Incendiary

  Now I may be weak Osama but I am not a slut. I never asked for Jasper Black to sit down at my table and interrupt me gawping at action replays. I never came on to Jasper Black he came on to me there’s a difference.

  You could tell straight away Jasper Black had no business being in the East End. He was one of those types who fancied a spot of Easy Access To The City Of London And Within A Stone’s Throw Of The Prestigious Columbia Road Flower Market. The Sun calls them SNEERING TOFFS. Usually they live about 3 years in Bethnal Green or Shoreditch then move to the suburbs to be with their own kind. I watched a documentary once about salmon swimming up rivers to spawn and that’s what they’re like those people. You turn around one day and they’ve upped sticks and gone and all you’re left with is this fading smell of Boss by Hugo Boss on your nice T-shirt and a Starbucks where the pie shop used to be.

  Including him there were 3 SNEERING TOFFS on Jasper Black’s table it didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to spot them. I was looking at Sky trying not to catch their eye but I could feel them looking up from their pints and giving each other these little secret grins on account of I was a bit of local colour. Like it was okay I was wearing a Nike T-shirt and trackie bottoms but they’d of preferred it if I’d been dressed as a Pearly Queen or maybe the little match girl from Oliver! The Musical. If they’d been just a bit more pissed they’d probably of taken a photo of me on their mobiles for those web sites I told you about. They thought they were very clever. My whole point is they weren’t very nice and you could of blown up as many of them as you liked Osama you wouldn’t of heard any of us complaining.

  Anyway Jasper Black left his table and came over to mine and it was quite a surprise. Normally I’d of told him where to shove it but I couldn’t help noticing he had nice eyes for a SNEERING TOFF. I mean most of them have dead eyes like they’ve been done over with electric shocks like Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Or some of them have these little excited eyes like they’ve got a chinchilla up their bum like Hugh Grant in. Well. All his films. But Jasper Black wasn’t like that. He had nice eyes. He looked almost human. I looked back at the slow-motion goals on Sky. I knew it was dangerous to look at Jasper Black at least give me that much credit.

  —Football fan are you? said Jasper Black.

  —What do you think?

  —I think you’re beautiful, said Jasper Black. So do my friends. They bet me 20 quid I couldn’t get your name. So tell me your name and I’ll split the cash with you and never bother you again.

  He was smiling. I wasn’t.

  —20 quid?

  —Yes, he said. 20 English pounds.

  —Listen carefully. I’ll say this slowly. Your friends are WANKERS.

  Jasper Black didn’t even blink.

  —So help me take them for the money, he said. We’ll go halves. 10 quid each. What do you say?

  —I don’t need 10 quid.

  Jasper Black stopped smiling.

  —No, he said. Neither do I really. Well maybe I can just talk with you?

  —I’m married. I’m waiting for my husband.

  I picked up my G&T and I made sure he got an eyeful of my wedding band. My wedding band is not silver actually Osama it’s platinum it’s a cracker. My husband chose it himself and it cost him a month’s wages. There are some things you just can’t skimp on he always used to say. I still wear it today on a little silver chain around my neck. It’s as wide as runway number 1 at Heathrow Airport and it flashes like the sun but apparently Jasper Black couldn’t see it at all.

  —Are you here all on your own? he said.

  —No. Well yes I suppose I am. Like I say I’m waiting for my husband he’s a copper he’s a rock he’s never let me down we’ve been married 4 years 7 months we have a boy he is 4 years 3 months old he still sleeps with his rabbit the rabbit is called Mr. Rabbit.

  —Are you okay? said Jasper Black. It’s just that you seem a little overwrought.

  —Overwhat?

  —Overexcited.

  —Oh really what makes you say that?

  —Well, said Jasper Black. I only asked you if you were here alone and now I know everything about you with the possible exception of your mother’s maiden name.

  —Knowles.

  —Excuse me? said Jasper Black.

  —Knowles was my mother’s maiden name. In fact it always was her name she never was married to my father.

