Incinerator (2 page)

She grinned. “Finn, you’ve got twice my reach. I’d end up smeared all over your glove.”

I turned to the two women in the ring, who had finished their session and were clambering down through the ropes. “Tracey? You or Marcia up for a round with Nicky here?”

Tracey glanced at the clock. “Sorry, Finn, I’ve got a Sunday lunch.”

“I’ll do it.”

I turned to find Bruno behind us. He’d only been coming to the gym for a week or two, but he was in good shape. Slim, gangly and dark, he looked Arabic, even if Bruno didn’t exactly sound like an Arabic name. But our members could call themselves anything they liked as long as they paid their subs. He struck me as slightly clueless and I wondered if he knew what he was letting himself in for, but he only outweighed Nicky by a kilo or two, and he was pretty much her height.

“OK … but both of you take it easy, yeah?”

Across the ring I saw Delroy watching. He
seemed dubious. I remembered he’d quickly taken a dislike to Bruno, for some reason I’d never been able to fathom. But I thought if I kept an eye on proceedings there shouldn’t be a problem.

“I’ll go glove up,” said Nicky.

“I’ll help,” I said. I’d shown her plenty of times the right way to wrap her hands before putting gloves on, and she was perfectly capable, but she let me do it anyway. She seemed a little distracted as I fastened the bindings off and slipped on her gel sparring gloves.

“Hey. Focus,” I said.

“Sorry.” She grinned, blew her fringe up out of her face. “Stuff at work.”

“This will sort all that out.”

“I hope so.” I glanced across to where Delroy was checking Bruno’s gloves. He’d switched from bag gloves to heavily padded sparring ones, heavier than Nicky’s, but she was too slight to wear the exact equivalents. “Remember what I told you. Keep moving. He’ll hit harder than you’re used to, so try not to let him.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“And Nicky … go easy on him, yeah?”

* * *

For the first minute or so she did. They circled each other, weighing each other up, throwing the odd jab, but then Nicky stepped in with a right hook that connected clean with the point of Bruno’s jaw, snapping his head back. She had plenty of strength, I knew, but it surprised me how much force she put into the shot—almost as if she had lost control. Bruno closed up his guard and increased the distance between them, forcing her to come closer if she wanted to make contact.

She was up for it. She smacked at his raised arms with left and right, then dodged back, all the time moving, side to side, switching direction. I was reminded of a tiger I’d seen once in a run-down zoo near Brighton, endlessly pacing up and down, staring through the plate glass at the slack-jawed punters staring back. Even as a kid I’d understood that that tiger was slowly going crazy. It wasn’t a good image to come to mind.

It occurred to me that I really didn’t know that much about Nicky. She’d always struck me as calm, level-headed, unflappable, but now I realized that as a lawyer she must deal
with stress and conflict every day, and all that pent-up frustration and aggression had to go somewhere. I was starting to think I was seeing it now.

Bruno was cooler and more patient than I’d expected, but you could tell he was getting fed up with getting whacked by Nicky, padding or no padding. I suddenly realized how little I knew about Bruno, too. He’d been to the gym less than half a dozen times and would always work away quietly for the best part of an hour before slipping out again. Occasionally he’d linger nearby when Delroy and I were having a conversation, and if we addressed him, he’d just grin and carry on with what he’d been doing as if he didn’t really speak the language. When he did speak his accent was pure London, with only the faintest hint of Arabic, so I guessed that was just shyness on his part. But Delroy always said that you only saw a man’s true character when you put him under pressure in the ring.

Now Bruno’s eyes were gleaming under the rim of his sparring helmet and his cheeks were glistening with sweat. He threw a few counterpunches but Nicky was always too
fast, dodging to the left or right or leaning back just enough to let his shots go wild, and then coming in under his open arm with a hard sharp jab to the ribs. Around me I could hear the half-dozen customers easing off on their exercise machines as they sensed the aggression in the air and stopped to watch what was unfolding in the ring.

Delroy too seemed to smell the hostility and the adrenaline, and normally he got off on it, but now it was starting to rattle him. “Ease up, now! Back off!” he shouted, and somehow it got through to Nicky, and she stepped back.

