Dear Osama

They want you dead or alive so the terror will stop. Well I wouldn't know about that I mean rock 'n' roll didn't stop when Elvis died on the khazi it just got worse. Next thing you know there was Sonny & Cher and Dexy's Midnight Runners. I'll come to them later. My point is it's easier to start these things than to finish them. I suppose you thought of that did you?

There's a reward of 25 million dollars on your head but don't lose sleep on my account Osama. I have no information leading to your arrest or capture. I have no information full effing stop. I'm what you'd call an infidel and my husband called working class. There is a difference you know. But just supposing I did clap eyes on you. Supposing I saw you driving a Nissan Primera down towards Haggerston and grassed you to the old bill. Well. I wouldn't know how to spend 25 million dollars. It's not as if I've got anyone to spend it on since you blew up my husband and my boy.

That's my whole point you see. I don't want 25 million dollars Osama I just want you to give it a rest. AM I ALONE? I want to be the last mother in the world who ever has to write you a letter like this. Who ever has to write to you Osama about her dead boy.

Now about the writing. The last thing I wrote was N/A on an income support form that wanted NAME OF SPOUSE OR PARTNER. So you see I'll do my best but you'll have to bear with me because I'm not a big writer. I'm going to write to you about the emptiness that was left when you took my boy away. I'm going to write so you can look into my empty life and see what a human boy really is from the shape of the hole he leaves behind. I want you to feel that hole in your heart and stroke it with your hands and cut your fingers on its sharp edges. I am a mother Osama I just want you to love my son. What could be more natural?

I know you can love my boy Osama. The Sun says you are an EVIL MONSTER but I don't believe in evil I know it takes 2 to tango. I know you're vexed at the leaders of Western imperialism. Well I'll be writing to them too.

As for you I know you'd stop the bombs in a second if I could make you see my son with all your heart for just one moment. I know you would stop making boy shaped holes in the world. It would make you too sad. So I will do my best with these words Osama. I suppose you can see they don't come natural to me but I hope this letter reaches you anyway. I hope it finds you before the Americans do otherwise I'm going to wish I hadn't bothered aren't I?

Well Osama if I'm going to show you my boy I have to start with where he lived and I still do. I live in London England which I agree with you is a bad place in lots of ways but I was born here so what can you do? London looks like a rich place from the outside but we are most of us very poor here. I saw the video you made Osama where you said the West was decadent. Maybe you meant the West End? We aren't all like that. London is a smiling liar his front teeth are very nice but you can smell his back teeth rotten and stinking.

My family was never rotten poor we were hard up there's a difference. We were respectable we kept ourselves presentable but it was a struggle I don't mind telling you. We were not the nice front teeth or the rotten back teeth of London and there are millions of us just like that. The middle classes put up web sites about us. If you're interested Osama just put down that Kalashnikov for a second and look up chav pikey ned or townie in Google. Like I say there are millions of us but now there's a lot less than there were of course. I miss them so bad my husband and my boy especially.

My husband and my boy and me lived on Barnet Grove which is a road that goes from Bethnal Green to Haggerston. There are 2 kinds of places on Barnet Grove. The first kind are very pricey old terraced houses. The estate agents call them Georgian Gems With Extensive Potential For Conversion To Fully Appointed Executive Flats With Easy Access To The City Of London And Within A Stone's Throw Of The Prestigious Columbia Road Flower Market. The second kind of places are places like ours. They are flats in dirty brick tower blocks they smell of chip fat inside. All the flats in each block are the same except that the front doors don't match on account of they get kicked in as often as they get opened nicely. They built our tower blocks in the Fifties. They built them in the gaps where the Georgian Gems had incendiaries dropped on them by Adolf Hitler.

Adolf Hitler was the last chap who hated London as much as you do Osama. The Sun calls him the MOST EVIL MAN IN HISTORY and he made the gaping hole in Barnet Grove that they built our tower block in. I suppose it was thanks to him we could afford to live Within A Stone's Throw Of The Prestigious Colombia Road Flower Market so maybe Adolf Hitler was not all bad in the long run.

Like I say our flat was in one of those tower blocks. It was a small flat and you could hear the upstairs neighbours on the job. They used to start uh uh uh very soft at first and then louder and louder uh uh oh my god UH and after a bit you could listen as hard as you liked and still not know if you were hearing love or murder. It used to drive my husband crazy but at least our flat was warm and clean and it was ours. It was an ex-council flat which is to say we owned it. Which is to say we didn't have to struggle to pay the rent. We struggled to pay the mortgage each month instead there is a difference and that difference is called EMPOWERMENT.

I didn't work I looked after our boy. My husband's wages paid the mortgage and not much else so by the end of the month things were always a bit wobbly. My husband was a copper and he wasn't just any old copper he was in bomb disposal. You might reckon bomb disposal wages would of stretched a bit further Osama but you'd reckon wrong if you didn't reckon with the horses the dogs the cock fights in the back room of the Nelson's Head and whether it was going to be a white Christmas. My husband was the sort of bloke who'd take a punt on anything so thank god he had a better track record with bombs than the 11.31 at Doncaster. When we were behind on the bills I used to get teeth chattering scared of the bailiffs Osama. Whenever I could squeeze a fiver out of the shopping money I used to stash it under the carpet just in case my husband blew everything one day and they chucked us out on our ear. There was never more than a month of mortgage under the rug so we were always less than 31 days away from the street or only 28 days if my husband blew the lot in February which sod's law he would. But I couldn't hold his flutters against him on account of he needed a thing to take his mind off the nerves and his thing was no worse than mine Osama I'll tell you about my thing in a minute.

In bomb disposal the call can come at any time of the day or night and for my husband it often did. If the call came in the evening we would be sitting in front of the telly. Not saying much. Just sitting there with plates on our knees eating chicken kievs. They were Findus they were more or less okay they were always his favourite.

Anyway the telly would be on and we'd probably be watching Top Gear. My husband knew a lot about motors. We never could afford a new motor ourselves but my husband knew how to pick a good second hand one. We mostly had Vauxhall Astras they never let us down. They used to sell off the old police Astras you see. They'd give them a respray but if the light was right you could always see POLICE showing out from under the paint job. I suppose a thing can never really change its nature Osama.

Anyway we'd be watching Top Gear and the phone would go and my husband would put his plate down on the sofa and take the phone next door. He wasn't supposed to tell me anything about the job but when he came back through the lounge there was one sure way to tell if it was serious. They always knew which were the real bombs and which were most probably just hoaxes. If it was a hoax my husband would sit back down on the sofa and gobble the rest of his chicken kiev before he left the flat. It only took him 30 secs but he never did that if it was serious. When it was serious he just picked up his jacket and walked straight out.

When it was serious I used to wait up for him. Our boy would be asleep so there was only the telly to take my mind off things. Not that it ever would of course. After Top Gear there was Holby City and then it would be Newsnight. Holby made you nervous about death and chip pan fires and Newsnight made you nervous about life and money so between the both of them they could get you in a right state and leave you wondering why you bothered with the licence fee. But I had to keep the telly on in case anything happened and there was a news flash.

