—It rattled the windows, said Jasper. It echoed and echoed through the streets. I can still hear it in my head. And then there was your face. Your poor little face when you started to realise. That’s horror. You realising you had no one left to grill fish fingers for. That’s what it all boils down to after all the politicking and the posturing and the 800 balanced words from pompous cunts like me. Horror.
Jasper turned round and held on to both sides of the basin. He dropped his head and blood dripped on the white enamel. I took him by the wrists and I led him out of the bathroom into the bedroom. He was muttering.
—Sleep Jasper. Try to get some sleep now there’s a good boy.
I wrapped a towel round his cut hand and I tucked the duvet in around him. I stroked his hair.
—Hush now my darling boy. Hush.
He closed his eyes and I sat with him for the longest time till he seemed to sleep. His eyeballs rolled under the eyelids. His fingers twitched. There were broken things in his dreams and they were after him. I went and fetched Mr. Rabbit out of my bag and I tucked him in next to Jasper. Mr. Rabbit always was good for nightmares. I sat there for a long time stroking Jasper’s hair. You never really lose the habit of looking after a boy I suppose it’s like riding a bicycle. Or cleaning a Kalashnikov if that rings more of a bell Osama I mean who the hell knows what a boy like you got up to after school?
When Jasper was calm and still I went back to Petra’s dressing table. I put her earrings back in the drawer. I used her makeup remover and a cotton pad and I scrubbed her face off mine. I took her clothes off and hung them in her wardrobe. I took off her bra and her knickers and I put them back in her drawers and I stood there naked and shivering. The clock said 8:45 a.m. It was time to put my own life back on.
* * *
I was late in at work that morning and I wasn’t the only one. The buses weren’t running properly and mine just didn’t turn up at all. Something to do with bomb scares left a hundred of us waiting in the cold grey rain on Bethnal Green Road. There are so many bomb scares now. You can’t leave a ciggie butt unattended these days without someone coming and doing a controlled explosion on it.
Everyone was late for work and complaining to people on their mobiles. Loudly so that the rest of us could all get an earful. People took it in turns. That’s how the English have a good moan these days Osama. Heaven forbid we should actually grumble to our neighbours in the bus queue. We’re not like you hot-blooded Arab types. That’s what Terence would of said. It’s the climate you see. It’s the rain on Bethnal Green Road that makes Britain great and I stood in it for half an hour before I gave up and walked to the tube and the tube was closed too so it was your typical bloody London good morning.
There was nothing for it I had to walk to work 5 miles through the rain and the 3 million other people whose buses hadn’t come. It was a struggle I don’t mind telling you. I don’t know what it is with London and umbrellas it’s like everyone’s trying to have your eye out. Rain makes us vicious. People were bumping into each other and giving it the old lip and stepping into puddles and all the traffic was jammed and as if all that wasn’t enough it was effing Monday wasn’t it.
Halfway along the Embankment I saw this man lose it. He was crossing too close in front of a bus and the bus driver hit the horn. The man jumped back and dropped his briefcase and it burst open. His computer and his papers and all his little gadgets fell out into a puddle. The man crouched down and started trying to grab all his stuff up but the crowds didn’t give him a chance they just carried on walking on his papers and his iPod and his fingers. OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE the man was shouting. CAN’T YOU FUCKING ROBOTS GIVE ME A CHANCE HERE? HAVEN’T YOU HEARD THIS IS MEANT TO BE A CIVILISED FUCKING COUNTRY?
A few of the crowd gave him this look like civilisation was one thing and Monday morning was another. OH BOLLOCKS TO ALL OF YOU THEN shouted the man. He stood up and he was holding the one thing he’d managed to pick up off the road and it was his biro. The end of it was smashed and black ink was running down his hand and spreading down his white shirtsleeve with the rain. The man lifted his face up into the sky then and just screamed BOLLOCKS TO THIS! BOLLOCKS TO BOMB SCARES! BOLLOCKS TO THE TERRORISTS AND BOLLOCKS TO THE POLICE AND BOLLOCKS TO COMMUTING!
