Love My Enemy (19 page)

For days afterwards she had not felt right. As if they had
done DIY on her body and not put the bits back together
again. Slashed to pieces on the inside she had felt.

Grieving had been just too hard so she had stopped
grieving. She had concentrated on schoolwork. She
would sit her GCSEs, then her A levels, then she would
get out and away – that was the plan. But with Conor the
plan had wavered and now Conor had left her too. She
had seen it in his eyes the moment he saw her face. Her
face . . .

Grief consumed her with a roar and she burrowed
deep in the pillows so that no one would hear her.

'
It comes at me suddenly like a wild animal
,' her mum
had said weeks ago, pulling off the dual carriageway,
and Zee had wondered why, if she saw it coming, she
couldn't just avoid it altogether.

She understood better now because it came at her, too,
like an animal, like a tiger from a bush. The grief tiger
knocked her down, shook her about, chewed her up, bit
by bit, until her whole being was lost in tears. It tossed
her back and forth in its huge jaws and all she could do
was hang on until it had finished with her. There was no
escape. Because right now, right this minute, Zee
wanted her dad more than anything else in the world.
Willing him to be there, begging him, she twisted
around and dared to look in the window one more time.

But there was only blackness, and her crying would
go on forever.

Miguel and Tasha, in the silver Renault, hovered at the
top of the narrow street.

'You think?' he prompted.

'It does look familiar,' said Tasha half-heartedly. 'But
all these streets look the same.'

'Yes, but we
will
find him.'

'Yes,' she sighed. 'Thanks, Miguel, you've been a
brick.'

'A brick?' His eyes widened. 'This is good?'

'Very good,' she giggled.

Tasha knew how much she owed Miguel. Not only
had he been cruising East Belfast with her for days, but
he had kept her spirits up too. He turned the steering
wheel and they wound slowly down between the redbrick
houses. Earlier they had found the chip shop Tasha
visited on the eleventh night. Ruby lived in one of the
streets near it, but which one? Which house? That
garage with the blue door did look familiar, she thought.
In the mirror Miguel grinned at a gang of urchins who
had materialised from nowhere and were racing after the
car, laughing and shouting.

'Kids, they are little detectives the whole world over.'

Tasha had an idea. 'Pull in,' she said excitedly. 'We'll
ask them.'

The moment Miguel stopped, the kids peered in,
some of them smearing the windows with grubby hands.
When Tasha leapt out they would have run away if she
hadn't stopped them

'Wait! Please wait!' She glanced at two women
standing in a doorway with their arms crossed, staring at
her suspiciously. Three men leaning against a wall
undressed her with their eyes. Tasha decided that the
children were definitely her best bet.

'I'm looking for Ruby Mason,' she told them. 'I'll
give a pound to whoever tells me where she lives.'

'Are ye police?' one demanded.

'I'm a friend of hers.' Some of them laughed at this
and others stared doubtfully but Tasha's spirits soared.
At least they seemed to know Ruby. Had she really, after
days of searching, found the right street at last?

'Bet she's a loan shark,' muttered a boy of about ten.

'I most certainly am not,' said Tasha indignantly.

'She's English so she is!'

'She's dead posh!'

'Who are ye?'

'I've told you – I'm a friend of Ruby's.'

One of them, slightly older than the others, looked at
her shrewdly. 'So how come ye don't know where she
lives then?'

Nothing she said was going to be believed. Round
here even tiny kids knew better than to give information
to strangers.

'I'll tell you what,' she said, 'a pound to whoever tells
Ruby that Tasha is here to see her.'

That did the trick. They hurtled off and disappeared
around the corner at the end of the street. A moment later
she heard them again, racing along the back alley behind
the houses facing her. Then a door opened just yards
away and Ruby poked her face out cautiously.

'At last!' Tasha hurried towards her in delight, leaving
Miguel with the car.

'It really is ye! This'll kick-start the rumour industry
round here.'

'Will it? Oh dear, I'm sorry.'

'That's a'right.' Ruby fluffed her hair up theatrically
with the flat of her hand. 'I'll tell them all I'm being
interviewed by a journalist from
Cosmo
magazine. Sure
me street cred'll shoot through the ozone layer.'

It dawned on Tasha that Ruby was mocking herself,
and she grinned back at her.

'How did ye find me?' asked Ruby.

'It's taken days. No one helped us – that's for sure.'

'Don't take it personally. Round here folk look out for
each other.'

'I remembered from the eleventh night that you lived
in this district – in a street with King Billy painted on the
gable.'

'That helped, did it?' Ruby threw back her head and
laughed, her big earrings jangling.