So I used to just sit there Osama watching the telly and hoping it would stay boring. When your husband works in bomb disposal you want the whole world to stay that way. Nothing ever happening. Trust me you want a world run by Richard & Judy. At night I always watched the BBC. I never watched the other side because I couldn't stand the adverts. A woman with nice hair telling how this or that shampoo stops split ends. Well. It made me feel a bit funny when I was waiting to see if my husband had got himself blown up. It made me feel quite poorly actually.

There's a lot of bombs in London these days Osama on account of if you've got a message for the nation then it's actually quite hard to get on Richard & Judy so it's easier just to stick a few old nails and bolts into a Nike bag of fertiliser. Half the poor lonely sods in town are making a bomb these days Osama I hope you're proud of yourself.

The coppers make 4 or 5 of them safe every week and another 1 or 2 go off and make holes in people and often as not it's the coppers on the scene who get the holes put in them. They don't show it on the news any more on account of it would give people the screaming abdabs. I'm not big on numbers Osama but once late at night I worked out the odds on my husband getting blown up one day and ever since then I had the screaming abdabs all on my own. It was practically a dead cert I swear not even Ladbrokes would of taken your money.

Sometimes the sun would be up before my husband came home. The breakfast show would be on the telly and there'd be a girl doing the weather or the Dow Jones. It was all a bit pointless if you ask me. I mean if you wanted to know what the weather was doing you only had to look out the window and as for the Dow Jones well you could look out the window or you could not. You could please yourself because it's not as if there was anything you could do about the Dow Jones either way. My whole point is I never gave a monkey's about any of it. I just wanted my husband home safe.

When he finally came in it was such a relief. He never said much because he was so tired. I would ask him how did it go? And he would look at me and say I'm still here ain't I? My husband was what the Sun would call a QUIET HERO it's funny how none of them are NOISY I suppose that wouldn't be very British.

Anyway my husband would drink a Famous Grouse and go to bed without taking his clothes off or brushing his teeth because as well as being QUIET he sometimes COULDN'T BE ARSED and who could blame him? When he was safe asleep I would go to look in on our boy.

Our boy had his own room it was cracking we were proud of it. My husband built his bed in the shape of Bob the Builder's dump truck and I sewed the curtains and we did the painting together. In the night my boy's room smelled of boy. Boy is a good smell it is a cross between angels and tigers. My boy slept on his side sucking Mr Rabbit's paws. I sewed Mr Rabbit myself he was purple with green ears. He went everywhere my boy went. Or else there was trouble. My boy was so peaceful it was lovely to watch him sleep so still with his lovely ginger hair glowing from the sunrise outside his curtains. The curtains made the light all pink. They slept very quiet in the pink light the 2 of them him and Mr Rabbit. Sometimes my boy was so still I had to check he was breathing. I would put my face close to his face and blow a little bit on his cheek. He would snuffle and frown and fidget for a while then go all soft and still again. I would smile and tiptoe backwards out of his room and close his door very quiet. Mr Rabbit survived. I still have him. His green ears are black with blood and one of his paws is missing.

Now I've told you where my boy came from Osama I suppose I ought to tell you a bit more about his mum before you get the idea I was some sort of saint who just sewed fluffy toys and waited up for her husband. I wish I was a saint because it was what my boy deserved but it wasn't what he got. I wasn't a perfect wife and mum in fact I wasn't even an average one I was what the Sun would call a DIRTY LOVE CHEAT.

My husband and my boy never found out oh thank you god. But I can say it now they're both dead and I don't care who reads it. It can't hurt them any more. I loved my boy and I loved my husband but sometimes I saw other men too. Or rather they saw me and I didn't make much of an effort to put them off and one thing sometimes led to another. You know what men are like Osama you trained thousands of them yourself they are RAVENOUS LOVE RATS.

Sex is not a beautiful and perfect thing for me Osama it is a condition caused by nerves. Ever since I was a young girl I get so anxious. It only needs a little thing to get me started. Your Twin Towers attack or just 2 blokes arguing over a cab fare it's all the same. All the violence in the world is connected it's just like the sea. When I see a woman shouting at her kid in Asda car park I see bulldozers flattening refugee camps. I see those little African boys with scars across the tops of their skulls like headphones. I see all the lost tempers of the world I see HELL ON EARTH. It's all the same it all makes me twitchy.

And when I get nervous about all the horrible things in the world I just need something very soft and secret and warm to make me forget it for a bit. I didn't even know what it was till I was 14. It was one of my mum's boyfriends who showed me but I won't write his name or he'll get in trouble. I suppose he was a SICK CHILD PREDATOR but I still remember how lovely it felt. Afterwards he took me for a drive through town and I just smiled and looked out at all the hard faces and the homeless drifting past the car windows and they didn't bother me for the moment. I was just smiling and thinking nothing much.

Ever since then whenever I get nervous I'll go with anyone so long as they're gentle. I'm not proud I know it's not an excuse and I've tried so hard to change but I can't. It's deep under my skin like a tat they can never quite remove oh sometimes I feel so tired.

I'll tell you about one night in particular Osama. You'll see it isn't true I always used to wait up for my husband. One night last spring he got called out on a job and while I was waiting up for him the telly made me very anxious. It was one of those politics talk shows and everyone was trying to talk at once. It was like they were on a sinking ship fighting over the last life jacket and I couldn't stand it. I ran into the kitchen and started tidying to take my mind off things only the problem was it was already tidy.

The trouble is when I get nervous I always tidy and I get nervous a lot and there's only so much tidying a small flat can take. I looked around the kitchen I was hopping from foot to foot I was getting desperate. The oven was clean the chip pan was sparkling and all the tins in the cupboards were in alphabetical order with their labels facing outwards. Apple slices Baked beans Custard and so on it was a real problem it was effing perfect I didn't know what to do with myself so I started biting my nails. I can bite till my fingers bleed when I get like that but very luckily just then I had a flash of genius I realised I never had alphabetised the freezer had I? I'm good like that Osama sometimes things just come to me. So I opened up the freezer and dumped out all the food onto the floor and put it back in its right order from top to bottom. Alphabites Burgers Chips Drumsticks Eclairs Fish Fingers I could go on but the point is all the time I was doing this I was very happy and I never once imagined my husband cutting the wrong wire on a home made nail bomb and being blown into chunks about the size of your thumb. The trouble was as soon as all the packets were back in the freezer that's exactly what I started seeing. So then I did what anyone would do in my situation Osama I went down the pub.

Actually that isn't quite true. What I did first was open up the freezer again and take out the bag of Alphabites and open them and put all the Alphabites into alphabetical order and put them back into the freezer and then I went down the pub. There was nothing else for it I just had to get out of that flat and close the door behind me.

