‘Do you think tonight’s meeting will be enough to secure the missiles?’ James asked.
Boris broke into a slightly girlish laugh. ‘Anxious to get back to that girlfriend of yours at CHERUB?’
‘Don’t be daft,’ James said, shaking his head in mock protest. ‘I love it here: the cold musty air, the half-starved pensioners, the corrupt cops sitting at the front gate stroking their machine guns, the fact that there’s nothing to do except go to school and freeze my butt off all day, then come home in the evening and sit in front of the TV – provided the power stays on. I mean, why would I ever want to leave?’
‘Obidin will either sell us the missiles, or tell us to take a walk,’ Isla said, as she zipped up her skirt. ‘Either way, we’ll be out of here soon, ten days at the most.’
‘Thank god for that,’ James groaned. ‘Have you done me any dinner?’
Boris nodded. ‘Macaroni cheese in the fridge. It’ll take two minutes in the microwave, just make sure you give it a stir half-way through. Oh, and I checked the internet. It looks like that TV show downloaded OK. I burned it on to a DVD so you can watch it on the big screen.’
‘Sweet,’ James nodded. ‘That should kill half the evening.
What’s the hot water been like?’
‘I’d stick to the bowl and sponge if I were you,’ Isla said. ‘The water pressure is down to nothing and the shower is running close to boiling.’
The taps in the bathroom only provided water with a yellow tinge, so James stepped through to the kitchen and ran scalding hot water into a plastic bowl, before adding some cold and carrying it through to his bedroom. He caught a blast of cold air as he put the bowl on his bedside table, then splashed a crusty flannel and bar of soap into the water before shutting the window. James faced a daily choice between opening his window to clear the smell of damp and keeping it closed for warmth.
After washing as well as a flannel and bowl allows and putting on clean underwear, James wandered out into the hallway and was surprised to see Isla, smartly dressed and carrying a large suitcase out of the bedroom.
‘What’s all that in aid of?’ James asked. ‘Looks like you’re moving out.’
‘Documents, recording equipment,’ Isla explained. ‘It was either this or that little attaché case, and it won’t fit in there.’
Boris came out of the bedroom in a shabby suit and bow tie.
‘Snazzy,’ James grinned.
‘Do you like it?’ Boris said proudly, totally missing the irony in James’ voice.
‘Boris baby, I could see you on a Paris catwalk in that get-up.’
Boris now realised that James was teasing him and looked slightly cross. ‘It’s an appropriate outfit,’ he said, twitching his nose. ‘We’re leaving now. I wouldn’t wait up, we might not be back until two or three in the morning.’
‘No worries,’ James said. ‘I’ve got my DVD and my macaroni cheese.’
James sauntered into the kitchen and put his plate in the microwave. While the little oven buzzed, he dashed through to the living-room to set up his DVD. It clattered into the tray and he was relieved to see that the download had worked as the title screen popped up: When Movie Stunts Go Wrong Volume II.
‘Nice one,’ James told himself, as he grabbed the now steaming hot macaroni from the microwave and hoped that the DVD had something as cool as the spurt of blood when the stuntwoman got her arm chopped off in Volume One (James had laughed, Kerry had screamed and said he was a heartless pig, but they’d made up and had a great snog afterwards).
The meal wasn’t gourmet, but it was the kind of stodge that felt satisfying after being out in the cold all day. James put his feet up on a coffee table as a man with his arm in a sling earnestly told him that the stunts he was about to see were performed by professionals and should not be attempted at home. Then the screen cut to a scene of two fat men running towards each other with chainsaws buzzing in their hands.
‘Even with the very best preparation, the art of the stuntman is a dangerous one,’ the commentator said solemnly, as the fatter of the two men tripped over and let out a piercing scream.
‘Sick!’ James grinned as the stuntman rolled on to his side revealing a