Читать книгу Gents - Warwick Collins - Страница 9

Martha set a meal of mackerel and maize on the table in front of Ez. She sat down and watched him eat, her elbows on the table, her chin resting on her hands.

Ez took several mouthfuls. He said, “You not eatin’?”

“I ate earlier.”

Ez nodded. He glanced up at Martha and saw she was still watching him.

Martha said, “So how was it?”

“OK.”

“You like the others?”

“Mr Reynolds is the supervisor. Jason is the other cleaner.”

Martha said, “You get on?”

Between mouthfuls, Ez replied, “I get on fine.” He paused. “Where’s Stevie?”

“He’s out.”

“Not with that bad crowd?”

“Maybe not,” Martha said. “He tell me different.”

“Some fellows from West Kingston living round Buckle Street. Northampton estate. Some real bad boys. Seen them on the streets. Easy money.” He moved mackerel onto his fork with his knife. “Maybe afterwards, I go take a look for Stevie.”

Martha put a restraining hand on his elbow.

Ez watched her hand, the pale fingernails. He always liked the way the flesh sat on her fingers, firm.

Martha said, “I know where he is.”

“Where?”

“At the hairdresser’s.” She paused. “Biziou’s.”

“Getting a haircut?”

Martha smiled. “No. Learnin’.”

“Learnin’?”

“Learnin’. Takin’ up a new job, like you.”

Ez’s fork hovered.

“Stevie?”

Martha nodded. “It’s a good trade.”

Ez said, “He don’t play football no more.”

“Ez.” Martha’s fingers seemed to caress his arm. “Steve’s good at football, but he’s not so good. It’s not an easy life.”

“Application,” Ez said. He watched her hand retreat, almost with regret, then he returned to his eating. Martha seemed about to leave the table. He felt conciliatory.

“He’s good,” Ez said. “He could be something. The best in his youth club. Nothing to stop him. One day maybe he play for a club, maybe Arsenal.”

“Ez, don’t make Stevie do what you didn’t do.”

“He’s different,” Ez said. “I had a wife and kid, responsibilities. He got none. He could still do it.”

“Training, day in day out, for his father’s ambition.”

When he had finished, Martha said, “You want some more?”

Ez shook his head.

“I go make some coffee.”

Ez watched as she got up and went to the cooker. He glanced down at the table in thought. After a while, he pushed his plate away from him. He had wanted to say something about the work, about his consternation and doubt.

“How your day?” he called out. She worked part time at the social services department at Lambeth, doing clerical work. The extra income was useful.

“Not so bad.”

He could see Martha’s back through the kitchen door as she rinsed plates while waiting for the kettle to boil. By the poise of her neck and the angle of her head he could tell that she was thinking about something. She was not usually so uncommunicative. He knew that the subject of Stevie affected her too.