The Driver (20 page)

‘Thanks,’ Patsy mumbled, snatching it and rushing back inside. Watching through the spyhole until Mrs Thomas had finished watering her potted flowers and had gone, she let herself back out and edged along the wall until she reached the lift.

Carl was in the parking lot, drooling over the Golf GTi that Damien’s friend had brought over from Leeds to sell. He wanted it – badly – but there was no way he could afford it on the money that Eddie was paying him. Still, it did no harm to look – and touch, and smell, and fantasise about driving it.

‘State of that,’ Damien said suddenly, nudging him and nodding towards the red block.

Turning in time to see the skinny girl creeping out, Carl said, ‘Jeezus, talk about rough.’

‘You can say that again,’ Damien chuckled, shaking his head as he took in the girl’s filthy clothes and the hair standing out in tufty clumps around her head. ‘Man, you just wouldn’t, would you?’

Carl laughed. But he stopped abruptly when the girl spotted him and called out to him in a loud whisper, ‘Carl! Over here . . . I need to talk to you.’

‘Sorry, mate, didn’t realise you knew her,’ Damien said, giving him a strange smile. ‘You’d best go see what she wants. See you later.’

Stranded when Damien and his friend hopped into the car and took off, Carl shoved his hands into his pockets and walked over to see what Patsy wanted. She’d been a bit of a babe back in the day and he’d enjoyed a couple of drunken snogs with her. But it had never gone any further than that because she’d had too many other men sniffing around her at that point in time and he’d never been a fan of sloppy seconds. It had been almost a year since he’d last seen her, and as he got closer and was able to see her more clearly he was truly shocked by the change in her. He struggled to keep the look of horror off his face – and he fought to conceal the revulsion he felt when he got a whiff of her, because she absolutely reeked.

‘I need something,’ Patsy blurted out when he reached her, speaking as if they still knew each other as well as they once had. ‘I’ve got money. Look.’ She thrust out the ten-pound note.

‘Er, very nice,’ Carl said cautiously, wondering why she’d targeted him – he hadn’t even been dealing gear when they’d last seen each other. ‘Is that all you wanted?’ he asked now, already backing away. ‘Not being rude, but I’m a bit busy just now.’

‘I need something,’ Patsy repeated, clutching at his arm. ‘I know you’ve got some. I can smell it.’

Repulsed by the skeletal feel of her fingers digging into his flesh through his jacket, and seriously creeped out by her claim to be able to smell what he had in his pocket, Carl tried to shake her off. But she held on tight.

‘Just one bag,’ she whined. ‘
Please.
’

Paranoid about how bad this would look if anyone were to come along, Carl hissed, ‘Leave off, Pat. I’m not into that shit.’

‘I’ll give you a blow job,’ she wheedled, her tongue snaking in and out of her crumbling teeth.

‘Nah, man, leave it out.’ Grimacing, Carl shook her off at last and rushed back to his own block.

Mel was in the living room when he let himself in. She was sitting cross-legged on the couch with a mirror in one hand, a pair of tweezers in the other.

‘I’ve just seen Patsy Mills,’ Carl told her, going through to the kitchen to wash his hands to get the imagined grime off himself. ‘You should see the state of her. She’s proper lost it.’

‘Great,’ Mel murmured, her focus firmly on the dark hairs she was plucking from around her top lip.

‘Christ, doesn’t that hurt?’ Carl asked, pulling a face as he watched her from the doorway. ‘Can’t you just shave it?’

‘Can’t you just fuck off and mind your own business?’ Mel snapped, flashing him a dirty look. ‘I thought you were supposed to be going out.’

‘Yeah, I was, but—’

‘So go, then,’ Mel cut him off, glaring at him.

Muttering under his breath, Carl dropped the tea towel and snatched up his rolling gear off the table. Slamming the front door behind him, he went across to Joe’s to have a moan. But Joe wasn’t in so he wandered down to Cheryl’s instead – just in time to bump into Shay on his way out.

Cheryl was in the hallway behind him, her loose hair mussed up as if she’d just climbed out of bed. She blushed when she saw Carl but fronted it out with a smile.

‘Were you coming here?’

‘No, I’m on my way out,’ Carl said, flicking a look of hatred at Shay’s back as he swaggered down the corridor like the cat who’d got the cream. Noticing now that Cheryl’s T-shirt was on inside out and the wrong way around, he said, ‘I take it you two have sorted things out?’

