Chapter 20 #2
Taking a deep breath, Tommy explained. “On Friday evening, after we finally got the blasted water turned off, I went to your–your parents’ house–to say sorry for missing you and see if you wanted to go for a pint.
Your ma opened the door. She was deathly pale and had a face like thunder.
Before I could even ask to see you, she slammed the door in my face.
I knocked again and again, but she wouldn’t answer.
I had no clue what was wrong, but I wasn’t getting anywhere on your doorstep, and the clouds looked like they were about to empty again.
“As I left, something caught my eye. There were a couple of cardboard boxes by the bins. Now I know your bin man comes on Monday, because my mum’s does too, so I thought it was strange. Being a nosey fucker, I went and had a butcher’s.”
Like he’d been waiting for his cue, Eric plonked two boxes on the table in front of Mick.
He peered inside and made an awful noise somewhere between a groan and a sob.
Pulling the flap away, I looked inside. It was full of his records.
Not neatly packed like the things in his sad little milk crate had been.
No, these were thrown in willy-nilly. Black discs cascaded out of their sleeves, rubbing against each other.
A few were visibly damaged. Out of over fifty records, I doubted even half of them would be playable.
I wanted to pull him into my arms, lay kisses on his soft curls, or even just hold his hand. I hated that he was hurting. I settled for catching his eye and giving him a sympathetic look. Tommy was kind enough to tell the rest of the story with a bit less anger.
“When I saw these, I knew something was up, so I started looking for you. I knocked on the door of anyone I knew to ask if they’d seen you. I went to the Cherry Tree, and when you weren’t there, I was gonna leave, but I saw Pat on his own in the corner, nursing a pint.
“He was three sheets to the wind, but I managed to find out roughly what had happened. After he explained, he started panicking. He asked me where you were, but I didn’t know.
He grabbed my jacket and screamed in my face that I should’ve protected you.
He got so rowdy that we got kicked out. I’ve never seen him like that in my life. ”
“Shit,” Mick murmured. It was like he’d run out of words and energy. My heart ached for him.
“Yeah. But the worst part was, I didn’t have a fucking clue where you were.
I thought you might have gone to Michael’s.
” He turned to me. “But I don’t know where you live.
We even went to Le Duce on Saturday. Not for long, like, just to look for you.
You weren’t there nor was anyone I knew, so I couldn’t get your address. ”
“You should have asked Simon.”
“Simon?” Eric asked.
“The bartender. The one who looks like Michael Caine.”
“Why would Simon know your address?” Mick looked at me so intensely I felt my cheeks redden. “Oh.” He shifted in his seat and looked out the window.
“Well I don’t know Simon, and I didn’t know he knew you. So I’ve been worried sick for the past four days. Did you not think to tell us? You could have rung my mum or the library. Or come sooner. Or sent a fucking carrier pigeon, for Christ’s sake.”
“I was ill.” Mick’s voice was quiet and croaky.
“Ill?” Tommy and Eric said together.
“He had a cold, or something,” I explained, stroking Mittens behind the ear. “It was bad, Tommy. He didn’t get out of bed for three days, except to use the loo. I was bloody scared.”
Mick snapped his head back around and gaped at me. “I didn’t know you were worried about me.”
“Of course I fucking was. You turned up on my doorstep looking like a drowned rat. You cried in my arms, then collapsed in bed and didn’t wake up for a whole day.
You spent another two days barely conscious.
I was fucking beside myself, Mick.” Slamming my hand over my mouth, like I could cram the incriminating words back in, I dipped my head and studied the table cloth.
Eric took the attention off me, by stretching his hand across the table to hold Mick’s.
“I am so sorry. When you came, it was all haywire in here because of the burst pipe. I didn’t know it was raining.
I didn’t see you. If I had, I would have dropped everything to help you.
I promise I would have. I am so sorry. I can’t believe you became unwell due to my carelessness.
Mick, can you ever forgive me? What can I do to make it up to you? ”
“Oh don’t be so bloody dramatic. I’m fine.” Mick smiled, but the pain of everything he’d been through was a permanent shadow, dimming his brightness.
“Actually, there is something I need from you, Eric, but not as an apology or anything. It would be a favour, and I’d owe you.”
“Yes, yes. Of course.” Eric nodded enthusiastically. “Anything.”
“Can I borrow your Lambretta?”
Eric’s nodding ceased and his jaw dropped.
“Dusty? You want to borrow Dusty?”
“Erm, yeah. Not yet, but some time soon. I was thinking I might try and do The Knowledge.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“It’s the test you have to pass to become a cab driver.
You’ve got to learn all the streets in London and know all the routes and all that.
Most blokes learn it by going round on a bicycle or a motorbike.
I thought if I could borrow Dusty, say once a fortnight, I could learn it a bit quicker than on a pedal bike.
If I pass the Knowledge and get a taxi, I’ll have a job for life. ”
“Oh.” Eric’s jaw relaxed, and his eyes softened. “Oh, well if it’s for such a good cause, you can borrow her. If you promise to take good care of her. How long will it take to learn this… knowledge?”
“I dunno, a couple a years, some can do it in eighteen months, but that’s quick–”
“Two years?” Eric shrieked. “You want to take her away from me for two years?”
Tommy, who was trying very hard not to laugh, put a hand on his shoulder. “Love, how often do you take her out these days?”
“Well once a week at most,” Eric admitted. “But that’s not the point. That’s so many opportunities for her to get hurt in central London!”
“Eric,” Tommy said patiently. “Mick is my best mate and one of yours too. Do you think he’d let any harm come to your pride and joy?”
“No.” Eric said. “No, I suppose you’re right. Sorry, Mick. Of course you can borrow her, as often as you need. Just, telephone first, would you?”
“Of course, I wouldn’t just show up, in case you were using it–”
Eric took a sharp intake of air, and Mick made a pained sound after Tommy kicked him under the table.
“Her. In case you were using her.”
“That’s fine, Mick.” Eric said curtly.
“Don’t take it personal, mate,” Tommy said to Mick. “He cares about Dusty more than he cares about Mittens.”
The cat in question raised her head and let out a little squeak, then settled back onto my lap.
“Don’t say that!” Eric hissed, looking in my–and Mittens’–direction.
“You’re a daft sod, Eric Greene, but I love you.” Tommy pulled Eric in for a kiss, who turned scarlet.
“For what it’s worth, Tommy,” Mick said a minute later, “I am sorry I scared you.”
“I know you are, you knobhead. Just don’t do it again, okay?” Tommy fixed Mick with a look that meant business, then smiled.
“Aye, Aye,” he said and delivered his trademark salute. We sat in their kitchen for a couple of hours and chatted and laughed together. Tommy and Mick took the living piss out of each other while Eric and I looked on adoringly.
I tried to stay in control of my features and not make it too obvious how I felt about Mick, but I caught Eric’s eye a few times and he had a knowing look about him.
Hopefully, he’d be kind and keep it to himself.
I’d have a word in his ear before we left.
He owed me for nursing his other half’s other half back to full health.