shop, Kitty?’

‘I was. But ‘e’s bin and gone and made me manager ‘ere.’ She jerked her head at Gus. ‘Shown a bit o’ sense, eh? Well, what’ll it be, Guv? The ‘alibut’s a treat and Dave said as how he’s got a lovely piece o’ turbot if anyone special comes in. You’re special, I s’pose, so if that’s your fancy —’

‘Keep the turbot to sell to the bookies. They’ve got the big money for it. We’ll have the ‘alibut, eh, Dr B.? Will that suit you?’

‘Cor, what a tight wad!’ Kitty said and leaned over to rearrange the already perfectly set knives and forks and to swish at the spotless tablecloth with her napkin. ‘Tell ‘im you want the turbot, Dr B.’

‘I think I will,’ George said.

The girl grinned at her as Gus threw his eyes up in mock consternation and then said, ‘And an order of jellied eels, too. The really big ones from Tubby’s. Give some to Dr B. —’

‘I won’t eat them,’ George said, grimacing.

‘— and a plate o’ prawns in case I can’t tempt her. Oh, and a bottle of the Sancerre.’

Kitty went and Gus watched her appreciatively. George shook her head at him in only partially mocking despair. ‘You really are an unreconstructed —’ she began but he held up both hands in surrender.

‘I’m everythin’ you ever said or thought a man could be, ducky, so let’s not waste our time listin’ my faults. All right, then. Do you like the way the place looks?’

‘I told you I did.’

‘Then I’ll do it exactly the same way next time.’

She raised her brows. ‘Next time? Are you making all of them glitzy like this?’

‘Not all of ‘em. The ones over at Bethnal Green — down Cambridge Heath Road and the other one down by Roman Road — I’ll leave them alone. The locals like ‘em the way they are. But I might open a new one over at Bow. There’s a nice little property there, just past Mile End station in Bow Road, that’d make me a good bit o’ profit, I reckon. There’s a doner kebab place over the road, but that’s about it in the way of competition.’

‘How many places have you got now, Gus?’

He looked away and if she hadn’t known him better she’d have thought him rather shy, suddenly.

‘Um — nine,’ he said.

‘Nine? That was some business your father left you.’

‘Oh, he didn’t leave ‘em all to me!’ Gus said, losing his diffidence. ‘He had six. It was me what started the others.’

She set her head to one side and looked at him with genuine curiosity. ‘I never could quite work it out. Why are
you still a policeman? These shops must be worth a lot of money.’

‘If a villain got me tomorrow, I’d cut up for the best part of a million,’ he said, and grinned widely, his pride transparent and glittering.

‘Why not settle for that? Why work your butt off for what can’t be a lot of money, when you could be concentrating on being a sucessful tycoon? You’re obviously good at it if you’ve added another three shops to what you were left — how long ago was it?’

‘Four years.’

‘Yeah. Four years. So why are you —’

‘Oh, Dr B., do stop talkin’ a lot of tosh!’ he said. ‘I might as well ask you why you’re workin’ as a forensic bloody pathologist down here in Shadwell when with your looks and your style you could get yourself some fancy rooms up in Harley Street, set up as a specialist and make more money than you’ve ever seen, and get half the headaches.’

‘But there aren’t any Harley Street pathologists,’ she said. ‘At least not my sort.’

‘You’re dodgin’ the point. Purposely, probably, knowin’ you. You could be another sort of specialist, couldn’t you? If you wanted to? The sort that makes money. But that
is
the point. You don’t want to. You love the job you do, don’t you?’

She thought for a moment and then said, ‘I suppose so. It’s complicated, of course, and dealing with some of the new NHS rules, especially about money, is like walking over a wet ploughed field in high-heeled shoes, but I suppose it’s what I want to do.’

‘So there you are. I’m the same. I love the job. For me it’s the Force or nothing. When the old boy kicked the bucket I thought I’d just sell up what he left and have the cash, but he’d been as crazy about his fish and chips as I am about bein’ a copper, so I couldn’t do it to him, poor old bugger. He’d ha’ come back to haunt me if I had, anyway.
So I just run it all in tandem. It’s not that tough. Not when you’ve got girls as good as Kitty.’ And he leered at the waitress who had arrived with the jellied eels and prawns.

‘Yeah, well, that’s as maybe,’ she said amiably. ‘Listen, Dr B. you try some of these eels. See? I’ve took ‘em out o’ the jelly and set ‘em on lettuce, like, so they looks nicer. Give it a go. A drop of vinegar on ‘em, and you’ll see. They’ve a taste you’ll be sorry you used to miss out on.’

