In the Dark Page 7

  The place could get busy in the evenings, but was quiet enough on a Wednesday lunchtime. Lights were on above four of the tables. Aside from those few playing snooker or pool, there were only the cleaner, the hatchet-faced woman behind the bar, and the old man who hung around all day poncing cigarettes and eating toast with brown sauce, pumping whatever money he’d saved on food into the fruit machines.

  Easy lost a tenner to SnapZ when he fouled the black, but won it back off Mikey, who played every shot way too hard, as if the silly fucker was breaking. All the time, moving around the table, Easy kept one eye on the stairs, looking to see if Wave was coming down.

  He was halfway through a frame with SnapZ when he heard Wave’s voice, low and fast-talking, like a ragga bass-line. He handed his cue to Mikey and told him to finish the game.

  Wave appeared at the bottom of the stairs, talking to a white man in a tasty grey suit. He nodded when the man leaned in close to whisper something, shook his hand before the man jogged away down the stairs towards the exit. From a triangle or two above, Easy thought, watching the man go. Maybe higher. It was like he’d told Theo that time: plenty of the money up there going into white men’s pockets.

  Easy watched as Wave strolled across to the bar. He was joined by Asif, a huge Asian guy who Easy and his mates on the crew called As If. He had been knocking around with Wave for the last couple of months; had been hanging back a few steps while Wave and the white man were talking and saying their goodbyes.

  Wave bought bottles of Stella for himself and his shadow and moved towards an empty table at the far end of the hall.

  Easy gave it a few minutes, bought two more bottles, and followed, weaving his way through the grid of tables, casual and full of himself, bobbing his head like there was a tune going through it.

  While As If was lining up a shot, Easy put a bottle down next to the one Wave had already set on the table. ‘Got you another one in,’ he said.

  Wave nodded and watched As If miss a red. He walked to the table and missed one of his own.

  ‘Who’s winning?’ Easy asked.

  ‘Been two minutes, man,’ Wave said. ‘Nobody potted nothing.’

  While Wave was at the table, As If stepped close and eyed Easy up and down. Easy was wearing red and white today, same plain cap as always and there was no way he was going to let As If pass comment. He looked at him like he could smell something and spread his arms wide. ‘What?’ As If said nothing. ‘Look at you, head to toe in cheap shit. High & Mighty started doing a discount range, then?’ As If shrugged and moved to take another shot.

  They played on for ten minutes. Easy said, ‘Bad luck, man’ a couple of times and ‘Shot’ when Wave sank a red that was sitting over the pocket. He sucked in a breath when a pink rattled in the jaws.

  ‘What d’you want?’ Wave asked eventually.

  ‘You know my bredren, T?’ Wave waited. ‘Doing lookout, running and all that right now.’

  ‘Skinny sort with fluff on his chin?’

  Easy nodded. ‘He’s about ready to move up, for definite.’

  ‘You reckon.’ Wave put down his beer, went back to the game.

  ‘I swear.’ Easy’s eye was caught by the wooden triangle hanging from the end of the table. ‘He’s sound, man, you know? No foolishness in him. He works hard and he’s sharp too, sharp as anything.’

  ‘I’ll get back to you.’

  ‘Safe.’ Easy bounced on the balls of his feet. ‘Just saying, you know, he’ll step up fast if he has to, no danger.’

  ‘I said.’

  ‘I can vouch for him, man.’

  Wave looked back over his shoulder. ‘So, put it in writing.’

  Easy swallowed, tried to laugh it up. ‘Are you high?’

  Wave turned back to the shot. ‘Put this testimony of yours down for me, so I can study it properly when I have some time. You thinking of promoting somebody, you do things properly. You get the references, check me?’

  ‘No problem,’ Easy said.

  ‘And I get to wave it in your face if your skinny friend fucks up. Make you eat it.’

  ‘Not going to happen, man.’

  From the other end of the hall there was a shout from Mikey, laughter from SnapZ. Wave told Easy to go across and get his friends to keep the noise down. Just before he did as he was told, he caught a look from As If, a raise of the eyebrows he didn’t like one bit. He’d give the Paki fucker a slap when he got half a chance.