‘Kind of,’ Cheryl admitted, feeling guilty, because she knew that Carl, like Joe, wouldn’t understand why she’d let Shay back in after what had happened. But it was all right for them. Carl had Mel – for all her faults; and Joe liked being on his own. But neither of them knew how hard it was to try and bring up a child alone.

‘Oh, well, it’s your choice.’ Carl shrugged. ‘I just hope you know what you’re doing.’

‘I can’t just cut him off, can I?’ Cheryl said, sensing his disapproval and feeling strangely sad. ‘He’s still Frankie’s dad.’

‘And Jayleen’s fiancé,’ Carl reminded her. Groaning when her face immediately dropped and tears sprang into her eyes, he said, ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry, Chez. I didn’t mean it.’

Shaking her head, her eyes flashing with pain, she said, ‘No, you’re right. But he won’t be for much longer. He promised he’s going to leave her this time.’

‘Babe, wait . . .’ Carl said, stepping forward. But she closed the door in his face.

Feeling like the biggest git on earth, he walked to the main door and slammed it open, angry with himself for upsetting Cheryl. Whatever he thought of her situation, she had the right to make her own decisions and shouldn’t have to base them on worrying about how her friends were going to react.

Chrissie was immediately behind him, but Carl hadn’t noticed her, so he jumped when she said, ‘You’re going to break that, and we’ve all got to use it, you know.’

‘Sorry,’ he muttered. ‘Got a lot on my mind, wasn’t thinking. You okay?’ he asked now, seeing her reddened eyes as he held the door for her.

Composing herself, because she didn’t like people to see when she was upset, Chrissie said, ‘Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. Sorry for snapping. I’ve not been feeling very well. Stomach bug.’

Carl gave her a small smile. She was clearly upset about something, and he’d have loved to offer her an ear for her troubles. But there was no way he was sticking his nose into her and Eddie’s business.

A cab came into the parking lot just then. Chrissie said goodbye and walked down the path.

Staying where he was, Carl lit a cigarette and sneakily checked out her legs. Mel’s were long and slim but they had no shape, and she insisted on wearing ugly flat shoes that did nothing for her – or for him. But Chrissie always wore heels, which made her look sexy –
and
made Carl wonder why the hell Eddie screwed around with so many munters when he had a fit bird like her keeping his bed warm.

Up ahead, Chrissie was holding her short skirt down as she climbed into the back of the taxi. She knew that Carl was watching her and might ordinarily have been flattered enough to put a little extra sway into her walk. He was a good-looking lad and he had something about him that reminded her of Eddie’s nicer side – kind of like the bad boy without the bad bit: street enough to be cool, but not underground dangerous.

So, yes, ordinarily Chrissie might have been tempted to give him a thrill to show her appreciation for his interest. But she was too tired.

Just as she’d been too tired to be bothered trying to reason with Eddie after he’d woken in a foul argumentative mood – again.

She closed the cab door, told the driver where she wanted to go and waved at Carl as they set off.

Waving back, he sucked on his smoke and went off in search of someone to hang out with.

Seconds after Carl and Chrissie had gone, Patsy came out from behind the block and sidled up to the door. It should have locked automatically behind Carl, but his rough treatment had caused it to stay open so she was able to walk straight in.

The corridor smelled different from that of her own block, and that unnerved her, so she put her head down and rushed for the stairs. She wasn’t even sure where Eddie actually lived but she had a vague recollection that it was on the fourth floor, so that was where she headed.

Eddie was stomping around the flat like a bear with a sore head. He’d woken on another comedown, and felt like his skull was literally caving in. But there was no way he was admitting that coke was the cause – not while Chrissie was determined to make him face up to his so-called addiction by nagging him to death about it.

He didn’t know what had been up with her these past few days but she’d been narking at him like a proper bitch. Which had inevitably ended in them having a massive row this morning, during which she’d threatened to leave if he didn’t lay off the coke and start paying her more attention. And he’d told her to go for it, sniping that he didn’t need or even particularly want her here anyway. And then, just to hammer home the message that she had absolutely no control over him and never would have, he’d phoned Clive and ordered him to pick up two grams and bring it round asap. To which she’d responded by flouncing out.

