Guns Of Brixton (9 page)

    They
got up out of their chairs and went hunting for Chas. As promised he was watching
a celebrity chef preparing a feast on a TV in the kitchen at the back of the
house. Since Mark had last been around it had been extended and modified and
looked like something out of a TV studio itself with a large central cooking
range and shiny copper saucepans hanging from chrome rails. 'I'm impressed,'
said Mark, looking round.

    'So
you should be,' remarked Jenner. 'Cost me an arm, a dick and a leg, this lot.'

    'Worth
it though, boss,' said Chas. 'Get you something?'

    'Something
light.'

    'No
worries,' and the huge man donned a stripy apron without sign of embarrassment
and peered into the mighty fridge that dominated one corner of the room.

    'Nothing
for me thanks, Chas,' said Mark. 'I had so much at Tootsies I don't think I'll
ever eat again. There's leftovers in the hall by the way.'

    'Just
wait 'til you smell my cooking and you'll regret it,' said Chas.

    'We'll
be upstairs,' said Jenner and led the way back into the hall and up the main
staircase that Mark remembered so well from his youth. When they got to the
top, Mark hesitated outside the glossy white painted door.

    'Go
on then,' said Jenner. 'Take a look.' 'It's been a long time.'

    'You
keep saying that.'

    'Because
it's true.' Then he grasped the handle, opened the door and stepped back a
dozen years.

    The
room inside was just as he remembered it. A single bed with a duvet cover
decorated with the faces of Matt and Luke Goss, the twins in the teeny group
Bros, dark red carpet, dark red curtains open overlooking the back garden that
was salted with snow. Pop group posters on the walls, a small TV set, a record
player, and all along one wall, thousands of records, a legacy from his uncle.

    'Bros,'
he said. 'What's all that about?'

    'You
liked them.'

    'No I
didn't. You bought me that to take the rise one Christmas and I wouldn't use
it.'

    'Yeah,
OK. We stuck it on when you phoned.'

    'You
knew I'd come back.'

    'Sooner
or later.'

    'You're
a manipulative old sod, you know that.'

    'So
I've been told.'

    Mark
walked over to the shelves. 'And your records. I thought they'd all be gone.'

    'Never.
Some of them are worth fortunes.'

    'I
know.' Mark turned to the older man and hugged him tight. 'Christ, Uncle John. What
happened to all those years?'

    'They
went, son. They just went. I had Martine clear her stuff out of the bathroom
next door. She's got an en suite, but you know women. And We put all the
necessaries in the cabinet. Razor and that.' 'I don't believe this.' 'I was
just hoping, Mark. Just hoping.'» 'Well, here I am.'

    They
stood together in the room for another minute, and then went back down to the
living room. From the kitchen came the aromas of food cooking.

    'Chas
was right,' Mark said. 'That does smell good.'

    'I
told you. Chas has found his forte.'

    'Didn't
he ever find a woman?'

    'I
never knew he lost one.'

    'You
know what I mean.'

    'I
don't enquire too much about Chas's sex life. He comes and goes, but he's never
got webbed up with anyone.'

    'What'll
happen to him?'

    'When?'

    'When
something happens to you.'

    'He'll
be well looked after. So will Martine. So will you if you'll let me.'

    'We'll
see about that.'

    They
were interrupted when Chas came into the room, still wearing his apron and
carrying a tray, the contents of which he used to set the table by the window.
He went out again and returned with a plate of food. 'Omelette and salad,' he
said. 'Nothing special.'

    'Looks
good,' said Jenner.

    The
big man looked down at him and smiled. 'The best,' he said, 'I'm going to have
Tootsie's stuff for my supper.'

    After
he'd eaten, Jenner lit another joint and said. 'I'm going to turn in soon. I
need my beauty sleep. You stay up as long as you like. Watch a film.' He
pointed at a row of DVDs next to the widescreen TV in the corner. 'Got some
good gangster ones there.'

    'I
bet you have.'

    'American
mostly, Brit ones are crap. That Guy Ritchie, what a wanker. Or listen to
music. Just do what you like. It's liberty hall here.'

    'Thanks,
Uncle John.'

    'Chas'll
lock up. He'll wait for Martine. He don't sleep much these days. He'll make
breakfast in the morning. Anytime you like. I sleep in.

    Mark
was beginning to understand the seriousness of the illness that afflicted his
old friend. In the silence that followed, Mark heard scratching at the door.
'What the hell's that?' he said.

    'Get
it will you, son,' said Jenner.

    Mark
went to the door and slowly opened it to reveal a scrawny old tabby standing
outside. The cat opened its mouth and let out an almost silent yowl before
limping in.

    'It
can't be,' said Mark. 'Is it? Lily?'

    At
the sound of her name, the cat raised its head, showing white, almost sightless
eyes, and yowled again. 'Christ, it is,' said Mark. 'I thought she'd be dead
and gone years ago. How old is she?'

    'Twenty,
twenty-one,' said Jenner. Those Burmese moggies live to a ripe old age.'

    'Hazel's
cat,' said Mark, closing the door and sitting again. 'That's amazing.'

    Jenner's
wife had loved Lily, who she'd saved from being destroyed by a neighbour with
too many kittens, and she'd spoilt her rotten.

    'I
said I'd look after her, and I have,' said Jenner. 'She's almost blind, and a
diabetic, but she still sleeps with me, and until her kidneys go and the starts
pissing the bed, I won't have her put down. Though sometimes I think it would
be kinder to do it.'

