She put the phone to her ear. Her broken, patchwork face had a resigned look to it. She seemed tired.
‘Phoning the kid’s mother,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Getting this thing sorted once and for all … ’
68
‘I just don’t know,’ said Marina. ‘Just don’t know anything any more … ’
Sandro was sitting opposite her, the sofa bed folded away. He was still wearing his workout gear and had made her a mug of instant coffee. Marina hated instant, never drank it. But she had thanked him and taken it gratefully. The mug sat on the floor, half drunk and ignored.
‘Don’t know what?’ Sandro had forgone the coffee, was draining an energy drink can. He finished it, crushed it, threw it at the already overflowing rubbish bin in the galley kitchen. Missed. It clattered down the side to the floor but he didn’t seem unduly worried by that. ‘Sounds like this is enough to fuck anyone’s head up.’
‘Yeah, but I’m … usually stronger than this. I’ve had to be.’ She looked up, directly at him. ‘Some of the things I’ve done, situations I’ve been in … ’ She shook her head. ‘You wouldn’t believe.’
‘Like what?’
She almost smiled. ‘I’ll tell you sometime.’
Sandro nodded, shrugged. ‘Tell me now.’
Marina gave an almost-laugh to accompany the almost- smile. ‘I used to think that a client wanting to kill me was the worst thing that could happen. That was before I was captured when I was pregnant and held in an underground cage where some maniac wanted to breed from me.’
‘Jesus … ’
‘I know. That was after he’d put my old partner into a coma by smashing his head in with a hammer.’
Sandro stared.
‘And then there was the time I tried to rescue a chained-up kid from a madman who wanted to sacrifice him. With sharpened gardening tools.’
Sandro’s mouth was wide open.
‘And almost got killed by a bent police officer in the process.’
‘Ah, now that I can believe.’
She sighed. ‘But now I just feel … I don’t know. Weak? Helpless? I don’t know … ’
She sighed. Out of the corner of her eye she became aware of Sandro watching her. She looked up once more.
‘What?’
‘I had no idea.’ He shook his head, trying to let what she had just told him settle in his mind. ‘That you did … that you’d done … anythin’ like that.’
She looked straight at him. ‘Why would you? You don’t know anything about my life.’
‘I just thought, you know. You did your hours, sorted people’s heads out, got well paid and … ’
‘Swanned off to some champagne bar?’
‘I was goin’ to say the theatre and some fancy restaurant. But yeah. Somethin’ like that.’
Another almost-smile. Wistful, the kind given to a treasured memory or a fond fantasy. ‘I wish it was that easy. But when I’m called in to a case, especially the kind that Phil works, the major incidents, then it’s always something serious.’
‘And after all this, you feel weak. Why?’
She looked directly at him. No smiles any more. ‘Because my husband’s gone. My daughter’s gone. Maybe for ever. I’ve lost everything.’ She stood up. ‘This is not like me. Not like me at all.’ She could feel the anger rising in her. Impotent, unchannelled rage.
‘Like Dad,’ said Sandro.
Marina wheeled round, turned on him. ‘No I’m not. Don’t ever say that.’
Sandro was taken aback by the vehemence of her words. ‘I only meant that Dad had passed the fightin’ gene down. That’s all. Calm down.’
She stood over him. ‘Don’t tell me to calm down. And I’m not like Dad. Mum was the strong one.’
Sandro frowned. ‘What? She did nothin’. Let him hit her. What’s so strong about that? She was soft.’
‘She was not soft, Sandro. She did what a mother’s supposed to do. Protected her children.’
He still looked confused. ‘How? He used to smack her as well.’
‘She took the blows that were meant for us. As much as she could. She let him hit her rather than us. I’m not saying that was the best way to go about things, but she stood up to him in the only way she knew how. To go through that, to endure what he did to her, that’s what made her strong.’
Sandro said nothing, thought for a while. ‘Yeah,’ he said eventually. ‘Yeah. I see what you mean.’
‘You’d know what I mean if you had kids.’ She looked at him. ‘Do you have kids?’
He looked taken aback at the question. ‘Ah … don’t think so.’
‘But you’d know. Believe me.’
He didn’t reply. Instead he stood up, went to the kitchen. Got himself another energy drink. Cracked it open.
‘You’re drinking a lot of those,’ said Marina.
‘Need the energy. Got a fight tonight.’
Marina’s turn to frown. ‘A fight.’
‘Yeah. ‘’Swhat I do. One of the things.’
‘What kind of fight?’
He looked away from her. ‘Bare-knuckle.’
‘What?’
‘Ah look, don’t start. I got in with these Irish travellers. Gypsies, y’know. They do it. Part of their culture, an’ that.’
‘Part of their culture?
He locked his eyes on hers. ‘And I wasn’t?’
Marina couldn’t find the words to reply. Her eyes slid away from his.
‘Anyway,’ said Sandro, ‘I’ve always been handy with my fists. Just found a way to make a bit of money out of them, that’s all.’
‘And get yourself seriously injured in the process.’
‘That never happens.’
‘You mean it hasn’t happened yet.’
He didn’t reply.
‘What … how did you get into this?’
He shrugged, tried to keep his explanation light and short on facts. ‘Did a bit of sparrin’ with them. Couple of bouts.’ He shrugged again, like he was carrying something large and uncomfortable on his back. ‘They’re mates. Good mates. An’ it’s how they settle their grievances.’
‘But you’re doing it … what, professionally?’
‘Ah, you know how it is, when there’s big blokes hittin’ each other, an’ one wins and one loses, there’s money to be made. Next thing you know, I’m in the ring.’
She looked round the room. ‘I’m guessing you haven’t seen much of it. This money.’
He looked away once more. ‘Yeah, well … ’ He rubbed his face with his hand. ‘Not all of us get to go to university, do we?’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘The rest of us just have to … do what we can.’
Marina looked at him. ‘Are you in trouble, Sandro?’
He gave a bitter laugh. ‘I’m always in trouble. According to you.’
‘Do you owe money, is that it?’
He didn’t seem to want to answer, but the words reluctantly left his mouth. ‘Bit. But there’s a bout tonight.’