The crowd around him started laughing and clapping. It was a little miracle in the middle of a great wet misery like when the English and the German soldiers played footie in No Man’s Land. The man was still angry at first but then he started smiling too and bowing to the crowd and waving his smashed-up biro like a conductor’s baton. You might think I was smiling too Osama but I wasn’t. The whole thing made me feel a bit poorly. One minute that crowd was robots and the next minute it was human beings and the next minute it’d be something else again. Ever since May Day people’s moods could change faster than the traffic lights.
When I finally got to work the sky above Scotland Yard was low and grey and moody. You couldn’t see a thing. You couldn’t even see the balloons in the Shield of Hope. You just saw the cables disappearing up into the clouds like the weather was bolted onto them.
Up in the office it was a long grey morning and one of the striplights was flashing and buzzing like an electric chair. I was getting a headache but you can put up with a lot when you’re wearing new red knickers. Terence kept giving me these looks I don’t think either of us could wait for 1 o’clock.
* * *
At lunchtime Terence said not to meet him at our usual hotel he said he wanted to go for a walk instead. I said alright but it wasn’t much of a walk at first on account of it was still drizzling and I had to follow 10 yards behind him in case anyone saw us together out of work. I nearly lost sight of him crossing Westminster Bridge there were so many people. Everyone was using the bridge because the tube was still out after the bomb scare. It always takes London Underground hours to get all the trains back to their proper sidings and all the buskers back in their right places at the bottom of the escalators singing ENGLAND’S HEART IS BLEEDING with their scratched-up old guitars. It’s like an anthill the tube I mean you can stamp on it and watch the ants charge around going mental for a bit like my boy after 3 glasses of Tizer but after a while the ants will calm down and start to fix the anthill up again and dig all the muck out of the tunnels and make everything good as new or almost. Only don’t expect them to do it in 5 mins that’s all.
Anyway at the other end of Westminster Bridge Terence slowed down and went off left down the steps onto the South Bank. I went down 10 yards behind him good as gold. At the bottom of the steps he stopped and turned I suppose he reckoned we’d gone far enough not to be spotted. I came and stood next to him. I leaned forward over the wall so I could look down at the Thames. It was low tide and the sides of the river were mud. Dirty gulls were paddling round the shopping trolleys and the old tampons sticking out of the slime.
—Our glamorous capital, said Terence. Not a pretty sight is it?
—Nah. Well. Best keep my eyes on you then.
I looked up at him and he smiled. You could see the London Eye behind him turning round very slow with its big glass bubbles rising up till they disappeared into the cloud about 3-quarters of the way to the top of the wheel and then popping back down out of the cloud when they were 3-quarters of the way down again. There were streaks of brown rust running down the white tubes of the Eye it looked like it could of done with a good lick of paint. I suppose there wasn’t the money now there weren’t so many tourists any more. The London Eye was empty as the river.
Terence followed where my eyes were looking.
—Have you ever been on it? he said.
—Nah.
—Let’s go for a ride.
—Nah you’re alright. I mean if I want vertigo I’ll just go up on the top deck of the bus it’s a lot cheaper.
—Oh come on, said Terence. Where’s your sense of adventure?
—In ashes in a small cardboard box Terence they had to identify my sens
e of adventure from his dental records.
Terence sighed and shook his head.
—Then let’s just go on it to get out of this pissing rain, he said. Please. I want to talk to you.
I said alright and Terence grabbed hold of my hand and we walked off past the Aquarium and the Dal Museum and we bought tickets there wasn’t a queue. We walked straight onto the Eye and we got a bubble all to ourselves. A guide tried to come into our bubble with us but Terence showed him an official pass and he cleared off.
—There, said Terence. Emergency police powers. They don’t hand them out to just anyone you know. A year of basic training. 3 years on the beat. 20 years rising up through the ranks. I knew it would all come in handy one day.
