Family

by Owen Mullen

  I took it from him, raised it to my lips and reluctantly took a sip. It was tea. The whole thing had been a show, another one of his petty little jokes. Then he did what he always did, turned defence into attack by laying the blame at somebody else’s door.

  ‘I worry about you.’

  ‘Don’t bother, Danny, I’m good.’

  He leaned over to make his point. ‘No, you’re not, you’re anything but. That you could question, even for a second, that I’d be pissed tonight of all nights, tells me all I need to know about you. Tomorrow everybody will be able to swear you carried me upstairs, well out of it, and we’ll have hit Rollie Anderson’s poxy club and ended this thing once and for all.’

  He stood underneath the photograph of the Queen and laid into me. ‘Sort your head out and be quick about it.’ He’d lost me and saw it on my face. ‘The man who went into Wandsworth never came out again. They sent some sodding imposter who looks like him. He isn’t. He’s a doubter. And he’s a wimp.’

  Danny was just getting going. ‘That knight-in-shining-armour routine, defending a lady’s honour, proves it. Mandy doesn’t have any fucking honour to defend. Yet you’re ready to go up against me – your own brother – for a split-arsed bird. For Christ’s sake, get your priorities straight and find yourself a special woman, like I did with Cheryl.’

  This was the first time in seven years I’d heard him even acknowledge she’d existed.

  ‘It started out as us against the world. Well, I’ve got news for you, nothing’s changed. And yeah, I see your lip curl when I mention Team Glass. Convinced yourself it’s all a corny load of old rubbish, haven’t you? Thing is, the guy who went away… for most of his life he hadn’t needed convincing… He remembered where he’d come from and believed it.’

  Danny took hold of my wrist and checked my watch, the one he’d given me in a pub in Shepherd Market on that summer’s evening when I’d trusted every word out of his mouth. He picked the bottle off the desk, leaving me wondering what had suddenly made him mention his dead wife and inspired his angry little speech.

  Breakthrough or breakdown?

  And then he was Danny, gruff and tough, again.

  He said, ‘It’s ten to ten. We’re going to a party. Plaster on a smile and let’s do it.’

  At the door he stopped. ‘I’m going to say it, and, swear to God, if you smirk, I’ll drop you where you stand.’ He took my hand in his and squeezed until it hurt, his eyes fixed on my face, searching for even a flicker of fakery. ‘Team Glass. Team Glass, Luke. Everything else is just bollocks.’

  I didn’t doubt he was serious about dropping me. Or that he could. So, I told him what he wanted to hear. ‘Team Glass, Danny.’

  30

  Mandy was close to tears in the back of the taxi taking her home. The driver, a guy who looked to be in his sixties wearing a cap to cover his bald head, had seen the killer heels and the low-cut dress under her coat, and little else.

  ‘Bit early to be calling time. Expected a young thing like you to still be dancing when the sun comes up.’ He glanced through the windscreen at the overcast sky threatening rain. ‘If it comes up, that is. Never know it was summer. What’s the matter? Fall out with your boyfriend?’

  ‘No, I’m just not in the mood.’

  He didn’t believe her and carried on talking. ‘Well, whoever he is, he’s a bloody idiot to let you out of his sight. If I was twenty-five years younger…’ He shook his head at what would never be. ‘Don’t worry, girl, he’ll come to his senses. Most of us do in the end. I finished with my wife a week before the wedding. She took me back when I said I was sorry. To this day she claims it was the worst mistake she ever made.’ He chuckled. ‘Lucky for me, though.’

  Well-meant, but off the mark.

  In the back seat, Mandy chastised herself for being an idiot. Going to Danny’s party had been a terrible idea. She’d known it from the beginning, so she’d only herself to blame. Danny hated her and Luke didn’t understand why. Mandy hoped he never would.

  She leaned forward and spoke to the driver. ‘I’ve changed my mind. Take me to the Shark’s Mouth.’

  He watched her in the mirror, his eyes flickering with concern, wondering why beautiful women seemed so often to be unhappy. His wife could answer that. ‘Men,’ she’d say, without having to think about it.