    'She
used to sleep with me sometimes,' said Mark.

    'She's
a bit of a tart is Lily. She'll sleep with anyone. If she tries it on again,
kick her out. But don't kick her too hard, she's fragile.'

    'Course
not.'

    The
old cat made her slow way across the carpet and headbutted Janner's leg. He
picked her up and put her on his lap, relit his spliff, leant down and let out
a mouthful of smoke. Lily lifted her head again, breathed it in, turned round
and went straight to sleep. 'She loves a bit of draw,' said Jenner. 'Helps her
kip. A bit like me.' 'I don't believe you, Uncle,' said Mark.

    'Time
for bed for us both,' said Jenner, and with that, he pushed.himself to his
feet, hoisting the cat over his shoulder. 'I'll see you tomorrow, son,' he
said. 'It's been a good day. A hell of a good day.'

    'I'm
glad.'

    'Too
long coming though.'

    Mark
just nodded and looked up at his uncle. This once hard man. This

    Jack
the lad. Now old and racked with cancer, clutching his dead wife's cat as if it
was a straw to save him from the freezing sea of his own fate.

    'Goodnight
then,' said Jenner.

    'Goodnight,
Uncle John.'

    'You
could just call me John, you know. That uncle business makes me feel ancient.'

    'Force
of habit.'

    Jenner
smiled and left the room.

    After
he'd gone, Mark mooched around the room that had changed little in the years
he'd been gone. The DVDs were new, and the home cinema too, but otherwise
things were much the same. He looked at the books on the shelves. Crime fiction
mostly, and some autobiographies by London criminals. He smiled at himself,
thinking that maybe John Jenner had fancied doing one of those himself. He
opened the silver cigarette box and looked at the neatly rolled joints and was
tempted for a moment, but he shook his head, closed the box and decided to go
to bed himself.

    He
went back up to his old room. It was strange, more than strange to. find
himself there. But it was warm, the bed still fitted his contours when he laid
on it and stared up at the familiar ceiling. After a few minutes he went to the
bathroom next door which had always been his alone and found a new toothbrush
and toothpaste, soap and flannel, laid out on the washbasin, razor and shaving
cream in the mirrored cabinet. He looked at his reflection and smiled wryly. It
had indeed, as John Jenner had said, been a hell of a day. He cleaned his teeth,
relieved himself, washed his hands and went back to the bedroom where he
undressed, slid under the Bros duvet and was soon asleep.

    A
noise awoke him sometime later. He had no idea what time it was. The door was
open to allow light in from the hall and he saw that Martine was
standing
in the doorway. 'The prodigal returned,' she said, and he couldn't decide
whether she was glad or sorry. Even from the other side of the room her perfume
filled his head and he felt dizzy, although it might have been from the amount
he'd had to drink during the day.

    'Just
for tonight,' he said. His throat was dry and his tongue felt huge in his
mouth.

    'No.
You're back. I can tell.' 'Is that bad?'

    'No.
Dad needs someone.' 'What about you?' 'I'm a girl. It's not the same.' 'I'm
sorry.'

    'Don't
be. It's not your fault. It's just the way it is.' 'Did you have a good time
tonight?' he asked. 'Yeah. Not bad. Danced on the tables, that sort of thing.'
'What time is it?'

    'What
does it matter? You didn't wait up for me.' 'I didn't think you'd want me to.'
'You'd be surprised.' 'Maybe.'

    'I
used to do this years ago. Did you know that?' 'Do what?' He was confused.

    'Creep
into your room when you were asleep and watch you.' 'Did you?' Now he was
genuinely surprised. 'Why?' 'Because you were beautiful. I don't think you knew
how beautiful. That's what made it special. All my girlfriends at school had
crushes on you.' 'Did they? I never knew.' 'You could be very thick sometimes.'
'I know.'

    'So
what happened, Mark? Did you take an ugly pill?' But there was no malice in her
voice. He touched his face and felt the lines and the rasp of his beard.

    'Life
happened to me,' he said.

    'It
happened to all of us.'

    'But
it hasn't affected you the same.'

    'Thank
you, kind sir. Anyway, I'll let you get back to sleep. I didn't mean to wake
you.'

    'I'm
glad you did.'

    'Good.
I loved you, you know.'

    'What?'

    'I
was in love with you, just like all the other girls.' 'I never knew that
either.'

    'But
then, things change don't they?' She wiggled her fingers and shut the door so
that he was in darkness again, apart from the reflection from the snow outside.
He slumped back on his pillow and blew out a breath. Jesus, he thought. What am
I letting myself in for here?

    Mark
woke early. He rolled out of bed, checked the stairs for Martine and slipped
quietly to the bathroom in his shorts. He didn't want to engage in another
conversation with her and her sharp tongue without at least a cup of tea inside
him, and preferably with his clothes on. He locked the bathroom door, made his
ablutions, had a quick shower, shaved, and went back to get dressed. When he
drew back the curtains he saw that it had snowed heavily in the night. The
garden below looked beautiful with only a few bird and cat prints to spoil the
pristine white.

    He
got dressed in yesterday's clothes, ignoring the fitted wardrobe which held God
alone knows what fashion mistakes from the past and went downstairs to the
kitchen. It was just before nine by his watch. Chas was
in situ,
watching the BBC news. The kitchen was warm and smelled of cooked bacon.