Hot Stew by Fiona Mozley (most interesting books to read .TXT) 📕

left the pub without saying goodbye, and Robert sat there for a bit drinking until it was clear he wasn’t coming back. The lad had looked at him like he was some kind of monster. Perhaps he is some kind of monster. Only, that’s not how he feels. He feels like a person with memories of a bad past and hope for a better future.

Robert saw Lorenzo grow up. He remembers him going off to school in the mornings then coming back in the afternoons and sitting out on the balcony doing his homework on hot summer days. He always worked so hard. Robert thought the lad would be a doctor or lawyer or businessman. When he got the place to study at Cambridge, his mum and aunt organized a party and Robert chipped in with a case of champagne (which he stole from a strip club he did security for). It seemed right to mark the news with something fancy. “You’ll have to get used to this sort of thing,” he told Lorenzo. “You’ll have to stop drinking lager and start drinking champagne, and you’ll have to learn what all the little knives and forks are for. When you come back at Christmas we won’t recognize you.” Robert meant it as a joke, but the lad looked upset. He peered down at his drink then up at Robert. “Sorry,” Lorenzo said. This wasn’t what Robert had intended. He put down his own drink and placed a hand on each of the boy’s shoulders.

“Never apologize for having an education,” he said. “Never apologize for being clever and working hard and doing well. I’m proud of you.”

It was a surprise when Lorenzo announced he was going to be an actor. His family were anxious about his prospects. His dad was especially loud about it, though Robert suspected Jimi wasn’t so much anxious as ashamed. It was clear by that point Lorenzo wasn’t going to be the type of man Jimi wanted him to be.

Lorenzo’s dad was hardly around when he was a boy, and the lad was raised by his mum and aunts, who all worked at an Italian restaurant. Jimi was in the merchant navy. He was from Sri Lanka and met Maria when he was docked in the Medway and had come up the Thames to enjoy the city. In Robert’s opinion, Jimi was a pure cunt. He was away for much of the year, which would have been fine if he sent his wages home to his family as he should have. Instead, he spent them in foreign ports. He was a looker and a charmer, and Robert wouldn’t have been surprised if the man had other families in other cities. It was a dishonest way to carry on. Robert knows all about lust, but he doesn’t lie and cheat. Though perhaps that’s because he’s never had anyone to lie to; anyone to cheat on.

He is led out of his cell, down the corridor to the phone. His fingers find the old number. He hears the dial tone, and then the sound of ringing at the other end of the line. After seven or eight rings, he feels sure nobody will answer, but reckons he might as well stay on the line while he figures out who else to call. Then someone does answer. He hears the man’s voice, familiar but distant. He explains who he is and what has happened. Roster says very little. Robert doesn’t know if the man has remembered him.

Then he returns to his cell and waits. He watches through the open grate of the door as girls with placards are dragged past. He recognizes a few. He’s fucked more than one, though he hasn’t visited the walk-up in months. He has lacked desire. It seeped out of him as the seasons turned. He feels cold and hollow and brittle, and his body is strange to him, as if he is a stranger within it.

One of the girls is put in a cell near his. He recognizes her voice as she shouts obscenities at the duty officer.

“Candy?” he whispers.

“Who’s that?” Candy asks.

“It’s Robert.”

“Robert who?”

“Robert Kerr.”

“Who’s that?”

“I’m one of your regulars.”

Silence. Then, “Are you the big tough-looking bloke with the scar on his head.”

“That’s me.”

“The one who likes to do the husband-and-wife role play?”

“You what?”

“You know: under the covers, missionary position. Classic, no-nonsense sex.”

“Well, what else would I do?”

“Look, never mind. What you doing here?”

“Just some bollocks. You?”

“Got picked up after the protest. A bunch of us did.”

Robert heard about the protest. He also remembers what Karl said to him that time about the evictions. Then he says, “I don’t know what I’d do if you lot had to leave.”

“For god’s sake, I’m sure you’d live. It’s not really about you, is it?”

“No. Sorry. It’s not about me.”

Then she says, “Listen, do you know any good lawyers?”

Robert thinks about giving her the number he’s just called. “No,” he replies. “But they’ll fix you up with someone.” He means the police.

Roster arrives with Tobias Elton. The lawyer sits with Robert as he is questioned in an interview room by a policewoman called Jackie Rose. She asks him about Cheryl Lavery—how he knew her, when it was he last saw her. At first he can’t understand the line of questioning, and then it becomes clear she suspects he was involved in Cheryl’s disappearance. Robert loses his shit. Elton tells him to shut up and sit down. Robert does what he’s told.

The police ask Robert if he kidnapped her. They ask if he was put up to it by someone. They say they’re investigating a ring of traffickers. Did you drug her? Did you send her off somewhere? We know you’re in and out of the walk-ups. We know the kinds of people you used to work for. Working for them again?

Elton tells him to keep quiet, so he does. Afterwards, Roster pays the bail, like he always used to. Then Robert and Roster go for a drink