  ‘You sure? It’s pretty rough in there at this time of night. Be careful what you’re about.’

  ‘I always am.’

  Eugene Vale lay in the dark with his hands behind his head, listening to the rain tapping against the window. The couple upstairs had been going at it for over an hour and showed no sign of stopping. In other circumstances, a prurient eavesdrop into the lives of others would be welcome. Not tonight. Sex was why he was in this mess. Pulling Nina Glass had been punching above his weight; he’d known it at the time. If only he’d been satisfied with that. Directly above him, the woman climaxed for the umpteenth time. He pictured the lovers, naked and panting, and hoped they’d call it a draw.

  Their exertions hadn’t wakened him – he’d never been asleep. He should’ve been at the King Pot but couldn’t face it and decided, instead, to go to bed. Bad decision. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw bubbles breaking the surface of the bath and Yvonne staring accusingly at him from under the water. Holding her legs while she drowned was beyond anything he could’ve imagined himself doing; a scene from a nightmare he’d live with for the rest of his days. Nina had made it all sound easy. No surprise she’d coped better than he had. Violence was in her blood.

  Vale slipped out of bed, went to the window and gazed into the darkness. He shivered. The police hadn’t been to see him. It was probably too early to expect them; the body might still not have been discovered. But it would be, and there would be questions. When was the last time he saw her? Had she been depressed? On the day she died, what was her state of mind?

  Nina had gone over what his story would be more than once, drumming the answers into his numb brain: his secretary had been a vivacious girl, a good worker and seemed fine when she left the office at five o’clock. Her usual cheerful self, actually. As to Yvonne’s state of mind – how could anybody really know?

  Eugene’s chest tightened. Lying to women was one thing, lying to the cops was something else. They’d see through it and arrest him. He needed Nina to reassure him it was going to be all right. Vale recognised his weakness and wasn’t ashamed of it. He lifted his mobile from the bedside table and dialled just as the couple upstairs started fucking again.

  Nina was in a red silk dressing gown she’d bought in Harvey Nic’s, curled up with a half-empty bottle of Jameson Black Barrel wedged between her thighs and a box of chocolates on the couch beside her. The television was on but she wasn’t watching. In the King Pot, the back-slappers and arse-lickers would be knocking back Danny’s booze. So long as it kept flowing, they’d stick around. He’d growled his order that she be there, a reminder of how she’d heard him speak to Cheryl. Except, she wasn’t Cheryl. And she wasn’t afraid of him. Didn’t he know her well enough to realise what threatening her would get him?

  Well, if he hadn’t, he did now.

  Nina sipped the lush mix of fruit and vanilla and held it in her mouth. The woman in the bath didn’t cross her mind; she’d been a fool who’d brought what happened on herself and was unworthy of a second thought. Vale, on the other hand, was worse than a fool. He was gutless, as he’d proved in the flat. Nina had enjoyed sex with him – if he’d been smart, even a little bit, they might’ve had something going. But, as Danny liked to say, ‘if your uncle had tits, he’d be your auntie’.

  She refilled her glass, tasting spices and caramel this time, and stretched languidly on the couch like a leopard on a rock enjoying the afternoon sun in the Serengeti. The dressing gown’s silk ties fell away and her fingers drifted between her thighs. Nina hadn’t realised she was horny; the Irish whiskey along with thinking about Vale had been enough to light the fire – her legs spread and
she surrendered to herself.

  The mobile rang like a gunshot in the silence. She stopped what she was doing, cursed loudly and rolled off the couch. Maybe it was Danny on to demand she get herself down to the pub and start acting like a sister, for once. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of that happening and she hadn’t the energy to argue with him.

  ‘Nina?’

  The voice at the other end of the line was frantic and whiny.

  Nina snapped at him. ‘We said no contact outside work.’

  ‘I know. I know but—’

  ‘Have the police been?’

  He stumbled over his reply. ‘Sorry… sorry, Nina… no… no, they haven’t.’

  ‘Then what’s the problem?’

  ‘I’m not sure I can keep it together. They’ll suspect, they have to suspect…’

  Nina lifted the whisky and let him talk. This wasn’t unexpected. Absolutely predictable, in fact. She’d seen how Vale reacted under pressure and despised him for it. But it wasn’t good news. Already, with nothing happening, he was closing in on a meltdown.

