Wide Open. Nicola Barker
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shut, he felt for the pedals and then for the knob to adjust the position of his seat. He found it. He pushed himself back, but only slightly. He turned the ignition. The engine whinnied and then rumbled.
‘Get the gears, Jim.’
He carefully adjusted his rear-view mirror.
Jim said nothing. He wiped his eye, sniffed once, and then calmly stuck the gears into reverse.
6
Nathan told Margery before she’d even had the chance to sit down.
‘I saw James this morning.’
Margery hadn’t had an easy day. One of her clients was in court pleading guilty to a charge of fratricide. Another client, a child, had been taken into care after trying to burn down his grandmother’s house. And then she’d spent the remainder of her afternoon unsuccessfully trying to communicate with a young girl who’d become voluntarily mute after witnessing her sister’s death in a road traffic accident. It was grim.
‘James who?’
‘Jim. Jimmy.’
They were in Nathan’s flat in Stamford Hill. Above a bakery. Margery lived in Bethnal Green. Next to Tesco’s.
‘Jim?’ She turned to look at him. ‘So why didn’t you call me?’
Nathan scratched his head. ‘When I threatened to he ran off. There seemed no point once he’d gone.’
Margery had lit a cigarette. Nathan didn’t smoke. She inhaled and then pulled a smidgen of loose tobacco from the tip of her tongue.
‘So you simply didn’t bother ringing at all.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Margery grimaced. ‘To hell with being sorry, Nathan. Did he say where he was going? Did he say where he’d been?’
‘No.’
‘Then what was he after?’
‘He wanted a watch.’
Margery inspected Nathan’s wrist.
‘And you gave him yours.’
‘Yes.’
‘And he didn’t say where he was living?’
Nathan paused. ‘When I asked he said that he was going to Manchester.’
‘Manchester?’ Margery was bemused. ‘Why Manchester?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps it was just a whim.’
Margery threw herself down on to the sofa next to Nathan. ‘I wish to God you hadn’t given him your watch, Nathan.’
‘I know. I know.’
Nathan felt ashamed but he didn’t want a lecture.
‘I’m not being nasty,’ Margery continued, ‘but it’s a real weakness on your part.’
‘I realize that now. And I’m sorry. I just felt … I felt pity for him. He was very thin. I thought he might sell it in exchange for food or something.’
‘Please.’
Margery stubbed out her cigarette with a ferocious thrust. It hadn’t made her feel any better. Her lips were burning, for some reason.
Quite unexpectedly, Nathan began crying. He didn’t sob or sniff but tears flowed silently down both of his cheeks. Margery scowled. She was unmoved by tears. She’d seen too many over the years. Tears were a part of her job, after all, a part of her life. Tears were an excuse. A mechanism for delay. She felt in her pocket for a tissue. She had none. She felt in Nathan’s pocket. She drew out a ball of paper. She unfolded it.
‘You were going to show me this, I suppose?’
‘What?’ Nathan turned and saw the square of paper. He wiped his eyes. ‘What is it?’
‘He’s signed this request form Ronny. Did you see?’
Nathan shook his head. ‘I didn’t see. I didn’t read it.’
‘And under Address he’s written …’
The handwriting was so poor that she couldn’t decipher it. ‘Shelby … Shel … Well certainly not Manchester.’
Nathan was feeling raw and puny and defensive. ‘He told me Manchester. I have no reason to lie about that.’
Margery rubbed her eyes with her hand. A smear of mascara settled on her forehead above her left eyebrow. Nathan stared at it.
‘You know …’
She was exhausted and demoralized. ‘It’s at moments like this that I begin to wonder … I mean by rights I have an obligation to contact the authorities.’
Nathan took the slip of paper. He could see that the word written under Home Address was ‘Sheppey’. Margery watched him. ‘Can you read it?’
‘Uh …’ he swallowed, ‘uh … no.’
She sighed. ‘I just wish you hadn’t given him your watch. If something happens to him and they find your watch …’
Nathan felt his wrist. ‘I hated that watch,’ he said.
Margery relaxed her head on to the back of the sofa. ‘I’m too tired for this,’ she mumbled.
Nathan nodded. ‘I’m tired too, but I felt I should tell you.’
Margery ignored him.
‘And he did say Manchester,’ Nathan repeated, regretting that he had confided in her now and abandoning all previous ideas about honesty being the best policy. He pushed himself up. ‘I’ll make a start on dinner.’
He went into the kitchen.
Margery pulled her aching legs on to the sofa. She closed her eyes. Her body relaxed but her mind wheeled on in full throttle. She was implicated. She hated that feeling. It was a compromise and she hated compromises. She was hardened. She knew it. And it was a nasty thing to know about yourself.
Her father had been a doctor. Her mother had been a midwife. Two strong service traditions. Caring was just another mechanical gambit she’d learned about in tandem with tying her laces. It was an inconvenience, sometimes. When Daddy had to make a house call on Christmas day. When his dinner went cold. And it was probably only some stupid old woman who was stuck on her own and had no one to talk to. But he took it for granted. They all did.
Margery was disgusted by weakness but equally disgusted by her own disgust. She’d been married, a man she met at university. He’d studied engineering. He was ambitious. It hadn’t lasted. It had lacked something. Compassion? Should a marriage be compassionate? Divorce. Then she’d floundered. And finally she’d met Nathan.
It was on the job. A routine investigation into allegations of misconduct at a children’s home in the London borough of Brent. There she met James, who was Jimmy, who was Ronny. He was a lost boy. Like in Peter Pan. A little lost boy. Nobody loved him. Nobody wanted him. But he was looking for love and in all the wrong places. He was vulnerable.
He’d had this habit of losing things. He didn’t have much, but what he had he lost. On the way to school he’d drop his books. He’d leave his lunch on the Tube. He’d take off his coat and he wouldn’t pick it up. As if he was a snake and just shedding skins.
Then he’d begun making claims. He’d go and make a claim and he’d hope to get something back that wasn’t his. Something interesting that had a life, a meaning, elsewhere. Something distinct. Something whole.
And it was in this place that he met Nathan. And Nathan had once had a brother he’d abandoned who was roughly the same age as James, as Jimmy. So he gave him things. The brother’s things. It was a private deal between them. But it was wrong. It was wrong.
Margery