Blind Justice Page 6

  “I think I need to go your opticians, mate,” I said. “I can’t see a thing through frosted glass.” Realising his mistake, Tommy laughed. Despite myself, I soon joined in.

  We took our cups outside and got back on the case with the wheelbarrow. It took about another hour, but eventually, Tommy put the last of the logs onto the now impressive stack against the shed. We were both sweating in the sunshine even though it was still cold.

  “Job done, fella,” Tommy clapped me on the shoulder. “Time for a pint, is it?” I looked at my watch. It was almost one, and we’d not eaten yet.

  “We could get a bite to eat and then have a cheeky pint I suppose,” I said, walking back toward the house. As I stepped into the kitchen, I saw Andy sitting at the kitchen table reading a newspaper.

  “All done?” Andy said, looking over the top of his glasses at me. He got to his feet and looked through the kitchen window at the logs piled up against the shed. “Wow, fantastic job. Thank you so much. At least I’ll be able to get the car out now.”

  “No problem, Andy,” I replied. The number of brownie points that this would get me with Jennifer made it well worthwhile. “I’m just nipping to the toilet, then we’ll be on our way.” I walked through the hallway to the toilet, glancing at the frosted glass door to the lounge as I did so. I smiled to myself as I used the toilet before returning to the kitchen to find Andy and Tommy deep in conversation. They stopped talking as I walked back in, and I stood looking at the pair of them for a few seconds.

  “So, er, Gareth,” Andy said eventually. “Tommy tells me you’re concerned about my security?” I looked at Tommy, who was wearing his butter wouldn’t melt expression again. I frowned at him before replying. Had he mentioned something to Andy about our area of expertise?

  “Well, kind of,” I said. “There are a few areas you could look at.”

  “You think?” Andy replied. “Fancy a flutter?” I wasn’t sure where Andy was going with this. “Tommy here reckons that you could get in here in under a minute.” That was a lie. I’d said two. Andy reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet before throwing a couple of twenties and a tenner onto the kitchen table. “If you get in here in under a minute, you can keep it. Just don’t break anything.”

  “That’s really not my thing, Andy,” I said. “I don’t do that sort of security.”

  “Oh, come on,” he replied. “I’m sure that you’ve got some, let’s call them hidden talents. From the past, perhaps?” I looked at Jennifer’s father, wondering how much he thought he knew about me. Was I that transparent? Jennifer didn’t seem to have any idea, but did Andy? I glanced again at Tommy, but he was still expressionless.

  Even though a silent alarm bell was ringing in my head, I’d always been a sucker for a challenge so I stepped outside the kitchen door and watched Andy through the glass as he locked the door, pushing a bolt across it. He mimed starting a stopwatch on his wrist. It wasn’t the money. I knew I wouldn’t keep it, but Andy had thrown down a glove and I’d never refused a challenge like that from anyone yet.

  I dug into my pocket and pulled out my keys. Selecting a standard Chubb key, I stepped up to the outside of the kitchen door and worked the end of the key into the cracked putty surrounding one of the panes of glass. The putty fell out almost instantly, just as I knew it would, and I worked the key around the glass until the whole pane fell outward into my other hand. I put the glass down on the path and leaned my arm in through the gap it left, releasing the bolt and opening the door. As I stepped through it, Andy looked at his watch, eyebrows raised in surprise.

  “Under thirty seconds,” he said in a quiet voice. Tommy was standing behind him, his eyes on the fifty quid on the kitchen table. No doubt he was considering how to persuade me why we should go halves on it.

  “And where, Gareth Dawson, did you learn how to do that?” Jennifer’s voice, as cold as ice, rang across the kitchen. I’d not seen her come in, but she was standing by the door to the hallway, arms crossed tight across her chest. There was a look of absolute thunder on her face, and the twin red spots on her cheeks told me she was very, very pissed off.

  Shit.

  “I knew it, I bloody well knew it,” Jennifer said, leaning up against the sideboard in the kitchen of her flat. “Every bloody time,” she sighed. “Just when I think I’ve met a decent bloke, he turns out to be an arsehole.” I stood in front of her, not sure what to do with my hands. We’d argued before, but nothing like this. The way it was going it could well be the last argument we ever had.

