Those People Next Door, page 10
‘Zain,’ she said, stern through her tears. ‘What were you doing here?’
He shifted uncomfortably. ‘I come here sometimes to chill.’
‘To “chill”?’ Anger rose in her voice. She pointed at the beer cans. ‘Is that stuff yours?’
‘No, I promise. We come here to work.’
‘We?’
He swallowed. ‘I brought Jamie here last week.’
Salma stared at him. ‘Jamie from next door?’
‘Yes. It was before you told me to stop hanging out with him.’ He watched her face and grew defensive. ‘Mum, don’t even say it. This wasn’t Jamie.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘I do know that. He would never do something like this.’
‘You’ve barely known him a week.’
‘Mum, don’t blame this on me. It’s not my fault.’
A chilling thought occurred to her. ‘Has Jamie told his dad about the restaurant?’
Zain grew sober. ‘Last week, he mentioned his dad was surprised that we owned a second property. He said we must be rolling in it.’
Salma felt the dredge of anxiety. Could Tom be their culprit? She glared at Zain. ‘When did you put up that video?’
He hunched guiltily. ‘Last night.’
Was a single day long enough for Tom to do this damage? Surely, he was at the office all day. ‘Are you sure Jamie didn’t do this?’ she asked.
‘I’m positive, Mum. There’s no way.’
She exhaled, letting her breath out slowly. This was Ilford. It could just be random vandalism. She felt her heart rate slow as the initial shock wore off. She surveyed the damage, then took off her jacket and hung it on a door handle. She went to the kitchen and retrieved a roll of rubbish bags.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m cleaning, Zain.’
He shifted on his feet. ‘Sh-shouldn’t we call the police?’
‘Should we?’ she said. ‘What are they going to do?’
‘For insurance and stuff?’
‘Our insurance ran out, Zain. We couldn’t afford to renew it.’ Immediately, she felt guilty for telling him this. She and Bil had made the decision to move and Zain wasn’t to blame. It was her responsibility to keep this stress from him. ‘Look, find a locksmith, will you? And a carpet cleaner. We can’t leave it like this.’ She pulled out the bucket of cleaning products that she stored beneath the sink.
Molly lay down in the corner where her dog bed used to be. The sight of her golden coat against the bare floor filled Salma with unbearable sorrow. She knelt down and placed her arms around her, but Molly wriggled out. Salma remained there for a moment, shifting the weight of her burdens so she could stand again. Over the next two hours, they scrubbed and scoured the restaurant. To her relief, the graffiti sanded off and the smoother patches of paint weren’t noticeable unless you were really looking.
It was only after the locksmith left that Salma relaxed again. She sat on one of the damaged booths and patted the space next to her. Zain reluctantly took it. She weaved an arm around him. The new toughness of his body stirred a sense of nostalgia. She missed her soft, squidgy son with his fat cheeks and joyful laugh. This older, sombre version sometimes felt like a stranger.
‘Can we talk about the video?’ she said.
He nodded wordlessly.
‘I asked you to back it up, not share it.’
He pulled away to face her properly. ‘I did, Mum, but then that woman offered you money like you were her kamla beti. Who does she think she is? People like her think they can buy anything.’
‘But I told her we wouldn’t share it. She’s going to think I lied.’
‘So? Why do you care what she thinks?’
‘I don’t like to go back on my word.’
‘Your word only matters to people who listen. Everyone else can screw themselves.’
Salma couldn’t be angry at Zain for doing something she had wanted herself. ‘Zain, please don’t bring Jamie here again. In fact, I’d rather you stay away from him.’
‘I know,’ said Zain. He stood and reached for her hand, and she let him pull her up.
Willa was incensed. She had a baby on the way and without Tom’s wage, they would have to… what? Go on universal credit? Absolutely not. She paced the length of the dining room, her woollen top now damp with sweat. She imagined her friends finding out that she was claiming benefits. The shame would be unbearable. She knew that her dad would give her money but would ask for one thing in return: that Tom acknowledge the gift and thank him for it personally. She had had to beg him to fund Jamie’s hearing aids without crowing about it to Tom. There was simply no possibility that he would give her more money and not let it be known. She looked across at Tom, maddened by his vacancy. He stared at the far wall, his spine as rigid as the backrest he leaned on.
