Divorcing Jack (21 page)

'I don't want to get into all of this right now, Patricia.' I was too naive.'

'You weren't. You were right, it's how it should be. I fucked up. I'm sorry. You've had your revenge. Can we close the subject?'

'As easy as that?'

'As easy as that.'

'No screaming match, no three-day sulks?'

'No. I've a tape to retrieve, I can't afford to sit around talking shite for days. I mean, face it, no matter if we talk till we're blue in the face we're not going to change anything. I can't persuade you to love me, and I can't persuade you to trust me. You either will or you won't. Okay?'

She sipped her coffee again. 'Okay,' she said quietly.

'Okay,' I said.

I got up and went out to look for Lee's phone. I had expected Patricia to go for the screaming match with an option on the sulking. It was a pleasant surprise. Maybe she'd changed. Maybe I'd changed. Maybe it was the new haircut.

The phone was in the front lounge, partially hidden by an album cover. The Pogues. I phoned Mouse. 'YES?'

'That's not a very pleasant greeting, Mouse.' For the first time in my life I heard him speak quietly. Dan?'

'Y'know, Mouse, if this line is bugged, speaking quieter isn't going to fool them.'

'JESUS, DAN, OF COURSE IT'S NOT BUGGED. HOW THE HELL ARE YOU ANYWAY, DANNY BOY?'

Last time he'd called me Danny Boy was at a party when we were eighteen and I'd attempted to punch his lights out for it; he had given me a hiding, but he'd never called me it again. Bugged. Electrical wizard that he was, he could tell a bug at a hundred yards. Clever and quick Mouse.

‘I need a car. See you at the monkey puzzle in twenty minutes.'

I put the phone down.

Patricia was standing in the doorway when I turned from the phone.

'How's Mouse?'

'House Mouse? Where?'

'Ha-ha.'

'Yeah, well. He sounds okay. Wasn't exactly an in-depth conversation. He's getting me a car. I'm going to Bangor.' I looked at my watch. It was 8.15. 'To see a man about a tape.'

'By yourself?'

'By myself.'

‘I should come with you.'

'You should not. You should wait here for Lee to come home and sit around and watch TV and not let yourself get into more trouble.'

'A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.'

'Something like that.'

'And you've done so well so far, I'd just be a hindrance.'

'Mmrnm.'

'You mean just because you've managed to flop from one frying pan into another for the past week or so, barely escaping by the skin of your teeth, murdering by accident, beating people up by accident, getting shot, having friends killed and wives kidnapped, you think I might in some way cramp your style.'

'Put like that, yeah.'

She was silent for a moment, then nodded slowly. 'I suppose you're right. A lot has happened. I have a lot of thinking to do.'

Besides,' I said, 'it will probably simplify the thinking if I get killed.'

'There's that,' she said.

Patricia turned and started to make her way up the stairs. 'I didn't realize how tired I was,' she said. 'I'll take a rest and then maybe do that thinking.' Okay.'

I watched her move her weary limbs methodically up, step by step. She was near the top when I said: 'What was he like?'

'Who?'

'Coogan. What was he like?'

She turned and sat on one of the pinky-grey carpeted steps. Her brow furrowed and her eyes looked kind of lost for a moment, as if she was maybe looking for some lost feeling of ecstasy. 'He was ... strange. Very sure of himself .. . charismatic ... is that the word? I don't mean, like, he spoke in tongues...' She giggled, then lost them again. 'Revenge is a funny thing, Dan, isn't it? It burns you up, and then once you have it, you think, Jesus, what have I done?'

I looked up into her eyes and said: 'I haven't had any revenge yet.'

'What would you do to me?'

'Not on you. On him. You stopped me. I don't need to get any revenge on you. I deserved it.'

'Don't come all holier than thou, Dan, it doesn't suit you.'

'I'm serious.'

'Yeah.' She stood up and stepped onto the landing. 'Goodnight.'

'Patricia!' I called after her.

She stopped and stood with one hand on the banister. 'What was he like in bed?'

'Ah,' she said, nodding her head slightly, 'so that's what you're after. It isn't me you're thinking of at all, it's your fuckin' male ego ...'

‘I just need

'Come back alive, Dan, and we'll talk about it, okay?'

She spun quickly away from the stairs and strode determinedly into the room I had first woken up in after being shot. I made a move to go after her and then stopped. Maybe she had a point.

