by Unknown
Nodding, Larry’s spirits sank as he watched the inspector walk away. Keeton obviously believed that he could do this or he wouldn’t have asked him, and Larry didn’t want to disappoint him. But was wanting to please the man a good enough reason for putting himself in danger? He didn’t think so.
But then again, if Keeton was to be believed – and he seemed pretty straight to Larry – there wouldn’t be any danger, so would it really hurt to give it a shot? It would be amazing to front it out and be the one who brought this Dex Lewis person to justice.
But there wouldn’t be any cameras there to witness Larry’s heroism – so would there really be any point?
Christ, what a dilemma!
7
Nora Lewis’s eyes were narrowed to crinkly slits as she peered at her oldest friend Hilda Jones across the kitchen table. It was only eleven in the morning – hardly the most atmospheric time to have your tea leaves read. But Hilda could turn it on at the flick of a switch, so Nora had thought What the hell? when she’d turned up claiming to be on a strong psychic vibe. And, tearing open five of her best pyramid bags, she’d brewed a pot and downed a cup, then let Hilda loose on the dregs.
That had been over an hour ago now, and Hilda’s psychic vibe had been one big wash-out. She’d been way off the mark, so far, babbling on about horses and chariots like they were still in the flaming Middle Ages, or something. And if she didn’t start coming up with something better than this shite pretty quick, she needn’t think she was getting her tenner, because Nora had no intention of shelling out one single penny. If anything, she’d be charging Hilda – for all the tea she’d supped since she got here, and the two slabs of cake she’d stuffed into her fat gob.
Keeping her eye on Hilda when the doorbell rang now, Nora yelled, ‘Molly! Get the door!’
Upstairs, in the small bedroom she shared with her mongy little cousin Lyla, Nora’s fourteen-year-old granddaughter Molly turned the stereo up a couple of notches, increasing the pounding bass that was already rattling the teeth in Nora’s head below. She was sick to death of the lazy old bitch forever yelling at her to come do this and go do that.
‘I’ll bleedin’ swing for her one of these days,’ Nora snarled, pushing her sleeves roughly up her arms, revealing the faded blue tattoos of various men’s names which swam in and out of the wrinkled flesh. ‘Our Dex wants to take a belt to her lazy backside; lying in bed all day like a dog, and out all night doing God knows what. It’s a wonder she ain’t got ten kiddies sucking her tits off by now, it really is.’
Keeping her opinions to herself as her friend scraped her chair back and grumbled her way out of the room, Hilda waited until she was out of sight. Then she reached over and slid two cigarettes out of the pack that Nora had left on the table. Slipping one into her pocket for later, she lit the other and dangled it from her lips as she poured herself a fresh cuppa from the pot. Nora might well scoff, but Hilda knew what she’d seen, and if her friend had any sense she’d tell their Patrick to get that car shifted off the path before the coppers clocked that it was nicked. And as for that little madam upstairs, Nora would do well to get her down to the clinic pronto, because she was expecting if Hilda was any judge – and it was anyone’s guess what colour it’d be when it popped out, ’cos Hilda had it on good information that Molly Lewis liked her internationals. Horses and chariots: cars and prams. As God was Hilda’s witness, Nora Lewis had surprises of a not-so-pleasant nature hurtling her way.
The bell chimed again just as Nora reached for the latch. Wrenching the door open, all set to give whoever it was a ticking-off for being impatient, her jaw dropped when she saw who it was.
‘Good bollocking Christ!’ she gasped. ‘What are you doing here?’
Larry was crapping himself but, all too aware that Dave, the sneering police ‘chauffeur’ who’d driven him here was probably laughing at him from the safety of the limo parked up at the kerb beyond the gate, he swallowed hard and forced himself to smile. At least the woman recognised him, so he didn’t have to embarrass himself by doing the whole ‘Don’t you know who I am?’ routine. But whether or not she was pleased to see him was a different matter. And if she wasn’t pleased, how would Derek Lewis – whose scary mugshot Keeton had shown to him just before he’d left, almost making him change his mind – respond to him calling round unannounced?