  She put her mouth as close to the phone as she was able and spoke slowly, as if she cajoling a child. ‘Eugene. Eugene, listen to me. You’re overreacting. There’s bound to be a background check. It’s standard procedure when somebody dies in unusual circumstances. Drowning in a bath fits the bill. But that’s all it is.’

  Vale lashed out. ‘Yeah, well, that’s easy for you to say. You’re not in the frame, are you?’

  The implication annoyed her; she felt her patience slip. ‘You’re wrong, we’re in this together.’

  Eugene went into full-scale victim mode. ‘Except it won’t be you who gets the inquisition, it’ll be me.’

  Anger flushed Nina’s face. The temptation to tell him to get a fucking grip and be a man was almost overwhelming. She whispered the last thing she’d ever intended to say to this creature.

  ‘Why don’t you come over?’

  He’d seen the disrespect in her eyes. This was unexpected.

  ‘To your place?’

  The dressing gown fell away and Nina’s hand slipped back between her thighs. Men had their uses. Even men like Eugene Vale.

  ‘Yes,’ she said ‘To my place. Come over right now.’

  31

  Marcus hadn’t spoken a word the entire journey. He dropped them at the car, stolen in Dover earlier in the day, and drove off. With time to kill Norrie and Fergie walked hand-in-hand with Lexie and Sharon, sticking with the roles assumed on the train from Glasgow – lovers totally wrapped up in themselves and each other. Above them the sky hung low and dark. At the Picasso they joined the queue forming outside while the monotonous beat of dance music filtered through the walls. The women whispered to each other, posing for selfies with their new bags. Everything about them drove Norrie mad. He couldn’t stand being with them and wanted the job over so he didn’t have to look at their stupid painted faces.

  Sharon was quieter than she’d been earlier. Maybe he should be worried? No, it was understandable. On the other hand, Lexie seemed to have discovered an extra gear – chatting with the people behind her, striking friendships that wouldn’t last the night; sharing cigarettes and laughing at the lamest jokes, while Fergie grinned stupidly beside her. She was hiding in plain sight. And making a hell of a job of it. A pretty girl in a pink and white dress and too much make-up, who was barely old enough to drink, asked where they were from.

  Sharon joined in the deception. ‘Aberdeen,’ she said, rightly guessing the girl couldn’t tell one accent from another.

  ‘What’re you doing here?’

  Sharon forgot the empty feeling in the pit of her stomach, pulled Fergie to her and threw her arms round him. ‘We’re celebrating.’

  ‘Celebrating what?’

  ‘This handsome man has asked me to marry him.’

  The girl’s eyes lit up. ‘Really. That’s wonderful. Did you tell him yes?’

  Sharon smiled a coy smile. ‘Told him I’d think about it.’

  The girl approved. ‘Good on you. Make him sweat.’

  Fergie threw in his crude twopenceworth to the charade.

  ‘She does that, all right.’

  The girl’s mate looked even younger, her blue dress the size of a handkerchief. She spoke from experience she’d never had. ‘Keep them keen, I always say.’

  Sharon introduced Norrie and Lexie. ‘These two are auditioning for best man and principal bridesmaid. What d’you think? Should we give them the job?’

  Before she could answer a black car pulled up and two men got out, one of them wearing a fedora. The girl nudged Sharon’s arm. ‘Bet you don’t know who that is.’

  ‘No, who is it?’

  ‘The one in the hat’s Rollie Anderson. He owns the place.’

  ‘Maybe I should marry him instead.’

  Fergie mimed a broken heart and they all laughed. Sharon kept the act going. ‘This your regular haunt?’

  ‘I’m Tina and this is Paula. And no, we’ve only been here once before. We weren’t going to come except Paula needed cheering up.’ She gave her friend a hug. ‘Her mother died recently.’

  ‘Then make sure you enjoy yourself. You deserve it.’

  Norrie stepped away from the girly conversation and whispered into his mobile.

  ‘Your friend just made an appearance.’