  “Jennifer, please?” I said, trying not to sound too desperate. “It’s not how you think.”

  “Oh, really?” She laughed, but there was no humour in it. “I nip round my dad’s house to see how you and your mate were getting on, and I find you giving my dad a lesson on breaking and entering.”

  That’s exactly what she had just found. After she’d seen my little demonstration of how insecure Andy’s house was, Jennifer had left without saying another word. Tommy and I had gone to the hardware shop to get some window putty so we could fix the pane of glass I’d taken out. On the way to the shop, I’d made the mistake of asking Tommy for his advice. I should have known by then that Tommy’s advice was, while well-meaning, almost always rubbish.

  “All she saw, mate,” Tommy said, “was you taking out a pane of glass so you could open the door. It’s not like she caught you red-handed leaving his house wearing a striped top and carrying a large bag marked ‘swag’, is it?”

  “Thanks, Tommy,” I’d said. “That’s really helpful. What the hell am I going to say to her? You saw the look on her face.”

  “Fair one,” Tommy had replied. “She didn’t look thrilled, did she?” That was the understatement of the century.

  “Shit, Tommy. What the hell am I going to do?”

  “Not much you can do, mate,” he replied, unhelpfully. “You’re nicked, I reckon. Just a case of waiting to see what the sentence will be. You might get off lightly, no sex for a couple of weeks or something like that. Or you could be out on your ear.”

  “Thanks a bundle,” I said. “You’re wasted as a crook mate, you should train to be a bloody marriage counsellor.” Tommy laughed in response. It wasn’t supposed to be a joke.

  “Well, you’re not married,” he paused for a second before continuing. “But I don’t think I’d need training, anyway.” I looked across at him, his smug face irritating me, before I returned my eyes to the road in front of us, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel.

  I dropped Tommy back at Andy’s house, warning him to play nicely and just fix the window, before carrying on to face the music back at Jennifer’s flat. When I knocked on the door, not wanting to use my key, she opened it and just walked back into the flat. I followed her through to the kitchen.

  “Jennifer,” I pleaded. “Listen just for a minute.” I watched as she folded her arms across her chest and pushed her lips together until they could barely be seen. This would be a tough sell.

  “Go on, I’m all ears,” she said, arching her eyebrows as if no matter what I said she wasn’t going to believe it. Which was probably true.

  “I admit that, when I was younger, I did some stuff I’m not proud of now,” I said. “But that’s not me now.”

  She glared at me, her eyes piercing. “It explains a hell of a lot,” she said. “How you suddenly have spare cash floating about every once in a while, for example.”

  “I’ve told you, Jennifer,” I said. “I’ll have a flutter on the horses, and sometimes they come in.” As Jennifer looked at me, I realised that she knew I was lying through my teeth.

  “So your horse is on at five to two against, and you put ten pounds down each way. It comes in second. How much do you win?” She looked at me, her eyebrows arched again. I hadn’t got a clue what the answer was. What I knew about horses could fit on the back of a postage stamp and still leave room for what I knew about betting.

  “Er, well,” I replied, trying to buy some time
so I could come up with a convincing answer. “So, it’s five to two against?”

  “Don’t even bother, Gareth,” Jennifer barked at me. “It’s a stupid bet. You wouldn’t win anything. I’ve never seen you go anywhere near a bookie, or study the form in the newspaper, or any of the things that people who like horses do. That money is coming from your little sideline, mugging old ladies or whatever you do to get it.”

  “Jennifer, I promise you, I have never mugged anyone in my life,” I said, in a desperate attempt to defend myself.

  “You’ve lied to me, Gareth Dawson. You let me believe that you’re a decent bloke, but you conveniently forgot to mention that you’re not.” She shouted the last two words of the sentence, and her words cut through me. I looked at her, and saw a tear appear in the corner of her eye. Jennifer brushed away before it could fall down her cheek, but for some reason the sight of that tear ripped me apart. “So what are these things you did when you were younger?” she asked. “Please, enlighten me.” There was no way around it. This would be difficult.