I know they say you should never leave a child alone in the home but there you go. The people who say that I wonder what they would do if it was them left all alone and it was their husbands making a bomb safe and all their laundry was done already and all their Alphabites were in perfect order. I think they might of popped out to the pub like I did. Just to see a few friendly faces. Just to drink a little something to take the edge off. So off I toddled down the road to the Nelson's Head and I got a G&T and I took it to the corner table nearest the telly projector and I sat there watching Sky like you do. They were showing all the season's greatest goals which was fine by me. I know you'd rather watch blindfolded lads having their heads hacked off with knives Osama well that's the main difference between you and me I suppose we have different opinions about telly. If you'd ever spent an evening in front of the box with me and my husband there'd of been a lot of squabbling over the remote control. Anyway my point is I was happy minding my own and I sat there all alone good as gold and the old grandads sat at the bar talking about the footie and everyone let me be.

Now I may be weak Osama but I am not a slut. I never asked for Jasper Black to sit down at my table and interrupt me gawping at action replays. I never came on to Jasper Black he came on to me there's a difference.

You could tell straight away Jasper Black had no business being in the East End. He was one of those types who fancied a spot of Easy Access To The City Of London Within A Stone's Throw Of The Prestigious Columbia Road Flower Market. The Sun calls them SNEERING TOFFS.

Usually they live about 3 years in Bethnal Green or Shoreditch then move to the suburbs to be with their own kind. I watched a documentary once about salmon swimming up rivers to spawn and that's what they're like those people. You turn around one day and they've upped sticks and gone and all you're left with is this fading smell of Boss by Hugo Boss on your nice T-shirt and a Starbucks where the pie shop used to be.

Including him there were 3 SNEERING TOFFS on Jasper Black's table it didn't take Sherlock Holmes to spot them. I was looking at Sky trying not to catch their eye but I could feel them looking up from their pints and giving each other these little secret grins on account of I was a bit of local colour. Like it was okay I was wearing a Nike T-shirt and trackie bottoms but they'd of preferred it if I'd been dressed as a Pearly Queen or maybe the little match girl from Oliver The Musical. If they'd been just a bit more pissed they'd probably of taken a photo of me on their mobiles for those web sites I told you about. They thought they were very clever. My whole point is they weren't very nice and you could of blown up as many of them as you liked Osama you wouldn't of heard any of us complaining.

Anyway Jasper Black left his table and came over to mine and it was quite a surprise. Normally I'd of told him where to shove it but I couldn't help noticing he had nice eyes for a SNEERING TOFF.

I mean most of them have dead eyes like they've been done over with electric shocks like Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. Or some of them have these little excited eyes like they've got a chinchilla up their bum like Hugh Grant in. Well. All his films. But Jasper Black wasn't like that. He had nice eyes. He looked almost human. I looked back at the slow motion goals on Sky. I knew it was dangerous to look at Jasper Black at least give me that much credit.

- Football fan are you? said Jasper Black.

- What do you think?

- I think you're beautiful, said Jasper Black. So do my friends. They bet me 20 quid I couldn't get your name. So tell me your name and I'll split the cash with you and never bother you again.

He was smiling. I wasn't.

- 20 quid?

- Yes, he said. 20 English pounds.

- Listen carefully. I'll say this slowly. Your friends are WANKERS.

Jasper Black didn't even blink.

- So help me take them for the money, he said. We'll go halves. 10 quid each. What do you say?

- I don't need 10 quid.

Jasper Black stopped smiling.

- No, he said. Neither do I really. Well maybe I can just talk with you?

- I'm married. I'm waiting for my husband.

I picked up my G&T and I made sure he got an eyeful of my wedding band. My wedding band is not silver actually Osama it's platinum it's a cracker. My husband chose it himself and it cost him a month's wages. There are some things you just can't skimp on he always used to say. I still wear it today on a little silver chain around my neck. It's as wide as Runway Number 1 at Heathrow Airport and it flashes like the sun but apparently Jasper Black couldn't see it at all.

- Are you here all on your own? he said.

- No. Well yes I suppose I am. Like I say I'm waiting for my husband he's a copper he's a rock he's never let me down we've been married 4 years 7 months we have a boy he is 4 years 3 months old he still sleeps with his rabbit the rabbit is called Mr Rabbit.

- Are you okay? said Jasper Black. It's just that you seem a little overwrought.

- Overwhat?

- Overexcited.

- Oh really what makes you say that?

- Well, said Jasper Black. I only asked you if you were here alone and now I know everything about you with the possible exception of your mother's maiden name.

- Knowles.

- Excuse me? said Jasper Black.

- Knowles was my mother's maiden name. In fact it always was her name she never was married to my father.

- Oh, he said.

- I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm telling you all this. I'm never normally like this. Spilling my guts to strangers down the pub.

- Please don't apologise. Talk if you feel like talking. Get it all off your chest. I'm a good listener.

- Are you sure? You seem very kind you have a kind face my husband is in bomb disposal.

- Whoa there, said Jasper Black. Whoa whoa whoa. Just one cotton picking minute. I'm going to go to the bar and get us both another drink and you're going to take a deep breath and count backwards from ten and when I get back from the bar you're going to start at the beginning and tell me all about it.

- Okay.

- Alright, he said. What are you drinking?

- G&T please.

- G&T it is, he said.

- Last orders, said the landlord.

So Jasper Black went up to the bar and his 2 SNEERING TOFF mates got up from their table and went in to the gents for a wee and I got up and locked them in there on account of they'd been gawping at me and Jasper Black and making blow job faces at us ever since he sat down with me. It couldn't of been easier. There was a padlock on the outside of the door to the gents and I just clicked it shut through the metal ring that was there and went back to my table nearest the telly projector and sat down good as gold. The landlord and the old granddads up at the bar saw the whole thing and they were all nudging each other and smiling at me which would of been nice except that their teeth were a right state so it was a bit like a horror film actually like NIGHT OF THE SMIRKING CARDIGAN GRANDDADS. When Jasper Black turned back from the bar with our drinks he looked around for his mates and made a question mark face at me with his eyebrows.

- What happened to the blokes I was with? he said.

- They disappeared up their own arses. You should of seen it. It was amazing.

Jasper Black looked at me and frowned. Then he shrugged and sat down. We just drank our drinks for a little bit then. We didn't look at each other we looked at each other's drinks like they were effing fascinating. The way 2 people only do if they've known each other less than 25 minutes or more than 25 years. So I stared at Jasper Black's lager and Jasper Black stared at my G&T and after a while this loud banging started coming from the gents now his mates had found out they'd been locked in there. It got louder and louder. You might of thought the landlord would of let them out but he didn't because we do things a bit different in the East End. There are mysteries in this patch between Bethnal Green and Haggerston Osama that would of had your prophets scratching their heads I should think.

Jasper Black nodded his head at the door of the gents where all the banging was coming from.

- That's them is it? he said.

- They started it.

Jasper Black frowned again and then he started laughing.

- Good girl, he said.

- Yes I am a good girl as a matter of fact so don't think you can try anything fancy.

Jasper Black grinned.

- Last thing on my mind, he said.

- My husband is in bomb disposal he got called out on a job tonight I'm waiting for him to come home.

- Bomb disposal, said Jasper Black. The red wire or the green wire eh? That must be one hell of a job.

