‘Have you any thoughts about where you might go?’ he asks.
‘No. I’ll see what’s leaving at Victoria coach station.’
‘So mostly Eastern Europe, then?’
‘Snarky.’
He bobs his head in recognition. ‘I think if I were running away, I’d probably want to go somewhere warm.’
‘Obviously,’ she says. ‘That’s why you came to Britain.’
‘You have a point. I came here because America’s further away. And besides, you don’t have the continental winters. You have a bit more choice available to you when you have a European passport, though.’
She finally gets over her rage enough to look at him. His face is calm, but friendly. No sign that he wants to tell her what to do, that he’s waiting for his opportunity.
‘You can borrow my computer, if you like,’ he offers, ‘to research a destination. It seems a bit random, just going to the bus station.’
‘Random is good. Random’s great. If I don’t know where I’m going to go, it’s harder for other people to work it out, isn’t it? You’ve got a computer?’
‘Don’t tell anyone,’ he says, ‘or they’ll all want a go. It’ll turn into a conduit for eBay. But yes. I use it to write, and cause trouble on the internet with my little wireless dongle. Are you going to be okay for money?’ he asks.
She deliberately keeps her eyes off her bag. ‘Yeah. I’m okay for now.’
‘Because, you know, if you need some, I…’
She gapes. He can’t have more than a bean himself. She’s been amazed by how open-handed the poor people she’s met have been, on her travels. Most of the types she met on the up-and-up seemed to think that helping other people out was a sign of weakness.
‘No, Hossein! I wouldn’t dream of it. Don’t be stupid!’
‘Okay.’ He hold his hands up. ‘Just… you know. So you know.’
‘I’m okay,’ she says. ‘Really. Money’s the least of my worries.’
‘I’ll take you down there, when you’re ready, then.’
‘Why would you do that?’
He shrugs. ‘If you’re running away, I’d like to make sure you at least leave safely. I’m assuming you’re not really just going on a whim? Nobody goes on a whim without a couple of days’ notice.’
‘I can’t believe she told you.’
‘Yeah, I know. I’d be annoyed, too.’
‘Christ!’ she snaps. ‘Don’t be so bloody understanding!’
‘Okay,’ says Hossein. ‘If you like. So you’re just going to leave your mother, then? How is she, anyway?’
She feels like she’s been slapped. Gulps. ‘I don’t have a choice.’
He’s going to tell me everybody has a choice now, she thinks, and then I’ll have to punch him.
‘What happened? Please, can I ask?’
She feels exhausted. Plain worn out. Shakes her head.
‘So it is your old boss, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. No. Oh, God, I don’t know. It could have been.’
He waits for her to speak, doesn’t prompt her.
‘I saw one of his… people. Malik. Yesterday. I think it was him. No, I’m sure it was him.’
‘Oh.’
He considers this fact, turns it over in his mind. ‘And did he see you?’
Somewhere nearby, a woman screams. A single scream, high-pitched and short. One that sounds like it’s been cut off mid-breath. They tense, look up and do a city-person’s pantomime scan of the near horizon. With everyone’s windows and doors open to the heat, they can’t even tell if it’s come from somewhere inside a house, or out.
‘It’s so weird, with all the windows open everywhere,’ says Collette. ‘You don’t have any idea how much noise people make, normally, do you?’
‘Yes, God, Saturday night especially,’ he says. ‘I wonder if people realise how much it sounds as if they’re getting attacked when they make noises like that in the street?’
‘They don’t think about it at all. They’re pissed, mostly.’
‘Yes. It’s so funny, though, isn’t it? You read in the papers all the time about how people ignore people screaming for help in this city, but they never seem to put the two things together. We’d be out on the street with baseball bats four or five times on a Saturday night, and this is a quiet road.’
‘And the foxes,’ says Collette. ‘They sound like someone being strangled.’
‘Ha. At least they’re having fun, though.’
She blows a strand of hair off her face. ‘At least someone is.’