Sottopassaggio (29 page)

Nick raps on the door again. “JENNY! MARK!” he shouts.

This time, I too can hear the slur of his voice.

Jenny nods outside. “Look,” she says.

Other than the fact that Nigel has moved out of sight I can see nothing. And then I do notice something, a strange flickering on the building opposite, a pulsing blue light.

The police car glides silently into view and pulls up beside the jutting rear of Nick's BMW.

The whole terrace throbs with the light from its blue strobe. Nick rattles the front door heavily, apparently unaware of the police car behind him.

“Getting interesting,” I say, crawling forward and lying on my stomach.

The window of the police car slides down. “Is this your car sir?” the policeman asks.

Nick spins on the step, swaying slightly then putting
a hand on the railing to steady himself.

“Oh
bollocks
,” he says.

I glance at Jenny, and nod for her to come watch. She too crawls forward on all fours.

The policeman opens the car door and stands.

“Sir? Is this your car?” he repeats. His fluorescent yellow jacket glows in the darkness of the street. I lean over and look down at Nick. I can see a bald patch on the top of his head.

“What if it is?” he says aggressively.

I glance sideways at Jenny. She bites her bottom lip.

The policeman peers in at his mate, nods, and then turns back and squeezes through the gap between the BMW and the car parked next to it.

“Not a very well parked car, is it sir?” he says.

Nick mumbles something. Jenny nudges me.

I shrug. “Didn't hear,” I whisper.

“Sorry sir?” the policeman says. “I didn't quite catch that.”

The policeman's voice is so perfect, so official, so policeman.
“Where do they learn to speak like that?”
I wonder.

Nick stumbles down a step and sways towards his car. “I said,” he says laboriously, “Why don't you fuck off and do something useful.”

The policeman touches his nose thoughtfully and glances back at his driver.

“You seem a little worse for wear, sir. Been drinking have we?” he asks.

Nick sways. “Yeah. ‘Snot a crime is it?” he says.

The policeman licks his lips. “No sir. Though driving under the influence…”

“I didn't drive,” Nick spits. “Nigel drove.”

The policeman nods and looks left then right theatrically.

“And where might
Nigel
be?” he asks.

Jenny and I ape the policeman, scanning right and left. “He's fucked off,” Jenny says. “Brilliant.”

Nick shrugs exaggeratedly. “I don't fucking know do
I,” he tells the policeman.

The policeman scratches his head and turns back to the police-car.

“Yeah,” Nick leers. “Fuck off.”

I nod, mentally egging him on. “Yep,” I say. “Go for it.”

I glance at Jenny. She has her eyes closed. She's wearing a pained expression as if she has stomach ache and I remember that this is her husband.

The policeman leans in consulting with his colleague, then stands, straightens himself, and returns to the pavement.

“Well, I'm afraid the car can't stay here,” the policeman says. “I'm going to have to call for a tow truck.”

Nick sways gently like a tree in the breeze. “All right, all right,” he says. “I'll move it, I'll move the fucker...”

I frown and press my nose against the window. The policeman's expression is changing. Just the start of a smile, a well-restrained smirk is appearing on his lips.

“It's karma,” I whisper. “They're setting him up.”

Jenny frowns at me. “Eh?” she says.

“The car, Nick's going to drive it right in front of them.”

The police car rolls backwards and quietly moves behind the BMW, blocking it in.

Nick wrenches open his driver's door and slides into the seat. “Fucking pigs,” he says.

“Sir, If you persist in using insulting…” the policeman says.

Nick gesticulates wildly at him. “I'm moving it, OK? I'm moving the fucking car.”

As he reaches and starts the engine, the policeman grins. I see it clearly, a fully-fledged smile. Sheer job satisfaction.

He leans on the top of the car, only inches from Nick's face. “Hand me those keys will you sir?” he says.

Nick looks at him and shakes his head. “I'm
moving
it!” he says. “What more do you want?
Jesus
!”

“I suspect you of having consumed alcohol over the legal…” the policeman starts to say. But as he says this, the BMW lurches backwards.