I shrieked when he said that about the red wire or the green wire I couldn't help myself.

- Oh god, he said. I'm so sorry that was bloody insensitive of me. Sometimes I can be such a prat oh now I wish the ground would just swallow me up.

- It's not your fault. I feel like a bomb myself tonight I'm all nerves I'm ready to explode I feel like I could go off at any moment.

- Oh you poor thing, he said.

He put his hand on my hand and I trembled.

- Will you drink up now please, said the landlord.

He meant it. 5 minutes later we were out on our ear and the banging from the door of the gents faded out when the barman locked the front door behind us.

- Will they be okay in there? said Jasper Black.

- Your mates?

- Yes.

- Do you care?

- No.

- Fine then.

We stood there looking at each other's shoes. It was raining. This is London Osama so if I do ever forget to mention the weather you just imagine it's raining and cold and you won't be far off.

- Will you be okay? he said. I'm worried about you.

- Worried about me? You don't even know me. I'm not your problem.

- There is such a thing as compassion, he said. We're all in this together. You're having a stressful night. Why don't you let me at least walk you to your house?

- Cause I don't have a house. It's a flat isn't it.

- Flat then.

- It's just round the corner. Don't worry about me I'll be alright I'll just go home and put the kettle on.

- Where are you living? he said.

- On the Wellington Estate on the corner of Wellington Row. With my husband.

- That's funny, said Jasper Black. You live right across the road from me. I see the Wellington Estate from my window.

- Bet that hasn't done anything for your house price.

- I'm sure it's nice inside, he said.

- It's alright. At least we don't have a view of the Wellington Estate.

He smiled.

- We'll walk that way together, he said.

He put his arm around my shoulders as we walked. I didn't know how to stop him doing it. I thought he was maybe just being kind. I was nervous in case my husband came past and saw us walking that way. I was nervous in case my husband got himself blown up. Oh actually I was just nervous.

When we reached the estate my husband's car wasn't parked in the road outside. The lights weren't on in our flat it was obvious he wasn't back yet.

- He isn't back yet.

I don't know why I said that. It was stupid of me. I don't know why I said anything at all to Jasper Black he hadn't even told me his name.

- Your husband isn't back? said Jasper Black.

- No. The lights are off.

- Well why don't you come to my place? said Jasper Black. I'll make you a coffee.

- I don't drink coffee.

- A tea then, he said.

- No thanks. I really should be getting back.

- But what on earth for? he said. It's not as if anyone's waiting up for you.

- I suppose not.

Even though my boy was waiting in there for me. But I couldn't tell him that could I? I couldn't tell him I'd gone out to the pub and left my only boy all alone in the flat. They might of taken the boy off me. Social Services I mean. So I froze up. I didn't know what to do. The rain was falling harder now and I was so nervous I couldn't speak or even think. Jasper Black did all that for me.

- Come on then, he said. Come back to my place. You shouldn't be alone in your state. A nice cup of tea will do you good I insist.

Jasper Black never did make me that cup of tea Osama. We went back to his place and it was one of those Georgian Gems. It was very nice and tidy inside I suppose he must of had a cleaner. His house was the other side of the road from ours and fifty yards down. He wasn't lying about that. In his lounge he put on some of that new age music with monks and no drummer. He said it would relax me but it didn't. I just kept looking out the window to see if my husband was home yet.

- My girlfriend's away, said Jasper Black.

- Oh.

- Yes, he said. She's in Paris.

- That's nice. On holiday is she?

- On business. We're journalists. She's doing a piece on Paris Fashion Week. Her name is Petra Sutherland. Maybe you're familiar with her work?

- Mmm?

- Sunday Telegraph? he said. We're both with the Sunday Telegraph. It's how we met.

- That's nice. Listen I don't know what I'm doing here I must be out of my mind I think I'll be getting back now.

- Please don't go just yet, said Jasper Black. For your own sake why don't you just stay a while and let me help you to relax.

- You don't understand.

- Oh I think I do, he said.

He stroked my neck all soft and gentle. It was like an electric shock I could feel it all up and down my body. He took my clothes off very delicate while I just stood there shaking and then he took his own clothes off too all of them.

- This isn't like me.

- This isn't like me either, he said. Oh god you have such lovely breasts.

- What did you say?

- That you have lovely breasts, he said.

- Oh. My husband doesn't call them that.

He took me into the bedroom and we lay down on the bed and we had sex ever so gentle it felt like everything was flooding out of me it was lovely I cried all the way through it.

When I got home my husband still wasn't back. I ran a bath and I lay in it with just my eyes and nose sticking out the water. I was thinking nothing much. When the bath went cold I put on my pink dressing gown and wrapped a towel round my hair and I went to look in on my boy. He looked so peaceful. I felt very peaceful too I lay down on the floor beside his bed and went to sleep. When I woke up the room was full of pink light from the sun through the curtains. I heard my husband's key in the front door and I went to meet him in the lounge.

- How did it go?

My husband was drinking his Famous Grouse. He looked up at me.

- I'm still here ain't I? he said.

I smiled at him.

- Yeah love. Yeah you still are.

He went to sleep with his clothes on. I lay down beside him with my arm over his chest. I listened to him breathing. I was very happy I was still thinking nothing much.

They say you are a FIEND Osama but like I say I don't believe a word of it. I've seen you in your videos. You give me the shivers and you look like a gentleman. My husband was a good man he was a gentleman too. You would of liked him. Maybe you should of thought about that before you blew him up. They say you believe in paradise. They say you believe that if your people kill anyone innocent then you're doing them a favour because they will go to be with Allah. I wouldn't know about that. My husband didn't believe in Allah he believed in his kid and Arsenal football club.

I always liked the football but my husband and my boy were mad for it. My husband used to take the boy to all the home games. The fun used to start the night before. Before we put the boy to bed my husband would run around the flat with the boy on his shoulders. They would sing 1 NIL TO THE ARSENAL till the upstairs neighbours banged on the ceiling. They were Chelsea fans upstairs. You live in the mountains with your Kalashnikov Osama sending god's fiery vengeance down on the heads of the prophet's enemies so you might think football isn't that important. Well it is.

Sometimes the upstairs neighbours would come down and bang on our door. It drove them crazy when my husband and my boy sang 1 NIL TO THE ARSENAL. The neighbours would scream at us to eff off and bang on the door with their fists. Well that just made it worse because my husband and my boy would start singing 2 NIL TO THE ARSENAL. The more fuss the neighbours made the worse the Arsenal was going to beat them to nil. All of it gave me the jitters I don't mind telling you.

After the singing the boy would be overexcited and laughing and giggling like a lunatic. We couldn't get him off to sleep for love nor money. Mum he would say mum mum mum come quick there's something in my room. I'd rush in. What is it? I'd say. Nothing he'd say I fooled you ha ha ha. He was 4 years and 3 months old. You couldn't be cross with him. That boy had such a beautiful smile. He was just pleased to be alive.

- Go to sleep little monster or you'll be tired for the big game. Arsenal can't win without you they need the support.

- But I'm not sleepy mum, he'd say.