  —Oh, he said.

  —I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I’m never normally like this. Spilling my guts to strangers down the pub.

  —Please don’t apologise. Talk if you feel like talking. Get it all off your chest. I’m a good listener.

  —Are you sure? You seem very kind you have a kind face my husband is in bomb disposal.

  —Whoa there, said Jasper Black. Whoa whoa whoa. Just one cotton-picking minute. I’m going to go to the bar and get us both another drink and you’re going to take a deep breath and count backwards from ten and when I get back from the bar you’re going to start at the beginning and tell me all about it.

  —Okay.

  —Alright, he said. What are you drinking?

  —G&T please.

  —G&T it is, he said.

  —Last orders, said the landlord.

  So Jasper Black went up to the bar and his 2 SNEERING TOFF mates got up from their table and went in to the gents for a wee and I got up and locked them in there on account of they’d been gawping at me and Jasper Black and making blow-job faces at us ever since he sat down with me. It couldn’t of been easier. There was a padlock on the outside of the door to the gents and I just clicked it shut through the metal ring that was there and went back to my table nearest the telly projector and sat down good as gold. The landlord and the old granddads up at the bar saw the whole thing and they were all nudging each other and smiling at me which would of been nice except that their teeth were a right state so it was a bit like a horror film actually like Night of the Smirking Cardigan Granddads. When Jasper Black turned back from the bar with our drinks he looked around for his mates and made a question mark face at me with his eyebrows.

  —What happened to the blokes I was with? he said.

  —They disappeared up their own arses. You should of seen it. It was amazing.

  Jasper Black looked at me and frowned. Then he shrugged and sat down. We just drank our drinks for a little bit then. We didn’t look at each other we looked at each other’s drinks like they were effing fascinating. The way 2 people only do if they’ve known each other less than 25 minutes or more than 25 years. So I stared at Jasper Black’s lager and Jasper Black stared at my G&T and after a while this loud banging started coming from the gents now his mates had found out they’d been locked in there. It got louder and louder. You might of thought the landlord would of let them out but he didn’t because we do things a bit different in the East End. There are mysteries in this patch between Bethnal Green and Haggerston Osama that would of had your prophets scratching their heads I should think.

  Jasper Black nodded his head at the door of the gents where all the banging was coming from.

  —That’s them is it? he said.

  —They started it.

  Jasper Black frowned again and then he started laughing.

  —Good girl, he said.

  —Yes I am a good girl as a matter of fact so don’t think you can try anything fancy.

  Jasper Black grinned.

  —Last thing on my mind, he said.

  —My husband is in bomb disposal he got called out on a job tonight I’m waiting for him to come home.

  —Bomb disposal, said Jasper Black. The red wire or the green wire eh? That must be one hell of a job.

  I shrieked when he said that about the red wire or the green wire I couldn’t help myself.

  —Oh god, he said. I’m so sorry that was bloody insensitive of me. Sometimes I can be such a prat oh now I wish the ground would just swallow me up.

  —It’s not your fault
. I feel like a bomb myself tonight I’m all nerves I’m ready to explode I feel like I could go off at any moment.

  —Oh you poor thing, he said.

  He put his hand on my hand and I trembled.

  —Will you drink up now please, said the landlord.

  He meant it. 5 minutes later we were out on our ear and the banging from the door of the gents faded out when the barman locked the front door behind us.

  —Will they be okay in there? said Jasper Black.

  —Your mates?

  —Yes.

  —Do you care?

  —No.

  —Fine then.

  We stood there looking at each other’s shoes. It was raining. This is London Osama so if I do ever forget to mention the weather you just imagine it’s raining and cold and you won’t be far off.

  —Will you be okay? he said. I’m worried about you.

  —Worried about me? You don’t even know me. I’m not your problem.

  —There is such a thing as compassion, he said. We’re all in this together. You’re having a stressful night. Why don’t you let me at least walk you to your house?

