Tell the Truth, Shame the Devil(115)

But there was no snogging. Just the pair of them holding on to each other with all their might. Bish was a bit on the touched side.

“Oh God, she’s coming this way,” Grazier muttered as they watched Reverend and Arthur Crombie striding over to them.

“Righto,” she said. “Who’s in charge here?”

Bish and Elliot pointed to Grazier.

“We’re taking that boy to see his mother,” she said firmly, pointing to Fionn, who was being wheeled around by Eddie as if the chair were a shopping trolley. A subdued Charlie took over and wheeled Fionn towards them.

“That won’t be necessary, Reverend Crombie,” Grazier said politely. “I’ll take him myself.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said. “Come on, boys.”

“Reverend Crombie, I’ll be taking Fionn,” Grazier said.

“Well, you’re just going to have to arrest me, then,” she said. “Who has the authority to arrest people around here?” She looked at Bish.

“Unfortunately, I can’t, Reverend Crombie, because I’ve been suspended from the police force.”

“And they can’t because they’re spooks,” Charlie said, pointing to Grazier and Elliot.

“We work for the Home Office,” Grazier said.

“Yeah, so does MI5, and they can’t arrest people,” Charlie said.

“We’ve watched the show,” Mr. Crombie said politely.

“Then I’ll come along with you.” Grazier’s politeness was now forced. He handed Bish his car keys. “We’ll talk later.”

“What about my job?” Bish asked.

“Fuck your job, Ortley. Just resign without fanfare. That’s what the Met wants, by the sound of things.”

Bish had always imagined this moment feeling like a Band-Aid being ripped off his hairy leg, but he suddenly realized he’d been slowly peeling it off since he was suspended. The bomb and Noor LeBrac and her kids and her brother had changed everything. But he would miss his job. And he wished he could have walked away on his terms.

“I’ll be in touch,” Grazier said.

Bish shook his head. “Don’t. Be in touch, I mean. Don’t offer me work.”

Grazier gave him a questioning look.

“Because there’s this woman and it’s complicated and I don’t think you people will approve of where she lives.”

Grazier muttered something as he hurried off after the Crombie entourage.

“His woman’s ex-IRA,” Elliot said. “I’d say he understands complicated.”





54



Bish started the car with Bee in the passenger seat. He heard a knock at the window and saw Violette’s solemn face staring at him. He wound down the window, and before he could ask what she wanted she leaned in and kissed his cheek. And walked away.

He pulled out of the car park and a moment later Bee’s phone beeped. “Anyone I know?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s Violette saying good-bye.”

“Why didn’t she say that just now?”

“Dad, stop asking stupid questions.”

A moment later there was another beep, and Bee made a scoffing sound after reading the text. “Shahbazi’s already hysterical.”

“You have her number?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I thought you two were enemies.”

“Violette told her what Mum said about Violette and me being two Mesopotamian sisters, and of course Gigi had to be the third. Except now we’re apparently three Persian princesses.”

Bish tooted at the Salvation Army van being driven by Charlie. Grazier, of the one facial expression, was riding shotgun. The Crombie Smart car was close behind.

“I’m going to tell you something else now, and you can’t get hurt,” Bee said.

“I can’t promise that.” And he actually couldn’t.

“Okay, then I’ll say it anyway.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to unfriend you on Facebook.”

Bish was crushed. Tried hard not to show it.

“I’ve encouraged all my friends to do the same,” she said, digging the knife in deeper. “Don’t take offense, Dad. We can’t say stuff and muck around with you checking us out.”

“That’s cold, Bee. Really cold.”

“Violette’s started a Free Noor LeBrac page and she says if you want you can join that.”

Little crumbs.

“And I need to tell you one more thing…”

“There’s more? Couldn’t we just stop at you not wanting to be my friend?”

She studied him a moment. “You make Mum laugh,” she said softly. “But David makes her happy.”

She had the iPad in her hand now. Soon it would be four hours of silence after a day of babble. He didn’t want the conversation to end there.

“Can you promise me something now?” he said.

“As long as it’s not something really stupid.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you’ve got that look on your face. Stevie used to call it your he’s-going-to-say-something-stupid face. Remember?”