- Go to sleep or I'll have to fetch your father.

- I'm not scared of him, he'd say. My dad is the best dad in the world he's better than. Than. Than.

- Than what? Eh little monster? What's your dad better than?

- Monkeys, he'd say. My dad is better than monkeys and and and.

- And what?

- Tizer, said my boy.

It sounds silly Osama but sometimes I'm pleased your people blew them both up together. If my boy had survived he would of missed his father. It would of made him so sad. I never could bear for my boy to be sad so if someone has to be sad now I suppose it might as well be me.

When the boy would finally go to sleep it was always late and we would sit on the sofa drinking beers. Just me and my husband. One Friday night we had an argument about the football. I came right out with it.

- I wish you wouldn't take the boy to the game. He's too little. It makes me nervous.

- Nervous? said my husband. What is there to be nervous about?

- Well you know. The violence.

- Ha ha, said my husband. Crowd violence at a football game. That's a laugh considering I defuse bombs for a living.

- I know. Well that makes me nervous too.

- Listen love, he said. Football crowds aren't how they used to be. It's a family game now and anyway I'm a copper I'm a big bloke I can handle myself.

- It's not you I'm worried about. It's the boy. He is 4 years and 3 months old he still sleeps with Mr Rabbit.

- Oh for Christ's sake, said my husband. You think I don't look after him? You think I'd let anyone touch a hair on his head? I'd kill them first.

- Alright. But it still makes me nervous.

- Everything makes you nervous, he said.

And he was right oh god he was absolutely right I could feel death rushing towards us.

That night my husband was exhausted he'd had a hell of a day and to top it off he'd blown 250 quid on the wrong horse at Doncaster. I shouldn't of got him to make love to me I should of just let him be but my nerves were screaming and I thought maybe he could bring it out of me. But no it was miserable sex and the terror stayed inside me my husband just made it worse. He was full of fear himself I could feel every one of those 250 quid he lost knotted in his muscles when he held me. Afterwards we just lay in the dark looking at the ceiling. Neither of us could sleep. The upstairs neighbours had mates over.

- I'm going to kill those bastards, said my husband. Drinking and shouting all hours of the night. Don't they understand there's families in these flats? What the hell is that they're listening to anyway?

- It's Beyonce.

I knew the names of all the singers Osama I watched a lot of telly in the daytime you see.

- I don't mean who is it, said my husband. I mean what kind of music do you call that?

- It's R&B.

- It's a horrible bloody racket is what it is, said my husband. Look at this. The bass is so loud you can see the ripples in my water glass.

- I wish we were rich. If we were rich we could live in a house not a flat. It's only the poor who have to suffer each other's music.

- What are you on about? said my husband. We're not poor.

- Yeah alright but I mean look at us.

- Don't start, said my husband.

- Start what?

- Don't start on about money, he said. You think I need bloody reminding?

I sighed and I stroked his face in the dark.

- No love. I'm sorry.

- No, said my husband. I'm sorry. You deserve better than me.

- Don't ever say that love I'm so proud of you. You're a good man. You never think twice when you get the call. You go out and you save people's lives.

- Yeah, said my husband. But it shreds my nerves to buggery and when I get home those same people whose lives I saved are making our flat shake with what was her name again?

- Beyonce.

- Yeah that's it, he said. Beyonce. Sometimes I wish we just let the bombs explode.

I stroked his hair he didn't mean it. We lay there for a long time with the neighbours' music banging through the ceiling. My husband's eyes were open. He was all feverish and sweaty looking up at the ceiling.

- Fuckers, he said.

- You don't have to swear love.

- I'll fucking swear when I fucking well want to.

- Don't swear it makes me jumpy when you swear.

- Calm down love, said my husband.

- No you calm down. You're the one who lost 250 quid. How am I meant to feed the boy and put clothes on him when you carry on like that? Why don't you effing well calm down?

My husband looked at me like I'd slapped him round the face. I suppose it was a shock on account of I've never been a moaner but I was losing it and Beyonce wasn't helping by shouting CRAZY RIGHT NOW down through our bedroom ceiling so loud it made my back teeth buzz.

- Oh fuck this, said my husband. I don't think we can carry on like this. My nerves are shot and you're half mental with worry all the time. You're turning into a hysterical woman.

- I am not hysterical.

- Yes you are, he said.

- NO I AM EFFING WELL NOT HYSTERICAL.

I grabbed my water glass and I smashed it against the wall. The water and the glass burst all over the carpet and I burst into tears. My husband held me very tight and stroked my hair.

- It's alright love, he said. It's not your fault. Anyone would be the same with all this stress.

I turned on the bedside light and I lit one of my husband's ciggies. My hands were shaking. The music from upstairs got even louder. The ceiling was heaving. Now the bastards were dancing up there. They were the NEIGHBOURS FROM HELL. I smoked the ciggie down to the filter and I threw it across the room like I never would of done in my right mind. I may not be a saint Osama but I am very house proud.

My husband stared at me like he was seeing something for the first time. The ciggie landed where the carpet was soggy from the broken glass water and it hissed out. I suppose that's when my husband made his mind up.

- You know what I'm going to do? he said.

- No. What are you going to do?

- I'm going to quit the Force, he said. I'm going to get out while I've still got my health and you've still got your marbles.

- Oh god love. That's brilliant do you really think you could? What would we do for money?

- I know a doctor, said my husband. A police doctor. I did him a favour once back when I was in uniform. His boy got arrested for drugs. It wasn't anything really. Just a few pills. The lad was no worse than anyone his age. I flushed the pills down the khazi. No sense in making trouble for them. They were a nice family. Anyway. This doctor. If I go and see him and tell him my nerves are shot. Well. He owes me a favour. He can write me a ticket.

- Ticket? What do you mean a ticket?

- Well, said my husband. A ticket means you go on sick leave indefinite. I'd still get 3 quarters pay so there'd be no pressure. I could find another job.

- Oh god love could you really?

- Yes of course I could, said my husband. I'm 35 years old I could re-train.

I smiled in the dark. My husband. Leaving the Force. I couldn't believe it. It was so wonderful.

- Oh god love imagine it no more call outs no more stress. You'll lay off the bookies and we'll move into a nicer place and we'll laugh all the time and watch the telly together in the evenings. We'll watch whatever you like okay? And we'll make a brother or a sister for the boy. Okay?

- Okay, said my husband. Yeah. Okay.

I smiled at him.

- Come on love.

- Come on where? he said.

- Just come with me.

I took him into the lounge and I pulled him over to the stereo.

- Come on love. Help me choose a CD that'll drive the neighbours mental. We'll turn it up really effing loud. Give 'em a taste of their own medicine.

My husband started laughing.

- Oh you crazy cow, he said. I love you. How about Phil Collins?

- Phil Collins. Yeah that would wind them up alright but I was thinking of something even more annoying how about Sonny & Cher?

- Christ love, said my husband. We only want to piss them off we don't want to make them lose their will to live.

- Okay then. How about Dexy's Midnight Runners?

- Perfect, said my husband. You are an evil genius.