'I didn't realise quite how many King Billys there are
around here,' admitted Tasha.

'Good on ye! Ye must have been at it for days, so you
must. I daresay you've a good reason, Tasha?'

'I'm looking for Gary.'

'I thought ye might be. Sorry, he's not here.'

'But I was sure he would be.' Tasha felt like bursting
into tears. 'I was counting on it! I don't know where else
to look for him.'

'Why d'ye want him?'

'I've got a message from Zee.'

Ruby's face crinkled sorrowfully. 'That poor kid.
How's she doin'?'

'Better than she was. I'm going to take care of her
now. Zee's leaving Belfast and she's moving to England
with me.'

'Leavin'?' Ruby's forehead folded in a frown. 'Oh
my, we didn't expect that.'

'
We
?' pounced Tasha. 'So you do know where Gary is!'

'I . . . could give him a message if ye like.'

'No, I need to talk to him myself.' Tasha was
surprised by her own firmness and she added, 'Come
on! I owe them both that much.'

Ruby studied her for a moment, then she nodded
towards Miguel and the silver Renault. 'It's some
distance. Can we take the car?'

'Of course we can.'

'I want to stop on the way though – to buy flowers.'

Ruby bought carnations, a big multi-coloured bunch of
them. Tasha didn't understand why until they pulled up
at the big wrought iron gates of a cemetery.

'Gary's here?' she asked, taken aback. 'Not . . .
not . . . ?'

'Nah! He's visitin' his da's grave. He keeps it nice so
he does – he even planted flowers on it last year.'

'Really?'

'Yeah, primroses – nicked them from the railway line,
wouldn't ye know? I warned him it's against the law but
ye know Gary.'

No, thought Tasha. She might have had sex with Gary
but she was starting to realise that she did not know him
at all. They set off through the cemetery with Miguel
beside them. It was a huge place, like a city of the dead
with graves stretching right up a hill into the distance.
Ruby seemed to know exactly where she was going
though and she led them expertly along a maze of
winding paths.

It was the colours that surprised Tasha. The colours of
thousands of flowers. Scarlets and ochres, oceans of
blues and greens, acres of heathery purples – all the
colours of the rainbow spilling from hundreds of caskets
that decorated gravestones. There were cut flowers and
artificial ones, paper, nylon and silk. Windmills had
even been pushed into some of the graves, gaudy little
children's windmills which whirled around, clicking
busily. A high breeze bounced about their heads as they
walked, blowing rosy scents.

Tasha was amazed. If she thought about the dead at
all, she thought of them as well and truly gone. But this
cemetery felt different. As if the dead were still around
somehow, as if they had just slipped into another room
and still had to be cared for, entertained even. All this
movement, all this colour. . .

'Ga-ry!' Ruby had cupped her hands around her
mouth and yelled.

When he turned round, Tasha blushed. How, after all
that had happened, could Gary still do that to her? Was
it fear or excitement or some weird mixture of both? Not
that it mattered now. Whatever had been between them,
whatever could have been, was lost.

'Hello, Gary,' she said wearily, 'I've been chasing
after you for days.'

'I've been chasing you for weeks,' said Gary. 'Never
thought I'd catch up with you here though.'

'It is good to find you,' said Miguel. 'Hello again.' He
offered Gary his hand but Gary just stared at him. Tasha
knew he was remembering how Miguel had thrown him
out of the house the last time they met.

'Don't blame Ruby,' said Tasha. 'I made her bring
us here.'

'Nobody's ever
made
Ruby do anything in her whole
life,' Gary replied. 'Sure that's why we're friends.'

Ruby was busy putting her carnations on the grave
but she smiled up at him. 'Ye've got this looking
gorgeous,' she said, pointing at a posy of sweet peas and
the white stones that formed a border round the grave.

'Yes,' said Miguel. 'It is good to have a grave.'

Tasha wondered what he meant exactly but before
she could ask Miguel began reading the inscription on
the headstone. She began to wish that he had stayed in
the car.

Sergeant Jack Proctor
11th February 1961 to 6th June 2002
Killed by terrorists

'Your father died the month I left Bosnia,' he told them.

'So?' said Gary rudely. 'You wanted to come here,
didn't you?'

'Of course not. But there was nothing left for me in
Bosnia.'

'So you came to Britain for a better life?'

'I had very nice life, thank you. I was Head of Music
at a High School in Sarajevo. Nice house, nice car, nice
friends.'

Ruby frowned. 'What happened, then, Miguel?'

