Fat Tuesday Page 6

  “Mr Hargreaves, it’s quite possible, and with further sessions I’d be more assured in my assessment, that Spencer is still coming to terms with the loss of his mother.”

  “That’s ludicrous! His mother’s been dead three years. He never even mentions her. All he wants to do is kick about the streets with the no-hopers. My father stopped me when I was his age. I know what it feels like. But he was right, and I thank him for it now.”

  “I feel the root of his problems is maternal deprivation and, if I’m being honest here, you’re not helping matters.”

  “Me! I’m the only person that gives a damn. I work all the hours to take this family forward, something he’ll inherit in later life. Miss Jordan, Spencer will have the world at his feet. I want him well-equipped to deal with it.”

  “Love and attention is what Spencer needs, not all this regimental teaching. I’m not saying it isn’t good for him to have extra tuition, but not at the expense of love and care from you.”

  “He knows I love him. Jesus, we’ve only got each other. He’s young. He knows I work a lot, always have, but he’s the one that’ll benefit. He’s too young to understand the big picture. What I need to know from you, Miss Jordan, is how to get him out of this slump before the new term starts. Give me a second, I need to take this call.”

  Ten minutes passed.

  “Sorry about that. Where were we?”

  “Mr Hargreaves, I have many clients, most of whom don’t require home visits. My time is precious to me, as I know yours is to you. Your secretary has cancelled three of our appointments before today, and delayed this one by an hour.”

  “My apologies.”

  “What I’m telling you about your son doesn’t take much working out. After I spoke to him at length it’s clear he dislikes you and blames you for his problems. It’s quite probable that he has developed an anxious and avoidant attachment to you, avoiding any contact with you when you do eventually return home. One of the things he told me he would like was a lock on his room door. Why do you think that is?”

  “Of course he’s got the hump with me. I’m the disciplinarian. He’s bound to hate my guts. I hated my father, but by God I was thankful later when I turned out like I did. Spencer will be the same.”

  “He’s got no stability in his life except you, and that route is being closed off to him, leaving him isolated. He’s badly cared for, Mr Hargreaves.”

  “What? I can’t believe I’m actually paying to hear this. Listen to me. He gets only the very best childcare. All nannies are vetted and come from a top-class agency. Believe me, if his work suffers or they don’t toe the line, they get shown the door.”

  “I’ve no doubt, but that isn’t helping Spencer.”

  “Rubbish. He’s a bit down because I wouldn’t let him out and he’s taken it too far with this non-eating and sitting in the window.”

  “Losing his mother at such an early age is a stressful life event. Some people can’t cope and it can have long-term effects.”

  “Such as what?”

  “The list’s endless. Diabetes, heart attacks, anxiety attacks.”

  “For Christ’s sakes he’s only eight-years-old! Eight-years-old – pedal bikes and football, that’s what his world revolves around.”

  “What happened to his arm?”

  “Yes, well, that’s another story. The doctors say it’s eczema. Quite common.”

  “Eczema may or may not be common among kids. What I do know is that when I asked him about certain subjects, such as his friends, or going back to school, he started scratching his arm.”

  “Yes, that did concern me. It’s one of the reasons I pushed for a meeting with you today. One day he refused to let the nanny into his room and when I arrived he was covered in blood. Scratched right through the skin on his arm. That’s when this all started, but the doctor put us straight, said it was common.”

  “Mr Hargreaves. It may have started out as eczema. But Spencer, in my opinion, suffered a panic attack. That’s how he didn’t know when to stop scratching Probably couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to. Although it is difficult to determine anything in one session, it is my opinion that Spencer is suffering from anaclitic depression, brought on by being badly cared for. Anxiety attacks are a common symptom of this.”

  Stones scattered off my window and I tiptoed back into my room.

