CAFÉ ASSASSIN Read online

  The next day I picked up Steve and drove us over to Horsforth to start a new job. A couple in their sixties. Photos of their grandkids in fancy dress on their mantelpiece. The girl was a witch in green and black, the boy was a Buzz Lightyear. All these things people take for granted. It’s amazing to me now, it was amazing to me then, that someone can walk under a rainbow and not see it. Did you know that rainbows are complete circles? There is no end. There is no crock of gold. All the colours of the universe are going round and round. It never stops.

  I like to watch the sci-fi channel, she said, showing us around her house. He’s only into documentaries. That’s the idea of the conservatory. Get a TV in there, make it cosy. My sister thinks it’s odd, but it works for us. Do you both want a cup of tea?

  Another happy family. I left it till about two o’clock before I made the call, so I knew you’d be out of court and probably already leaving the chambers.

  Andrew, it’s Nick. How you doing?

  Nick, I was going to call you … It’s been mad. Big case on.

  I could hear the panic in your voice.

  That’s all right. Not to worry. Have you had a think?

  Well, yes. I have. I talked it over with Liv over the weekend.

  And?

  Liv suggested you come over for a meal. Give us a chance to discuss it properly.

  Great. When’s best for you?

  We thought the weekend. Saturday. Five o’clock?

  Look forward to it. See you then.

  I put my phone back in my pocket. It was warm against my thigh. Liv had suggested it.

  It seemed to take forever for Saturday to come round, but I was used to biding my time. The world divided into those who wait and those who act, those who say no and those who say what the hell. I was spending too much time in the pub with Steve, but I needed to sedate the snake around my neck.

  Eventually, Saturday arrived, and I was on the bus. It dropped me off in the centre of Ilkley and I walked up the tree-lined avenue, the air thick with bird song. It was quarter to five. I stood close to your house. I badly needed a roll-up to settle my nerves but I didn’t want to smell of cigarettes, so I waited until the time on my phone said exactly five o’clock, then I took a deep breath and walked past the gates, knocking once on your door. It was you, Andrew, who answered.

  Hey, good to see you, Nick.

  Was it good to see me? Somehow, I doubted that. We shook hands, your palms were clammy. The shake turned into an awkward hug. I could feel your corpulence. You were wearing a navy hooded sweater with white drawstrings. There was some meaningless insignia over your left breast. The top was loose fitting, and it made me smile. Was this your attempt to make me feel at ease or was this genuinely how you dressed in the comfort of your own home? Wearing pinstripe suits and robes all day, walking round in a seventeenth century wig, some of those straight lines must rub off.

  Good to see you too, I said.

  Liv’s upstairs, come through.

  We walked into the grand hallway and into the living room. It was quite a place you had, full of light and colour. The paintings and the sculptures were very tasteful and I wondered whether that was you or Liv. In fact, I didn’t wonder at all.

  Have a seat, you said, indicating the sofa.

  I could see you’d been sitting in the leather armchair as the cushions were still showing the impression of your expanding backside. I must say, I derived much pleasure from observing your physical decline.

  Drink?

  You fetched us both a bottle of Sol and we chinked. I sat down in your armchair and you tried not to look distressed, resigning yourself to the sofa opposite. Above your head was a photograph of you and Liv. You were standing on top of a skyscraper. In the background was The Empire State Building. You had your arm around Liv and you were both smiling. Reaching up behind you was the antenna spire, soaring to the heavens. You had a bit more hair and less of a double chin. What an idyllic image, I thought.

  Is that New York?

  Top of the Rockefeller. Second trip. You been?

  I let the silence answer your question.

  Sorry, of course not. What I meant was, you should go. You’d like it.

  I used silence again, let it fall like a lead hood over your head. There was a wooden chess set, but it didn’t look as if it had ever been used. There was a thin layer of dust over the tops of the pieces. A black cat was trying to scratch the legs of the table, but you batted it away with your bottle.

  Bloody cat.

  The animal hissed at you. It stiffened its back legs and offered you the raw pink flesh of its anus, then stalked off.

  So where are the kids? I said, at last.

  They’re at school. It’s residential.

  Boarding school?

  Yes. I told you before.

  You were scratching the ink off the side of your bottle.

  A public school?

  Megan was getting behind. She’s not very academic. It didn’t seem fair not to do the same for Ben.

  Scratch, scratch, scratch. I enjoyed your discomfort.

  Comprehensive worked for you, Andrew. How old’s Megan?

  Fifteen. You might get to see her later. She’s popping over to pick up some books.

  So, I said, There’s money to be made from crime, and looked around the room.

  It helps that we bought at the right time. Just luck I suppose.

  Just luck. I knew about one form of luck, you knew of another.

  I’m made up for you, Andrew. Really, I am.

  I pointed through the window to the oak tree I’d hidden under. Nice tree, I said.

  Have you been in the garden? you asked.

  I got here early. I had a wander. Killed some time, I lied.

  Neither of us said anything for a while. I watched you shift in your seat, trying to get comfortable.

