Nine. Jude

I sat in the Golden Eye bar, tucked away off the High Street, sipping at my lager. This wasn't the kind of place I usually frequented – a bit too consciously cool-chic for my taste – but it was off the beaten track and I needed a drink and an hour or two to myself. The Golden Eye was almost three quarters full of revellers enjoying a drink after work. Mostly noughts but quite a few daggers. It was one of those places where daggers could come for an hour or so once a week and try to fool themselves into thinking they were liberal and not prejudiced because they actually drank in a place where noughts were drinking next to them and not just serving. I took another sip of my drink and looked around. The bar sure was busy. But then they did serve the best beer I'd had in months.

The place should've been called the Wooden Eye. People stood on the beer-stained wooden floor, propped up the wine-stained wooden bar, sat on barely-upholstered wooden benches, stools and chairs. And I was one of them. I sat at a table, opposite a canoodling nought couple who had eyes for no one but each other. I could've sprouted another head and I'd've still been invisible to them. So I sat and sipped, and sipped and sat. But I was tired of my inactivity. I was tired of running and hiding and living from day to day. Slamming my bottle of lager down on the table before me, I decided I'd sat on my backside for long enough. It was time to get some purpose back into my life. I couldn't rely on the L.M. for support – not when someone, probably Andrew Dorn, was out to get me. And my mum could do nothing for me. The only person I could rely on was myself.

The first thing I had to do was get money. Lots of it and quickly. And if I could stick it to the Crosses at the same time, then so much the better. There were plenty of banks and building societies and jewellery shops that needed someone like me to help keep their profits on a more manageable level. So really, I'd be providing a public service. I smiled, imagining that defence in court. Who knows! If they ever caught me, I just might try it.

'Hi. A seat! A seat! My kingdom for a seat! Is this seat taken?'

I looked up, then scowled up at the Cross woman standing before me. She wore her hair in thin braids tied up with an orange ribbon. Her silk shirt was also flame orange and her wraparound skirt was dark, either black or blue – it was hard to tell in this light. Couldn't she find somewhere else to sit? I glanced around but it did indeed look like every seat was taken. Tough! I didn't want one of them sitting next to me. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw two coppers enter the bar – one a nought, the other a Cross.

'If you'd rather I didn't,' the woman shrugged. And already she was turning away.

'No! No, that's OK. It's all yours,' I said quickly. I even managed to squeeze out a smile.

The Cross gave me another hard look before deciding I wasn't an axe murderer. 'Thanks,' she smiled as she sat down. 'I'm Cara.'

Jeez! What made her think that the invitation to sit down meant I wanted to talk to her? But the coppers were still in the bar and I couldn't afford to take any chances.

'Steve,' I replied without even blinking.

'Hi, Steve,' Cara the Cross continued. 'This place is jammed tonight. It's not usually this busy during the week.'

'I don't really come here that often,' I said.

'I thought I hadn't seen you in here before.'

Shut the bloody hell up! I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to sit next to you. I don't want anything to do with you. But I smiled and was careful to keep my true feelings off my face. I'm good at that. Years of practice around Crosses. I've lost count of the number of times a dagger has told me what he thought of me and 'my kind', usually followed by 'But I don't mean you! You're all right!' And what did I do when daggers spouted their nonsense? I smiled and said nothing. Or at least I used to, when I was younger. No-one's tried to talk to me like that for a while. Now I choose not to hide my feelings unless absolutely necessary – and maybe it shows.

'Those two are enjoying themselves, aren't they?' Cara nodded at the two in front of us, who were still kissing like there was only a minute left before the world ended.

'D'you think if I shouted fire, they'd stop?' I asked wryly.

'I doubt if they'd even hear you. So d'you live around here then?' asked Cara the Curious Cross.

'No. I'm just visiting my sister. She lives a couple of streets away from here.'

'What's her name?'

'Why?'

'Maybe I know her, if she comes in here a lot,' said Cara.

