Exit wound

He laughed. ‘They hate everyone, lad. You want a lift up to the do?’

We’d reached the road. Red Ken pressed a key fob and the indicators flashed on a long silver Merc.

‘Whoa, you haven’t done badly!’

He grinned as he opened the passenger door for me. ‘Better than most. Still way behind Tenny, of course.’

I nodded. ‘But he never made prime minister.’

‘He still owes us our fucking peerages.’ He waved to a couple of lads who recognized him, threw away his half-smoked B amp;H and opened the driver’s door. He got in and played about with his seatbelt.

We nudged into the traffic as the one big wiper silently removed the rain. I sank back into a world of black leather. The Premiership player in the dark grey suit was standing back from the crowd, watching the Merc disappear. ‘How’re Chrissie and the girls, Red?’

He concentrated for a moment on the road as we wove through groups of mourners wandering oblivious to the traffic because they were too busy waffling to the mates they hadn’t seen since the last funeral they’d all been to.

Finally he shook his head. ‘She binned me. The youngest is in the States. The other married a hairdresser and fucked off to Australia. Can’t blame them. Fuck-all left in Brown’s Britain, is there?’ He continued before I could even draw breath, keen to change the subject. Fair one. ‘What about you? Remarried? Kids?’

‘Nah.’

‘So it’s just you on your own, is it? Nicky No-mates-and-no-money?’

I smiled. ‘Yep, just me. Who’s the woman?’

‘In the sun-gigs? Cinza. Not a clue why she’s with him. Maybe she saw him in his running shorts. She works in London for some Italian fashion mag.’

The one-way system was blocked. It would have been quicker to walk. The Merc finally glided into the car park opposite the drill hall.

‘What do you do, Ken? How do I get one of these?’

We climbed out into the drizzle and jogged towards the queue at the open door of the nineteenth-century Territorial Army building.

He grinned. ‘Same as you – this and that.’

‘Must be a better bit of this and that than I’ve been fucking about with. I’ve been on the circuit now and again, daily rates.’

‘Still got your house?’

I shook my head. ‘Renting – a studio flat in north London, near Tufnell Park.’

He slapped me on the back. ‘There’s fuck-all wrong with you, is there? You need to sort yourself out, mate. Get a roof over your head and a good woman under you.’

We filed in. The bar was doing a roaring trade. The bowls of peanuts on the veneered tables were already nearly empty.

‘There they are.’

Dex and Cinza were standing by a table on which sat two fresh pints, and Cinza was clearly trying to work out what the hell was happening – why all these people were drinking and shovelling peanuts down their necks like there was no tomorrow.

13

Dex put down his G-and-T and held out the two pints. ‘Here you go, chaps.’ He toasted each of us with a clink of his glass and then presented his friend. ‘Nick, I’d like you to meet Cinza.’

I raised my glass. ‘Hello.’

Cinza had a mineral water in her perfectly manicured hand. ‘Now I have met two of your friends, Dexter.’ Her accent was as cut-glass as Dex’s – and about as sincere as the Queen’s. ‘Shall we go soon? I have a dinner this evening and-’

‘No, Chinni – three.’ Dex lifted his glass. ‘To Tennyson.’

We toasted him, but there wasn’t even enough time to get my glass back on the table and my fist around what was left of the peanuts before Cinza started having words with Dex about their travel arrangements.

Red Ken leant towards me. ‘Tenny was getting out after this, you know. He got zapped the last week of his tour. Nightmare, eh?’

‘I always thought he’d be in until they kicked him out or carried him out.’

Dex had been chewing the slice of lemon from his glass during the negotiations. Cinza finally lost patience and got on her mobile. He turned to us. ‘Actually, we persuaded him to come in on a little venture of ours instead.’ He turned back and interrupted her call. ‘Chinni, darling, I’ll drive you back in plenty of time. Just a while longer to talk to old friends.’ He kissed her cheek as she waffled away in Italian, then turned and winked at us. ‘She’ll be fine. So hot-blooded!’

She certainly was. As she closed down her mobile she stormed off in the direction of the door, with Dex trailing behind. ‘Darling, just a few more minutes…’