Chapter Thirty One

Sunday 30th June

Prawn Crackers

Harry wasn't ready to go to his mother's yet. He'd spoken to her before he left New York and had told her he wouldn't be with her until at least eight. He had let her think that was the time it would take after his flight arrived; he didn't need to go into more detail. He wanted some time to be by himself first, to just be in London. To feel at home before going home. He was looking forward to it now; he was hoping the greeting would be warmer than the one he'd received at Nikki's

It felt good to ride round on the tube, reacquaint himself with the city. The trains weren't busy, no one spoke to him, no one made eye contact, no one looked as if they might suddenly pull a gun or knife on him and despite it being hot down the tunnels it was nothing compared to the heat and humidity of the New York subway. He'd walked to Leo's house. He couldn't pick up the key until he'd seen the solicitor. There was a spare one at the Lyell, or there used to be a spare at the Lyell, but he had no right of access there anymore. It felt odd to be outside Leo's house, knowing that Leo wasn't in. That he wasn't even at the Lyell. That he had gone. He'd known of course from the minute he'd received that phone call from Nikki. But stood in front of his house it felt like a confirmation, a conclusion of sorts. Maybe he should have tried harder to have gone to the funeral.

"I miss you Leo," he said quietly his mood becoming more sombre.

He'd go up to Sheffield as soon as he'd got a car sorted. See the grave and take Leo's cousin Francis out for a pint or dinner.

Maybe Nikki would come with him. Maybe that would help them to start talking again.

He looked in estate agents windows along the high street and spoke to the ones that were open. Blackheath was too far out of London for what he wanted. They'd made a variety of suggestions. Had he considered a shop? There were plenty of those that were currently empty.

He carried on walking. He'd been thinking about his grand plan on the plane. If he was going to be working by himself for the foreseeable future he would need to do something else collaboratively. If his time at the Lyell and in New York had taught him anything it was that he did his best work and he enjoyed himself most when he was part of a team. He would need to find something he could do with others.

He'd loved singing with Beto and Jorge but he would never match that experience. He could join a gospel choir, that would be closest, but it wouldn't be the same and he knew the religious bit would irritate him. He needed something completely different. More of the same would just remind him of what he'd given up.

He strolled along the side of the Thames and watched the pleasure boats. In some respects it felt as if he'd never been away. The river was just as it had always been, grey/brown with an unsightly conglomeration of litter, mud and detritus at the tide line. This river wasn't pretending to be something that it wasn't, not like the constant posing and exhibitionism of New York. It just was. He walked on further until his way was blocked by a line of rowing eights and a boat house. He'd enjoyed rowing at university. It was an insane time of the morning to get up and go out on the river but it was a great start to the day and it stood him in good stead for his medical residency. He walked over to the boat house and enquired about club membership.

Rowing would certainly fit what he was looking for. He'd spend time with other people with a common purpose; the conversation never need go further than social pleasantries because once he started rowing there would be no spare breath for chit chat. It would give him a reason to get out of bed and he'd get the first look at the river to check for floaters. It could be great for business. He noted with interest that there were a number of teams for a variety of abilities. He was less pleased to see he'd be classified as an 'old boy' if he joined.

He took the tube back to his old flat and walked through the park and looked up at his old house. He felt more sentimental about Leo's house than his own flat. Or maybe it was Leo and nothing to do with the house. He was getting tired, his time clock was screwed but he did know he felt hungry. His watch said six thirty, so he carried on across the park towards Mr Li's.

The high street had changed, the estate agent had been right. There were plenty of empty shops and little cafes. The Blockbuster had gone, the HMV store, the Millets. Even one of the Starbuck's had disappeared. Instead there were a motley variety of charity shops, pound stores and boarded up frontages. His mood became gloomier. Starting again from scratch here wasn't going to be easy. New York was always vibrant and exciting; his old high street was mundane, ugly and rather depressing.

He rifled through his bag and found his new cash card and checked the balance on his account. He had left some money in it whilst he'd been away. The transfer of his American assets hadn't completed yet. It was just moving numbers on a computer and yet the bank made sure to take their cut because of dealing with a foreign currency plus their administration fees and it took nearly a week for the transfer to complete; schiesters! Only the post office took longer with vital information.

He began to remember all the niggles; all the pomposity and red tape that had driven him away from England in the first place. Everything that had combined to make him leave. His reception at Nikki's had upset him. He knew it wasn't going to be a Disneyesque ending but he'd not expected the genre to be horror/psychodrama. She'd made her displeasure clear. The only time they were civil to each other was when they were working together to patch Jack up. Then they had slipped back into the old routine as if they'd never been apart.

How could she accuse him of wanting to take her share of the money for his own purposes?