Too edgy to stay inside now, Eddie decided to take the dog down and let it have a runaround on the grass while he waited for Clive to deliver his medicine. But just as he was about to put the animal on its lead it started growling deep in its throat. Aware that he might be about to be raided or hit when he heard a shuffling sound outside the door, Eddie reached down behind the hall table and slid out the machete he kept there. Then, pressing his eye up against the spyhole, he scanned the corridor.

A lone figure was mooching about in the shadows to the right of his flat’s door, but there didn’t appear to be any others hiding as far as Eddie could tell. Narrowing his eyes when the figure suddenly approached Chrissie’s door and bent down to look through the letter box, he wondered if it might be somebody from the council or DSS checking up on her. Either way, he had to get rid of them before those stupid girls started making noise and raised their suspicions. So he put the machete back and straightened himself up, all set to tell whoever it was that he’d just seen his ‘neighbour’ going out.

Furious when he opened the door and saw that it was Patsy, he glanced around to make sure that nobody was watching, then darted out and grabbed her.

‘Get in here!’ he hissed, dragging her towards his own flat.

‘I was looking for you,’ Patsy yelped, her elbow cracking loudly under the pressure of his grip. ‘You didn’t come back. You said you would, but you didn’t.’

Warning her to shut her mouth, Eddie threw her inside and slammed the door shut. He didn’t want this stinking headcase souring his fresh, clean air, but rather that than have her squealing his business out for all his neighbours to hear.

Sure that he was going to beat her, Patsy made a dash for the living room. But Eddie chased her and pinned her up against the wall with his arm across her throat.

‘What are you playing at, coming round here in broad daylight?’ he demanded, slapping her harshly around the face with his free hand. ‘And since when did I say you could go out?’

‘I’m
hurting
,’ Patsy cried, desperation tipping her over the edge and giving her the guts to answer back. ‘You said you’d bring me something.’

‘You tried to rip me off,’ Eddie reminded her, fury causing spittle to spray out from between his gritted teeth and soak her face. ‘So you’d better just fuck off home before I really do kill you, you skanky slag!’

‘You said you’d look after me!’ she screeched into his face. ‘Me
and
the baby! You’re his dad, you
owe
him!’

Slapping her again to shut her up because she was getting hysterical, Eddie dragged her back out into the hall. Pausing there, because he realised that he didn’t actually know what to do with her, he mulled over his options. He couldn’t chuck her out in this state because she would draw far too much attention to herself – and, therefore, to him. But she couldn’t still be here when Chrissie got back, because it really would be the last straw if she found another tart in her castle – especially one who was screaming about Eddie being the father of her bastard child. The only thing he could do was calm Patsy down and send her back to her own place before she did any real damage. So, much as he didn’t want to, because it was the last thing she deserved after pulling a stunt like this, he reluctantly told her that he would give her what she needed – on the proviso that she went straight home, and stayed there.

Nodding her agreement, Patsy gasped for breath when he released her at last.

‘Sorry for shouting,’ she whimpered, following him back into the living room with a pathetic smile of gratitude on her face. ‘I just thought you’d forgotten about me. But you hadn’t really, had you? You were just punishing me for being bad. But I’m being good now, aren’t I? I haven’t stolen your drugs or touched your gun. I’ve been looking after business for you like I said I would, haven’t I?’

‘You still shouldn’t have come,’ Eddie muttered, rooting through his jacket pockets. A bag had slipped out of the batch he’d given to Carl the other day and he was sure it should be there somewhere.

‘I won’t do it again,’ Patsy promised, willing to do or say whatever he wanted as long as she got her fix.

Finding the bag at last, Eddie handed it to her. ‘Not here,’ he said when she scrambled to open it. ‘Go home. I’ll sort you out properly later.’

‘You won’t forget, will you?’ Patsy asked, gazing up at him with distrust in her eyes. ‘I didn’t want to come out but I had to. You know that, don’t you?’

‘I won’t forget,’ Eddie assured her, checking that nobody was around before he ushered her out.

She’d just turned from a nuisance into a liability, but Eddie knew that he was partly to blame because he’d been meaning to sort out a new stash house for ages but had been too lazy to get on with it. It just wasn’t going to be easy to find somewhere as close, or some
one
he trusted with his shit as much as he’d once trusted Patsy. And it galled him that he would have to keep her sweet until he did find an alternative, but he had no choice. If she felt the need to roam like this again, all it would take would be for her to say the wrong thing to the wrong person and he’d be fucked.