  —Cause I don’t have a house. It’s a flat isn’t it?

  —Flat then.

  —It’s just round the corner. Don’t worry about me I’ll be alright I’ll just go home and put the kettle on.

  —Where are you living? he said.

  —On the Wellington Estate on the corner of Wellington Row. With my husband.

  —That’s funny, said Jasper Black. You live right across the road from me. I see the Wellington Estate from my window.

  —Bet that hasn’t done anything for your house price.

  —I’m sure it’s nice inside, he said.

  —It’s alright. At least we don’t have a view of the Wellington Estate.

  He smiled.

  —We’ll walk that way together, he said.

  He put his arm around my shoulders as we walked. I didn’t know how to stop him doing it. I thought he was maybe just being kind. I was nervous in case my husband came past and saw us walking that way. I was nervous in case my husband got himself blown up. Oh actually I was just nervous.

  When we reached the estate my husband’s car wasn’t parked in the road outside. The lights weren’t on in our flat it was obvious he wasn’t back yet.

  —He isn’t back yet.

  I don’t know why I said that. It was stupid of me. I don’t know why I said anything at all to Jasper Black he hadn’t even told me his name.

  —Your husband isn’t back? said Jasper Black.

  —No. The lights are off.

  —Well why don’t you come to my place? said Jasper Black. I’ll make you a coffee.

  —I don’t drink coffee.

  —A tea then, he said.

  —No thanks. I really should be getting back.

  —But what on earth for? he said. It’s not as if anyone’s waiting up for you.

  —I suppose not.

  Even though my boy was waiting in there for me. But I couldn’t tell him that could I? I couldn’t tell him I’d gone out to the pub and left my only boy all alone in the flat. They might of taken the boy off me. Social Services I mean. So I froze up. I didn’t know what to do. The rain was falling harder now and I was so nervous I couldn’t speak or even think. Jasper Black did all that for me.

  —Come on then, he said. Come back to my place. You shouldn’t be alone in your state. A nice cup of tea will do you good I insist.

  Jasper Black never did make me that cup of tea Osama. We went back to his place and it was one of those Georgian Gems. It was very nice and tidy inside I suppose he must of had a cleaner. His house was the other side of the road from ours and fifty yards down. He wasn’t lying about that. In his lounge he put on some of that new age music with monks and no drummer. He said it would relax me but it didn’t. I just kept looking out the window to see if my husband was home yet.

  —My girlfriend’s away, said Jasper Black.

  —Oh.

  —Yes, he said. She’s in Paris.

  —That’s nice. On holiday is she?

  —On business. We’re journalists. She’s doing a piece on Paris Fashion Week. Her name is Petra Sutherland. Maybe you’re familiar with her work?

  —Mmm?

  —Sunday Telegraph? he said. We’re both with the Sunday Telegraph. It’s how we met.

  —That’s nice. Listen I don’t know what I’m doing here I must be out of my mind I think I’ll be getting back now.

  —Please don’t go just yet, said Jasper Black. For your own sake why don’t you just stay a while and let me help you to relax.

  —You don’t understand.

  —Oh I think I do, he said.

  He stroked my neck all soft and gentle. It was like an electric shock I could feel it all up and down my body. He took my clothes off very delicate while I just stood there shaking and then he took his own clothes off too all of them.

  —This isn’t like me.

  —This isn’t like me either, he said. Oh god you have such lovely breasts.

  —What did you say?

  —That you have lovely breasts, he said.

  —Oh. My husband doesn’t call them that.

  He took me into the bedroom and we lay down on the bed and we had sex ever so gentle it felt like everything was flooding out of me it was lovely I cried all the way through it.

  When I got home my husband still wasn’t back. I ran a bath and I lay in it with just my eyes and nose sticking out the water. I was thinking nothing much. When the bath went cold I put on my pink dressing gown and wrapped a towel round my hair and I went to look in on my boy. He looked so peaceful. I felt very peaceful too I lay down on the floor beside his bed and went to sleep. When I woke up the room was full of pink light from the sun through the curtains. I heard my husband’s key in the front door and I went to meet him in the lounge.

