Читать книгу Love, Lies And Louboutins - Katie Oliver - Страница 19
ОглавлениеJools cried out and shoved Adesh sideways. She heard a loud explosion as the gun fired into the wall just behind them, splintering the bathroom’s doorjamb and sending bits of wood flying.
“Don’t move,” the man at the foot of the stairs commanded as he cocked the hammer, “or I’ll fire again. And this time I won’t miss.”
His faint Australian accent was oddly familiar. Jools peered – very cautiously – around Desh’s shoulder. “Uncle Jack?” she said, incredulous.
“Hello, Julia.” He didn’t seem at all surprised to see her. His blue eyes – and the gun’s sights – remained on Adesh. “And who’s this?”
“Adesh,” she said quickly. “Adesh Patel. It’s okay, we’re…” she hesitated and added defiantly ‘we’re together, Desh and I. We let ourselves in last night. I didn’t think you’d mind. We thought…”
“You thought you’d hide from your new Turkish friends,” Jack finished, and lowered his gun.
“They’re not exactly our friends,” Adesh snapped. “They grabbed us off the street. Why the hell did you shoot at us? We could’ve been killed!”
“Believe me, if I’d wanted to kill you,” Jack said as he re-holstered his weapon, “you’d already be dead.”
Jools pushed past Adesh and came down the stairs. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“Leaving aside for the moment the fact that this is my cottage,” Jack responded evenly, “I should be asking you that question.” His eyes were still fixed on Desh’s.
“Listen, I’m starving,” Jools said, not only because it was true, but to alleviate the palpable tension between Jack and Adesh. She brushed past her uncle and made her way down the hall to the kitchen. “We’ll tell you all about it – but first, is there anything to eat in this place?”
“As it happens,” Jack said as he followed her into the kitchen, “you’re in luck. I brought a few groceries along. I’ll just ring your mum and dad and let them know you’re all right.”
“That’d be great, thanks.” She cast him a quizzical glance. “How’d you know we don’t have our mobiles?”
“The police report. Your mother said you’d left yours behind, something – according to her – that you never do.”
A grudging smile tugged at the corners of Jools’s lips. “She’s right. I take my phone everywhere. Don’t know why I didn’t take it last night.” Her smile faded. “Probably because of the row Mum and I had after I got home.”
“How about I make us all a late brekkie after I ring your folks with the happy news? How does that sound?” Jack asked.
“That sounds perfect.” She hesitated. “Tell them…tell Mum I’m okay. And I’m sorry.”
Jack nodded briefly. He paused in front of Adesh, who was leaning against the doorjamb with a guarded expression on his face. “I’ll call your mum as well,” Jack added. “She and your dad are in a proper state.”
“Thanks,” Adesh mumbled.
Jack left to make the calls, and Jools began pulling stuff out of the bags he’d left on the table.
“So this guy’s your uncle?” Adesh asked in a low voice.
As she withdrew a carton of eggs, a loaf of bread, and tins of baked beans and kippers, Jools nodded. “We don’t see him often, but he always brings loads of pressies at Christmas. And he never forgets my birthday—”
“And he carries a gun and shoots at people like – like some kind of an Australian James Bond.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know what he does, exactly, and I never asked. All I know is he sells weapons.” She glanced at him and added crossly, “Well, don’t just stand there. You can make the toast. Oh – and find a pan for the baked beans. If you don’t help, you don’t eat.”
“Shit, you’re bossy,” he grumbled, but twisted the loaf of bread open and thrust a couple of slices into the toaster.
“Someone has to be,” she retorted.
“I reckon you’ll make some poor bloke a good wife one day.”
She paused, eggs in hand. “Really? Because I can cook?”
“No. Because he’ll be afraid to say ‘no’ when you ask him to marry you.”
“Ha, ha,” Jools said, and lifted the egg in her hand. “Careful, or you’ll be wearing this instead of eating it.”
Adesh opened the tin of beans, dumped them into a saucepan and set it on the hob. “I met Chara last week.”
“Chara?” She began to crack the eggs, one by one, into a bowl. “Isn’t she the girl your parents want you to marry?”
He nodded but didn’t look at her. “Yeah.”
“But, Adesh – an arranged marriage?” Her expression was incredulous. “You don’t even know this girl! And you said you wanted no part of such an outdated tradition.”
“I didn’t.” He shrugged. “But things change. It’s worked out well for my parents, after all. They’ve been after me to meet her, to give her a chance. So I did. And – she’s okay.”
“So now you want to marry her? A complete stranger?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. But it doesn’t hurt to get to know her a bit.”
Jools’s hand tightened on the whisk as she beat the eggs, but – although she wanted to say a great many things - she said nothing. She and Adesh weren’t dating, exactly; they were just friends who hung out sometimes. It was none of her concern what he did. But she liked him. He was different to anyone else she knew.
And she didn’t want to see him get hurt.
Fifteen minutes and somewhat of a mess later, breakfast was ready. They sat at the kitchen table, stuffing themselves on eggs, beans, rashers of bacon, and thickly buttered toast with marmalade. Nothing – at least not to Jools – had ever tasted as good as that fry-up did.
“All right, then, tell me what happened,” Jack said as he mopped up the last of his over-easy egg yolk with a piece of toast, “straight from the beginning.”
