Fit For Purpose by Julian Parrott (novels for students .TXT) 📕

and dark. Nia got directly behind Tom watching the men approach over his shoulder.

“Awright, mate,” the first man without the knife said. “How about giving me your wallet, phone, and watch?”

“And the whore too,” the knifeman said as he closed to about a yard in front on Tom. “And any jewellery too.” He moved the knife in his hand, holding the blade down while making axe-like chopping motions. Amateurs thought Tom, but even amateurs could kill easily. He slowed down his breathing, he heightened his senses, watching every move the knifeman made while also being acutely aware of the second mugger’s position.

Nia felt Tom switch his weight and turn slightly sideways to face the knifeman who smiled showing drug-rotten teeth. In a blink of an eye, Tom pivoted on his strong left leg and kicked out with his right catching the knifeman just below his left kneecap. The knifeman yelped in pain and stumbled forward as Tom grabbed his forearm and then the hand that held the knife. As in one fluid move, Tom bent the knifeman’s wrist and extracted the knife from his hand. He then pulled the man forward unbalancing him, spun him around into his quickly approaching compatriot. Tom shifted his weight again, pulling Nia behind him. The second mugger recovered and swung a haymaker punch at Tom’s head. Tom sidestepped easily and punched the man in the throat. The man collapsed to both knees with both hands at his throat grasping. Tom moved his feet quickly and, seemingly effortlessly, brought his right knee into the man’s nose. The man slumped over backwards and lay still and twisted on the damp pavement, blood quickly pooling under his shattered nose. The former knifeman grabbed Tom by the shoulder and tried to spin him around, but Tom used the momentum to bring his left elbow into the man’s temple, sending him thudding to the ground. Tom knelt and put his right knee over the man’s chest and grabbed his head with both hands pulling it forward and over his chest. The mugger, only semi-conscious from the elbow strike, cried out in pain.

Tom heard his name being screamed. He looked at the man’s face between his hands realizing that he was within a few centimetres of breaking the mugger’s neck. He let the head slip out of his hands. “Tom!” Nia screamed again. “Enough.”

Tom stood. He looked at the two unconscious, broken men lying under the dim streetlight. “Shit,” he thought. He knew that his training had taken over. His response had been honed through years of such training in unarmed combat. It had all been a bit of fun in the gym back at base, but it had become all too frighteningly real through too many tours of duty.

“Tom,” Nia said. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“No, I think I should call the police,” Tom said still watching the men on the pavement.

“Tom,” Nia said as she held Tom close. “It will be complicated. The police are more than likely to arrest you than those two pricks. Let’s go. C’mon.”

She pulled Tom and they began to move down the street picking up pace. Nia had almost broken into a jog and she reached behind to grab Tom’s hand. Tom stretched out his hand to meet hers and then realised he was still holding the mugger’s knife. He threw it over the high church wall.

Nia snuggled into Tom as they sat on the Tube train. She rested her head on his shoulder. Tom looked ahead still in a half fugue state. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“For what,” Nia asked.

“For that. I was… was too much.”

Nia reached up and gently touched his face.

“It’s the training you see,” Tom said looking down at his hands and then to Nia. “Whether it is commanding a troop or individually, you’re taught to respond quickly with as extreme a level of violence as you can. It’s reflexive.”

“Tom,” she said sweetly and quietly. “You were protecting me from two men, drugged out of their tiny minds, and one with a knife. You did what you had to do and, and,” she paused, “I kind of like the fact that I have a big strong fella who can look after himself.”

They were quiet for a moment. They held hands and held each other’s gaze as the Tube train gently jostled them together.

“I liked the restaurant,” Tom said.

Nia laughed.

“One of my favourites,” she added. “But next time we go, we should go during daylight.”

They both laughed and Tom kissed Nia softly at first and then, as she responded, more firmly.

Tom and Nia slept late. Nia made brunch with an unaccustomed nervous energy. The BFI event would be a big one for Nia. She had withdrawn, almost as much as it was possible for a constantly working actor, from the public gaze. She seldom went to gala events, award shows, opening nights or premiers. On the rare occasion she did, it was to support one of her friends and, even then, Nia attempted to make herself invisible and usually made a polite and early departure. Somehow, she thought as she sipped coffee at her kitchen table with the BFI’s invite propped up in front of her, the lightness and happiness she felt with Tom had inspired her to agree to this one.

Tom joined her in the kitchen with a yawn. She smiled at him. He was wearing one of her large flannel dressing gowns, but it looked more like an embarrassingly tight kimono on him. He poured a coffee, he motioned with the pot to see if Nia needed a refill, she nodded. Tom topped up her mug. “I’m tired,” he said with another yawn. “It’s the adrenaline you see.”

Nia looked at him not quite comprehending, “Adrenaline?”

“Err, the muggers,” Tom said as he sat opposite Nia. “The fight. It would have jump-started a flow