'Lynette,' I replied without hesitation. 'My sister's name is Lynette.'

Cara frowned. 'Doesn't ring a bell.'

I shrugged. Cara smiled. I glanced around the room. The cops each had a couple of sheets of paper in their hands and they were looking around.

'So, Cara,' I smiled, moving closer to her. 'D'you work around here then?'

'Yeah, in Delany's Salon, the hairdresser around the corner,' said Cara.

'Who's Delany?' I asked.

'That's the name of the shop,' Cara explained. 'Delany was the woman who used to own the shop but she packed up and moved on ages ago. It's had two or three different owners since then.'

'Who owns it now then?'

'I do,' Cara smiled. 'In fact . . . I own a chain of Delany's Salons nationwide.'

'How many?' I asked lightly.

Cara sipped at her drink and looked at me almost apologetically. 'Seven at last count. Not many yet, but I'm planning to expand in the future.'

Who did she think she was fooling with the false modesty act? Not me, that was for damned sure. But she owned shops. Going concerns. Money-making propositions. That could be useful.

'That's unusual.' I pointed at the necklace she was wearing. The cops were getting closer and closer.

'It was my mum's,' said Cara.

It was a silver or platinum fine-link chain with two overlapping circles inside an oval.

'Does it mean anything?' I asked.

'Love and peace,' Cara told me. 'They flow into each other and renew each other. Anyway, that's the idea.'

'Sounds deep!' I said sceptically.

Cara smiled. 'It isn't. It just means love and peace – that's all.'

'I'll drink to that,' I said raising my bottle of lager.

The cops were only a table or two away now. They were flashing photos at everyone they passed. Could they be the photos of Morgan and me that the cops in the car park had shown?

'You're very beautiful,' I whispered to Cara.

And I kissed her, feeling sick to my stomach. The cops walked past me. It took every gram of strength I had to stop myself from pulling away until the cops had well and truly gone. Across the bar someone shouted out, 'Oi, you lot! What's with that table? Get a room! Get two!'

I pulled away slowly. Girls like that. It makes it seem like you're reluctant to stop.

'Is this where I get my face slapped?' I asked.

'I dunno. Tell me what that was all about and then I'll decide.' Cara's eyebrows were raised but she had an amused smile on her face.

'I couldn't resist,' I said. 'I hope you don't mind.'

'I should, but I don't,' said Cara, adding melodramatically, 'I'll just tell myself that once again a man found me irresistible!'

I smiled, then took a swig of my lager to wash the taste of her lips off my mouth. 'Can I get you a drink?'

'OK,' Cara smiled. 'I'll have what you're having.'

You wouldn't last five seconds if you had to have what I've got, I thought scornfully. But I smiled and stood up. I knew that she was just being friendly when she chatted to me, but then she'd let me kiss her. She could've pulled back, she could've protested, but she hadn't. Stupid Cross slapper. I turned and headed to the bar. Once my back was towards her, I surreptitiously wiped the back of my hand across my mouth. Two more lagers bought and paid for, I headed back to my table.

'Thanks,' Cara replied, reaching out for it.

'Any time,' I replied. 'After your drink, d'you wanna get out of here?'

'I don't think so . . .'

'Fair enough. It was just an idea . . .'

We both took a sip of our respective drinks.

'Where would we go?' Cara asked at last.

'Anywhere you want,' I said. 'To see a film, for a walk or maybe you could show me your salon – you name it.'

Cara scrutinized me. It was quick but thorough.

'OK,' she said after a moment's hesitation.

'Which of the above d'you fancy then?'

'All of them,' Cara laughed.

I sipped at my lager. Cara finished hers in double quick time. 'Ready?' she smiled.

'Willing and able,' I added, standing up.

Cara might've been a stupid Cross slapper, but she'd fallen into my lap. And I was never one to pass up an opportunity. I needed money and fast, and Cara was going to provide it for me – whether she wanted to or not.