Bruno dropped his guard. He planted his feet, lowered his gloved fists almost to waist level, and stood there with his head tilted to one side, as if Nicky was a problem he had to work out. Unable to resist an open shot she came piling back in, threw a right, and it was Bruno’s turn to lean out of range. His left came up in a blur, connected with her ear and sent her staggering.

“Enough!” yelled Delroy, but nobody was listening. As he threw his crutch aside, fumbled for the ringside bell and clattered it, I
grabbed onto the ring ropes and hauled myself up and through, but I was too late.

The bell was clanging continuously but Bruno paid it no attention. Nicky had bent over, and her knees were going, but Bruno wouldn’t let her fall—he pounded her again and again with short, vicious uppercuts to her chest that almost lifted her off her feet. Stepping back he cocked his right arm for a haymaker, but I grabbed his elbow before he could deliver and heaved him away, driving him back to his corner with my forearm hard against his chest. I expected him to lash out at me, and I was ready for it, but he relaxed right away and lowered his fists. He hadn’t lost his temper or lost control—he’d known exactly what he was doing. Now he dropped his arms and danced on his toes like he’d been having some harmless fun and was ready for another round.

“Bruno!” I snapped.

His face registered no emotion whatsoever. “Bitch was out of control,” he shrugged.

“You’re done here. Get changed and go.” He stared at me and I stared back. “Leave, now, Bruno.”

He glanced over at Nicky, who by now had collapsed, coughing, onto the canvas, then he sighed, ducked through the ropes, jumped down and sauntered towards the changing rooms, undoing his gloves with his teeth and not once looking back.

“You sure you’re OK?”

Nicky was sitting on the bench in the ladies’ changing room, bent forwards, flexing her jaw from side to side while I stooped beside her.

“I’m fine. It just really bloody hurts, getting punched in the tits.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said.

“I don’t think you do.” Somehow she managed to giggle. She straightened up and arched her back, touched her breasts and winced.

“I’m really sorry. I should never have let that happen. We’re banning Bruno from ever training here again.”

“It wasn’t your fault, or his. It was me who lost it. I knew we were meant to be sparring, but I just … really wanted to lay into someone, and he happened to be there.”

“Why did you?”

She looked at me, and shook her head, and
turned to grab her towel. “I’d better make a move …”

“Is everything all right? With you and Harry, I mean?”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth I wanted the cracked lino floor to open up and swallow me. She’d talked about her husband a few times, and from what I could make out they always seemed to be arguing. But it was none of my business if her marriage had problems. What was I going to do about it anyway?

When she looked at me now, though, she didn’t laugh, or politely suggest I should scram; it was almost like she was flattered that I cared. I guessed she was about to tell me something, but thought better of it, and held a hand to her jaw again.

“I need a shower,” she said.

She stood, and I did too, and held up a finger up in front of her face.

“Put that away, Finn. I don’t have a concussion.”

“What day is it?”

“It’s Sunday, and tomorrow’s Monday, and you’re coming to my office at three to sign the completion.”

“The what?”

“For the purchase of the freehold. Have you forgotten?”

When Nicky had helped me buy the lease she’d mentioned the whole building was for sale. That had worried me—I thought we might get chucked out by the new owner—until it occurred to me that if I bought the building, that wouldn’t happen.

“No,” I said. “Well, sort of. I’d forgotten what day of the week it was.”

“Then how the hell were you going to test me for a concussion?” Now she sounded like her regular self again. When she started to pull off her T-shirt I suddenly realized where I was, and made a run for it.

“Don’t use all the hot water, all right?” I called over my shoulder.

“Tell you, Finn, we are damn lucky she didn’t sue. That’s what puts gyms out of business.”

“How would she sue us? She’s our lawyer. It would count as conflict of interest or something.”

“I’m serious, boy! Next time it happen, maybe it won’t be a friend of yours, who gets
up and walks away and laughs about it. Maybe some girl end up in hospital.”

“Delroy, there won’t be a next time.”

Delroy shook his great grey head and sighed. We were sitting around the table of his poky kitchen drinking rum from shot glasses—heavily diluted, at Winnie’s insistence. Delroy’s wife didn’t approve of strong drink, and Delroy had a hard enough time walking when he was sober. Watering it down was fine by me; I didn’t really like the taste anyway, and I only sipped at it to keep Delroy company.

