Call & Response Read Online Free Page A

doing? You were recording, I take it.’
    ‘No. It was just a hunch, like. You know, out of area car, a bit flash, going slower than we expected.’
    ‘And a black man driving it?’
    There was a pause.
    ‘We didn’t notice that. How could we? We’ve not got super-powers, like.’
    ‘Because I drove past you, didn’t I? You were parked up somewhere back there. Don’t bullshit me, mate.’
    ‘All right, aye, we were. We saw you drive by.’
    ‘And you do know what racial profiling is, don’t you?’
    ‘Aye, we know.’
    ‘And did you do that, do you think? Stop me because of my colour, I mean. You don’t get many IC3s around here, I expect.’
    The bobby literally squirmed slightly, his big, fleshy body wriggling like a worm on a hook.
    ‘You just didn’t seem tall enough, that’s all. That’s why I didn’t believe you were a copper, like.’
    ‘You must have got us confused with giants, mate. Black people come in all shapes and sizes, just like you. On my island most people are actually pygmys, so I’m actually really, really big. It’s all relative, see.’
     
    It was a long five seconds before the other cop laughed. ‘Joke, right?’
    ‘That’s right, mate. Got it in one. My dad came over from Barbados on the Windrush in the ‘60s to drive a bus for London Transport, not by canoe from Borneo or somewhere.’
    ‘So no hard feelings?’ asked the cop he’d thrown. ‘Will you need to report this?’
    ‘Will you?’
    ‘Fuck, no.’
    ‘Well, that’s fine then, lads. And I hope I didn’t do any damage when I threw you, John.’
    ‘No, I just tripped and fell, really.’
    Rex laughed. ‘Of course you did. Well, listen lads, nice to have met you, and don’t worry, I won’t mention this to anyone down at the nick. Unless I hear that one of you two has, in which case all bets are off. You get me?’
    ‘Aye, we get you, Rex. We’ll say nowt to no-one. Pretend it never happened, like.’
    ‘OK. That’s your best bet, I’d say. Now would you lads do me a favour and give me a Police escort round to William Street? I just want to get a few hours kip. I’m on duty in the morning, and I don’t want black circles under my eyes, now do I?’
    The two cops didn’t laugh, so Copeland smiled, to indicate that he’d made a joke. And then they did. It was the sound of relief.
    ‘Very good, Rex. Aye, very good.’
     
    PC John Foster looked in the rear view mirror as he drove away from the hotel. They’d offered to help Copeland in with his stuff, but he’d said he’d be fine.
    ‘Decent bloke.’
    ‘Aye.’
    ‘I’m still surprised they let them into the job though, when they’re that small, like.’
    ‘He still put you on your arse, John.’
    ‘Like I said, I tripped. He was lucky, that’s all.’
    ‘Aye, well.’
    ‘And I expect you need to be pretty handy, if you’re on the job down there. What with the gang wars, and all. I expect he’s come up here for an easy life, like. Bit of fresh air, and that.’
    ‘Welcome to Cumbria.’
    ‘Aye. And he could have done a lot worse, like.’
    ‘Scotland?’
    ‘Aye, exactly.’
     
     
    Pepper Wilson looked at her watch, again. It was almost half eleven, and she’d told Adam that she’d be home by now. But it was a fifteen minute walk, and The Working Poor showed no signs of leaving the stage. Well, not so much a stage, more the corner of the bar, with ten or a dozen people watching, and clapping briefly at the end of each tune. She wondered how many of them weren’t connected to the band by bonds that were stronger than a shared love of the songs of protest. There were four more of them in the band, all younger than Justin, and Pepper guessed that the Working Poor’s actual fanbase was probably not more than half a dozen. It was a shame, because they were good, as far as Pepper could tell. She wondered, briefly, if she could go, but Justin kept catching her eye as he played, and the look of concentration had always given way to a smile