We took the speakers and we turned them on their backs so they pointed straight up at the neighbours. My husband switched on the stereo and he turned the volume to max. My husband knew how to pick a good second-hand stereo. Ours was a monster. It used to be in a police pub in Walthamstow. Just the roar it made without a CD in it was brilliant. It was like a plane taking off. We giggled at each other. The upstairs neighbours were in for it alright.

- Ready? said my husband.

- Ready.

- Contact! said my husband.

My husband put the CD in. He pressed play and we ran into the kitchen. We held hands and crouched on the floor. It was scary. It was like an earthquake the way the plates rattled when Dexy's Midnight Runners sang COME ON EILEEN.

When the song was over we went back in the lounge and we switched off the stereo. Everything went very quiet. Then one of the neighbours shouted from upstairs.

- Don't ever try that again you bastards, he shouted. Or I'm calling the police.

- They won't do nothing, my husband shouted back. The police love Dexy's Midnight Runners and I should bleeding know. I'm a copper myself.

The neighbours went quiet after that and they didn't turn their music back on.

- Ah peace at last, said my husband. Thank fuck for diplomacy.

Then I remembered something. I put my hand up to my mouth.

- Oh god. We forgot all about the boy. All that racket. He must of been terrified.

We went to his room we opened the door we thought he'd be howling but he wasn't. He was just lying there fast asleep. He'd kipped through the whole thing hugging Mr Rabbit I swear the ordinary rules of sleep did not apply to that boy.

We went next door and lay down on the bed. It was lovely and quiet now. My husband went to sleep straight away. I lay awake for a little while just feeling so happy. My husband was going to leave the Force. No more waiting up for him watching Holby City. No more worrying my boy was going to lose his dad. It was so wonderful I couldn't believe it was true. I shook my husband awake again.

- Oh Christ what is it love? he said.

- Did you really mean it? What you said about leaving the Force?

- Of course I meant it, he said. You ever known me not to do what I said?

- No. When are you going to do it?

He looked at me and sighed.

- First thing Monday morning, he said. Now will you let me sleep?

I smiled. I started to fall asleep myself. You can see I had my downs but I was often so happy in those days. I've gone through a lot of changes since then Osama but if you looked very carefully and the light was right I expect you could still see the memory of that happy time in me. Hidden but not quite invisible like the POLICE letters down the side of our old Astra.

They say you visited London when you were young Osama. I suppose you saw the nice bits did you? Did you see the Houses of Parliament? Did you walk down Knightsbridge on a sunny Saturday afternoon? Did you shop at Harvey Nicks? Did they politely ask you to leave your Kalashnikov at the cloakroom?

And I expect you watched the homeless in the squats and the subways? Did you see the crack girls on the game? Were you amazed how cheap the girls sell themselves in London? They'll let you do them for the price of a Happy Meal for their kids most of them. Does it worry you like it worries me?

So if you saw both Londons Osama then tell me this. Which London is it that Allah especially hates? I'm asking because I don't see how a tourist could hate both Londons. The SNEERING TOFFS London and the EVIL CRACK MUMS London I mean. Sorry Osama for calling you a tourist I don't mean to cause offence I'm just saying I don't see how you can hate the whole of London unless you actually live here on less than 500 quid a week.

One thing you start to hate when you live in London is the way rich people live right next to you. They'll suddenly plonk themselves right next door and the next thing you know your old street is An Upcoming Bohemian Melting Pot With Excellent Transport Links which means there are posh motors boxing in your Vauxhall Astra every morning. My husband always noticed the motors.

It was the morning after he promised to quit the Force and he spotted a really nice one. We were outside in the street in front of the estate. It was May 1st and the sky was blue and it was nice and warm just like you want it to be on May Day. My husband was carrying the boy on his shoulders and both of them were grinning like idiots. They were wearing their Arsenal shirts because it was Saturday and it was the big day. Arsenal were at home to Chelsea. The upstairs neighbours were out too and they were wearing their Chelsea shirts. We were walking to our Astra and the neighbours were walking behind us. They were giving it the old mouth but we ignored them.

The good motor was parked in front of our old Astra.

- Look at that, said my husband. Aston Martin DB7. Hell of a vehicle.

He took our boy off his shoulders so he could look in the windows. The little chap pressed his nose up against the glass. It was all black leather in there.

- 0 to 60 in 5 seconds flat son, said my husband. 400 horsepower. Take her up to 170 maybe 180. The Force don't have anything that goes that quick. If a villain wanted to give us the run around in one of these things we'd have to go after him in a chopper.

- Chopper, said our boy. Chopper chopper chopper.

He grinned. He loved that word.

Then they climbed in our old Astra and drove off. The boy pressed his nose against the window glass and I waved him goodbye. I don't even remember if he waved back. I wasn't really watching I was thinking about what we needed from the shops. It's funny but you don't think about death you think about running out of crisps and toilet roll. I never saw my husband or my boy again.

I went to the shop and I bought toilet roll bacon eggs choc-chip ice cream crisps chicken kievs butter bin bags and beer. The ice cream was a treat for my chaps when they got back from the game. It was my boy's second favourite thing after his dad. On the way back from the shop I saw Jasper Black and he was about to get into the Aston Martin DB7.

- Hello there, he said.

- Alright. That's a nice motor. I'll bet it does 0 to 60 in 5 seconds flat. I'll bet it does 170 maybe 180.

- Gosh, said Jasper Black. I didn't know you knew cars.

- Well that just goes to show you don't know anything about me at all.

- I'd like to get to know you better, said Jasper Black.

- I'll bet you would but I'm afraid that won't be possible.

- Excuse me? said Jasper Black.

- You heard. The other night was a mistake. My husband's a good man I should never of cheated on him.

- Well can't we at least talk? said Jasper Black.

- Nope. My choc-chip's melting.

- I suppose I should really be going too, said Jasper Black.

- Well off you trot then. Wherever you're going I reckon you can still make it if you get a wriggle on. Your motor does 180 miles an hour after all. Jasper Black laughed.

- I'm off to a football match actually, he said. Arsenal are playing Chelsea.

- Yeah I had heard. My husband and my boy are there.

- They say it's going to be quite a game, said Jasper Black.

- I didn't have you down for a football fan.

- Oh I'm really not. Not in the slightest.

- So why now?

- Petra, said Jasper Black. My girlfriend. She insists I must at least try to get up to speed with the game. I seem to be the last man in England who isn't. I'm failing to hold my own at dinner parties. Last week Petra gave me an ultimatum. For god's sake Jasper she said. Do you have to be such a snob? If you don't drag yourself out of your ivory tower and along to a football match this very weekend I'm moving back to Primrose Hill. Petra does that sort of thing you see. Drama. She's not like you.

- So what did you say to her?

- I couldn't say anything. It was all a bit awkward. We were having supper with two of Petra's girlfriends. Sophie and Hermione. They're painters.

- Good for them. Good steady trade. People will always need painters.