  Heading back towards the pool tables, thinking, thinking, thinking.

  He was solid with Theo, no doubt about that, but he wasn’t doing this just for him; not really. He was looking out for himself, too. He wanted people to know that he could see the big picture, that he could be relied on when it came to reading the people in the crew. Who could be trusted and who wasn’t worth pissing on. He needed Wave to see his potential as someone who could oversee things a bit more. To think about moving him up.

  Now he’d opened his mouth, got himself ‘testimony’ or whatever to write. And I get to wave it in your face if your skinny friend fucks up . . .

  Things could definitely have gone better.

  He started bawling Mikey and SnapZ out when he was only halfway across the hall.

  NINE

  Babies never stopped wanting stuff, Theo reckoned, except when they were asleep, which was never when you needed them to be. They cried, you fed them. They cried, you changed their dirty arses. They cried just to piss you off sometimes, that’s how it seemed . . .

  Then the clever little buggers looked up at you, or you smelled the tops of their heads, and it didn’t matter so much.

  Javine had gone out around seven. He’d only had the baby for three hours but he felt as if he’d already run a marathon. He’d tried to keep on top of things, tidying as he went along, getting everything straight so that Javine wouldn’t come back to a mess. So that there wouldn’t be a row. He’d been determined not to screw it up, had followed the instructions Javine had scribbled down for him at every stage.

  Make sure milk is OK on back of your hand.

  Use cotton balls and warm water - the wipes aggravate his eczema.

  Nappies on the right way round this time, dickhead!!!

  He’d felt wiped out before eight and he didn’t know when Javine was coming back. He’d wanted to ask while she was getting ready, but thought he’d better not push it. He’d managed to nod off for a few minutes in front of the TV, with the baby happy enough in his bouncy chair, but that hadn’t lasted very long.

  Feeding him had been fun, as it went. Theo had enjoyed the snuffling and the slurping, the little fingers that clutched at the neck of his T-shirt. The getting the wind up part had been funny as well, if only to begin with. He’d laughed out loud at the little belch, said, ‘Yeah, get it out, man,’ then done some serious telling off when he’d seen the trail of milky sick down his favourite shirt.

  Use a muslin square for winding.

  The doorbell rang five minutes after he’d got the baby off.

  Put him on his front and rub his back.

  He needs his dragon and his mobile switched on.

  He might need to hold your finger for a few minutes.

  Theo jumped up and ran to the door, trying to get there before the bell went again, but the crying started as he reached for the latch.

  Easy. Grinning, with beers rattling in a plastic bag. Theo turned away, leaving the door open.

  When he came back into the living room five minutes later, the baby grumbling against his shoulder, Easy was settled on the sofa with a can open, watching Men & Motors. He nodded towards the TV. ‘There’s some rubbish on with strippers after this.’ He looked up and watched Theo standing there, rubbing the baby’s back, shushing him. ‘This is ridiculous, man, you doing this shit.’

  Theo shrugged. ‘Javine never gets to go out.’

  ‘What about a babysitter?’

  ‘It’s five quid an hour,’ Theo said.

  ‘You should be able to go out i
f you want to, man.’ Easy sat back, shaking his head. ‘That’s basic. Check your bredren, do a bit of business if you need to.’

  ‘Can’t afford it.’

  ‘You need more dosh coming in to start with,’ Easy said. ‘You need to find something else, you get me?’

  ‘Maybe I should take up babysitting.’

  The baby seemed happy enough against his chest, so Theo lowered himself down next to Easy, reached across to take a beer. Easy leaned over to rub the baby’s arm.

  ‘What’s his name?’

  Theo looked at him. ‘You know what his name is, man.’

  ‘I can’t remember everything.’

  ‘His name’s Benjamin,’ Theo said. ‘Benjamin Steadman Shirley.’ Benjamin after Javine’s father and Steadman after his own. Shirley even though he and Javine were not married.