‘She promised me.’ Willa gritted her teeth. ‘That sneaky bitch promised she wouldn’t upload that video and as soon as she gets home, she does it. What sort of snake is she?’ She glared at Tom. ‘Believe me. She’s going to regret making an enemy of me.’ She waited for him to respond. ‘For fuck’s sake, Tom, snap out of it.’
His own temper flared. ‘Shut up, Willa,’ he spat at her.
‘Oh, that’s wonderful, Tom. Go ahead and blame me. In fact, blame everyone but yourself. You didn’t have a hand in any of this, did you?’
A thick rope of muscle tensed in his neck. ‘Fifteen years I gave to that company and they throw me out like garbage.’
Oh, great, thought Willa. Here comes the self-pity. She was many things but not one for tea and sympathy. She preferred to set out practical steps: a plan, solution and execution. She fixed her gaze on him. ‘Tom, let’s be sensible about this,’ she said more calmly. ‘I’ll call Dad and—’
Tom cut in derisively. ‘That’s your solution to everything, isn’t it? Every tiny fucking problem, miss spoilt little rich girl wants to run off to her daddy. Not everyone has that option, Willa.’
She sneered. ‘God, I’m so sick of you saying that. Your parents live in Kent for fuck’s sake! Your dad’s an estate agent. It’s hardly the coal mines of Burnley.’
He snapped back: ‘So why do you pretend that it is? Why do you joke to your friends that you’re “slumming it”?’
Willa faltered. When she and Tom first started dating, she and her friends did joke about it. Willa’s bit of rough, they called him – and she rather enjoyed it. Tom wasn’t a banker or barrister like her friends’ partners, so instead of settling for something banal like an estate agent’s son, she muddied some details to exoticise him. Clearly, she hadn’t been subtle. Knowing this was true, Willa changed tack smoothly. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said tearily. She touched her belly. ‘I’m just worried how we’ll cope with this little one coming.’
Tom pushed a hand through his hair, splitting it into furrows. ‘I’ll find something.’
‘But how? Everyone knows everyone in advertising.’
‘I’ll find something,’ he insisted.
‘But where, Tom? Didn’t two thousand people apply for a job at fucking Costa Coffee?’
‘I’ll go and work in a warehouse if I have to.’
She almost scoffed at this, but knew not to wound him further. ‘Okay,’ she said, blinking back her tears before her skin got blotchy.
‘But first,’ said Tom. ‘I’ll deal with that uppity bitch.’ He walked to the window and looked out at Salma’s house.
‘Are you going to talk to her?’
‘No,’ he said mildly. ‘The time for talk is over.’
‘Then what?’
He turned and smiled at Willa. ‘I’m going to make her life a living misery.’
Zain heard the soft clink of knuckles on glass. He looked up and saw Jamie waiting outside. He would have seen the clip by now. Had he come for a showdown? Zain opened the balcony door and let him step inside. Jamie was wearing a thin T-shirt and shivering from the evening breeze. Neither of them spoke for a second, then Jamie gestured glumly.
‘Dad lost his job today.’
Zain hid his shock. ‘Does he get a payout or something?’ he asked nonchalantly.
‘He wasn’t made redundant, man. He was fired. Because of that video.’
Zain tried to think of something appropriate. He hadn’t known Jamie long enough to gauge what the boy was feeling. ‘I had to put it up, man,’ he said eventually.
Jamie studied his nails and carefully pressed down his cuticles. ‘Dad shouldn’t’ve said what he said, but you didn’t have to put it up, Zain. You know what can happen these days.’
Zain was fazed and resented being made to feel that way. ‘What was I supposed to do?’
‘Think about me?’
Zain blinked, surprised by Jamie’s honesty. Back on Selborne Estate, no boy would ever have said this. The unexpected candour made him course with guilt. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to get caught up in this but I had to do it.’
‘Mum’s completely stressed out. The vibe at home is… weird.’
‘Then you can come and hang here.’
‘My parents won’t like it.’
‘Neither will mine but…’ Zain shrugged. ‘We don’t have to tell them, do we?’
