Nicola Barker - Love Your Enemies

Sammy Jo interrupted nervously. ‘I thought he was in prison.’

‘No, he was in an open prison for several months but he’s been out for a while now. You were hardly the only person involved in the whole mess … well, you know all about it, anyway.’

Sammy Jo shook her head slowly while she listened to Lucy. ‘I’m sorry Lucy, but this person is different, they aren’t the same, they don’t sound the same.’

Lucy was insistent. ‘Sammy Jo, he may not sound the same because he’s saying different things, but I know it’s him. He often asks about you. He wanted to meet you a while back to talk things over. He sincerely believes that he’s better now, that he was sick and now he’s better. I somehow have my doubts about that. Anyway, he’s been heavily involved in community service work and maybe he thinks that he’s doing you some sort of a service. He started a sociology course in prison and he’s really into educating himself. I helped to get him a job a few weeks back, only part-time shop work, but with prospects. Next year, if they keep him on, he’ll probably be eligible for a day-release scheme to go to the polytechnic. He wants to get a degree in Communication Studies.’

Sammy Jo laughed. ‘I suppose that’s kind of ironic.’

Lucy wasn’t amused. ‘He must’ve managed to find out your number from me at some point. I don’t know, maybe he got a peek at my diary or something. Anyway Sammy Jo, I’m going to have to do something about this …’

Sammy Jo bit her lip. ‘Lucy, you aren’t going to tell the police are you? Or jeopardize his job?’

Lucy was silent for a moment and then she said, ‘He’s violated my trust, Sammy Jo. I have a responsibility to do something.’

Sammy Jo interrupted angrily. ‘That’s stupid! It’s none of your business. You’d never have known about this if Jason hadn’t told you. As far as I’m concerned, his involvement with me is with my full consent.’

Lucy tutted irritatingly. ‘Sammy Jo, you know it’s not as simple as that. This whole anonymous calling thing is about power, it doesn’t matter what he’s saying, it’s wrong. We both know that it’s wrong.’

Sammy Jo said slyly, ‘You let him get my number, Lucy, that was irresponsible, what if I wanted to make something of it?’

Lucy wasn’t impressed. ‘That makes no difference to me, Sammy Jo, I don’t intend to follow one piece of misconduct with another.’

Sammy Jo wound the telephone wire around her middle finger and tried to think of some sort of compromise. Eventually she said, ‘Lucy, I swear to you that if he telephones me again I’ll phone you and tell you, then you can contact whoever you like. Just leave it until the next time. Maybe you could phone him tonight and warn him off …’

Lucy sounded impatient. ‘I don’t know, Sammy Jo. I don’t think my telling him will change his modes of behaviour. I don’t know if I can trust you on this either. You haven’t been particularly co-operative up until this point.’

Sammy Jo raised her eyebrows and pulled an innocently sly expression. ‘I realize that, Lucy. I know that this isn’t just about me and that I have a wider responsibility, but I also know that he deserves a chance to make a go of his job in the bookshop, especially since his prospects seem to be looking up …’

Lucy sounded surprised. ‘Did I mention that he was working in a bookshop? I don’t think I said that, did I?’

Sammy Jo shrugged, but she was smiling to herself. ‘Forget it Lucy, I’m just a bit stressed out. I promise though, this time you can depend on me, really.’

They rang off. Jason had come into the room during the final stages of their conversation and was sitting on the sofa staring at Sammy Jo inquisitively. Sammy Jo sat down next to him and took hold of his hand. ‘It’s all right, I’m not angry. I’ve cleared it all up with Lucy. I don’t think he’ll be phoning me again.’

Jason squeezed her fingers and kissed her cheek. ‘Sammy Jo, if you want to go to college you could always go in the evenings and I’ll look after Charlie. I wouldn’t mind. Maybe we could give her to a babyminder a couple of days a week and you could go on a course part-time.’

Sammy Jo shrugged. ‘I don’t know, Jason, I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. I don’t feel brave enough. I like being at home with Charlie at the moment, I just appreciate the occasional bit of stimulation. I’m really enjoying this book I’m reading, and there’s no pressure, you know, no need to take exams or to get along with a classful of strangers …’

Jason smiled. ‘You know that you can do anything that you want to do, Sammy Jo. I know that you’ll choose whatever is for the best.’

Sammy Jo smiled back.

The following morning at ten o’clock Sammy Jo picked up her copy of the Yellow Pages and hunted down a number. When she had located it she opened up her new pad and wrote the number down at the top of the first large, white page in big bold print. Then she picked up the telephone and dialled. When someone answered she smiled and said, ‘Hello, this is Sammy Jo, remember me? Yes, I know you’re at work, yes I know you’re busy, but I don’t care. Maybe you should give me your home number and then I wouldn’t have to pester you like this …’

The line went dead. She put down her receiver, picked it up again and then pressed the redial button. She waited for a moment and then continued. ‘Yes, it is me again. No, I don’t care what sort of a disruption this is. I want to carry on our conversations. Apparently you’re working part-time? That means you must have a lot of spare time on your hands during the afternoons, which is good, good for me at any rate. I want you to share that free time with me, on the phone of course, reverse charges. I’ve been thinking about that question you asked me yesterday, I’d like to discuss it at greater length …’

The line went dead. She put down her receiver and then picked it up and, once again, pressed redial. ‘You’re an old hand at this, Mr Sands, I have a redial button and it’s no effort to press it again and again …’

She listened for a moment, then picked up her pen and copied down another number in her white pad. Then she said, ‘Yes, I am enjoying it actually … No, I didn’t tell Lucy, someone else did … No, Lucy didn’t tell me either, it didn’t take much intelligence to realize though … Thank you. Is two o’clock all right? OK, I’ll phone you then. Goodbye.’

She hung up.

If he had come from a family of butchers maybe his perspective would have been different. He would have been more experienced, hardened, less naïve. His mum had wanted him to work for Marks and Spencers or for British Rail. She said, ‘Why do you want to work in all that blood and mess? There’s something almost obscene about butchery.’

His dad was more phlegmatic. ‘It’s not like cutting the Sunday roast, Owen, it’s guts and gore and entrails. Just the same, it’s a real trade, a proper trade.’

Owen had thought it all through. At school one of his teachers had called him ‘deep’. She had said to his mother on Parents’ Evening, ‘Owen seems deep, but it’s hard to get any sort of real response from him. Maybe it’s just cosmetic.’

His mum had listened to the first statement but had then become preoccupied with a blister on the heel of her right foot. Consequently her grasp of the teacher’s wisdom had been somewhat undermined. When she finally got home that evening, her stomach brimming with sloshy coffee from the school canteen, she had said to Owen, ‘Everyone says that you’re too quiet at school, but your maths teacher thinks that you’re deep. She has modern ideas, that one.’ Owen had appreciated this compliment. It made him try harder at maths that final term before his exams, and leaving. At sixteen he had pass marks in mathematics, home economics and the whole world before him.