  Easy nodded. ‘He’s nice, man.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Easy had said it like he was looking at the features on a new mobile phone or the picture on a plasma screen.

  They watched TV for a while and talked about all sorts, then Easy started to nudge their conversation towards business. He made Theo laugh, moaning about one of the runners. ‘It’s taking him five minutes to get the money where it needs to be. It should be taking two, maximum. It’s like he’s got a wooden leg, man, I swear.’ Then he told Theo about the meeting with Wave earlier in the week. How well it had gone. ‘He thinks it’s a good idea, you know, what we talked about.’

  ‘Which is what?’

  ‘You sliding up a little. What d’you think?’

  ‘What did he say exactly?’

  ‘What I said. If I think it’s a good idea, he thinks it’s a good idea. I told him you could be trusted, you work your arse off, all that.’

  ‘Cheers, man.’ Theo stroked his son’s head, watched the strippers do a job on Men & Motors. ‘How much more you reckon I’ll be bringing in a week?’

  Easy crushed his empty beer can and reached for another. ‘More, that’s all that matters, yeah? All this is detail, man. We just got to make it happen first, you get me?’ He dug into his pocket, pulled out a piece of paper and showed Theo what he’d written about him - the testimony that Wave had demanded. While Theo read it, Easy sat there squirming as if it were a love letter.

  Theo was sensitive to his friend’s embarrassment and blew him a kiss. ‘You’re a sweet boy.’

  ‘Fuck you.’

  Theo decided not to bring up the fact that it was barely legible, or mention the spelling mistakes in every sentence, guessing that Wave wouldn’t care too much anyway. He passed back the piece of paper. ‘No, honest. I appreciate it, for real.’

  ‘You better not let me down, man,’ Easy said.

  ‘You know I won’t. You said it in there.’

  ‘You got to prove yourself, you get me? Pass the test, yeah?’

  Theo laughed. ‘What’s this? Secret oaths and shit? Initiation or whatever?’

  ‘Just proving you can step up, that’s all.’

  ‘You going to flush my head down the bog, like at school?’

  ‘We’ll sort it out, man. It’ll be a piece of piss. You want this, though, T? You up for this, man, yeah?’

  Theo could see the excitement in Easy’s face, hear it in his voice, and he was smart enough to figure out why. Close as they were, Theo guessed that there would be a price to pay later on. Maybe Easy would ask a favour or two down the road or want a small cut of whatever extra would be coming Theo’s way. That was fine. Theo knew how it worked, friends or no friends, and this was only happening because Easy had put a good word in.

  A small price was fine.

  He sat there, thinking about how it would be to drive around in something that the kids looked at from the shadows by the garages. To have enough dosh to keep Javine happy and to flash around when he needed to. Enough for himself, and a bit to lay aside for Benjamin, and maybe for Angela too.

  Something to piss away and to put away.

  And Easy sat there too, looking at Theo and his baby and thinking about where to get the car on the night. What kind of gun to use.

  The flat was empty when Paul got back and he was halfway through dialling Helen’s mobile when he remembered that she was eating round at her sister’s. He stuck a pizza in the oven and watched the news while he ate. He slid open the door on to what was laughably called a balcony, sat with his feet against the railing, and lit a cigarette. It was a warm night, and he could smell the mint that Helen was growing in a pot; the jasmine that was stubbornly refusing to climb up a small wooden trellis.

  With Frank having let him down, it was a major relief that things looked like working out with Shepherd. Now he could relax a little, afford to spend a bit more time doing what he was officially being paid for. Not that getting in with Shepherd was going to stop him sniffing around elsewhere. There were plenty of businessmen looking to take on consultants; keen to do business with the likes of him.

  Coppers with an itch or two to scratch.

  One thought lit the fuse of another, fizzing and corrosive, and his mood changed in the time it took to grind out the cigarette.

  To. Stub. The. Cunt. Out.

  An itch or two . . .

