Waiting for Wednesday

Munster.
    ‘So we’re done?’ said
Hunt.
    ‘No, we’re not. I’ve had
enough of this. You’re coming with us.’
    ‘What for?’
    ‘Well, just for a start, you’ve
already admitted receiving and selling stolen goods.’
    ‘I didn’t know they were
stolen.’
    ‘Which, if you read the terms of the
Act, is not relevant.’
    ‘I’ve told you everything I
know.’ Hunt’s voice rose in indignation. ‘If you need any more
information, just get in touch with me.’
    ‘Except that we’ve established
you don’t have an address and you’ve mislaid your phone.’
    ‘Just give me your card,’ said
Hunt. ‘I’ll get in touch with you.’
    ‘I would,’ said Munster.
‘It’s just that I’ve got a feeling that you might go the way of your
friends Dave and Ian and be a bit difficult to track down. So are you willing to come,
or do we have to arrest you?’
    ‘I’ll come. Haven’t I been
co-operating? Haven’t I answered all your questions? I just want to finish my
drink. And then go to the toilet.’
    ‘We’ll come with you.’
    ‘I can go later,’ said Hunt. He
sipped his beer. ‘Don’t you like sitting outside? It’s global warming,
isn’t it? We can sit out on the pavement in London drinking. It’s like being
by the Med.’
    ‘With skulls,’ said Riley.
    Hunt peered up at them. ‘I don’t
like the skulls. They’re depressing.’



SEVEN
    ‘No drugs,’ said Olivia.
‘Obviously no drugs.’
    ‘Mum,’ said Chloë.
    ‘And no spirits. You’ve told
everybody no spirits? If anyone brings spirits, they’’ll be confiscated and
their parents can collect them.’
    ‘You’ve said this about a
million times.’
    ‘Have you got a list of everyone
who’s coming?’ said Olivia. ‘Then Frieda’s friend can cross them
off as they arrive.’
    ‘I haven’t got a
list.’
    ‘How do you know who’s coming,
then?’
    ‘It’s not like that, Mum,’
said Chloë. ‘For God’s sake.’
    ‘But you must know how many people are
coming.’ There was a pause. ‘Well?’
    ‘Sort of.’
    ‘Well, sort of how many? Ten? Fifty? A
thousand?’
    ‘We’ve talked about this.
We’ve talked about it a million times.’
    ‘This isn’t a joke, Chloë. Did
you hear about the teenage party in Hart Street last year? The father tried to deal with
some gatecrashers and one of them pulled a knife. He lost a kidney, Chloë.’
    ‘What’s all this about? You said
I could have the party. If I can’t have it, then just say so and we’ll
cancel it. Will that make you happy?’
    ‘I want you to have a party,’
said Olivia. ‘It’s your birthday. But I want you to enjoy it. You
won’t enjoy it if people are being sick and there are fights and the house is
being vandalized.’
    ‘It won’t be like that.’
    ‘And no sex.’
    ‘Mum!’
    ‘What?’
    ‘This is just embarrassing.’
    Olivia reached forward and touched
Chloë’s cheek. ‘You look lovely, by the way.’
    Chloë blushed and mumbled something.
    ‘There are crisps and nuts and cartons
and cartons of juice,’ said Olivia. ‘What I’m trying to get across to
you, Chloë, is that you’ll all have a better time if you don’t get
falling-over drunk. You can talk to each other and – and dance and
things …’
    ‘Oh, Mum …’
    ‘But nobody enjoys being really drunk
and falling over and being sick. That’s not a good time. I mean, Frieda, back me
up over this. Am I being a wet blanket?’
    Frieda was standing by the window, gazing
out into the garden. There were unlit candles in jam jars along the gravel path. There
was a ring at the door.
    ‘Oh, God,’ said Olivia.
‘Already?’
    ‘I’ll get it,’ said
Frieda.
    She went to the front door and opened it.
‘Josef! You’re just in time.’
    Josef wasn’t alone. Next to him was a
man who was even taller and bulkier. He was wearing jeans and a leather jacket. He had
long curly hair, tied at the back of his head in a ponytail.
    ‘This is Stefan,’ said Josef.
‘And he is from Russia but we will be pleasant to him in any case.’
    Frieda shook Stefan’s hand and he gave
her a slow smile. ‘You are Frieda? I have heard. You are going to have a beautiful
bath. It is big and made of iron, like in an old film.’
    ‘Yes, I’ve heard of you too,’
said Frieda. ‘You helped Josef take my nice old bath away.’
    ‘It was a bad bath,’ said
Stefan. ‘Cheap rubbish. It cracked like that’ – he snapped his fingers –
‘when we took it.’
    ‘Well, thank you both