been a rash of similar crimes in your area, ma’am. I’m only reporting the facts.’
‘Do you even know my area?’
I check the list. There’s no town name, but luckily I recognise the dialling code.
‘Derby, madam.’
‘Listen, this horror show has been very amusing, but I really must—’
‘What if he went for your children first and made you watch?’
‘That’s not funny.’
‘As I’ve said, madam, it never is. We offer self-defence training for the entire family.’
‘My daughter is five.’
‘Never too young to learn where to kick.’
‘It’d frighten the life out of her.’
‘I beg to differ, madam. Knowing a few basic moves might boost her confidence right at the time she’s about to enter school. Think about bullies, madam.’
‘Five, for pity’s sake.’
‘Most karate black belts start at three, madam.’
‘You’re making that up.’
I am. ‘I assure you I’m not, madam. One of the major positive points that clients have told us is that the self-defence classes have given them the appearance of confidence, and over 90 per cent have never even been forced to use their training.’
‘And that’s a selling point, is it?’
‘An armed world is a safe world, madam.’
‘I suppose so …’
‘Why not make your world a little safer, madam? Why not do yourself and your daughter, no matter how young, the service of being able to face the world with one more resource?’
‘Anything to help me sleep at night, is that right?’
‘That’s right, madam. Couldn’t have said it better myself.’
5
‘So what exactly is at the end of the hall?’ says Tammy.
We’re eating our lunches. The company doesn’t have a canteen, so we have to eat at our desks. I have a cheddar and ham sandwich that I make five of on a Sunday. By the smell of it, Maryam from Africa has a cold curry. Percy seems to have just pickles. His wife sometimes forgets to go shopping, he says. Tammy has gone outside to the sandwich shop down on the corner and got herself some kind of leafy salad and a fruit drink. We spend all our mornings talking on the phone, so lunch is usually a quiet affair. Not for Tammy, apparently.
‘It is what the boss says it is,’ I say.
‘All he said is that only people who don’t meet quota know what it is,’ says Tammy.
‘Exactly,’ I say.
‘That doesn’t make sense,’ she says.
‘It is what it is,’ says Percy, who has to steady himself with one hand when he looks up to say this.
‘Is it metaphorical, like?’ asks Tammy.
‘No, it’s just down that way,’ says Percy. He jerks his thumb in the right direction.
‘I mean,’ says Tammy, openly laughing at Percy, ‘that it’s just words the boss uses to motivate us. Implied violence. Like in our sales pitch.’
‘No,’ I say, ‘it really is just down that way.’
‘But that doesn’t—’
‘You meet your quota, then you never find out,’ interrupts Maryam from Africa. Her accent is a hell of a thing, foreign and stern, like being shouted at by a vampire maid. ‘Can we eat in silence, please? I hear enough chitter chatter all day long without having my digestion interrupted by nonsense of this sort.’
6
The self-defence classes we sell have no connection with this company. We’re just the telesales firm that the self-defence people hired to push their product. I’ve never been to a class. I’ve never even seen a brochure. Neither have Maryam from Africa or Percy for all I know. So far, Tammy hasn’t asked, and I’ll bet it’s the sort of thing she would ask about, so I’m guessing that maybe she’s seen a brochure or been to a class. It would figure.
7
‘Should we invite her to the pub?’ says Percy.
‘Who?’ I ask, though who else could he be talking about?
‘Tammy.’
‘Good God, no,’ whispers Maryam from Africa.
‘It’s rude not to,’ says Percy.
‘It’s rude to ask questions all day,’ says Maryam. ‘If you invite her, I’m not coming.’
‘You never come,’ says Percy.
‘I might today, if you don’t invite her.’
We prepare ourselves for an awkward moment when the day ends, but Tammy just bags up the jumper she’s slung over the back of her chair, waves bye, and leaves.
‘The cheek,’ says Maryam.
8
I bring two pints of bitter and one pint of lager to the table. The lager is for Maryam from Africa. It seems surprising that she drinks lager, but I suppose there’s no reason she shouldn’t. I get the drinks every night, even when it’s just me and Percy, because Percy can’t be trusted to carry anything. He’s all right once he’s standing or once he’s sitting; it’s the in-between that’s tricky, and that includes leaning. The management of the Cock & Cloisters have even barred him from handling small glasses of spirits.
‘Cheers, mate,’ says Percy. Maryam from Africa nods a thank you. Percy and I each take a swig from our bitters. Maryam downs half of her pint in one long, graceful draught. It’s almost beautiful. She dabs her lip with a serviette and says, ‘I don’t like this new girl.’
‘Me neither,’ I say.
‘She’s not so bad,’ says Percy.
‘You say that about everyone,’ I say.
‘You say the boss isn’t so bad,’ says Maryam.
‘He isn’t,’ says Percy.
Maryam looks
