Chris Cleave - Incendiary

—Why are you being so nice to me?

—Your husband bought the Sun and 20 Benson & Hedges here every day for 4 years, she said. I owe you a cup of tea.

She still made me pay for the iced buns though.

When I left the shop I went round Petra and Jasper’s place and no one said anything about where’d I been for the last 3 days. Maybe they were being polite or maybe they just never noticed and after a couple of drinks I wasn’t bothered anyway it was just nice not to be sitting on my sofa.

It was cannelloni for dinner that night but none of us touched a bite of it on account of I was full of pink iced buns Jasper was on coke and Petra was on the Atkins diet.

We sat round the table and drank ros wine and watched the cannelloni going cold. There was a power cut and the fridge wasn’t working so the ros was lukewarm. Petra lit some candles but she needn’t of bothered because some Bengali street gang was lighting motors in the street outside and this harsh orange light was coming in through the windows. No coppers or fire engines turned up. I suppose they must of had their hands full somewhere.

There was nothing else for it I drank 5 glasses of ros and told them what Terence told me.

—I don’t believe it, said Petra. It stretches credulity that they knew about May Day and did nothing to prevent it.

—Oh come on Petra, said Jasper. Don’t be naive. They had a source to protect so they let a few football fans die. I don’t see what’s so incredible.

—1 thousand dead souls Jasper, said Petra. That’s what’s not credible.

Jasper laughed.

—1 thousand souls is pocket change, he said.

—Oh please, said Petra.

—More died at Coventry, said Jasper. November 1940. The Germans blitzed it with incendiaries. Churchill knew in advance from Ultra decrypts. Decided not to act. We couldn’t let the Germans know we’d broken their code.

—Oh nonsense, said Petra. That’s been totally discredited. It’s a myth.

—But doesn’t it ring so true? said Jasper. Don’t you believe they’d do anything to protect their precious City boys?

—You’re high, said Petra.

—Sure, said Jasper. But I’m right.

Another motor went up whump in the street outside and Jasper and Petra just sat there glaring at each other in the vicious orange light coming off it.

—Listen, said Jasper. It’s the attack on the City they’re really trying to stop. A thousand City suits die and it’s good-bye global economy. A thousand blokes in Gunners T-shirts die and you just sell a bit less lager.

I was drunk now on the bloody ros and I should of stayed out of it but there you go.

—Jasper’s right. The government doesn’t give a monkey’s about people like my husband and my boy.

Petra shook her head.

—That’s just paranoid, she said.

—I am not paranoid I’m working-class there’s a difference.

—Oh please, said Petra. Don’t make this into a class war. It’s the war against terror.

—Yeah and it’s no different from any other war. You ever wondered why an East End girl like me hasn’t got much in the way of family? Well here’s the reasons Petra. World War 1. World War 2. Falklands War. Gulf War 1. Gulf War 2 and the War on Drugs. You can take your pick because I lost whole bloody chunks of my family in all of them. That’s war Petra. This one’s no different. The people who die are people like me. And the people who survive. Well I’m sorry Petra but the people who survive are people like you. And you’re so used to surviving you don’t even notice you’re bloody well doing it.

Petra stared at me.

—You know what? she said. Sod you.

—Petra, said Jasper. Please.

—No Jasper, she said. Sod you too. Sod you both. You’re as bad as each other. You simply refuse to move on don’t you? Hiding behind your cocaine and your conspiracy theories like sulky children. You know what I’ve been doing this week? Moving on. Everyone is. London is moving on. Paris is refusing to be intimidated. And New York was all about vibrant colours. Defiant colours. Thanks to New York there will still be a spring season next year and thanks to me you can still read all about it in next Sunday’s paper. Helmut Lang is moving on. John Galliano is moving on. The entire Western world is able to move on apparently with the sole exception of you. What the hell have you both been up to while I’ve been working my arse off in New York? Moping and fucking each other? I thought you’d be good for each other but look at you. You’re just dragging all 3 of us down.

She stood up from the table and went over to the window and stared out at the street. I went up to her and touched the back of her hand.

—I’m sorry Petra I shouldn’t of had a go at you.

She turned to me and she was going to say something but I moved my hand around hers so I was holding it. She closed her mouth again.

—I’m sorry Petra.

Petra looked down at my hand around hers and then slowly she moved her other hand up to touch the back of mine with the tips of her fingers. Her rings sparkled orange in the light of the flames coming in off the street. Her face changed then and she looked up from our hands into my eyes.

—Oh Jesus Christ, she said. What if you’re right?

Jasper laughed and leaned back in his chair.

—It wouldn’t bother Helmut Lang, he said. He’s moved on you see.

—Shut up Jasper, said Petra. What if she’s right about May Day?

Jasper shook his head.

—Don’t even go there, he said. I know what you’re thinking.

Petra came forward and leaned into the table and the light from the candles made black shadows where her eyes should of been.

—Listen Jasper, she said. You should do this story.

—Petra, said Jasper. You don’t believe this story. Remember?

—Well I’m beginning to change my mind, said Petra. If it’s true it’s the biggest scoop since the Kelly thing. Bring it in and you’ll be back in favour before you can blink.

—Darling, said Jasper. You’re a fashion journalist. Don’t tell me what’s news and what’s not. Stick to hemlines and fanny waxing.

—Fuck you, said Petra. Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t do this story.

—I’ll give you 3, said Jasper. 1 the untold damage it would do to national security. 2 the fact that I’ve been fucking the principal source and 3 now let me see. Oooh yes. That pesky libel thingy that says you oughtn’t to print wild accusations in the absence of any proof. Yeah. Apart from all that this story would be a great career move for me.

—Fuck you, said Petra.

—Not tonight darling, said Jasper. I’m powdering my nose.

He took a paper wrap out of his trouser pocket and opened it up on the table.

—Look at you, said Petra. You’re a fucking disgrace. We work on a national newspaper Jasper. We’re 2 of the very few people in this country with the power to change things. If people like us won’t do the right thing with the truth what hope is there for civilisation?

Jasper laughed and shoved a rolled-up tenner into his nostril. He pointed at himself with both thumbs.

—Petra darling, he said. Do I look like the guardian of Western civilisation to you?

He grinned at Petra and a new orange flash from the window lit up his face. Outside on the street the kids had torched another motor. I’d been forgotten about. I might as well not of been there for all anyone cared. I just sat back down good as gold at the table thinking to myself Oh dear I wish my boy was here now I wish I could just hold him for one minute and smell that lovely smell of his hair and hear him say MUMMY WHY ARE YOU CRYING? and say back to him Mummy’s not crying darling Mummy’s fine she’s just got something in her eye. I looked at Petra being furious because Jasper wouldn’t do what she said and I looked at Jasper sticking powder up his nose while the cars burned in the street outside and I think that might of been the very first time Osama that I began to see your point.