‘But what if they find out?’
‘Then fuck ’em.’ Zain leaned towards him. ‘Listen, your parents don’t own you, okay? I’m telling you: there’s gonna be a day when you realise that your dad can do fuck all to you. He’s got no power. He dreads the day you’ll learn this so I’m telling you: if you want to hang out here, he can’t stop you. What’s he gonna do? Lock you in?’
Jamie smiled weakly. ‘I wouldn’t put it past him.’
Zain couldn’t detect whether he was serious. The possibility scared him, leading too quickly to somewhere too dark. ‘Then you kick down the door,’ he said, filled with bravado.
Jamie shifted unsurely.
‘Come on, man. Sit down. We said they wouldn’t mess with us.’ He motioned at his desk. ‘I’ll get us some nachos and that shitty guacamole you like so much.’
Jamie hesitated.
‘Come on! We’ve got to get ready for our call with the fund!’
Jamie relented and gingerly sat at the desk. He spun the chair to face Zain. ‘Fuck ’em,’ he said and broke into a grin.
‘Fuck ’em!’ Zain repeated. He slapped his palm against Jamie’s and smiled all the way to the kitchen.
Bil stuffed the sandwich into his bag, careful not to nick the foil. He added a flask of water and an overripe banana. He always ate the brownest ones so Salma wouldn’t have to.
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?’ he said.
‘Come on, Bil. You can’t pull out now.’ There was an edge in Salma’s voice for she knew his offer was empty. Bil had been booked to cater a wedding on the Isle of Skye – a word-of-mouth referral from an old customer who used to frequent Jakoni’s. Bil’s fee was equivalent to three months of his new salary and he’d had to beg for the leave. He couldn’t back out now.
‘Okay,’ he said glumly. ‘The upholsterers will be at Jakoni’s this evening, so don’t forget to let them in. Also, can you collect the box I taped up? Suli’s nephew will pick it up next week.’ Bil reeled off a list of duties, pausing midway. ‘You will be okay, won’t you?’
‘Of course.’ She tried and failed to reassure him.
‘Please don’t worry, honey. What happened at Jakoni’s was unrelated. I’m sure of it.’
In a way, she hoped that it had been Tom, for it surely meant his anger was spent. If it really was unrelated, then Tom’s revenge may still be waiting and she was sure it would be swift and strong. ‘Do you think I should speak to him?’ she asked.
‘No,’ said Bil vehemently. ‘I think you should stay away.’ He watched her closely. ‘Salma, promise me. I’ll be back in two days. Please stay out of their way until then.’
‘I will,’ she promised. ‘Now go. You’ll miss your train.’
He kissed her firmly, then rushed out through the door, leaving her alone with Molly. The dog whined and Salma knelt down to pet her.
‘I know, sweetheart,’ she said softly. ‘But we’ll be okay. I promise.’ She pressed her cheek against Molly’s coat. ‘I’ve got to go but Zain will look after you.’
Outside, she spotted it immediately. She walked closer, her breath thick in her lungs. Her car had a deep, silver key mark all the way down the left side. She circled the car and felt a hot rush of disbelief. It was all the way round: an intentional act of vandalism. She looked up and saw a curtain fall back into place on the first floor of Tom’s house. Instinctively, she raised her middle finger.
‘Salma?’ The voice behind her made her jump.
She turned around, forming a fist to hide what she’d just done.
Linda looked at her with befuddlement, then glanced at Tom’s window. ‘Is everything okay?’ There was an edge in her tone, making it clear that she had seen the gesture.
Salma didn’t have the energy to be friendly. Instead, she just pointed at her car.
Linda gasped and clutched the zipper of her jacket, scrunching it in her fist. ‘Oh, dear,’ she said. Slowly, she too circled the car, muttering with sympathy. But then, she paused abruptly. ‘Wait, you can’t possibly think that…’ She looked up at Tom’s window, her brows knit in doubt.
‘Honestly? I don’t know what to think.’
Linda studied Tom’s house for a moment. ‘No,’ she said officiously, as if she had divined the truth. ‘This isn’t Tom. I know he’s angry about his job, but he just wouldn’t do this.’
