The wine tasting has ended, and there is a suggestion that people might like to use the bathroom before the tour of the winery begins. Chris thought they were going to see a vineyard, but vineyards and wineries are different things. What a lot he is learning today.
He looks at Patrice and nods in the direction of the door. She nods back. She couldn’t have been more enthusiastic when he’d outlined his plan (‘I’m going to be an actual lookout? Finally a proper date’). Slipping out unnoticed, into the chill air, he takes her hand and kisses it.
‘Ready to break some laws, m’lady?’
‘For you, sir, always,’ says Patrice. ‘Donna would kill us, wouldn’t she?’
‘She’s at an art exhibition in Hastings,’ says Chris. ‘She’ll kill herself first.’
34
Bogdan has managed to sit in the seat next to Dom Holt. He’d had to very slightly nudge a child out of his way to do it, but he wasn’t about to let Donna down. He lowers his muscular frame into a seat barely adequate for the job. He and Dom Holt nod to each other, like strangers on a train. Bogdan takes an Everton scarf out of his jacket and drapes it over his enormous shoulders. This gets Dom’s attention.
‘You Everton?’ he asks.
‘Yes, Everton,’ says Bogdan. ‘I think I’m the only one.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ says Dom, holding out a hand to shake. ‘So now there’re two of us. I’m Dom.’
Bogdan shakes Dom’s hand. Good grip, not that it matters. Some of the worst people Bogdan has ever met have the firmest handshakes. ‘I’m Barry, is not my real name. My real name is Polish.’
‘Fine by me,’ says Dom. ‘How’s a Polish geezer end up an Everton fan? You poor sod.’
‘My grandfather shared a cell with a murderer from England. He was a big Everton fan. Then he killed a guard and they shot him, so my grandfather didn’t see him no more, but we are an Everton family ever since.’
Dom nods. ‘Fair enough, Bazza. Don’t fancy our chances against this lot. You?’
‘I don’t know why I do this every week,’ says Bogdan. ‘This game will kill me.’
Bogdan can sense Donna in the seat directly behind Dom Holt. Listening in. Bogdan had said that it wouldn’t be necessary, and that he would remember everything, but Donna is an independent woman.
‘How do you know Davey Musgrave?’ Dom asks.
‘I know a guy who knows him,’ says Bogdan. ‘I did him a favour.’
‘What’s your line of work?’
‘This and that,’ says Bogdan.
‘Something else we have in common,’ says Dom. ‘That’s my line of work too.’
The match kicks off, and Bogdan confines himself to talking to Dom Holt about the on-field action. ‘Iwobi keeps looking for runners. Where are they?’
‘Too right, mate, too right.’
He wants to make Donna proud. Christmas had been a dream, waking up late, watching Australian reality TV shows, losing at board games. Bogdan has not wanted to make anyone proud since his mother died. He likes it.
Everton concede a goal in the tenth minute, and the two men sulk together. A further Brighton goal arrives in the twenty-fifth minute, and their attention begins to wander from the game.
‘You based around here?’ Dom asks.
‘Fairhaven,’ says Bogdan. ‘But, you know, I travel. All around. If there’s a job, there’s Barry.’
‘You were pretty eager to sit next to me?’ says Dominic Holt. He’s scrolling through his phone, not looking at Bogdan.
‘Huh?’ says Bogdan.
‘Made quite the beeline for me,’ says Dom.
‘Is a good seat,’ says Bogdan. ‘And you have a nice coat.’
Dom is still scrolling through his phone. ‘I think your name is Bogdan Jankowski.’
‘I cannot lie,’ says Bogdan. ‘I wish I could. Your Polish pronunciation is very good.’
‘And PC Donna De Freitas is sitting right behind us too.’ Dominic twists in his seat and offers his hand to Donna.
‘Dom Holt,’ says Dom, as Donna takes his hand. ‘You already know that.’
Bogdan has blown it.
‘Funny set-up, this,’ says Dom. ‘You and your boyfriend? Is that normal practice for Kent police? Or are you off the books?’
‘Just watching the football,’ says Donna. ‘No law against it.’
‘Can you name one of the Everton players?’
‘God, no,’ says Donna. Bogdan had been training her last night, just in case. But, really, who has time for that? ‘Can you name one of the Sugababes?’
‘I’m going to call it a day,’ says Dom Holt, standing. ‘This time I’ll let it slide, I get it. But if I see either of you following me again, I’ll be making a complaint. Does that sound fair enough?’
‘Where’s the heroin, Dom?’ Donna asks him quietly. ‘You looking for it? Or did you steal it yourself?’
Dom replies, just as quietly, ‘No wonder they took the case off you and gave it to the NCA. Amateur.’
Brighton score a third goal, and Dom deflates as the crowd erupt around him. Bogdan cups his hand to Dom’s ear.
‘Donna is being polite. I knew Kuldesh Sharma. If you killed him, I will kill you. You understand?’
Dom Holt stands back and takes Bogdan in. The crowd are settling into their seats. He looks between Bogdan and Donna.
‘Enjoy the game.’
35
Anthony, as a rule, doesn’t do house visits. But some rules are made to be broken.
Elizabeth has made him a cup of tea and is sitting on the sofa, watching as Anthony cuts Stephen’s hair. She should really have had it done before the visit to Viktor, but Viktor is not the type to worry about such things.
‘How did Elizabeth pull you?’ says Anthony to Stephen. ‘The mind boggles. You’ve got a right Clooney on your hands here, Elizabeth.’
‘Clooney?’ says Stephen.
‘What’s she like to live with, Stephen?’
Stephen looks at Anthony in the mirror. ‘I’m sorry, you have me at a disadvantage –’
‘Anthony,’ says Anthony, clipping hair from around Stephen’s ears. ‘What’s it like living with Elizabeth?’
‘With Elizabeth?’
‘I mean, we all like a strong woman, don’t we?’ says Anthony. ‘But surely there’s a limit? I mean, we all like Cher, don’t we, but would you live with her? Couple of weeks maybe, dancing around the kitchen, but you’d need a night off eventually.’
Stephen smiles, and nods. ‘Yes, sounds about right.’
‘Anthony always cuts your hair, Stephen,’ says Elizabeth. The journey home from Viktor’s on Thursday had been quiet. Stephen slept, and Elizabeth and Bogdan knew there was nothing further to discuss now.
‘That so?’ says Stephen. ‘Rings a bell. Can’t place you, that’s probably me though. Not always on the ball.’
‘Got one of those faces, haven’t I?’ Anthony says, combing through the front of Stephen’s hair, looking for the exact angle of attack. ‘Blend into the crowd. Useful if you’re avoiding the police, nightmare on Grindr.’
‘I’m very grey,’ says Stephen, examining himself.
‘Nonsense,’ says Anthony. ‘Elizabeth’s grey, you’re “Burnished Platinum”.’
‘You do such a lovely job, Anthony,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Doesn’t he look handsome?’
‘He’s a looker, this one,’ agrees Anthony. ‘Look at those cheekbones. You wouldn’t last a minute at Brighton Pride with those, Stevie-boy. Someone’d whisk you off to their Airbnb and have their wicked way.’
‘You’re from Brighton?’
‘Portslade,’ says Anthony. ‘Same thing, isn’t it?’
‘You might know my friend, Kuldesh?’