  About what happened … you said, looking a little afraid, but I cut you off before you had time to continue.

  It was twenty-two years ago, Andrew, we were just kids. Water under the bridge. Forget about it.

  You sure?

  Absolutely. I’m not one to bear a grudge. I’ve come to terms with the past. It’s about the future now. And it’s exciting.

  Well, here’s to the future, you said. I could see your body relax for the first time. You took a deep breath and we chinked again.

  So tell me more about your plans.

  Well, I’ve been looking around Leeds for properties. I want somewhere round the Corn Exchange. Somewhere a bit boho, studenty. I’ve been working it all out. I reckon I need somewhere with a capacity of about 150 people to make it work. Live entertainment. Paid performers at weekends, the rest will be open mic. Anyone can get on stage, sing a song, perform a poem, tell a joke, do a magic trick. I’ll MC at first, but once it picks up, I’ll pay someone. Good beers, good wines, a few choice spirits and cocktails. Snacks, suppers, tapas. Nothing fancy. It’ll be a members club, so we won’t need bouncers. We vet the clientele. If they become trouble, we cancel their membership.

  Have you thought of a name?

  Café Assassin.

  You nodded your head. Why Café Assassin?

  You know I was always a reader, Andrew, well I did a lot of reading inside. French nineteenth century Romantic writers: Charles Baudelaire, Théophile Gautier, Gérard de Nerval.

  Baudelaire, you said, trying to sound cultured. I thought about my pet budgie with the same name. He showed a similar level of literary awareness as you.

  They were part of this group in Paris, called themselves the Club des Hashischins. They met once a month at this hotel for drug-induced experiences – mostly with hashish. They didn’t smoke it, they ate it as a sweetmeat. Like having a really strong hash cake.

  It’s not going to be a drug den is it?

  Don’t wor
ry about that. We’re just trading on the mystique, the sense of freedom and adventure. That’s the thing. This is a free place for free spirits. I’m trying to create a scene. In an age of austerity, a bit of decadence.

  It sounds … interesting.

  You were about to say something. There was probably going to be a ‘but’. Something like, ‘it sounds interesting, but a bit ambitious for a first time business venture’, but you were interrupted by the door opening. You stopped and we both turned round. There was Liv in the doorway. Everything else in the room blurred.

  I can’t believe this, she said.

  She was shaking her head, looking at me, taking it all in. I couldn’t decide if she was pleased to see me or merely shocked. She shook her head again. I decided it was shock, perhaps even fear. Then she came over and gave me a tentative hug. She patted me on the back. Her body was rigid. Still, I felt a jolt shoot up my spine. You fetched her a beer and we sat down.

  Nick was just telling me about his idea. Tell Liv.

  So I went through it again, this time in more detail. All the time, Liv kept catching my eye and looking away. Was it fear I could see in her eyes, or merely caution? I smiled at her to reassure her, but I was thinking: twenty-two years and you didn’t visit me once. You didn’t write to me in all that time. Not one note. Not one word. You fucking bitch.

  She had her legs crossed and her arms too, like she was bracing herself against an assault. She was wearing a sixties-style dress, big chunky ring and necklace. Your wife has great taste. Unlike you, Andrew. You never had any idea about how to dress yourself. I suspect that the robes and wig uniform was something you relished, as it took away the burden of choice. It took away the very real possibility of you looking like a dick.

  Sounds too good to be true, she said, after I’d finished my pitch. What did she mean by that? I’d hoped to captivate her by my description, but she shared your scepticism. This was not the reaction I’d hoped for.

  You’re going to run it yourself? she said.

  That’s the idea.

  But you don’t have any experience.

  Well, thanks for the confidence vote.

  Have you got a business plan?

  No.

  A cash-flow forecast?

  What’s one of those?

  Have you done an analysis of your competitors?

  No.

  Look, Nick, eighty percent of new businesses fold in the first twelve months. What makes your business any different?

  I looked her in the eye, Because my life depends on it. I don’t have a plan B. This has to work. Do you understand?

  That doesn’t mean it will. I’m sorry Nick, I’m just trying to be realistic.

  Liv’s speaking from bitter experience. She’s had quite a few ups and downs with her catering business, haven’t you, babe?

  I watched Liv wince as you called her ‘babe’. Things weren’t as rosy in the garden as you were both trying to make out.

  I’m sorry to hear that, I said, But be honest, it’s not a matter of life and death for you is it?

  She tensed at this. I wanted to say, ‘so fuck off’ but held my tongue. I saw her relax a little. She took a deep breath and she loosened her shoulders.

  Ok, you’ve got a point, I suppose.

  She looked over to you, Andrew. She shot you a look. It said to me, ‘I could have done with more support from you’. I wondered to what extent your ambition had stifled hers.

  Don’t you think I can make a go of it then? I said.

  I’m not saying you will fail, Nick. I mean there are quite a lot of bars a bit like that in town already, but to be honest they’re mostly crap. Aren’t they, Andrew?

  You just shrugged.