I ate at their house most nights, and loved it there, and they seemed happy to have me. It was warm and bright, and even the po-faced Jesus pictures Winnie had pinned up everywhere didn’t stop the place feeling cheerful. It was certainly cosier than the mouldy-smelling apartment over the gym, but then a bus shelter in the rain would have been cosier than that place.

“You business tycoons too busy talking shop to stir the chicken?” Winnie complained as she bustled in. The smell of her cooking filled the house and my mouth was watering. The first time I tasted her jerk chicken and sweet potato
I wolfed down three helpings and nearly died of indigestion. Now I made sure I took my time.

“I’m not falling for that one,” Delroy grunted. “I know what you like when someone mess with your cooking.”

“I hope you are hungry, Finn, there’s an awful lot of food here.” She tutted as her glasses steamed up, then took them off and wiped them on her flowery apron.

“Course the boy is hungry. He work all day, seven days a week. Up at five and he never stop, painting, fixing windows, cleaning. Boy’s a one-man army.”

“It doesn’t count as work if you enjoy it,” I said.

“It’s because you work for yourself,” said Delroy. “Take orders from no one, that’s what make the difference.”

“All the same, boy your age ought not to be working every hour the good Lord sent,” said Winnie. “You need to get out more, make some friends your own age. Not hang around with grumpy old farts like Delroy here.”

“I am younger than you, woman!”

“Maybe I find you a nice girl from my church you can take to the pictures.”

“Finn don’t want none of them God-botherers,” snorted Delroy. “He take a girl to the movies, he want one who’ll sit in the back row. He’s looking for heaven in this life, not the next.”

“You is disgusting, Delroy Llewellyn!”

“I’m fine, Winnie, thanks,” I said.

“You got a girl already?” Winnie beamed.

“I wish,” I said.

“Look at him!” Winnie grinned. “Boy blushing like a Caribbean sunset. You tell us everything now. What’s she like?”

“She’s married, that’s what she’s like,” grunted Delroy.

I stared. If this was a wind-up it was kind of close to the bone.

“Hush, you!” scolded Winnie. “Finn wouldn’t go with no married woman.”

“She’s a lawyer, and she’s married to a rich man who works in the City, and she’s ten years older than Finn, and she spend more time with him than she do with her husband.” Delroy poured himself another shot of rum,
and this time took a swig without watering it down. Was that why he’d been scowling at me this morning as I waited for Nicky to turn up? Because he thought I had a crush on her?

“Well, how is it Finn’s fault if she like him?” protested Winnie. “What woman wouldn’t take a shine to a big handsome fella like him?”

I felt my face redden. Delroy had seen right through me. Of course I fancied Nicky—how could I not? She was beautiful, clever, funny, and a day I didn’t see her at the gym felt … wasted somehow. I knew that, even if I’d never acknowledged it, and never would. To Nicky we were simply lawyer and client, I’d been sure. We were friendly, yeah, but … Delroy seemed to be suggesting Nicky felt the same way about me as I did about her, and that was bull—it had to be.

“You’re hallucinating, Delroy,” I said. “I thought it was her who got punched in the head today, not you.”

Delroy was staring into his empty shot glass. “I seen the way she look at you. Believe me, boy, that woman going to break your heart.”

“That’s what women do, isn’t it?” I said.

“Hark at him,” Winnie tutted sadly. “Man of the world.”

And then the doorbell rang.

Winnie went to answer it, grumbling about local kids playing knock and run, while Delroy and I sat there in awkward silence. I was kind of flattered that he was taking an interest in my love life, or the lack of it, but all the same I wished he’d mind his own business and let me make my own mistakes. Another part of me was wondering if it was true what he’d said about Nicky, that she wasn’t just there to prop up the business and offer professional advice.

True, she’d been there when my mother was attacked, and come with me to the hospital where they tried in vain to rescue her, and stuck by my side through the purgatory of questions that had followed. Nicky had held my hand at the inquest when the details made me want to weep or throw my chair through a window or both. OK, she was more than just my lawyer, but Delroy must have been imagining the rest. Nicky was way older than me, way smarter, way classier.