Our bubble started to rise up into the air. It was amazing it gave me goose bumps. I wish my boy could of been there. He’d of said IS THIS THE BIGGEST WHEEL IN THE UNIVERSE? and I’d of said No darling it’s not quite as big as the steering wheel on god’s Astra and he’d of said HOW COME IT TURNS ROUND? and I’d of said It turns round because Harry Potter put a spell on it. My boy’s eyes would of gone all wide then and he’d of been quiet for at least 8 seconds.
Me and Terence were quiet too at first. We held hands and there was just the sound of the drizzle tapping against the glass and the electric humming noise of the magic spell making the thing turn round. The people down on Westminster Bridge started to shrink.
—Tessa asked me to move out, said Terence. I’m staying in a Travelodge.
—I’m sorry.
—Don’t be, he said. Travelodges aren’t that bad.
—You know what I meant.
—Yes, he said.
He sighed and a little patch of mist appeared on the glass in front of his mouth and wiped out a good chunk of the Embankment.
—Is it permanent?
—Don’t know yet, he said. We’ll see.
—Is it me?
Terence shook his head.
—She doesn’t know about you, he said. It’s the job she can’t stand. She says I’m married to it.
—Well she does have a point you know.
—Yes, said Terence. But that’s just me isn’t it? Me without the job would be like England without the penalty curse. You can’t have one without the other.
I squeezed Terence’s hand and he squeezed mine back and I just tried to think about that and nothing else.
The wheel carried on turning. After a while you could see over the tops of the buildings on both sides of the river and look out over North London all white stone and money and South London all dirty brown high-rise bricks. From up where we were you could see how many cables there were rising up from the north side of the river compared to the south. It was like the people who built the Shield of Hope weren’t really all that hopeful about Brixton and Camberwell and Lewisham.
I held on tight and looked out east. I was trying to see those places I always lived in. I looked for my old school and the Nelson’s Head and the Wellington Estate and all those streets I kissed my husband and walked my boy and let the both of them down. I looked very hard through the drizzle I was hoping my life might make a bit more sense from a great height. I squinted and stared but after a bit I had to give up because the truth was you couldn’t see the East End behind all the famous landmarks.
Our bubble was rising up towards the clouds now and you could see the bubbles above us disappearing into it. Terence was just staring out over London with his sad eyes full of the endless city. He shook his head.
—There’s just so much of it, he said. There’s so many people. You can’t put a fence around all of them.
—Yeah well it looks like you’re giving it a good go.
—Yes, said Terence. We’ve pulled up the drawbridge. But the bastards are already inside. That’s the thing. I could tell you a hundred ways they could butcher us like cattle. They could topple those office blocks like dominoes. They could make that river run red.
We looked down at the Thames all brown and muddy starting to disappear underneath us in the first edges of the clouds.
—So do your best. That’s all you can do isn’t it.
—I’m just so stupidly bloody tired, said Terence. It’s like the powers that be are poking sticks into the wasps’ nests and my job is to run around and stop the wasps stinging us. It’s never going to happen. We’ve simply got to stop doing just a few of the things that make these people want to murder us.
Then everything went grey. London disappeared underneath us like the whole place had been a bad dream. Our bubble had risen up into the clouds.
—Terence?
—Yes?
—Can’t we just forget about it for a while?
Terence turned towards me he looked so sick and miserable I just wanted to hold him so I did. He held me very gentle with his hands round my shoulders and then his hands started to slide down my sides and I reached up to kiss him and suddenly there were tears on my face and they weren’t my tears they were his. I kissed him and kissed him and I reached down to unbuckle his belt and he pushed my skirt up and it was very quiet and lonely up there in our bubble in the clouds and the light was very sad and grey and it came from everywhere and there weren’t any shadows. There was a long wooden bench in our bubble and I lay down on it and I was trembling and when he was inside me I sighed and closed my eyes and breathed in his smell.
With my eyes closed I could see right through the landmarks and right through the East End I could see my boy playing in the long grass in his yellow wellies I could see everything very clearly.