Taking a deep breath now, aware that time was pressing on, Larry switched into genial-host mode, and said, ‘Good morning, Mrs Lewis . . . Or –’ cheesy grin ‘– should that be Miss, because you must be Derek’s younger sister?’
Laughing out loud, Nora clapped a hand over her mouth, suddenly wishing she’d thought to slot her teeth in. ‘Get away with you,’ she cackled. ‘I’ve seen you on that show of yours, flirting with all the young lasses. But don’t be trying it on me, you bugger, ’cos I’m old enough to be your mam!’
‘Me, flirting?’ Larry placed a hand on his chest, affecting innocence. ‘Never! I just appreciate a beautiful lady, that’s all.’
Laughing again, Nora glanced out over his shoulder to see if the neighbours were watching. They were, of course, although most had actually ventured out onto their doorsteps rather than just twitching the nets like they usually did when something was happening over here – which was pretty bloody often, Nora had to admit, although not usually good stuff like this. Larry Logan ringing her doorbell, with a bottle of champagne in his hand and a white stretch limo parked outside her gate, with a chauffeur and everything. Would you credit it!
‘Is Derek in?’ Larry asked now.
‘Oh, sorry, pet, he’s not,’ Nora replied, wondering how on earth her son knew a famous man like this – and why he hadn’t bothered telling her about it.
‘That’s a shame,’ Larry murmured, an expression of disappointment on his face despite the raging relief in his heart that he wouldn’t have to confront the man. Although, now that he was actually here, he was beginning to suspect that Keeton might have exaggerated the dangers, given that he’d described the mother as being just as bad as her son, when, as far as Larry could tell, she was just a nice old lady.
‘What did you want him for?’ Nora asked now, lowering her voice because she didn’t want the neighbours listening. Eyeballing was one thing, but earwigging on the Lewises’ business so they could bandy it about to all and sundry was another matter altogether.
‘My new show,’ Larry told her, grinning proudly as he added, ‘You must have seen the adverts?’
‘Oh, aye, ’course,’ Nora affirmed. ‘Ever so good, they are, too. Looks like it’s going to be a much better one than that Star thing you used to do. Not that that wasn’t good,’ she added earnestly. ‘Highlight of me week, that was – after Corrie and EastEnders. Oh, and Emmerdale, obviously.’ Pursing her lips now, she shrugged. ‘Don’t watch it no more, mind. Can’t abide that Matty fella. Too far up his own arse for my liking.’
Larry wanted to kiss her. Instead, he winked and leaned towards her, whispering conspiratorially, ‘Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but it wasn’t his own arse he went up to get the job – if you get my drift?’
‘Well, I never!’ Nora gasped, shaking her head. Then, knowingly, ‘Still, it figures he’d be a puff with all that hair. You wouldn’t catch none of my lot dead with a mop like that. But they’re like you, my lads – nice and respectable. Still, I expect you’ll already know that if you know Dex?’
Larry raised an eyebrow.‘Nice’and ‘respectable’ were hardly the words he’d have used to describe the shaven-headed, mean-eyed thug in the mugshot.
‘I haven’t actually met him,’ he admitted. ‘But I was really hoping to – so I don’t suppose you’d know where he is, or when he’ll be back?’
‘No, pet, I don’t. Could be ten minutes or ten days, knowing him.’ Giving a disappointed shrug, Nora folded her arms – then quickly unfolded them and dragged her sleeves down to cover her tattoos. Larry Logan didn’t look the sort to appreciate that kind of thing, and – call her a vain old
fool if you liked – she didn’t want him going away with the impression that she was some rough old tart.
Just then, one of the kids from the crowd who were watching from the front yard of the house opposite came over to the gate, and yelled, ‘Oi, mister . . . you’re that Larry Logan off the telly, aren’t you? What you doin’ round here, then?’
Barking, ‘Piss off out of it, you cheeky little bastard – and tell your mam to mind her own business before I mind it for her!’ Nora glared at him until he’d fled back to his own side of the road. Turning back to Larry then, she shook her head, saying, ‘Sorry about that, pet, but you can’t move round here without some bugger knowing where you’re going before you get there.’