I waited in the bushes on the edge of the Botanic Gardens for Mouse to arrive. It had turned into a beautiful morning: a cloudless sky as smooth as lino; the sun, low, but already promising intensity, hung on the tree line as if resting before the big push up to noon. There were other men waiting in the bushes as well, dirty, unshaven characters with the shallow complexion you get on men who have spent too much time standing in undergrowth, but they didn't come near me. I tried my best not to feel slighted, but it was tough.

Mouse wasn't followed, unless the police had employed a troop of Brownies. He sauntered into the park and made his way towards the monkey puzzle tree. The fact that it wasn't really a monkey puzzle tree would have further confused anyone listening in to our brief telephone conversation. We had grown up in this park as under-age drinkers, always meeting in the shadow of the great five-armed tree which dominated the south side of the park. Mouse had called it the monkey puzzle because in those early days he was more interested in botany than designing missiles and had recognized it in a book. Actually, he got it completely wrong, but by the time we found out it was too late to change its name.

I stepped out of the bushes as the Brownies were passing. Their commandant moved to the side of her pack to protect them and gave me a withering look. I smiled sheepishly at her. She barked at the children to hurry along. I still wasn't looking my best.

Mouse stopped by the monkey puzzle and knelt down to tie his shoe. I was no expert, but it looked like a pretty ham-fisted attempt at surreptitious surveillance to me. His lace wasn't even undone and he just kind of played with it for a bit while he eyed up the surrounding bushes. He saw me coming towards him but looked away. It was a moment before his eyes came back for a closer inspection.

He was about to speak but I put a finger to my lips and said quietly: 'Mouse, for once in your life, try not to shout, eh?'

He shrugged impassively. 'OKAY.'

'Lower,' I said. He nodded. 'That's fine,' I said.

It was good to see him. He was wearing a black sweatshirt and a pair of fading black jeans. He was unshaven and his glasses were dirty. His sandy hair looked, as ever, windswept. But he was clean: an outsider to the whole sordid business. I hadn't seen that much of him since he'd married and I'd met Patricia. Weekends and parties mostly, but we went back. There are things that happen between males when they're growing up that bond them for life. I had once seen him try to commit suicide by putting his head in the fridge.

'Well, how's it goin'?' He asked quietly; well, quietly for him. The Brownies could probably have picked it up if they'd been interested. He stood up and shook my hand. For a moment it threw me off my guard.

'Just wonderful. Mouse,' I mumbled.

'No need to be sarky.'

'Would you love me if I was any other way?'

'I wouldn't love you at all, Starkey.'

'Well, now that's settled, what about the car?' He twisted his head more or less in the direction of Botanic Avenue. 'Down there. I went and hired one. A green one.' He knew I knew nothing about makes of cars. 'It's an automatic and takes unleaded petrol. There's half a tank in it and three vouchers towards a glass tumbler with George Best's head on it. You need another four. I put two names on the insurance document, my own and a fairly illegible D. Stark. We have third-party fire and theft insurance.'

'I'm glad we have both.'

'You have a licence?'

I nodded. I still had Lennie's from the guesthouse. 'You want to tell me what's going on, Dan?'

'No.'

'You want to tell me where you're going?'

'No.'

He was embarrassed. He looked at his shoes. Fading purple brothel creepers. Other people looked at his shoes, they got embarrassed. 'Dan,' he said, 'you didn't do everything they say you did, did you?'

I looked mock hurt. 'Hey, Mouse, it's me. Dan Starkey, ace reporter who couldn't kick his way out of a paper bag. What do you think I am?'

He didn't look convinced. 'What about Patricia?'

'Patricia's fine. She was kidnapped by some people, but I got her back. She's staying with a friend.'

'Dan, I know all your friends.'

'Mouse, I'm sure the police do as well by now. I can't go to them, yet, for obvious reasons. She's with a new friend, if you like, but she's okay. I'm sorry I can't really tell you more. It wouldn't be safe.'

‘I wouldn't tell, Dan,' he said, suddenly sounding like the eleven-year-old I had first met in this park. In this park where I had met Margaret such a short while before.