Is that what she really thought of him? He'd been pleased he'd kept his temper at the time but now he wondered if it wouldn't have been better to have shouted back. Tell her how ungrateful she was being, how rude her accusations were. His mood worsened. Had he made another mistake? Should he have stuck it out? Even the Nevada desert seemed more hospitable to him.

He stopped and looked at the shop in front of him. He never remembered there being a Tesco Metro on his high street before. He walked on a store front or two and then back and then stood still staring at the gaudy red, white and blue Tesco logo.

He felt his chest go tight and then his body rocked with a choking cough. He stepped back and leaned against a cold metal bike rack just as his legs buckled underneath him. All the excitement he'd felt about starting over in London drained out of him and the exhaustion of the last few weeks overwhelmed him.

"You alright love?" he heard in a grating but welcome London accent.

"I'll be fine," he wheezed. He waved her off.

"You don't look fine." She replied and stayed put.

"Would you mind," he gasped out when he looked up and saw her staring at him. "If I borrowed your phone?"

She looked nervous then, her instinct to help the man in trouble had made her open her mouth before even considering what she was doing, but handing over her phone left her open and vulnerable.

"Please, I need to call my friend; she'll come and pick me up. That's all. I'll give it straight back. I promise."

The stranger handed over her phone and despite the lapse of time Harry punched in a still familiar number.

"Please pick up," he begged into the ringing phone.

"Nikki Alexander,"

"Nikki, it's me," Harry said.

"Harry?"

"Why has Mr Li's turned into a Tesco?" he cried unable to stop the pain in his voice or the tears from dripping down his face.

"Harry are you there?" Nikki asked.

"I'm outside where Mr Li's should be; where's it gone? Everything's different. It's all ruined!"

"Stay there, I'll come get you." She said authoritatively and then realised that she'd already picked up her bag and slipped on her shoes.

Harry handed the woman back her phone.

"Thanks," he said scraping a hand over his face in a vain attempt to remove his tears.

"S'alright love. Take it easy now. That restaurant's been gone for months."

It was ridiculous he thought to himself in the last couple of months he'd lost his friend and mentor, faced disciplinary hearings at work, left his job, left his apartment and adopted country, left his hobby and his singing amigos, and all but Leo's death had left him relatively unaffected. Why was he stood outside a Tesco metro falling apart about the loss of a Chinese takeaway? Especially one that had only mediocre black bean sauce?

He'd forgotten that Nikki drove his old car. He hadn't even registered it outside her house earlier in the afternoon. Maybe it had been parked further up the street.

"Get in!" she called pulling up to the kerb and pushing the passenger door open for him.

"Thanks Nikki." He replied sinking into the familiar leather seat.

"I was hungry…" he began to explain. "It's been a long…" actually he couldn't remember when he'd slept last, he'd caught a late night flight out of New York. It was probably the day before yesterday.

"Do you remember the Afghan place?" Nikki asked.

Harry stared across at her, he was tired and confused; he didn't feel well. He'd not gone to Afghanistan with her.

"The restaurant!" Nikki clarified, giving him a quick sideways glance.

"The Helmand?" Harry asked his brain searching for what she was talking about.

"Yes, unfortunate name, business couldn't have been great; it shut down and Mr Li moved in there. It's closer to the station and has space to dine in."

"So Mr Li's hasn't shut?" Harry asked, his mood finally lifting.

"No, it just moved round the corner," Nikki affirmed.

Harry ran his hand over his face again.

"I'm sorry Nikki. Sorry to do this to you. I just… It was a shock… It's… Thanks for coming to get me."

"It's grief," Nikki declared. She continued to drive but she felt herself begin to relax, somehow not being the only one crippled by grief was a comfort to her. A shared solidarity with the man who had once been so important to her.

They sat in silence, Harry grateful that she'd rescued him.

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier," she began.

"I'm sorry too," Harry replied. "I shouldn't have just turned up like that, it was stupid. Sorry."

"But you are staying?" Nikki asked quietly as she pulled off the road and into a car park, daring to hope that perhaps in time he would become important to her again.

"I'm staying." Harry agreed.

She climbed out of the car and beeped it locked. He walked around the car and stood next to her. "There!" she said pointing across the road. "Happy now?" Her hand brushed against his as she let it fall back to her side.

Harry hesitated and then took hold of her hand tentatively. He looked into her face.

"I think so?" it was more of a question than a statement.

"Welcome back Harry," she said giving his hand a squeeze but not meeting his gaze and then letting go of it and staring back at the restaurant as if it were the most interesting sight in the world.

"Thanks," he replied.

"Come on," she smiled. "Let's see if Mr Li gets the flags out for you? We should at the least get free prawn crackers.


Sorry it's been so long, and thanks for all of you still reading. We are on the downhill stretch now, I promise. Dedicated to High Streets everywhere and not to big corporations that move in and steal your local Chinese not that I'm bitter you understand…