- Ah, said Jasper Black. Well they're not that sort of painter actually. They paint canvases. Mainly post-representational. They're very Hoxton. They're the kind of girls who'll talk about football and cook you something ghastly like eel pie. Which one's expected to find deliciously ironic. Rather than actually delicious if you see what I mean.

I was standing there with my mouth half open holding my shopping bags.

- I'm sorry, said Jasper Black. I'm boring you aren't I?

- Yeah you are.

In fact Jasper Black was boring me so much I was trying not to dribble.

- You're very plain spoken, said Jasper Black. You say exactly what you think don't you?

- Yes I do. You should try it. Saves a lot of brain work.

- Alright then I will, said Jasper Black. Here goes. I think you are the most original woman I know.

- You don't know me you twat.

Jasper Black looked up and down the street and lowered his voice.

- We slept together, he said.

- Doesn't mean anything.

- You really believe that? said Jasper Black.

- Nah.

Jasper Black looked down at my shopping bags.

- So we do know each other a little bit. And I think you're a very original woman.

- You can't know many women.

- Oh but I do, said Jasper Black. I really do. I work on a national newspaper. The office is absolutely hissy with women. Do you know the Sunday Telegraph?

- Well I don't know. Has it got big red letters across the top and lots of girls with massive melons?

- Um no, said Jasper Black. That would be the Sun or possibly the Mirror.

- I know. I'm only pulling your leg. Of course I know the Sunday Telegraph. It's the big pompous one.

- Oh ha ha ha, said Jasper Black.

- Yes. I am poor but I am not completely thick there is a difference.

- I never thought you were thick, said Jasper Black. I think you are very real. What? Why are you laughing?

- Well. I've been called a lot of things by a lot of people but no one's ever called me real before. They probably thought that was bleeding obvious.

- I'm sorry, said Jasper Black. You must think I'm an idiot.

He blushed and fiddled with his car keys. I thought I might of overdone it.

- Nah. You're not an idiot. You're sweet. You're an idiot for not liking the football though.

Jasper grinned.

- I suppose I've just never seen football's appeal, he said.

- It's cheap and people like you aren't into it. Next question.

- What about you? said Jasper Black. Aren't you going to the game?

- Me? Oh I never go to the games it makes me nervous. I just watch on telly. Don't get me wrong though. I love the Arsenal. Have done ever since I was a girl.

- I don't think I could ever get behind a team like that, said Jasper Black. I'm too fickle. Still. I do have a hell of a nice car.

He nodded his head at the Aston Martin DB7 and laughed. I laughed too.

- There's something nice about a man who doesn't take himself too serious.

Jasper shrugged. I would of shrugged back at him only shrugging isn't easy when you're holding 2 Tesco bags so I just said something stupid instead like I know how.

- Listen. If you really don't give a monkey's about the game you might as well come up with me and watch it on telly. I'll tell you everything you need for your next bloody dinner party. I'll talk you through why the Arsenal are the greatest team on earth.

-Are you serious? said Jasper Black. I do hope you are because I'd love to.

- It's just for the company. I want to get that clear. I mean you can talk if you want but we aren't going to have sex again.

- Really? said Jasper Black. What a shame.

- Yes. I mean it was lovely and everything but there isn't going to be any more. I was in a state when it happened. I was a bundle of nerves but now I'm over it. I love my husband and he's getting out of bomb disposal first thing Monday morning. So I'm not going to get in a state any more. And now that's clear as mud do you still want to come up?

- Well that depends, said Jasper Black. You're not going to feed me eel pie or anything are you?

- No. I'm making fish fingers. It isn't irony it's lunch.

Up in the flat I stuck the telly on. It was the build up for the big game. Viv Anderson and Andy Gray were moaning on about how the new stadium didn't have the same atmosphere as Highbury. Then they started joking about what Gunners fans were really calling the place instead of Emirates effing Stadium and it was a laugh on account of Gunners fans have a terrible mouth on them so they weren't allowed to actually say it. They were showing a shot of the new ground from the air and you could see the supporters arriving in 2 big rivers 1 red 1 blue. They never let the fans mix in the roads round the stadium. Well you wouldn't would you? You think you've seen jihad Osama but I'm telling you you haven't seen anything till you've seen what happens if they let Arsenal and Chelsea fans mix going into a game.

The atmosphere was incredible even Jasper Black was gawping at the telly. There was a huge roar coming from the supporters already inside the ground but more and more were arriving all the time. 60 thousand they reckoned the new stadium could hold and it looked like it was going to have to. It was May Day and it was lovely and sunny and it was the last game of the Premiership for both clubs and the Gunners were only 1 point ahead of Chelsea so no prizes for guessing half of London wanted in to that game.

I left Jasper Black in the lounge while I put the fish fingers under the grill. I always loved fish fingers ever since I was a little girl. I love watching them turn from yellow to browny gold always exactly the same.

- 4 alright for you?

- Yes, said Jasper Black. 4 is perfect.

- Good. We'll have them with chips.

I got the chips out of the freezer and into the microwave. Jasper came in from the lounge and just then his mobile rang. He flipped it open and said hello Petra and held the phone a bit away from his ear. I heard Petra's voice coming out of Jasper Black's phone and it sounded posh and tinny like the Queen of England wrapped in BacoFoil. Jasper Black looked straight at me.

- Yes, he said. Yes I'm on my way to the match now. What? Oh god Petra don't you have enough shoes already? Well alright then. Do try to leave a little something in the bank account. Just in case we need to buy anything tedious like food or electricity. Yes. Yes I will fuck off now. You be a good girl. Kiss kiss. Bye.

Jasper closed the phone back up and looked at it for a second before he put it in his pocket.

- So that was Petra, he said.

- Shopping.

- Yes, said Jasper Black. She does that.

- Do you love her?

- Yes.

- So what the hell are you doing here?

- Can I look around your flat? said Jasper Black.

Jasper Black started walking around the flat looking into the other rooms. It didn't take long there were only 4 of them. The bathroom the lounge and the 2 bedrooms.

- So this is your little boy's room, he said.

I supposed it was. I mean I couldn't see where he was looking I was still in the kitchen with my eye on the fish fingers.

- You've done it up terribly nicely, he said.

- Yes it's a cracking room my husband built the bed and I sewed the curtains.

Jasper Black came back into the kitchen. He was carrying a photo of my boy.

- You must be ever so proud to have such a handsome son, he said.

- Yes he's a pretty little boy. Takes after his mother ha ha ha.

-Yes, he said. I can see where he gets the looks from.

- You want kids?

- I'd love kids, said Jasper Black. It's just that Petra would take them out shopping and I don't think the global economy could survive the adrenalin rush.

- Hmm?

The microwave pinged. The chips were ready. Jasper Black looked out of the kitchen window down into the grubby backside of the estate where the plastic bags swirled.

- Seriously though. I'd love kids, he said.

- What's stopping you?

- It's not the right time in Petra's career, he said.

- On the up and up is she?

- We both are, said Jasper Black.

I put the chips out onto 2 plates.

- So what do the pair of you actually do for your living?

Jasper Black shrugged.