  He’d seen the arsehole who had been giving it to Helen a couple of times. Watched him. He’d looked up his home address and driven round there, sitting outside until the man had come out and climbed into his poxy Ford Fuckmobile. Paul had stared long and hard at that car. He’d thought about driving at him then and there, flattening the twat against the side of it, then pitching his carcass into the back seat, which, all things considered, would have been a very classy touch.

  There had been a few darker moments than that, when he’d really gone into things. When he’d coldly considered the ways he might do it; the more thought-out ways. He’d reckoned he could probably get away with it, too, if he was careful, and that even if he didn’t, there might be the odd copper who would happily look the other way.

  He’d done nothing, of course. Let it fade just a little, and fester. And tortured Helen whenever the chance presented itself.

  She came back a little after eleven, and he was watching the door. A couple of glasses of wine had tempered the anger that had flared up, sitting out there with the plant pots, but he could still feel it ticking in him.

  ‘How was Jenny?’

  Helen hadn’t taken off her coat. ‘She’s good. Sends her love.’

  ‘Does she hell.’

  Her head dropped and she walked straight through to the bedroom. When she came out, she said, ‘I’m tired. I’m really not up for this, Paul.’

  He watched her trudging into the kitchen, pushing fingers through her hair, and heard himself say, ‘Sorry.’ Heard her saying that it was fine; that they could have it out tomorrow if he still wanted to, and he knew that he really didn’t.

  She sat down next to him and asked how his day had been. He told her a joke Gary Kelly had been telling everyone and she laughed, and as they sat there watching TV, the silence between them was easier than it had been in a while.

  He thought about the morning when she’d told him about the baby, and how it had been afterwards. The way each of them had taken the piss out of the stupid grin the other one was wearing. He turned to her, wanting to remind her, but saw that she’d drifted off, her head back and her mouth open. He put a hand on her belly, leaving it there until his own eyes closed and it slipped down on to the sofa-cushion.

  He woke a couple of hours later with the taste of wine and stale fags in his mouth, and gently shook her awake.

  TEN

  Helen grabbed him on his way to the bathroom. ‘Pinch and a punch, first of the month!’

  Paul smiled, but only momentarily. He had overslept and should have left for work ten minutes before.

  ‘I’ve made you some tea,’ Helen said. ‘And your cereal’s on the table, so don’t panic.’

  She had already been up an hour; had showered, dressed and cleared away the remains of the previous ev
ening’s takeaway. They’d had a curry delivered and stayed up late putting the world to rights. Paul had moaned about the job, the hours and the aggravation, and had asked Helen whether she thought he should take the inspector’s exams in three months’ time. He’d seemed equally happy to talk about moving and nurseries, and after a few drinks he’d dug his guitar out from the back of the wardrobe. He’d played ‘Wonderwall’ and ‘Champagne Supernova’, and when someone in the flat upstairs had banged on the ceiling, he’d shouted, ‘How do you like it?’

  Helen guessed that, despite the moaning, he was having a better time at work than had been the case in recent weeks. Maybe the job had been affecting his mood more than she’d thought. More than she was, even.

  When Paul came into the living room and sat down, Helen brought his tea. She leaned against the table and they watched a few minutes of breakfast TV: a preview of the new football season, less than a fortnight away; travel updates; a decent-sounding long-term weather forecast.

  ‘I’m going over to Katie and Graham’s tonight,’ Helen said. ‘They asked if you were coming.’ Paul looked up. ‘Calm down, I’m kidding. I told them you were at your leaving do. Bet that’s a relief, isn’t it?’

  Paul grinned, his mouth full of cereal. Helen knew that he would rate another evening with Graham somewhere between a seminar on community policing strategy and sticking red-hot needles in his eyes, and she couldn’t blame him. She had only accepted the invitation herself because she’d known Paul would be out and didn’t fancy a night in on her own. She wondered if that was the reason why Katie had invited her over in the first place. She’d mentioned that Paul was going out before her friend had asked her.

  She walked into the kitchen. ‘I’ll probably be dead to the world by the time you get back.’ She was not planning to stay out particularly late, but Katie lived up in Seven Sisters and it would take a while to drive back from that far north.