David Belbin - Bone & Cane

‘Ed’s on tomorrow from two till eight, then he’s on holiday for three weeks. His compensation came through. Why you wanna know?’

‘A friend of mine needs to see him,’ Nick said. ‘But do me a favour, don’t tell him I asked.’

‘I don’t talk to that baldy-head fascist unless I have to,’ Nas said. ‘I’m sorry you don’t work here any more, Nick. I won’t be around much longer myself. Let’s have a drink soon, yeah?’

‘Yeah.’ Nick’s reply sounded unconvincing, even to himself, so he added, ‘That’d be nice.’

‘You know where to find me.’

Nick hung up. Nas was about to be sacked. She would be vulnerable and she was into him. He liked her too, but wasn’t going to see another of his brother’s cast-offs, not even if Sarah blew him out. Nick reminded himself that he might be reading too much into the offer of a drink. After so many years without female company, he saw sexual nuance in everything. If Sarah could read his mind, she’d run a mile.

He went out onto the fire escape and listened to the city: cars, conversation, wailing sirens and snatches of song. The endless clatter of everyday life blended into an exhilarating hum. When he was sure nobody was looking, Nick removed a brick from the wall, pulled out the tin containing his stash, and went back inside to skin up.

35

Sarah phoned Andrew Saint mid-afternoon on Sunday. He answered his mobile on the third ring.

‘Sarah! Well done.’

‘Thanks for the flowers. I appreciated them.’

‘Called to invite me to dinner?’

‘Afraid not. I’m still in Nottingham. But we’ll meet up soon, I promise. In the meantime, I have a favour to ask you.’

‘Anything.’

She had deliberated all day over whether to do this. ‘It’s for a mutual friend.’

‘Intriguing. What mutual friend would this be?’

‘Nick Cane. I . . . happened to run into him this week and we’ve been catching up. I don’t know if you’re aware, but he’s had some serious bother.’

‘I was aware,’ Andrew said, in a different, more formal voice. ‘But I didn’t want you getting drawn into it. You and Nick are ancient history.’

‘Maybe so, but I still care about him. And he used to be your best friend.’

‘What’s the favour?’ Andrew asked, tersely.

‘He needs to get out of Nottingham, make a fresh start. London, ideally. I wondered if you could find him some sort of job.’

There was a long pause. ‘Did he tell you he’d been to see me?’

‘No. We haven’t discussed you . . . there’s not been time.’

‘He came to see me almost as soon as he got out, hit me up for a few grand. So I feel like I’ve discharged my obligations to him. In my business, Sarah, clients have to depend on your integrity. Nick’s blown his. There are a lot of police checks. I’m not sure I could have him on my books. This is probably making you think badly of me and I’m sorry, but I have to be straight with you.’

‘That’s all right. Like I said, Nick doesn’t know I’m calling you. Let’s pretend this conversation never took place.’

‘Agreed. I’d keep your distance from Nick if I were you. He got involved in some heavy stuff. Remember, you can’t change your family, but you can change your friends. You’re not bound together unless you choose to be.’

‘That’s good advice, Andrew, thanks. I’ll see you soon.’

Sarah hung up. She shouldn’t have called Andrew without first asking Nick how things stood between the two of them. It didn’t sound like Nick, pressuring his old friend for money. But people changed. Prison must change people. Parliament had changed her. Sarah had become more ruthless and, according to Dan when they split, she had steadily become less playful, less take-people-as-they-are. She wanted to be relaxed, but a necessary uptightness went with the life. Last night, despite the exhilaration from the victory, none of the constituency officers really let go, even after a few drinks. They wanted to gossip, and made sure they remained sober enough to remember what was said the next morning.

Afterwards, it would have been wonderful to have a lover to come home to. She had walked back from town, looked up at what she presumed was Nick’s flat and nearly rung the doorbell. But that would have been so, so weak. Instead, unwilling to walk through the Park’s badly lit streets so late, she had hailed a cab for the three-minute ride home. Having talked to Andrew, Sarah was relieved she hadn’t succumbed to temptation. It was only just beginning to sink in. She was still an MP. For the last few weeks, she’d had the wobbles – certain of losing, obsessed with the Ed Clark affair which, when put in perspective, was just one out of hundreds of cases she had on her plate. She couldn’t get them all right, no matter how hard she tried.

Sarah made her weekly phone call to her mother, who, true to form, had failed to call and congratulate her on being re-elected. Mum had been angry with Sarah for taking a year out to become Union President and had supported none of her career choices since. All Mum wanted was to be a grandmother. Sarah was her only, fast-fading chance. They stuttered through a few minutes of strained conversation.

‘Guess who showed up at my post-election party?’ Sarah said, before she was forced to return to discussing the unseasonably warm weather. ‘Nick Cane.’

‘I always liked Nick. Is he still in Nottingham?’

‘He’s just moved back.’

‘I suppose he’s married now, with lots of children.’

‘No, same old Nick. A little heavier, not much more mature. Single.’

‘Just like you, then. You ought to snap him up.’

‘I’ve been thinking about it,’ Sarah confessed. Was still thinking about it, despite what Andrew had said earlier. ‘He’s cooking dinner for me tonight.’

‘Did he stay in teaching?’ Mum asked.

‘I think so. We haven’t really discussed work.’ Nick had said something about private tuition, Sarah remembered. He was working this afternoon, so he wasn’t a complete no-hoper. One could even argue that he was a good project for rehabilitation.

‘Take my advice. Make your move. Second chances don’t come often.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind, Mum.’ She brought the call to a close, feeling foolish that she’d brought up Nick to keep her mother interested. Then the doorbell rang and Nick was there. It was a little after five. Early to be cooking her dinner.

‘I thought you’d want to know,’ he said. ‘Ed Clark’s compensation came through. He’s off on holiday for three weeks from tomorrow.’

‘With Polly?’

‘I presume so. He’s working until eight tonight. So, if you want to see her, the next couple of hours may be your only chance.’

‘Will you come with me?’

Nick winced. ‘I’d have thought my presence would make the meeting even more awkward. Polly’s no threat on her own. Why don’t I stay here, cook you that dinner?’

Sarah saw the sense in that. She showed Nick where things were in the kitchen then drove to New Basford alone. How to play this? As a copper, like most coppers, she’d had aspirations to join CID. But she’d barely got beyond her probationary period, and her interrogation training had been minimal. She was cleverer than Polly, or at least, more educated. Their last conversation had been interrupted by Ed’s return. Sarah needed to dig deeper into Polly’s motives. She ought to be able to catch her out.

‘I wondered when you’d show your face again,’ Polly said, letting Sarah in. ‘How did you know he’d be out?’

‘Nick checked his shift.’

‘You and him, back on, is it?’ Polly said, her back to Sarah, voice almost cracking. ‘Ed told me you used to shack up together.’