Salma tensed. ‘His job?’
Linda feigned distress, but her face betrayed her pleasure at being the one to reveal this. ‘Haven’t you heard? Tom lost his job yesterday.’
Fresh dread dawned on Salma. If Tom had been angered by a simple banner, how livid would he be now?
‘I saw him yesterday,’ said Linda. ‘And he said that he’d been sacked over the video.’ There was unmistakable blame in her tone.
‘Yesterday?’ Salma’s thoughts wheeled in her head. ‘What time?’
‘Around noon. Why?’
Noon. Which meant that Tom could have gone to the restaurant. ‘Did you see him come and go at any point?’
‘Why?’ Linda wouldn’t reveal any more unless she got an answer.
Salma knew not to say too much. ‘I just wondered when this happened.’ She gestured at the car.
Linda tutted. ‘Honestly, Salma, I really don’t think this was him. I’ve known Tom for a long time and there’s never been any trouble of this sort. It might be those thugs from Abbey Estate. They’re the only ones who cause issues around here.’
‘Okay, thank you, Linda.’ Salma was done with this conversation. She looked at her car, thoroughly dispirited. She couldn’t afford to fix the scratch, which meant she would drive around marked like a scarlet woman.
‘If you’d like, I could host a mediation session? I’m a trained counsellor,’ said Linda.
Salma smiled politely. ‘Thank you, but I think we’re all right for now.’ She glanced at her watch and used it to excuse herself, leaving Linda midflow. As she walked off, she saw Tom’s curtain move again. This time, it was obvious, as if designed to signal that Salma was being watched.
Chapter 6
Salma drummed the handle of her trolley and tried hard to relax. The supermarket was neutral ground, a safe distance from Blenheim. Over the last three days, she had been on high alert around anyone who looked like Tom: the man leaving Timpson on the high street wearing an orange cap, the broad-shouldered jogger by Fairlop Waters who ran past her and Molly, the muscular commuter on the 169 that took her favourite seat. She was grateful that Bil would be back today.
She skirted up and down the aisles, collecting the favourite things of the two men in her life: Pop-Tarts for Bil, who hadn’t yet outgrown them, honeyed cashews for Zain, who ate them all day, and a large bag of nachos, which seemed to disappear at an alarming rate. She paused in the coffee aisle and dithered over a deal, eventually choosing the cheaper product. Bil used to laugh at her for doing this – a habit from her childhood – but lately it had become a necessity. His pay packet from the wedding had bought them some time but it wouldn’t last for long. They had to sell Jakoni’s.
Outside, as she loaded her bags in the boot, she heard her phone vibrate. She answered and listened as pressure rose in her chest. She dove into the car and zoomed off, letting the ice cream melt. Nearing Jakoni’s, she parked on a side street, barely remembering to lock her car before rushing to the restaurant. Bil was already outside and though he pulled her into his arms, they were both too preoccupied for a proper reunion.
‘Have you been upstairs?’ she asked.
‘I’m waiting for Stu.’
At that moment, Stu, their twenty-something estate agent, exited the building. A sheen of sweat slicked his forehead and a lock of hair had escaped the gel that sculpted it in place. He cracked his knuckles in a nervous tic. In seeing his distress, Salma felt her own panic swell.
‘Are they leaving?’ she asked.
Stu shook his head, a pinkish colour rising in his cheeks.
‘Did you speak to them? What did they say?’
He rubbed his sparse stubble, inexperience turning him mute.
‘Stu!’ she cried.
‘They’re not leaving. They say they have rights to be there.’
‘And do they?’
He pulled out his phone and began to search on Google. Salma watched, mortified. They had chosen Stu because of his cut-price fees compared with the nearby Keatons. She could see now that they had made a mistake. He squinted at his screen. ‘It says here that squatting in a non-residential building is legal.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘I guess you could call the police.’
‘You “guess”?’ Salma wanted to shake him. ‘But what do you advise?’
Bil stepped in. ‘Should I go up and talk to them?’
Stu lifted a shoulder. ‘I mean, you could try.’
Salma could see that Stu would not be helpful. Perhaps she and Bil would do a better job of talking to them, whoever they were.