  Danny Glass said, ‘Good, then we’re on. And one more thing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nobody gets out. And no witnesses.’

  Norrie looked back at his crew. ‘When you say no witnesses…’

  ‘I mean none. Especially anybody who can be linked to me.’

  ‘That isn’t what we agreed.’

  ‘No, but it’s what’s happening, unless I’ve got the wrong man for the job.’

  ‘That isn’t what I said. I—’

  ‘I know what you fucking said. Can you or can’t you? Simple as that.’

  Norrie hadn’t expected this. What he was being ordered to do shocked even him, but he responded like the mercenary he was. ‘The price just went up.’

  Danny Glass stayed in control. ‘No, it didn’t. Now you get four shares instead of one.’

  The Glasgow hardman took a deep breath.

  Glass barked impatiently. ‘Make up your mind. Yes or no?’

  ‘All right. But in case you’re planning the same for me, I’ve got insurance. Anything happens to me… well, you know how that ends, Danny.’

  He heard the laugh come down the line. ‘Smart fucker. I like your style. When this dies down, we’ll talk. Always an opening for somebody with the right kind of talent.’

  At the head of the queue, an Asian boy said something Norrie couldn’t hear to the bouncer. His four friends laughed. It didn’t go down well with the burly man patting him down. An angry finger stabbed the young guy’s chest; a contemptuous hand slapped his cheek. Norrie had met the bouncer’s type before, outside every club in Glasgow, where they called themselves ‘stewards’ and bullied anybody who’d let them, for fun. If they poked him like that, they’d be sorry: he’d broken arms for less. He wanted to get into the middle of it and sort all of them out – he didn’t need this shit. Not now. Not tonight.

  He rubbed his palms together, more nervous than he’d been at any time today – if they were refused admission, the whole thing was a bust. He didn’t fancy explaining that to Glass.

  More bouncers arrived, outnumbering the boys. They dragged them down the road and laid into them, even when they were on the ground and had stopped fighting back.

  A girl held her mobile in the air, filming the beating, her dull eyes glazed with dope, enjoying the show. When it was over, the thugs in dinner jackets rubbed their bruised knuckles, grinning sweaty grins at each other: this was what they lived for. It certainly wasn’t the money.

  The girl followed their victims with her phone camera as they helped each other to their feet and limped away. She giggled. Norrie wanted to punch her stupid face.
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br />   The boys had been taught hard lessons. Only fight battles you can win, and not everybody thinks you’re as funny as you do, so keep your mouth shut.

  Tomorrow, they’d be sore.

  But at least they’d be alive.

  Eventually, the four from Glasgow were at the top of the queue. Fergie paid. Norrie held out his arms and spread his legs, letting himself be frisked, and Lexie made lewd comments about how much he was enjoying it.

  Another bouncer searched the girls’ bags.

  ‘What’ve you got in here?’

  Lexie fluttered her false eyelashes. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’

  ‘I would like to know. That’s why I’m asking.’

  ‘Big, isn’t it?’

  The guy was used to women coming on to him and went with an old joke.

  ‘You wouldn’t believe how many females have said that to me.’

  ‘Maybe they’re easily impressed.’

  ‘Only one way to find out.’

  ‘Thanks, but no, thanks.’ She pointed to Norrie, patting his pockets. ‘Brought my own.’

  ‘Another time, then?’

  She smiled, teasing him. ‘You never know your luck.’

  Norrie said, ‘I’ve lost my wallet. Must’ve left it in the pub.’ He kissed Lexie quickly on the cheek and spoke to the bouncer. ‘Lost my bloody wallet. Have to find it. All my money’s in it. I’ll come back later.’

  The man couldn’t have cared less. ‘Suit yourself, mate.’

  ‘Will I get in all right?’

  ‘Yeah, won’t be a problem. Always somebody here.’

  ‘Good to know,’ Norrie said. ‘Be as quick as I can.’

  He crossed the street and hurried away.

  The bouncer moved on Lexie. ‘Maybe I’ll see you inside.’

  She toyed with him. ‘Maybe. You can buy me a drink.’

  ‘I’ll do that. What’s your name?’