I told Diane the gist of what had happened before she found me on the pavement and recounted to her my recent escapades trying to reach Martin Hobbs. She liked the bit about the wig. She was convinced that Fraser and Eddie Kenton were probably using Martin to make porno movies.
‘Well, that would explain why they were both so hostile to my visits,’ I said. ‘I know Kenton’s walked that way before but Fraser doesn’t strike me as a porno merchant. He’s no need of the money and he’s so…starchy.’
‘Maybe that’s how he relaxes.’ She raised her eyebrows at me.
‘Well, it’s all supposition and it’s nothing to do with me, especially now they’ve got someone for Janice’s death. I need work I’ll get paid for.’
I didn’t want to talk about me all night. ‘Barcelona,’ I said.
She screwed up her face and puffed out her cheeks.
‘Come on, all the grisly details.’
‘Oh, Sal, it was a disaster from start to finish. I had my bag nicked the first afternoon and Ben went on about how careless I’d been with it, then I started with cystitis, awful, I was pissing blood…’
‘Wait,’ I shrieked. ‘Start at the very beginning, don’t miss anything out. The airport…’
‘Okay,’ she filled our glasses and took a swig, ‘the airport.’
The practical cock-ups of the holiday had become funnier with the passing of time but when she got to the part where she and Ben discussed ending the relationship, she came over all tearful and I could see how raw the wounds still were. I went and put my arms round her. When she’d finished crying, I passed her the box of tissues and refilled her glass.
‘I’m sorry about the other night,’ I said, ‘not turning up and not phoning. It honestly just went right out of my head. You’re really important to me, you know. I don’t want to mess you about.’
‘Oh, stop it,’ she said. ‘You’ll set me off again.’
I grinned, chewed on an olive.
‘Has my mascara run?’ she asked.
‘Yeah.’
She stood up and went over to the mirror, used tissue and cream to wipe away the navy streaks. ‘The trouble is,’ she said, ‘it’s always the same. The relationship starts off brilliantly and goes downhill from there on in. And they always want more, they want to take over, they want me cooking tea every night, they want marriage or babies. I thought men were supposed to be scared of commitment. I just keep thinking it’s always going to be like this, always.’ Her voice started getting squeaky. ‘And I don’t think I can bear it.’ She crumpled again. I went and hugged her again. Tears tickled my own nose in sympathy.
We drank more wine, ate more olives. I told Diane about my clashes with Nana Tello. She told me about her work – her latest commission was going well. Her eyes sparkled as she talked about it and she waved her arms about in big sweeping gestures. By the time we’d emptied the bottle, our friendship was back on line.
I saw her out and waited on the back steps while she unlocked her bike.
‘And remember,’ she said, as she snapped on her lights, ‘next time, there’s no need to go battering your head on the pavement – an apology will do fine. Talk about attention-seeking!’
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
Friday was Manchester weather. Endless soaking rain that fell from thick, steely skies. I’d slept well till nine, waking refreshed, and the sight from my window didn’t have me diving back to bed.
I was ravenous but I wanted a treat for breakfast. Something to welcome myself back to the world. There was a fiver in my purse. I drove to the health food shop and bought a Greek-style Bio yoghurt and some nuts. In the greengrocers next door I bought a selection of fruit and a bunch of lilies. Back home, I stuck the lilies in water and put them on the kitchen table. Then I sliced up some banana, apple and grapes, mixed them with the thick, creamy yoghurt, poured honey over that and a sprinkling of nuts. The final touch was a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Serious pleasure.
As I finished, the phone rang. I gave the number.
‘Is that Sal?’
‘Yes, who is it?’
‘It’s Leanne, right, I wanted to…’
‘You’ve got a bloody nerve.’ My stomach clenched, my face got hot.
‘What d’you mean?’
‘You know what I mean. What are you doing, ringing to see if I’ve got the message? Well, I have, loud and clear, and you can tell Smiley his fucking goons put me in hospital and you can also tell him that the phone call would have done the job. There was no need to send in the clowns…so,’ I was running out of words and breath, ‘so you can just fuck off, Leanne.’
‘It’s not my fault, is it?’ Surly innocence.
‘I don’t give a toss whether you went running or he came asking, all I know is, within hours of me leaving you, he’s threatening me, and my child, on the phone and next thing I know I’m beaten senseless.’ I was screeching by then, shaking with renewed outrage. ‘So you can just go and fuck yourself.’ Eloquent. I hung up.
I wanted to break something, lash out. Digger slunk past. Clive couldn’t have timed it worse. I was sorting out the cutlery, crashing handfuls of metal around, when he bounded into the kitchen.
‘God,’ he said, ‘what happened to you?’
‘I got beaten up.’ I could see from his eyes he was weighing up whether to make some clever dick remark. He didn’t get chance.
‘Clive, we want you to move out. I’m giving you notice now, a month, but if you can find somewhere sooner, we’d be delighted. And we’d like you to settle the rent and the bills – I think it’s about eight hundred pounds so far. Ray’s got the exact figures.’
‘You can’t throw me out, I haven’t done anything.’
‘Precisely. You’ve done sweet f.a. for as long as possible, you haven’t contributed anything to the running of the house and we’re sick of it.’
‘You can’t make me leave.’ His chin came up. ‘I’ve got rights, you know.’
‘I doubt it. Tenants pay rent. You seem to have stopped. I think you’ve forfeited any rights.’
‘Look, look.’ He waved his hands up near his ears – it was all too much, man. ‘Okay, I got a bit behind and I missed a meeting, but this is way over the top. We can work something out. I’ll pay it off a bit at a time.’
‘It’s too late, Clive. You’ve blown it. I can’t trust you anymore. You’ll have to leave.’
‘Where can I go? It’s impossible renting these days. I’ll end up on the streets.’
‘Oh, I don’t think Daddy would let that happen, do you?’ Below the belt maybe. Clive couldn’t help having a rich father he never saw.
‘You’ll be sorry for this,’ he began to shout, pointing his index finger at me, ‘just wait and see.’ He moved closer. ‘I’ll get you back for this, you cow, you just wait, you cunt.’
The prickle of fear hadn’t a chance. I was still boiling from Leanne and here was the red rag.
In a trice, I had Clive by the collar. I pushed my face up against his, smelt sweet aftershave and stale tobacco. ‘Don’t you dare threaten me, you little shit.’ Even I was impressed at how scary I sounded. ‘Don’t you ever speak to me like that. Now, get out.’ I shoved him away.
‘Dearie me, what’s the matter?’ Neither of us had heard Nana Tello come in. She stood, aghast, a bag of shopping in each hand.
‘Clive’s just going,’ I said. ‘He’s off to find somewhere else to live.’
‘Oh,’ she said to me coldly. She turned to Clive. ‘You could try the shop windows,’ she offered brightly.
‘Aw, piss off Grandma,’ he said, as he made his exit.
She drew in a sharp breath. Lifted the carriers onto the table. ‘You’ve upset him,’ she accused me.