  —How did it go?

  My husband was drinking his Famous Grouse. He looked up at me.

  —I’m still here ain’t I? he said.

  I smiled at him.

  —Yeah love. Yeah you still are.

  He went to sleep with his clothes on. I lay down beside him with my arm over his chest. I listened to him breathing. I was very happy I was still thinking nothing much.

  * * *

  They say you are a FIEND Osama but like I say I don’t believe a word of it. I’ve seen you in your videos. You give me the shivers and you look like a gentleman. My husband was a good man he was a gentleman too. You would of liked him. Maybe you should of thought about that before you blew him up. They say you believe in paradise. They say you believe that if your people kill anyone innocent then you’re doing them a favour because they will go to be with Allah. I wouldn’t know about that. My husband didn’t believe in Allah he believed in his kid and Arsenal football club.

  I always liked the football but my husband and my boy were mad for it. My husband used to take the boy to all the home games. The fun used to start the night before. Before we put the boy to bed my husband would run around the flat with the boy on his shoulders. They would sing 1 NIL TO THE ARSENAL till the upstairs neighbours banged on the ceiling. They were Chelsea fans upstairs. You live in the mountains with your Kalashnikov Osama sending god’s fiery vengeance down on the heads of the prophet’s enemies so you might think football isn’t that important. Well it is.

  Sometimes the upstairs neighbours would come down and bang on our door. It drove them crazy when my husband and my boy sang 1 NIL TO THE ARSENAL. The neighbours would scream at us to eff off and bang on the door with their fists. Well that just made it worse because my husband and my boy would start singing 2 NIL TO THE ARSENAL. The more fuss the neighbours made the worse the Arsenal was going to beat them to nil. All of it gave me the jitters I don’t mind telling you.

  After the singing the boy would be overexcited and laughing and giggling like a lunatic. We couldn’t get him off to sleep for love nor money. Mum he would say mum
mum mum come quick there’s something in my room. I’d rush in. What is it? I’d say. Nothing he’d say I fooled you ha ha ha. He was 4 years and 3 months old. You couldn’t be cross with him. That boy had such a beautiful smile. He was just pleased to be alive.

  —Go to sleep little monster or you’ll be tired for the big game. Arsenal can’t win without you they need the support.

  —But I’m not sleepy mum, he’d say.

  —Go to sleep or I’ll have to fetch your father.

  —I’m not scared of him, he’d say. My dad is the best dad in the world he’s better than. Than. Than.

  —Than what? Eh little monster? What’s your dad better than?

  —Monkeys, he’d say. My dad is better than monkeys and and and.

  —And what?

  —Tizer, said my boy.

  It sounds silly Osama but sometimes I’m pleased your people blew them both up together. If my boy had survived he would of missed his father. It would of made him so sad. I never could bear for my boy to be sad so if someone has to be sad now I suppose it might as well be me.

  When the boy would finally go to sleep it was always late and we would sit on the sofa drinking beers. Just me and my husband. One Friday night we had an argument about the football. I came right out with it.

  —I wish you wouldn’t take the boy to the game. He’s too little. It makes me nervous.

  —Nervous? said my husband. What is there to be nervous about?

  —Well you know. The violence.

  —Ha ha, said my husband. Crowd violence at a football game. That’s a laugh considering I defuse bombs for a living.

  —I know. Well that makes me nervous too.

  —Listen love, he said. Football crowds aren’t how they used to be. It’s a family game now and anyway I’m a copper I’m a big bloke I can handle myself.

  —It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s the boy. He is 4 years and 3 months old he still sleeps with Mr. Rabbit.

  —Oh for Christ’s sake, said my husband. You think I don’t look after him? You think I’d let anyone touch a hair on his head? I’d kill them first.

  —Alright. But it still makes me nervous.