  “Come on, let’s sit down and I’ll tell you everything,” I said. Perhaps if I could get her to sit down things would calm down a little. Jennifer wasn’t having any of it, though.

  “I don’t want to sit down, Gareth. I just want you to tell me the truth,” she replied, her voice half an octave higher. I took a deep breath.

  “When I was younger, I admit that I used to very occasionally break into places and steal stuff.” There, it was out in the open. Well, some of it was out in the open. I looked at Jennifer, knowing full well that she had me on the ropes. The look on her face was not one I ever wanted to see again. “But,” I said. She laughed — a sharp laugh with no humour at all — so I carried on talking. “But I never, ever hurt anybody. I never broke into anyone’s house. I never took anyone’s personal possessions. It was only ever businesses, and it was only when I was desperate and didn’t know what else to do.” That last part was a lie, but the rest of it was true. Jennifer’s stare bored into me, as the two red spots on her cheeks reappeared and grew.

  “When was the last time you broke into one of these businesses?” she asked, using her index fingers to put air quotes around the word ‘businesses’: “Exactly how much younger were you?”

  I looked at her, not wanting to reply. If I lied, she’d almost certainly know I was lying, but if I told the truth, I didn’t know what would happen. I could say nothing, but that would be about as bad as telling the truth.

  “Gareth,” she said in a quiet voice. “I asked you a question.” I took another deep breath as I decided to front this one out and tell the truth.

  “About three months ago.” It wouldn’t take her long to do the maths and realise that this was after we’d got together. A second after I’d said three months, her mouth opened and then shut again. I was right, it hadn’t taken her long at all to do the sums. “But I’ve quit, Jennifer. That’s not me, not now. I’ve quit all that.”

  “After we’d met,” she said. This wasn’t a question. I looked at the floor. I wasn’t just on the ropes here. I was in the corner getting the crap beaten out of me, and it was all my fault. My mind was racing as I tried to figure out the best way to tell her that was the past, that I’d gone straight, but I never got the chance. Jennifer spoke in a very small voice, and as I looked up, I could see that she had her hand outstretched with the palm up.

  “Give it to me,’ she said. “My door key. Give it to me and get the hell out of my flat.”

  The weeks after Jennifer threw me out of her flat were an absolute nightmare. I’d tried calling and texting her, but she ignored everything. I was sure that the relationship was over before it had begun. The only thing I knew for certain was that I missed her so much that it hurt. I wanted to go round to her flat, lean on the doorbell until she had no choice but to answer the door, and then just tell her how sorry I was, and that I loved her. To make her understand. The only thing that stopped me, apart from my stubbornness, was the thought of coming across as an absolute arsehole when I’d been caught bang to rights lying through my teeth.

  But I loved her, despite my shame. I didn’t realise how much until she’d thrown me out. The only thing I was holding on to was she’d not told me the relationship was over, although I’d had no contact from her at all. I was clinging to the faintest of hopes she was just making me suffer to prove a point. At the same time, I didn’t want to be like Robert and act like a petulant ex-boyfriend who wouldn't take no for an answer. I didn’t have a clue what to do.

  I was in Sainsbury’s exactly one month after I’d been thrown out on my ear as Tommy would have put it when I bumped into Jennifer’s brother. The basket I was carrying had essential provisions in it. A microwave lasagne, eight cans of strong Belgian lager, and a Pot Noodle. Chicken and Mushroom, my favourite.

  “Jacob, how you doing? I said.

  “Hey, Gareth,” he replied, beaming. “How are you, mate? Not seen you for a while.” Had Jennifer not told him what had happened?

  “Yeah, I’ve not been around much, to be honest,” I said. His smile faded before he hiked it back up again and glanced down at my basket. I moved it behind my legs so he couldn't see how sad the contents were.

  “Jen mentioned that you’d had words,” he said with a brief frown. “About you being a naughty boy.” I managed a wan smile.

  “You could say that,” I said. We stood in awkward silence for a few seconds before he shuffled his feet, keen to get away from his sister’s ex-boyfriend no doubt. Sod it, I thought.