‘Oh, forget it, Kitty,’ Gus said as he reached for the vinegar and liberally doused his own large bowlful of eels, nestling in a heap of pallid transparent jelly from which George averted her eyes. ‘She’s not up to takin’ chances, this one. I’ve been tryin’ for ages. Waste of breath.’

‘Not a bit of it,’ Kitty said. ‘You bin shoutin’ at her, I dare say. She’ll try ‘em for me. There you are, Dr B.’ She set the plate in front of her and George looked at it, thinking the small pieces of silvery fish looked very similar to pickled herring, which she adored. Maybe they wouldn’t be so bad after all — and it’d be nice to give in to Kitty after having refused Gus’s blandishments for so long.

She picked up her fork and without stopping to worry about it speared a piece of fish and put it in her mouth, afraid she’d want to spit it out, but determined to show Gus how wrong he was about her. And to her surprise found the taste delectable. She winked at Kitty and ate another piece with genuine relish.

‘Watch out for bones,’ Kitty said. ‘They’re bleedin’ sharp. You can spit ‘em out — it’s all right. Everyone does. Enjoy the rest. I’ll go an’ get the ‘alibut and, yeah, your turbot.’ And she laughed at Gus and went.

The rest of their meal went by contentedly as Gus protested at her willingness to please Kitty by trying the eels after refusing him and they both enjoyed their fried fish and the chips, which arrived in a great pile of whispering
crispness. By the time they’d reached the bread-and-butter pudding (which Gus insisted on ordering even though George knew she couldn’t manage another mouthful and then ate half a bowlful) they were as contented with each other as if they had been friends for years, instead of only sometimes edgy colleagues for barely — she stopped to work it out — eleven months.

Almost to her own surprise, she said as much. ‘I feel as though I’ve been here in Shadwell a hell of a long time,’ she said. ‘But it’s not even a year yet.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘That must mean you like it here. And like us.’

‘Not necessarily.’ She couldn’t help being combative. Not with him. ‘It could mean that the days drag like eternity and the people drive me bananas.’

‘Do they? And do we?’

She relaxed and accepted the Irish coffee he’d ordered for her. It tasted remarkably good, if far too rich. ‘I suppose not.’

‘So, like I said. Good.’

They settled into a silence for a while, until he stirred and leaned forward. His voice dropped and he seemed unusually uncomfortable. ‘Dr B. ….’ he said, and then stopped.

‘Mmm?’ The coffee, following the drinks she’d had in the pub and the Sancerre that had accompanied the fish, was making her agreeably sleepy.

‘I wanted to ask you …’ Again his voice drifted away and she roused herself and peered at him.

‘What’s up, Gus? Something bugging you?’

‘You could say that. I was just wondering …’

‘Well? Spit it out.’

‘I like you,’ he said baldly. ‘You know what I mean?’

‘As long as you’re not bullshitting, yes. I imagined you didn’t find my company totally repellent. Seeing you asked me out tonight.’

‘Oh, I mean more than that! You don’t have to come the silly miss with me, do you? I mean, it’s one of the things I like about you. Saying what you think, and all that. Even if you do sometimes go too far.’

‘Oh?’ She began to bristle. ‘How too far?’

‘Well, you know — well-brought-up ladies here in England don’t talk the way you do sometimes. Like saying bullshit, just now, and —’

‘Like hell they don’t!’ She was quite awake now. ‘I don’t think you listen to the way ladies — Christ, what a word! Ladies! — I don’t think you listen to the way ordinary women talk in this country. You ought to try, instead of just jumping to conclusions about women. You might get a bit of a surprise if you do.’

‘Wouldn’t you just know it!’ He sounded disgusted. ‘Here’s me trying to talk sensible and serious to you and what do I get? Another of your naggings about women and the way men like me treat them. Well, I’m here to tell you there’s no one who respects women more than I do! And don’t you go thinking otherwise!’

‘Oh, Gus, you’re such a — such —’ She was so incensed that her voice caught in her throat and she started to cough. He pushed a glass of water closer to her, leaned over so that his head was very close to hers and banged her back.

‘Yeah, I know, MCP. I swear to you, George, that half the time I don’t know what you women are on about. I try to talk sense to you about something important and before I can get more than a handful of words out, there you are running your mouth off about men and women. I just don’t get it. Are you looking for insults or something?’