I nudged his arm and we started walking slowly along the tarmac path that skirted the central green. It made it look less like a gay encounter. More like an honest heart-to-heart between a bohemian lecturer from Queen's and a born-again thug. 'I know you wouldn't, Mouse. But what you don't know can't hurt you.' Cliches aren't cliches for nothing. 'I take it the police have been to see you.'

'Sure. A couple of reporters. Then a few hoods in suits. The wife chased them away.'

'Good on her. What about the bug?' .

'She's feelin' a lot better.'

'In the phone. Mouse.'

'I know. I was only joking.'

'Is this a time for humour?'

'Probably.'

'Okay. The phone.'

'Standard bug.'

'Police?'

'That would be illegal.'

'Police?'

'Can't tell.'

'Whoever it is, they're not likely to have heard anything, are they? I mean, you don't know anything.'

'They've heard plenty.'

'Meaning?'

‘I compiled a five-minute audio tape of excerpts from
The Godfather
and played it to a random number in New York. I got a Chinese guy who seemed quite happy to listen in. Whoever was taping will be confused for a little while at least.'

'Glad to see you're making yourself useful. Mouse.' I stopped and took hold of his arm and gave him the look that said, wise up. 'Listen. Don't do anything really stupid, you know? A lot of people have gotten killed over this.'

'But not by you?'

'I've told you.'

'You haven't told me anything, Dan. I'd like to help. I'd like to know what the fuck is going on.'

I started him walking again. 'Mouse - look, it's just so fuckin' complicated. Look - you know that film, who was it, Cary Grant was in it, you know.
North by Northwest,
where the guy is chased all over the place by bad guys and the cops alike, right? And no one will believe him and everyone keeps betraying him. Right?'

'Right.'

'Well, this is kind of the same, but instead of suave, sophisticated Cary Grant you have a fuckin' eejit like me runnin' around, okay?'

'Okay.'

'Okay.'

'A bit like
The Thirty-Nine Steps
too.'

'Yeah. Sure.'

'Or
The Terminator.'

'I think we'll leave it with
The Thirty-Nine Steps,
Mouse.'

'Here,' he said suddenly, stopping and thrusting the keys into my hand. His skin felt clammy. 'I wouldn't be going down through the centre of town, Dan. Traffic's startin' to jam up.'

'More bomb scares?'

'Nah, sure today's Brinn's big peace rally. They're sealin' off round the City Hall.'

'I hadn't heard about it.'

'Ach, he's turnin' more American every time I hear him. He calls it a peace rally, but it's an Alliance rally. If we had a decent hall in the city the Provos hadn't blown up he'd hold a fuckin' convention. But still, miss the centre, security's liable to be tight.'

‘I expect it'll be aimed at people heading into the city. I'm heading out.'

'Oh yeah?'

'And that's as much as you hear.'

'You used to tell me everything.'

'I used not to be wanted for murder. Mouse.'

He said quietly: 'No, I suppose not. Look, all the gang, they've been askin' for you. You know we're there, if you need us. Not out of any misplaced sense of loyalty, you understand, but just 'cause we're pissed off with the cops coming round and questioning us and searching our houses. Okay?'

'Of course. They cause much damage?'

'Ach, not that much. Sure we were planning a new kitchen anyway, this way the bastards have to buy us a new one.'

'Tell them I'm okay.'

'Okay apart from your clothes, eh?'

'Yeah, well, horses for courses, y'know? I fit in better dressed like this.'

'God, I wouldn't like to meet who you're dealin' with.' I grinned. 'You wouldn't.'

'Gerry, y'know, had a theory that you're enjoying all this. That you're savin' it all up for a column or two in the paper.'

'I've never put myself out for a story yet. Mouse, you know that. Tell Gerry he can stick his theory up his hole. And the wife's okay?'

'Fine. You know what she's like.'

I nodded. 'Still pullin' the strings. . .'

'Yeah, well, I'm kinda used to it.' He smiled suddenly. 'She's not really talkin' to me at the moment 'cause I wouldn't take her to see Peter Ustinov in the Opera House. I mean, I don't mind him, but the only tickets left were £26.50 each. Y'know? I wouldn't pay £26.50 for the second coming of Jesus Christ, 'cause y'know fine well there'd be some cow in a fur coat in the row in front sayin', "Of course I saw it the first time. . ." So I'm gettin' the silent treatment.'

Small talk. I loved it. I wanted back to it. But things would never be small again.

* * *