  * * *

  Palmer Street was lined with tall mature trees down both sides, the roots cracking the footpaths and garden walls. Cars were doubled parked the full length. A couple of street lamps were off. The dark blue front door of number 154 was halfway down. I stepped over the garden wall and made for the side of the house, then waited; there was a street lamp buzzing, water dripping from an overflow and a woman’s muffled voice, occasionally high-pitched – had to be the pro Cam had seen him with. The curtain moved and a woman laughed, then shrieked. I pulled myself up onto the sill, leaning heavily on my elbows, and listened: low hum of music and the woman’s voice.

  A car stopped in the back lane and two lads in white shirts got out and slammed the doors shut. They came round the front, walked past me, then suddenly took to their toes. The taxi waited another five minutes before reversing up the lane. It kerb-crawled the front street before speeding off.

  I listened again. No voices, no music, just the overflow dripping.

  I went round the back and returned with a brick. I stepped back and hurled the brick through the window and legged it up the street, ducking down behind a car at the top. Lights came on all over the house and a tall bloke in a dark dressing-gown, white legs, ran out into the middle of the road, panicking. A fat woman joined him, then the skinny son. The son went down in the press-up position and shouted – I’d been seen.

  Fast as you like, left, right, left, right, onto Darlinghurst Road, easing up into a jog as I reached the park.

  I’d been in the park an hour, maybe two, I’m not sure, when Amber came running towards me. She flung her arms around me.

  “I was worried sick! I thought you’d gone for good. What’d got into you running off like that?”

  She eased back, resting her palms on my chest. She seemed in no hurry to move away. We awkwardly came together, started kissing and stumbled back onto the bench. In seconds my hands were all over her and I was kissing so fast we were completely out of sync. Amber turned her head to the side and we both moved back.

  “Is this your way of asking me out?” I asked, searching for her face.

  “My way!” she tossed her head back, laughing, but wouldn’t look at me.

  “Jesus!” she said. “I can’t believe we just did that!”

  “Didn’t you want to?”

  “Well, yeah…”

  I steamed straight in before she had time to think, though showing more composure this time, arms relaxed around her waist, nothing too heavy.

  She pushed back again. “What about the others?”

  “They’ll not be bothered. You must know how much I fancy you, it’s been killing me.”

  She laughed and tossed her hair back again. “I had noticed.”

  “And that was long before the vest incident.”

  “Eh?”

  “You parading around the flat the other night in a black vest. I only just managed to hold it together.”

  “Stop it!” she said, playfully slapping me.

  We sat back down, close together, but not touching.

  “So, is it fair to say that you and I are a little more than best mates now?”

  “We’ll have to wait until daylight, see if I still fancy you, or if you’re a girl’s worst nightmare.”

  “So you do fancy me? You admit that.”

  “Did I say that? One thing’s for sure you’re going to have to… Spence!”

  “What?” I jumped up, looking myself up and down. “What?”

  “Your arm!” Amber sat me down and held my arm up to the moonlight. “What have you done? Look at all the blood.”

  “It’s ecz
ema. I’ve had it since I was a kid. I’ve got cream for it. It looks worse than it is.”

  “It looks painful. I’ve never noticed it before.” She looked at me. “Where have you been all this time?”

  I told her what I had done.

  Amber wrapped her arms around me and kissed me. “This is you to a tee, going off on one over nothing. You’re so passionate Spence, but sometimes you take it way too far.”

  I shook my head.

  “What now?” she said. “You’re always doing this. If something’s worrying you, just come out with it.”

  “You know I told you about the inheritance?”

  “Not this again. You tell me every time you’re pissed that you’re going to be loaded when you’re older There’s no need. It’s the here and now that counts. Forget the future. Who knows what’s going to happen? Just forget about it.”

  “Yeah, but it’s more than that.”

  “That’s your business, no one else’s. Do you think all of us tell everything about ourselves?”

  “I suppose not, but this bloke following me. I’m sure it’s something to with my father. And with the robbery coming up it could cause problems.”

