‘Someone would buy a Rolex in a shop,’ says Tia. ‘A jeweller’s in Knightsbridge that we kept an eye on. And then me and my friends would follow them, steal the watch and then sell it.’
‘And?’ says Connie, looking for more. It was annoying when Ibrahim did this, but it wasn’t annoying when she did it. Ibrahim is at a wedding today. He sent her a photo. Connie would love to get married. Perhaps she should do something about that? What she really needs is a Tinder for criminals. Everyone could use their most recent mugshot.
‘And,’ says Tia, ‘we maybe did this fifteen, twenty times. Cycle up there, identify a target, rob them, take the risk, cycle back. Fifteen or twenty different robberies, fifteen or twenty different chances to get caught. Great cardio but high risk.’
‘So you thought?’ Ibrahim’s best mate, Ron, was in the photograph. Connie has promised not to kill him, despite his part in her arrest. We’ll see about that. Connie doesn’t let grudges go lightly. Sometimes she thinks that without the weight of all her grudges she might simply blow away.
Tia finishes off her coconut flapjack. ‘So I thought, well, they’ve all bought these watches from the same shop. So why don’t we just rob the shop instead? Rob all fifteen watches at once. The same reward but only one opportunity to get caught.’
Connie is nodding. There is a lot of rubbish talked about young people, but Tia is a clear and intelligent thinker. She is a doer, a grafter. She still has to make the final step though. Has to work it out for herself.
‘And the downsides to that approach?’ Honestly, sometimes she actually sounds like Ibrahim. She was in a meeting last Tuesday where a cocaine importer had been shot in the leg, and Connie had found herself saying, ‘The pain is temporary, but the lesson the pain teaches you is forever.’ She hasn’t told Ibrahim this, because, although he would be proud to be quoted, he still disapproves of her business affairs.
‘More planning to do, better security to beat, a more thorough investigation after you’ve done it,’ says Tia. ‘But I like that. I like the planning. That’s the bit I enjoy.’
‘And it worked? The new plan?’
‘Like a dream,’ says Tia. ‘Until we got caught.’
‘But you would have got caught anyway?’ says Connie. ‘For something. At some point. Occupational hazard. Might as well get caught for something big. So go on. What have you learned? What’s your new plan?’
‘I’ve learned my lesson,’ says Tia. ‘This time, when the alarm goes off, I’ve got two minutes. Not a second more. Doesn’t matter if the crown jewels are in the next case, when the two minutes are up, I go.’
Connie nods. ‘That’s what you’ve learned?’
Tia looks at her, the same way that Connie has looked at Ibrahim countless times. Tia knows it’s a trick question. She knows that she should have learned something else, and she is bright enough to try to work out what.
‘So,’ says Tia, thinking on her feet. Or, actually thinking while sitting on an uncomfortable artisan stool. ‘I used to steal Rolexes one by one.’
‘Mmm hmm,’ says Connie.
‘And then I realized that they were all bought from the same shop, so I could just go to the shop and steal fifteen in one go.’
‘And so?’ A mother pushes a buggy past the window of the café and glances in. What does she see, Connie wonders. A blonde woman in an expensive tracksuit, sitting with a black teenager, both just shooting the breeze. She doesn’t know that Connie is actually changing Tia’s life, right here, right now.
‘And so …’ Tia plays for time.
‘I told you, Tia,’ says Connie, ‘dream your dream. A hundred grand is nothing.’
‘And so …’ says Tia again, her mind scrolling through answers, until, finally, it finds the right one. ‘Where do the shops get their Rolexes from?’
Bingo.
Tia is thinking this through. ‘The shop in Fairhaven I want to rob has fifteen Rolexes. But there’ll be a shop in Lewes with another fifteen. And a shop in Brighton with another fifteen. And they all came from somewhere.’
‘I mean, you’d think so, wouldn’t you?’ says Connie. She sees why Ibrahim takes such joy in his work. The feeling you have when you make a breakthrough.
Tia is nodding vigorously now, enjoying the work her brain is doing. ‘A warehouse, somewhere near the port – I can find out, I can find out. And we won’t make a hundred grand – we’ll make a million. In one go.’
‘Tough to rob a warehouse though,’ says Connie.
‘Tough to rob anything,’ says Tia. ‘So if you’re going to rob something –’
‘Make it something big,’ says Connie. ‘Okay, count me in.’
Tia beams, and pulls a notepad from her backpack. Connie looks at the backpack. She bets Tia has had it since school. Had taken it to her GCSEs, had swung it casually while talking to boys at bus stops. And now look at her.
‘First, we need a gang,’ Tia says, writing in her book. ‘People we can trust.’
What a glow Connie feels. She has to hand it to Ibrahim. When he’s right, he’s right.
4
Ibrahim is dancing with Joanna. He feels a fluidity, a grace, that is missing from his everyday life. He aches when he walks up stairs; he aches even more when he walks down. And yet here, on the wooden floor, the music loud and the lights sparkling, he feels no pain.
There are others dancing, Chris and Patrice, Chris dancing as awkwardly as you’d imagine. Donna is attempting to manhandle Bogdan around the floor but with little success. Bogdan is many things – a lover, a fighter, a painter and decorator – but he is not a dancer.
Ibrahim is aware, however, that a circle has opened up around Joanna and him. That people are watching them dance – a rhythmic clap starts to accompany their moves.
‘Do you think it’s too soon?’ Joanna asks in his ear.
‘Too soon?’
‘I only met Paul six months ago,’ says Joanna.
Ah, this is why they are dancing. Joanna needs advice. That’s fine by Ibrahim: he loves to dance, and he loves to give advice.
‘Well, when did you fall in love?’ Ibrahim asks.
‘Six months ago,’ says Joanna. ‘It was immediate. Did that ever happen to you?’
‘It did,’ says Ibrahim.
Madonna keeps singing, Ibrahim feels the beat coursing through him. Joanna says something, and Ibrahim indicates that he doesn’t quite catch it.
‘Are you lonely?’ Joanna repeats. This takes Ibrahim by surprise.
‘People mean different things by lonely,’ he says. Which is true.
‘That’s true,’ says Joanna. ‘But it doesn’t answer the question.’
‘I have Ron,’ says Ibrahim. ‘I have your mother. Even Elizabeth at times.’
Joanna nods. The circle around them has grown wider, the clapping louder. Of course he’s lonely.
‘So,’ says Joanna, ‘am I making a mistake?’
Ibrahim smiles. This is an easy one.
‘Have you asked Joyce if you’re marrying too soon?’
Joanna shakes her head.
‘Then there’s your answer,’ says Ibrahim.
‘But I haven’t asked her?’
‘Exactly,’ says Ibrahim. ‘The answer to every dilemma is in whom you ask for advice.’
Joanna twirls, lights spinning around her as she goes. She returns to face him.
‘Go on, Professor.’
‘You have a dilemma,’ says Ibrahim. ‘Is it too soon? Has love really struck like lightning? Woe is me, I must know the answer. I demand truth! Who can I ask? Who can aid me in this troubled hour?’
Joanna looks over Ibrahim’s shoulder. ‘Your policeman friend Chris has just tripped over a wheelchair.’
Ibrahim turns to look. Chris, who, it turns out, is currently on firearms training, is apologizing profusely. Ibrahim turns back to Joanna. ‘So you need sage advice. Your mother would be a good start, and yet you didn’t ask her? Why would that be?’