  We’ve been in them all. Shabby rather than decadent, with the exact same furniture and pat prints on the walls. Boring.

  That’s not quite true, Liv. There are some good ones.

  What you’re describing, Nick, if you can pull it off, and I’m sorry to put a dampener on it, but it is a big if, you’re taking it one stage further.

  Remember the Dry Bar? I said.

  Course I do. She smiled for the first time, and you nodded.

  I mean, a totally different place, but it had that thing about it. The thing I’m trying to create. You felt like you were part of something just being there, part of a club, a family. Remember that man who used to dress like Alex out of Clockwork Orange?

  Oh, I do, yes. I’d forgotten about him. He used to sit with his mates wearing a white boiler suit. She laughed.

  Black boots and a black bowler hat. He even had eyelash extensions on one eye.

  What a cock!

  I know, but at the time we all thought he was so cool.

  No, you thought he was cool. I thought he was a cock.

  And we both laughed. Me and Liv. Not you. You just sat there scratching your bottle, unable to join in. You hadn’t noticed these people even though you’d been there with us. You had your mind on higher things such as punishment and justice. And shafting your best friend.

  Then we were back there: 1989. Talking bars, talking nights, talking people. Pretentious people, desperate people, drunken people, extroverts, nutters. She was laughing awkwardly at first but as she drank she seemed to relax. Every now and then we would catch each other’s eye and Liv would return my smile. Her guard was slipping, but whatever caution she was feeling hadn’t entirely vanished. You hardly said anything at all.

  We went into the dining room. Mushrooms, pasta, wine. More wine.

  You like mushrooms right? she said.

  Course I do. Edible ones.

  Every mushroom is edible. At least once, she said, with the glint of mischief back in her eye.

  I heard the front door open and a voice shout through.

  It’s only me!

  We stopped talking. There was a pause, then the dining room door opened and in she walked, your daughter. She looked at you and Liv, then she looked at me.

  This is Nick. An old friend. Nick, this is Megan.

  She walked across and shook my hand. I was stunned by how like Liv she was, even more so in the flesh. Again, I thought back to that party.

  I’ve heard about you. You were in prison.

  It’s not polite to say that, Megan, you said.

  I don’t mind. It’s nice to meet you, I said.

  I think it’s interesting, Megan said.

  The books are in the hall, on the stairs. I’ve put them in a bag for you, Liv said.

  Don’t I get a drink?

  Liv poured her a half glass of wine. She took the glass and gave you a look. As if that glass was a small victory over you.

  Megan thinks she’s eighteen.

  Don’t start, she said. He’s such a miserable–

  Don’t say it.

  I had fun trying to guess the missing word. There are plenty in the English language that would do the job.

  She sat down at the table. Are you really the same age as dad?

  Give or take a month or two.

  You look ten years younger. Doesn’t he mum?

  Don’t think she’s flattering you, Nick. It’s just another way of insulting me, you said. You helped yourself to a top-up.

  So what was dad like at school?

  He was a good student. Worked hard. Always revised for his exams.

  You mean he was a swot?

  I thought boarding school was supposed to show you the benefits of a good education, you said.

  You thought wrong. She laughed in your face.

  Are you stopping for something to eat? Liv said.

  I’ve had a KFC.

  You looked relieved. We ate in silence. You stared at the end of your fork. Megan was looking over at me.

  Well, I know where I’m not wanted, she said at last. She
knocked back her drink and left the room.

  Sorry about that, Liv said. She’s at that age.

  She sees me as the enemy, you said.

  It looked like Megan and I had something in common.

  We finished the pasta and moved on to the steak. The food was good, the meat was succulent, but you didn’t seem to have much appetite. I noticed Liv watch you move your food around your plate without eating it.

  Is there something wrong, Andrew? she asked you at last.

  No.

  I made it how you like it.

  I noted the irritation in her voice.

  I know.

  Medium rare.

  There was an awkward pause. You reached over again for the wine and filled your glass to the top. Liv’s glass was nearly empty but you didn’t fill her glass. She took the bottle off you and poured an inch into her own glass, as though demonstrating what restraint looked like. She moved the coaster from near your setting, where the wine had been, to the centre of the table, and put the bottle back. I thought about that chessboard in the other room, untouched. This is how you both play chess. I excused myself. You told me where the bathroom was and I went upstairs. Megan was sitting at the foot of the second set of steps.

  You ok?

  She shrugged, without looking up.

  You sure?

  I hate him. He’s such a dick.

  He’s only doing what he thinks is best.

  Bollocks. He’s a twat.

  Is that your bedroom up there?

  Why do you want to know?

  She stared at the floor. I watched a vein on her neck pulsate.

  Do you like boarding school?

  It’s all right.

  You look so much like your mum.

  Is that a good thing?

  She looked into my eyes.

  Did you and mum…?

  There was an awkward hiatus. Then I said, I best be getting back.

  As long as I don’t look like him.

  I left her moping on the step, used the bathroom and went back downstairs. It was good to see how popular you were with your only daughter. I wondered if things with Ben were any better.