  “You’re looking into things too deeply. No one knows about the robbery bar us, and this bloke hasn’t been anywhere near us apart from that first day at the flat. He could be anybody. But you always think the worse. I heard you on the phone the other day –”

  “When? When I was in my room?”

  “Yeah, saying you thought you were being followed.

  Totally over the top, but that’s you.”

  “Why didn’t you say something instead of running off?”

  Amber continued examining my arm. “Why do you think? Because you’d think I thought something was off, that you were a member of Newcastle Secret Service. Am I right?”

  “I suppose.”

  “You worry too much what people think.” She kept hold of my hand. “By the way, you owe Gregg an apology. Honestly Spence, he didn’t know where to put himself, he really didn’t. And he hasn’t a clue why you keep having a pop at him.”

  We walked over to the flat hand in hand.

  “This feels so weird!” Amber said, attempting to break free.

  We went inside.

  There was no one in the living room.

  Amber steered me into the bathroom and washed the blood off my arm. “You’ll have to stop scratching this.” She patted it dry with a towel. “It’s half-five you know. I’m wide awake.”

  “Same here.”

  I went into my room and rubbed cream into my arm. I felt light-headed, my stomach turning over and over. I couldn’t believe she felt the same way. Couldn’t believe it.

  Something caught my eye and I turned around and smiled. Hanging from a sweeping brush was Gregg’s not-so-white Y-fronts.

  “That isn’t a coffee stain, is it?”

  Gregg followed the light through the door. “That’s off that fucking snide ruby we conned out of The Royal the other night. I had proper ring sting for two days.”

  “Look, Gregg, I’m sorry about before. It’s this bloke.

  And shit from home.”

  “Forget it Spence. I feel on edge myself with Amber handing her notice in. After tomorrow we’ve only got three days.” He bent down and looked at my arm. “What you done there? And where the fuck you been all this time?”

  “You’ll not believe what I’ve done.”

  I followed him out and went into the kitchen.

  “What’s he done?” Gregg asked Amber.

  I came back in with four cans. Cam was knocking up.

  “Tell them what you’ve done, psycho,” Amber said.

  “I bricked his window.”

  Gregg’s jaw dropped open. “Who? The ginger fucker?”

  “You’ve bricked his window?” Cam asked.

  I nodded.

  “You fucking nutcase!”

  “Did he see you?” Gregg asked.

  “Nah, I was off. I had to see what he wanted.”

  Gregg burst out laughing.

  “What?”

  “I can’t believe you ran off and done that. You’re fucking barmy.”

  Cam stood up and handed me the joint. “Where’s your girlfriend, then?”

  “Ah, that’s right,” Gregg said, leaning against the fireplace. “Where’s your other half?”

  “I’m not coming out!” Amber shouted from the bathroom.

  “You’ll have to face the music sometime,” Cam teased.

  “Nearly ate you alive from what we could see.”

  “Sod off!”

  Amber’s leaving party was tomorrow night. In four days’ time – it was a long weekend. Cam’s idea of using a trolley to transport the cash was the final piece of the jigsaw. On the trolley we’d have two good size boxes. Once we had the cash and videotapes, we’d step out and stuff the bags into the boxes, then push off with the trolley.

  Gregg returned from his room. “I know we agreed not to gather any information.”

  “I had nothing to do with this by the way,” Cam said, lifting his hands up.

  “Fucking turncoat… but an opportunity came my way and I took it.”

  “Come on then, what you done?”

  Gregg dangled a bunch of keys. “Jeff’s keys,” he lifted a hand. “Before you say anything, he left them in his door. You know how forgetful he is Spence, that’s how we got in last time. All I thought was it couldn’t do any harm having them. I’ll have them copied and dumped in the car park by eight, someone’ll hand them in.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. “I would’ve done the same.

  Give me a look.”

  10

  Amber was out sharp in the morning before I’d had a chance to talk to her, so I rang her at lunchtime from work. No answer. Two hours later I tried again and it just rang out. I mean, even if she had her phone on silent, surely she would check it. I sent her a text, nothing heavy, just asking if she was ok. Still nothing.