Adesh set aside his toast and told Jack about the Bombers, and the protection money his father couldn’t afford to pay. He related their terrifying journey in the back of the van and subsequent escape at the petrol station.
“Did either of you get a look at any of the men who grabbed you?” Jack asked.
Jools shook her head. “It happened so fast. One minute we were waiting on Deepa’s doorstep, and the next…they grabbed us.”
“Do you remember any details? Hair colour, what they were wearing, what they said?”
“Dark hair. They didn’t speak English. It sounded like…Turkish.” She paused and added slowly, “I saw two men standing on the corner when we first got there, smoking. They glanced at us,” she remembered, “and then they looked away. I didn’t pay much attention. But they gave me a bad feeling.”
“Why?”
Jools shrugged. “I don’t know, exactly. I felt as if they were watching us. Waiting.”
“But you don’t remember what they looked like?”
She shook her head. “Not really. Like I said, they had dark hair, and leather jackets, and jeans. Sorry I’m so useless, but it was nearly dark.”
“They dragged us to the van and then they blindfolded us,” Adesh added.
Jools nodded slowly. “Whoever grabbed me smelled of cigarette smoke.” She lifted her gaze to her uncle’s. “And one of the men on the corner had an oil stain on his jacket – like he’d been working on a car.”
“Good girl,” Jack approved. “Was there anything else? Think hard.”
She frowned, and shrugged. “No, nothing. Sorry.”
“I remember something,” Adesh said suddenly. “The bloke that grabbed me? He had a tattoo on his wrist.”
“What kind of tattoo? What did it look like?”
“It was a circle, with an upside-down ‘V’ in the middle.”
“Lots of people have tattoos,” Jools scoffed.
“On the contrary,” Jack said, “this is good. Anything either of you remember – no matter how trivial – might help.” He stood and carried his plate to the sink. “Once we clear up, I’m taking you lot back home.”
Adesh darted a quick glance at Jools. “We can’t go back! What if they try to grab Jools – or me – again?” he demanded.
“They won’t come at your father the same way twice. At any rate, you can’t stay here, either of you. You both have school.”
Jools was silent. St Luke’s Academy, and things like homework and revision, suddenly seemed a million miles away.
Jack ran hot water into the sink and added a liberal squirt of washing-up liquid, then turned to face Adesh. “You said that when you got to your aunt’s house, she wasn’t there. Any idea where she went?”
“No.” Desh pushed his chair back and took his plate to the sink as well.
“Why did you two go there in the first place?”
“Mum needed fenugreek. She was making daal when my aunt called. She said she had plenty and to send me over to fetch it.”
“So something happened between the time your mum called and the time you two arrived… something that caused your aunt to leave quite suddenly.” Jack thrust his hands into the warm, soapy water and began the washing up. “No idea what it might have been?”
“I told you, I don’t know.” Desh scraped a bit of dried egg from his plate into the bin. He glanced at Jack and his dark eyes were suspicious. “Why the questions? Didn’t the police ask my auntie these things already?”
“They couldn’t.” Jack paused. “She didn’t come back home.”
“What?” Adesh’s expression darkened. “Why not? What happened? And why didn’t you tell me sooner? Those bastards didn’t grab her, did they?”
“Adesh,” Jack said gently, his hands gone still in the soapy water, “I’m sorry, but your aunt was shot at some point before you two arrived. She survived – but she’s in hospital, in a serious condition. I’m sorry.”
“What? Shit!” The plate slid from Adesh’s fingers and crashed onto the floor. He turned on Jack in fury. “I don’t believe you! Who would shoot her? Why? You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re wrong. Wrong!”
“I wish I was.”
“I can’t…fuck,” Adesh murmured, his expression anguished as he sank down onto a chair. “Why would anyone hurt my Auntie Deepa?”
“I’m sorry, Desh,” Jools murmured, and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.
“Does your aunt have any kids?” Jack asked.
Desh nodded. “A daughter, my cousin. Christa.”
“Christa? Not a very Indian name, that.”
“She’s half-Anglo.” Desh met his eyes and added, “Like me.”
If he heard the challenge in Adesh’s voice, Jack gave no sign. “Does she still live on the Mile End Road?”
Adesh shook his head. “No. She has a townhouse in Primrose Hill.”
“Primrose Hill, eh? She must do all right for herself.”
“She’s a singer. You must’ve heard of her – her new song’s in the pop charts.”
“No, sorry.” Jack finished rinsing the plates and pulled out the broom. “I don’t keep up with pop singers. Where is she now?”
But he already knew the answer. It was true he didn’t follow celebs; he only followed the exploits of that half-baked rocker, Dominic Heath, because he’d recently married Gemma. And Christa had jetted off with Dominic in his Lear…
..leaving his beautiful new bride behind.
Still, he was curious to see what information Adesh might have about his celebrity cousin.
“I don’t know where Christa is,” the boy said, visibly annoyed. “I don’t keep up with her. We’re not that close. And I hate pop music.”
“Fair enough.” Jack glanced at his niece. “How about grabbing a dish towel and drying those plates, Julia?”
“It’s Jools,” she informed him coolly as she grabbed a towel off the drying rack.
Jack made no reply, but he gave her a hard look before he began sweeping up the broken bits of plate from the floor, and without another word, she began to dry the plates.