- Petra does fashion and I do social comment, he said. We're columnists. We write the first thing that comes into our heads.

I looked at him funny.

- What? he said. You think all that bullshit writes itself?

- No I mean I wouldn't of thought you'd say that.

- I'm sure Petra wouldn't, he said. I'm sure she'd tell you her lifestyle column constituted a useful social barometer and a zesty forum for the exchange of invigorating ideas.

- But you don't reckon?

Jasper pushed out his bottom lip and held up the photo of my boy.

- I reckon it would be different if I had a child, he said. I reckon I'd have a hard time convincing myself that my 800 words a week were making his world better. I wrote a piece about Aids in Africa last month. I don't know anyone with Aids. I've never been to Africa. But my piece won a prize. So fuck it. Is that going to be enough chips?

- It's going to have to be.

I served up the fish fingers next to the chips and we ate off our knees in the lounge watching the telly. Kick off was at 3. The stands were already packed and the crowd was deafening it always made me jumpy.

- I'd forgotten how delicious fish fingers were, said Jasper Black.

- It's no trouble it was all frozen.

The telly roared. The players were out of the tunnel now. They were warming up on the pitch.

- So talk me through it, said Jasper Black. Tell me what's going on and what would be a good result.

- Well we're in red and Chelsea are in blue and a good result would be if we thrashed them so bad they never felt like kicking a football ever again in their pathetic little lives.

- Wow, he said. You really care about this don't you?

The telly was showing the starting line-ups. I cleared the plates away. Jasper Black followed me back into the kitchen. I turned around when I got to the sink and I looked at him standing there in his smart clothes all fidgety.

- Look. I don't know what this is all about. What exactly is it you want with me Jasper Black?

- See? he said. There you go again getting straight to the point. Clearing the air. It's very original.

I ran hot water into the sink. I gave it a squirt of original green Fairy Liquid.

- Well? I asked you a question. What do you want from me?

- I don't know, he said. I've been asking myself the same question endlessly since the other night.

- Because if you need a new girlfriend then that isn't me. And if you want a child you're going to have to sort that out between you and Petra aren't you? I've already got a family and I love them. All I need for the rest of my life is to fall asleep with them every night and wake up with them every morning.

- I know, said Jasper Black. I would hate to do anything to spoil that.

- Don't flatter yourself. I won't let you do anything to spoil it.

- God, said Jasper Black. You're so different from Petra.

- Yes I can imagine. About 100 grand a year different I should think.

- Not what I meant, said Jasper Black. You're not into all the endless bullshit. You're strong.

- Strong? Don't make me laugh. I'm a bundle of nerves. You've seen what I'm like.

- You were just having a stressful night, said Jasper Black. What I mean is you're strong because you know what you want.

- Don't you have what you want? Posh newspaper job. Aston Martin. That'd be enough for most people I should of thought.

- I thought that was what I wanted, said Jasper Black. You make me think I want different things. Simple things. Fish fingers. You bother me.

Well that made me laugh.

- I think I quite like bothering you Jasper Black.

My heart started hammering Osama I couldn't believe what I'd just said I would of done anything to take it back but it was out now wasn't it? I could hear my voice inside me screaming here you go again you terrible bloody girl. Your husband hasn't been out of the house half an hour and here you go again.

Jasper Black grinned. I took off my trainers and my socks and I handed them to him. He reached out and took them like a lemon.

- Does this bother you?

- Um, said Jasper Black.

I took off my jeans and my T-shirt. I folded them over Jasper's arm. The one that was holding my trainers.

- What about this? Does this bother you?

- Yes, said Jasper Black. Look at me I'm getting all flustered.

- Well then. See what happens when you get yourself mixed up with the hoi polloi.

I stuck my tongue out and I took off my bra. It was brilliant watching his eyes go wide. It's true what the Sun says. THEY ONLY WANT ONE THING. I handed my bra to Jasper Black and he reached out and took it. He held it up and frowned like he didn't get what he was supposed to do with the thing. It's the same way you'd hold a tax demand from the Inland Revenue Osama. Just after you took it out of the envelope and just before you shoved it down the back of the sofa along with all those letters begging you for mercy.

- I don't know what to say, said Jasper Black. This really isn't what I had in mind.

- Yeah. Well listen don't take this the wrong way but you're one of those people who if we waited till we knew what you had in mind we'd be here all day and then it wouldn't matter what it was you had in mind because my husband would be back home and he'd kick your teeth in.

Jasper Black swallowed.

- Fair point, he said.

- Yeah. I do try to be fair.

I took off my knickers and I tucked them into his shirt pocket. I was grinning like an idiot. On the telly next door the ref blew his whistle. The crowd gave a roar. The game was starting. I skipped into the lounge and lay on my tummy on the sofa watching the telly in the altogether.

Robert Pires made a long run down the left side and Jasper Black laid his hand on my bum. I shivered. Pires gave it to Cesc Fabregas. Fabregas ran the ball between 2 blue shirts. Jasper Black ran his fingers down between my buttocks. Fabregas looked around for support. I raised my bum up a bit and Fabregas found Thierry Henry. Jasper Black found my clitoris and Thierry Henry struck it on the half volley and I gasped. Thierry Henry's shot went in sweet and low and so did Jasper Black the crowd went wild. Chelsea walked the ball back to the centre line Jasper Black was working his fingers in and out of me the crowd on the East Stand were singing 1 NIL TO THE ARSENAL. I smiled I was so happy. We were going to win the Premiership it was obvious. I knew my husband and my boy were singing their hearts out there on the East Stand. They would of been feeling great. I was feeling great too.

Neither side had many chances in the next 10 minutes. The game went all scrappy. I looked out at the street through the net curtains. Jasper Black was inside me all the way in very smooth and nice. I watched the street so calm and quiet in the sunshine. I sighed it was all so perfect. I half closed my eyes. Out on the street 3 kids were mucking around on their bikes. Turning in slow circles with the sun flashing on their spokes. An old dear was walking back from Tesco with her shopping trolley. She swerved to go round some dog mess. It was a perfectly ordinary day. My husband and my boy were happy. Jasper Black was moving inside me and there were hot shivers shooting all through my guts while I watched those kids turning circles on their bikes. It was a perfectly ordinary day in heaven.

I started to moan. The shivers were all through my body now flashing up and down my spine and exploding in my fingertips. I had to bite on the sofa cushion to stop myself screaming. There was a roar from the telly. Gael Clichy and Pires were playing 1-2s fast up the left. Jasper Black was moving quicker inside me it was obvious Arsenal were going to score again I was going to explode I couldn't stand it. Pires lifted the ball across to Robin van Persie then van Persie struck it on the volley then Jasper Black was gasping. I felt gorgeous and you could see van Persie's shot looping high and wide then curling back in towards the goal mouth. The Arsenal fans were coming to their feet behind the goal in their red shirts red hats red scarves their mouths were open they were screaming and I was screaming too. Everyone knew it was going in. The keeper was beaten and my whole body was in convulsions and you could see the ball curling towards the goal tighter and tighter and then the whole East Stand exploded in flames.