We both gasp. There is a deep crumpling sound as the rear of Nick's car crunches into the door of the white police Rover.

“No-oh,” Jenny breathes.

The BMW's engine has stalled. The policeman has stepped back up to the window.

“What the fuck…” Nick starts to say.

In a calm movement, the policeman swipes his baton from its holster and thrusts it against Nick's throat, pushing him back against the seat.

Then he calmly reaches in and pulls the keys from the ignition. “I'll have those I think sir,” he says.

He withdraws his baton and straightens up. “Thank you sir,” he says. “Now step out of the car please.”

I open one eye and peer blurrily at Jenny who is sitting on the edge of my bed. “I made you some tea,” she says.

My eyes are caked over with a sticky, sleepy film, and though, by straining, I can see the alarm clock, I can't make out the figures.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“It's only nine,” Jenny says, “but…”

“
Nine
!” I groan, rolling away from her. “I didn't get to sleep till nearly six!”

“I know,” Jenny says. “I only got to sleep half an hour ago, but my mobile woke me.”

I groan again, and blinkingly look over at her. She rubs my shoulder affectionately.

“I need your advice,” she says. “Sorry.”

I sigh and click my tongue against the roof of my mouth, then pull myself up and push a pillow behind me for support.

Jenny smiles weakly and hands me the tea.

“Nick phoned,” she says. “He asked me to get his wallet, his passport and his cheque-book; he says he'll be needing them for bail.”

I sip my tea and frown at her. “You spoke to
Nick
?”

Jenny purses her lips and shakes her head. “I didn't answer,” she says. “He left a message.”

I yawn. I feel as though I have simply dozed off for a few minutes, as if we watched the tow-truck take the BMW away only half an hour ago, an impression exacerbated by the nightmarish dreams I had all night; dreams precisely of handcuffs, police cars and tow trucks.

I blink hard in an attempt to clear my vision, and then smile tightly at Jenny.

“Let me drink this and I'll get up,” I say. “We'll
decide what to do.”

I almost fall asleep again; I actually slop tea on the bed as my arm slumps, but in the end, with a deep groan I drag myself to the shower.

When I get downstairs Jenny is standing in the kitchen blowing smoke out of the window.

“
Jees,
that stinks!” I say.

Jenny pulls a face and stubs the cigarette out in the sink. “Sorry,” she says.

“And since when did you
smoke
?” I ask.

Jenny shrugs. “I only gave up three months ago,” she says. “When I realised I was pregnant.” She nods at the packet. “I only bought ten,” she says.

I pour a cup of coffee, and then stretching my stiff neck, I move to the table.

“OK, well, bin those please and come over here,” I say.

Jenny mockingly pokes her tongue at me and drops the cigarette pack into the bin. I make a mental note to pour water on them later.

As if she has read my mind, she says, “They're all gone anyway.”

I shake my head. “So where
is
Nick?” I ask. “Do we know?”

Jenny nods gravely. “Brighton police station. In a holding cell.”

I nod. “Right, so if…
when
he gets out,” I correct myself, “he'll be straight back here.”

Jenny shrugs and nods. “He's got no money, his car's been impounded. He's on a ban. He doesn't have a lot of options.”

I shrug. “He can call someone else to sort him out though,” I say.

Jenny nods dubiously. “But if he knows I'm here, he'll come here, won't he?” she says.

I roll my eyes and nod. “And if you go get his cheque book for him, he'll definitely know you're here,” I say.

Jenny nods. “He kind of knows anyway,” she says.

“It's a shame you never pressed charges,” I say. “We could have requested that he stay away… As a condition of bail I mean.”

Jenny nods slowly. “Yeah, I hadn't thought of that,” she says glumly.

I lick my front teeth thoughtfully.

Jenny shakes her head. “This has just made everything worse really, hasn't it?” she says.

I shrug. “Worse than
what
?”

“I mean…”

“I know,” I interrupt. “But it's not worse than me killing Nick with a cricket bat is it?” I say.

Jenny smiles thinly.