'The war happened. It is a long story.' Miguel
sighed heavily. 'First there were shortages – short of
petrol, of equipment, short of food. Soon neighbour
turned upon neighbour, Christian on Muslim, Muslim
on Christian too.'

'I remember it,' said Ruby unexpectedly. 'I saw
pictures on the telly. Whole streets got burned out,
loadsa people died there, didn't they?' Miguel nodded
and Ruby's voice continued, soft and warm and
interested, not embarrassed at all. 'Did ye have family
die there?'

'Yes, my parents first and then my wife.'

'No,' gasped Tasha. 'No!'

'In the blockade of Sarajevo no medicine came into
the city, no food. My parents were old and died because
of this. My wife – a sniper killed her.'

'You had a wife . . . ?' Tasha had been so wrapped up
in herself, she had never thought about Miguel's past
life. She had never even thought of him having a real
life. She almost cringed with shame. How could she
have been so selfish?

'That's hellish, Miguel,' said Ruby and she reached
out and rubbed his big hands between her own, as
natural and caring as a mother.

Gary cleared his throat and when he spoke he did not
sound quite so hostile. 'What did you do after your wife
died?'

'At first I had no wish to go on. But then I realised –
if I give up and die they have killed me too. One more
dead Bosnian.'

'But you musta wanted to pay them back?'

'Yes, I did. But if I spend my whole life angry, I will
destroy myself too. I will become just like them.'

'So what
did
you do? How did you get over it?'

'You never get over it. But is important to learn
from it.'

'Yeah?' Gary was staring at him. 'What did you
learn?'

'That people must stop hating each other. They must
stop. Now I help refugees to settle – this is more useful
than fighting. I have music too,' he added. 'My anger,
sadness, my pain are all in my music. Perhaps when
people hear me play they will understand how terrible
war is. And one day maybe there will be no more war.'

Gary scoffed, 'No more war?' He pointed at his
father's gravestone. 'Look at him. They shot him at
point-blank range – that's what it said on the news that
night. Know what point-blank means, Tasha?'

'Gary—' warned Ruby.

Gary's voice shook. 'I answered the door that night,
I
let them in.'

'You were a child,' said Miguel.

'Do you think that helps? It doesn't – it never did.
Anyway, look at me now.' He banged himself on the chest.
'All grown up and just as useless as I was that night.'

'Pah!' Miguel spoke sharply. 'How you behave now
is up to you.'

'We can't all just walk away,' said Gary hotly. 'I
wanted to give these guys what they deserved – bullets.'

'You have seen how revenge turns to madness.'
Miguel was shouting back. 'Your sister is in hospital, is
she not?'

'It's all right for you! You're working with refugees and
you're a musical genius. I'm tone deaf for God's sake!'
Gary scowled. 'What could a useless sod like me do?'

'Stop wallowing in self pity. This would be a start. If
you don't you will be destroyed – you and your family
too.'

Silence descended on them all. Only the wind made a
noise, buffeting the sweet petals of flowers which
danced like confetti across the cemetery. The windmills
whirled even faster and somewhere, wind-chimes
tinkled. Ruby wandered off and Miguel followed her.

Quietly, awkwardly, Tasha passed on Zee's message.
Gary barely blinked.

'Don't you understand?' she pressed. 'Zee's leaving
Ireland. We're both leaving.'

'Maybe it's for the best,' he said. 'Tash, about that
night in the field – I was a pig and I'm sorry.'

Tasha surprised herself again. 'It wasn't all your fault.
I was hellbent on romance this summer.'

'It wasn't exactly romantic, was it?'

'Our first night was. Do you remember? The big
bonfire, the backstreets, those fish and chips.'

His eyes twinkled unexpectedly. 'I've never heard
anyone call a chip supper romantic before. Who says
posh girls are hard to please?'

'I'd have done anything for you after that night, Gary.'

'And I still managed to blow it.' He stroked her cheek
gently and the thrill of it sizzled all the way down to her
knees. Tasha caught his hand quickly.

'Do one thing for me, Gary?'

'What?'

'Visit Zee before she leaves.'

'I don't think so. Zee's better off forgetting I exist.'

'How can she?'

But Gary had stopped listening. He was bending
down now, pulling a pink carnation out of the bunch that
Ruby had brought his father. Tasha could see Ruby a
little way off, kneeling by another grave. For some
reason, Miguel was kneeling too. With a jolt she realised
they were praying.

She followed Gary across the graves and joined them
by a clean white marble stone sculpted into the shape of
a tiny angel. The inscription was in silver letters.

Here lies
Sharon Mason
Eight weeks old
Killed by a stray bullet
God have mercy on us all