  “Do you fancy a pint?” I asked. “When you’re done shopping?” Jacob tilted his head to one side, the same way that Jennifer used to when she was trying to decide something.

  “I don’t drink, Gareth,” he replied a few seconds later. Oh well, I thought. Worth a try. “But I’ll have a coffee and watch you have a pint?” I could have hugged him, but that would have been emotional. We arranged to meet in a pub just around the corner, and I had a spring in my step as I headed towards the till to pay for my evening’s entertainment.

  I sat in the pub waiting for Jacob for what seemed like ages, nursing a lager. After about twenty minutes, I figured that he wasn’t going to show. I’d been stood up before, but I’d never been stood up by an ex-girlfriend’s gay brother. You live, you learn, I guess. I’d just decided to stop nursing my pint and neck it when he walked in.

  “Sorry, Gareth,” he said, breathless. “I met a friend in the car park and couldn’t get rid of him.”

  “Hey, no problem,” I said, getting to my feet. “Any particular coffee?”

  “Do they do a flat white?” he asked. I had no idea what a flat white was, but fortunately for me, the barman knew and knocked one up for Jacob. I returned to our table and sat down. Jacob and I exchanged small talk for a few moments before I broached the subject I wanted to talk to him about.

  “How’s Jennifer?” I asked, trying to be nonchalant. He looked at me for a few seconds before replying.

  “I don’t want to get involved, Gareth,” he said. I didn’t understand why he was here if that was the case.

  “You don't have to get involved, Jacob,” I said, trying not to sound annoyed. “All I want to know is how she is. That’s all, mate.” He leaned in towards me, putting his forearms on the table. I instinctively leaned backwards before realising it. Jacob was quite an intimidating bloke, and I don’t intimidate that often.

  “Listen, mate,” he said, echoing my words. “Jen’s my little sister, and I would happily kill for her, but you’ve taken the piss out of her and I don’t like that one bit. You get me?” I realised that the only involvement he was interested in was protecting his little sister. I couldn’t fault him for that.

  My hands went up in a placatory gesture.

  “Woah, woah. Hang on Jacob.” I said. “I think we’re going down the wrong road here. How am I taking the piss out of her?” He stared at me, his forehead creased, but I carried on. “Yes, I was on the rob, but I stopped becaus
e of her. I never wanted her to find out. I did one job while we were together, and that was right in the first few weeks. Before I knew things were getting serious. Or at least, I thought they were getting serious.”

  “Have you told her that?” he asked.

  “She never gave me a chance,” I replied. “She threw me out of her flat and hasn’t answered the phone or replied to texts. Nothing. What else can I do?” Jacob’s frown eased.

  “What, you’re asking me for relationship advice? You sure about that?” he said, the beginnings of a wry smile appearing on his face.

  “No, Jacob. I’m asking you because you’re her bloody brother.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Jacob said, sighing and leaning back in his chair. “You’re both as bad as each other.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Jen’s as stubborn as they come,” he said. “The last thing she’s going to do is come grovelling back to you, especially when you’re the one in the wrong.” I wasn’t sure what he meant. The last thing I would expect her to do is to come grovelling back. “And it sounds like you’re exactly the same.”

  “How come?” I said. “I’m not with you Jacob. Help me out.”

  He looked at me before replying. “So you’ve tried calling, and you’ve texted her?”

  “Yeah, lots of times.”

  “And she’s not responded at all?”

  “Not once.”

  “Have you been round there? Maybe, I don’t know, with some flowers and a lot of humility?”

  “No,” I replied. “I don’t want to be, well, like Robert.”

  “That idiot. You know he’s still hanging around like a bad smell?” he said. I couldn’t help but bristle at this news. Not for the first time, I considered tracking Robert down and having a word, or perhaps just giving him a smack. “Gareth, you’re nothing like that loser,” Jacob continued. “And Jen likes you. She’s been cut-up the last few weeks, and I mean really cut-up.” I could feel my heart beat slightly faster. “But a few calls and texts aren’t going to work. You’re going to have to be the bigger man here, tell her what an absolute idiot you’ve been and just park your sorry backside on her doorstep.”