Divorcing Jack by Colin Bateman Read Free Book Online Page A

come round. Just because I wasn't at Mouse's didn't mean I slept with the girl.
    And then I thought about Margaret. Young. Innocent, yet plainly experienced. Alone, perhaps, tonight. No, I told myself.

5
    Charles Parker was two inches over six foot and built like a heavyweight, more Holyfield than Tyson. He wore a dark suit with narrow lapels and his trousers were very slightly flared. His shoes were brown leather, scuffed at the front. His hair, although clearly receding, was cut short. I was an hour and a half late arriving at the Europa. Illness, self-inflicted. Rolling Rock.
    I put out my hand and he shook it warmly.
    'You'll be Mr Starkey,' he said. A soft voice, curiously at odds with his appearance. The Whip and Saddle bar where we were standing is part of the Europa Hotel, the biggest hotel in Belfast. It was and is known as the most bombed hotel in Europe, an over-used description and rather misleading. Not that many European hotels get bombed.
    I nodded. 'Sorry I'm late. Got held up.' I pointed to my face . ..
    'What happened to you? You look like shit.'
    'I always look like shit. Car accident. The prescribed medicine is an Irish whiskey. That should really be your introduction to Northern Ireland.'
    He smiled widely and signalled to the barman. 'Nothing I like better than getting straight into some research, Mr Starkey.'
    'My pleasure to be your guide, Mr Parker.' He ordered two drinks and we adjourned to a side table of the bar overlooking Great Victoria Street. 'You're from Boston, right?'
    'I work in Boston. I'm from New York.'
    'Big Irish interest in Boston, isn't there? Keen to see peace break out over here, I suppose.'
    'You could say that.'
    He lifted his glass to me, swirling the half-finished drink. 'It's made nearby, I understand,' he said.
    'Aye. Up the road. Bushmills. It's popular with tourists.'
    'I've had it before - but I'll have to admit it tastes better in Ireland.'
    'Like Guinness tastes better in Dublin. And stick to calling it Northern Ireland, although you'll hear variations. If you're a Loyalist you'll call it Ulster, if you're a Nationalist you call it the North of Ireland or the Six Counties, if you're the British Government you call it the Province.'
    'And what do you call it, Mr Starkey?'
    'Home.'
     
    Parker came complete with a fancy hire car, a grey Saab which I drove round the city for him. I took him the usual terror tour, up the Falls Road to see the Republican wall murals, up the Shankill to see the Protestant equivalent, past the shipyard, out to the old government buildings at Stormont and finally down to City Hall. He looked underwhelmed by it all.
    'Smaller than I thought,' he said.
    'Lowest crime figures in the UK.'
    'Unless you count all the killings.'
    'Mmmm. You could say that.'
    Around 6 p.m. I nosed the Saab into a car park in front of the BBC's headquarters on Ormeau Avenue where I'd arranged for us to watch an interview with prime minister elect Brinn being recorded. I thought he might find it interesting.
    'Will I have a chance to speak to Brinn?'
    'No. Not today. I'm working on that. Maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after. You in a rush?'
    'No rush, just keen.'
    'Keen is my middle name,' I said.
    We were checked and searched by three elderly security men at the entrance and two of them guided us to a lift. They gave Parker a wary glance as he stepped into it. 'You know there are only about six black families in the whole of Ireland?' I asked him, punching the floor number.
    I smiled pleasantly at the security guards as the door slid across. They glared back.
    We were met at the top of the stairs by a small grey-haired woman immaculately dressed in a light-green trouser suit. Kay McCrory. She'd been in charge of the press office at the BBC since I'd first entered journalism, and for several decades before that.
    She introduced herself to Parker, then turned on her heel and led us down a corridor.
    'Nice to see you again, Kay,' I said.
    'Likewise.'
    'How have you