—Oh god Terence oh god we can start again you and me. We can start again like new.
Afterwards I felt sad and a bit sore and we sat next to each other on the bench and smoked Terence’s Marlboro Reds. We didn’t look at each other we just looked out at the big grey nothing on the outside of the glass.
—This is the closest I’ve been to heaven, said Terence Butcher.
—You’re joking aren’t you? Are you telling me you’ve never been in a plane?
—I don’t mean the height, he said. I mean the feeling.
—Oh.
I thought about heaven.
—Didn’t there ought to be angels and nice food and all your old family back from the dead?
—That’s Hollywood heaven.
—Oh.
—This is British heaven. It’s low cost. This is EasyHeaven.
I smiled and stretched up and kissed him and when I next looked out we were out of the clouds again and we were going back down. You could see the Houses of Parliament small enough so you could of picked it up and cut your fingers on its sharp little spines.
Terence put his hand under my chin and turned my face up so I was looking at him.
—There’s something I have to tell you, he said. About May Day.
—Oh Terence love let’s not talk about May Day. We’re in heaven remember? Just you and me. Don’t spoil it.
I stubbed out my ciggie on the underneath of the bench. The ground was getting closer now. You could see the lampposts of the South Bank coming up to meet us like slow cold missiles through the rain.
—I have to tell you, said Terence. If we’re going to see each other like this I can’t keep it to myself.
I lit another ciggie. Terence put his hand on my shoulder but I shrugged it off.
—What are you on about?
—Decisions, he said. In my line of work you run up against some terrible decisions. But you have to go through with it. It’s your duty.
—What does this have to do with May Day?
—Your husband understood duty, said Terence Butcher.
—My boy was 4 years and 3 months old. He understood eff-all. What is your point exactly?
Terence took the cigarette out of my hand and took a drag. He sucked the smoke right down into his lungs and held the cigarette up in front of him and looked at it like he was hoping it would kill him before he had to answer. His Adam’s apple was bobbing up and down.
r /> —We knew about May Day, he said. 2 hours before it happened.
—Nah. Anyway. Look. We’re nearly back down. Look my lipstick isn’t too smudged is it?
I stood up and started smoothing my skirt down but Terence pulled me back to the bench.
—Sit down, he said. Listen. We knew.
—You knew? How?
—We’ve got a mole, he said. An agent in the May Day cell. He got a message to us while the bombers were still on their way to the match.
—Nah. Cause if you had 2 hours warning you could of stopped
it.
—Yes, said Terence Butcher. But the decision was taken not to stop it.
I just stared at him.
—This is going to be so hard for you to hear, he said. If we’d acted to stop May Day then the terrorists would have known something was up. They’d have changed everything. All their people. All their places. Everything. We’d have lost all insight into what they were planning. And we couldn’t let that happen. The stakes are too high. We know the May Day cell are planning another attack. A hundred times worse than May Day.
—I can’t believe I’m hearing this Terence Butcher. You knew? You personally?
—Yes, he said.
—And you decided not to do anything?
—I didn’t decide, he said. The decision was taken at the very highest level.
—Bollocks to the very highest level. YOU knew.
—Yes, he said. Of course I could have broken ranks and stopped it. And the reason I didn’t was because I agreed with the decision. And I still do. We couldn’t have known the casualties would be so high.
I stared at the glowing orange end of his cigarette and watched my boy burning to death in it. He was screaming MUMMY SAVE ME only I couldn’t come and save him could I? Because I was stuck in a glass bubble with the man that killed him and I was still aching from where I’d had him inside me. I wonder Osama if you are starting to get how it feels yet?
I grabbed Terence Butcher’s hair and twisted his head round so he was looking in my eyes.
—You miserable fucking bastard.
AT THE VERY HIGHEST LEVEL. That was the moment Osama. When he said those words I stopped blaming you for my husband and my boy and I started blaming Terence Butcher. He murdered them. He just used your Semtex to do it with.