“Or him kicking shit out of you?” I volunteer.

Jenny shrugs. “I guess not,” she says.

I frown at her and sip my coffee. “He phoned you on your mobile you say?”

Jenny blinks slowly at me and almost imperceptibly nods.

I shrug. “You could say you didn't get the message. Stranger things have happened.”

“He
knows
I got the message,” she says.

I shrug again. “You might be out of batteries,” I say. “Or maybe the signal broke up and you couldn't hear.”

Jenny scrunches up her face and stares at the ceiling. She taps her hand nervously on the table. “I just don't want to deal with
any
of this,” she says. “You
know
?” Her voice trembles slightly.

I reach across the table and touch her arm. “I know,” I say.

“Plus, I'm so
tired
,” she says. “I can't think straight.”

I nod. “I know,” I say.

“Oh,” Jenny says. She pushes the house phone towards me across the table. “I think he phoned here too, while you were in the shower.”

I roll my eyes miserably and pick up the phone, blinking slowly at Jenny as I listen to the message.

“Nah,” I say, finally hanging up. “It was Tom.”

Jenny frowns. “
Tom
?”

“Yeah,” I laugh sardonically. “Says he's fucking off to Italy.”

Jenny snorts. “Lucky Tom,” she says.

“So,” I say, placing the phone back in the middle of the table. “Say you didn't get the message, say you were somewhere else, and…”

I pause, lips parted and stare at Jenny as the idea materialises.

She breaks into a frown. “Mark?” she says.

I narrow my eyes and bite my bottom lip as I compute the possibilities.

Jenny leans towards me. “
Mark
?” she repeats.

I start to smile wryly. “Say you were on a plane,” I say with a shrug.

Jenny frowns at me.

“Say you were on a plane to…
Nice
,” I say, now grinning broadly.

Jenny sighs and rolls her eyes. “What are you on about?” she says. “I'm not on a plane,
am
I?”

I shrug. “You could be,” I say. “Don't you fancy a few weeks in the sun, far, far away from all of this?”

Jenny's eyes widen.

“I have a friend who has this
great
apartment,” I say.

I watch the idea register, the different thoughts washing across Jenny's face like clouds across a clearing sky. She grabs my hand.

“
Could we
?” she says.

I shrug. “It'll cost a fortune,” I say. “If you want to fly today.”

Jenny raises an eyebrow. “Today?” she says, nodding. “Could we fly
today
?”

I smile. “Well,
yesterday
,” I say. “
Officially
.”

Jenny stares at me. Her eyes are shining. She actually looks quite mad. “I'd need my passport,” she says. “I'd need to go home and get my passport and my purse, and some clothes.”

“And a beach towel,” I say. “And your sun-tan
lotion,”

Jenny nods.

“We could rent a car,” I say. “We could rent one of those ones you leave at the airport.”

Jenny shakes her head dreamily. “Or a taxi,” she says. “Who
gives
a fuck?”

We stare into each other's eyes as the idea takes its course.

“You don't mind though?” Jenny says.

I purse my lips and shake my head. “Actually I'm probably less keen on bumping into Nick than you are,” I say.

Jenny nods slowly. “It's really mean though,” she says. “What if no-one bails him?”

I shrug. “He'll fix it,” I say. “He'll phone a friend, or his bank or one of his employees.”

Jenny's eyes narrow. “Yeah,” she says. “Oh, please let's do it.” She grasps my hand so hard it hurts. “Let's get the fuck out of here!”

I glance in the rear-view mirror and pull the Punto over to the side of the road. I reach inside my jacket and hand Jenny the letter.

“Is that it?” she says, frowning at the folded paper.

I nod. “I didn't have any envelopes,” I say.

Jenny shrugs and reaches for the door handle.

“Hang on,” I say.

Jenny slumps back in her seat. “What now?” she says.

I pull my wallet from my rear pocket, and start to empty the contents onto my lap.

“What are you doing?” Jenny asks, a frown on her face.

I take the letter from her hand, refold it and slide it into my wallet so that only the word
Benoit
is showing.