  The rest of the day passed slowly and I left work at half-four convinced she’d left her phone in the flat.

  Christ, I nearly always left mine because the four of us spent so much time together we hardly ever called each other.

  Passing through the park I was joined by the stray dog that had been keeping me company on the way to and from work. I sat on a bench and emptied my lunch box out for him and he ate everything in seconds.

  There was a note from Gregg saying they’d gone to The Rocks early to meet people who couldn’t turn up later and for me to have my phone on in case he needed any help. I settled in the bay window with a beer. If Amber had gone early, chances were she hadn’t been home because The Rocks was on the other side of town. I went to her bedroom door and rang her number. It was in her room. Fuck’s sakes. I sat back down at the window and lit up.

  If she’d had any second thoughts about us, me being too keen could well spoil things. There’s nothing worse than someone being full on, giving you no space. I had it when I was at private school. One lad was right on my case. I had to tell the fucker to do one in the end.

  I had one final look out the window and went into Amber’s room. The orange curtains were three-quarter drawn, dust rising up through the sunlight as I stepped over the clothes on the floor. The room hadn’t been aired and the bed was unmade. Clothes were heaped in a corner next to her wardrobe. I rang her number, opened her bedside drawers and took out the phone. I erased the missed calls and text, locked it, and put it back in the drawer. I stepped over the clothes and rested my hand on the door handle. The staleness had somehow lifted, leaving only Amber’s scent.

  Amber turned the corner at the top of the park and I scrambled out of the chair, down the stairs and across the street. She spotted me and broke into a jog.

  “Am I a girl’s worst nightmare, then?” I asked, kissing her.

  “You’ll do for now.”

  The park was heaving, so we walked off the footpath towards the lake. Amber was
much more assured than last night and we strolled hand-in-hand past people sitting on the grass.

  “How come you’ve made it back so soon?”

  “You won’t believe that nutter,” she said, rolling her eyes. “No sooner had we got in Jacksons and he was all over Eleanor, hand on her backside after the first drink, total mad-eye on.”

  “Never! What happened next? It’s only half-seven now.”

  “He wouldn’t leave her side, kept throwing the drink back. She was loving the attention, at one stage she had her hand inside his pants at the back!”

  “No!”

  “As God’s my witness, Spence. By the time we left Jacksons she was in her element. It looked obscene though, she’s got to be nearly sixty.”

  We settled on the grass behind the kid’s play area, and Amber lit us both a smoke. She leaned right into me, checking my arm out.

  “Thought I best let some air get to it,” I said.

  “Looks a lot better.”

  We sat watching the ducks, crowding the jetty looking for scraps. An old man in a red baseball cap was sat on a bench with his grandson feeding them. I thought of Margaret, my old nanny, she would have been well-suited here.

  Amber was lying on her back, head in my lap, fidgeting with my hand.

  The stray dog was doing its rounds and getting little joy. It worked the benches along the main footpath, before peeling off towards the lake. It saw me and headed straight over.

  “Here’s someone I want you to meet.”

  “You’re kidding,” she said, sitting up and re-doing her ponytail. “I look a right clip, is it Craig from the garage?”

  I patted my knee and the black mongrel sat down. “Teatime buddy, this is Amber, my other half.”

  “Teatime buddy! Isn’t he lovely!” She vigorously scratched his chest and ears. “Aren’t you lovely, eh?”

  “Follows me to work and back on the strength of a guaranteed feed.”

  “I wonder where he lives?”

  “I’m not sure, he heads left when I go through the gates, so probably down the bottom next to the bottle shop, or he’s on his own.”

  Amber insisted on going to the shop to buy the dog a sandwich. The streetlights had come on and the park was emptying by the time we got back. I fed the last few birds that were hanging around and the dog got two sandwiches. Once the sun had dipped behind the last outline of buildings, we made for the flat. The dog was sticking close to my side.