Shocked by the viciousness of her tone when she’d yelled at the kid and thinking that maybe Keeton hadn’t been exaggerating, after all, Larry gave her an uncertain smile. ‘Sorry . . . I didn’t mean to cause a disturbance.’
Assuring him that it wasn’t his fault, Nora stepped back into the hallway and jerked her head at him, saying, ‘Come in and have a cuppa while you’re waiting. I’ll give our Dex a ring on his mobile.’
Reluctant to enter the lion’s den, Larry glanced at his watch, and said, ‘That’s very kind of you, Mrs Lewis, but I really haven’t got time.’
‘’Course you have,’ she insisted, already setting off up the hall. ‘You’d have been here longer than this if he’d been in, ’cos he can talk the bollocks off a dog, him.’
Turning, Larry gave the police officer a helpless shrug. Then he followed her inside.
The hallway was jam-packed with stacks of cardboard boxes, the top ones of which were open, revealing that they were full of car stereos and SatNav systems. Guessing – correctly – that they were stolen, Larry edged past them, terrified of leaving his fingerprints on anything.
Following Nora into the kitchen, he nodded at the woman who was sitting at the table. She was of a similar age to Nora but, unlike Nora who was wearing no make-up and had obviously never put a bottle of dye anywhere near her wispy grey hair, this woman had a full face of slap, and vivid orange hair which clashed horrendously with the crimson lipstick smeared over her flabby mouth.
Giving her friend a gummy grin, Nora said, ‘Look who’s called to see our Dex, Hilda . . . It’s only Larry Logan.’
‘I know who he is,’ Hilda replied tartly, irritated that Nora was trying to make out like she was stupid, or something. ‘What’s he want with him, though?’
Telling her to mind her beeswax, Nora switched the kettle on, then grabbed the floor brush and gave the ceiling a couple of whacks. Tutting when the pounding music went up in volume yet again, she said, ‘Sorry about this, Larry. Just give me a minute to shut her up, and I’ll get you that tea.’
Taking another cigarette from Nora’s pack when they were alone, Hilda lit up and gave Larry a sickly smile. ‘So, you’re here for their Dex, are you?’ she asked, in her best posh voice.
‘Er, yeah, that’s right,’ Larry said, wincing when the sound of raised voices came from above.‘Hope I haven’t got anyone into trouble.’
‘Oh, they’re always like that,’ Hilda assured him, flapping her hand dismissively. ‘So, what do you want with him, then? You and he friends, are you?’
Repeating what he’d already told Nora about not having met Dex yet, Larry followed the sound of running footsteps across the ceiling with his eyes.
Before Hilda could pry any further, a far younger, prettier version of Nora, with long honey-blonde hair, and large breasts which strained at the tight blouse she was just about wearing, burst into the kitchen and gaped at Larry as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.
‘My God, it is you, an’ all! Me nan said you was here, but I didn’t believe her. Jeezus! Wait till me mates hear about this!’
‘Never mind your bloody mates,’ Nora snapped, coming back into the room and shoving the girl out of the way.‘And don’t even think about ringing none of ’em up and having me house filled up liked a flaming doss-house – ’cos he’s here to see your dad, not you and your mates.’
‘Me dad?’ Molly’s pretty brow creased with disbelief. ‘What d’y’ want him for?’
‘Have none of you got the manners you was born with?’ Nora snapped, putting her hands on her hips. ‘If he wants to see your dad, it’s his business. And I don’t see why you’re all so surprised, anyway, ’cos my Derek’s as good as anyone else.’
Muttering, ‘Yeah, right!’ Molly continued to eye Larry with curiosity. ‘You haven’t come for a weed, have you?’ she asked suddenly – squealing with shock when she got a resounding slap across the face from Nora, whose hand shot out with a speed that was totally at odds with her elderly appearance.
‘Idiot!’ Nora hissed, her eyes flashing with a look that Larry would have mistaken for hate if it hadn’t been her own granddaughter she was directing it at.
Holding her cheek, which was smarting enough to have brought tears to her eyes, Molly’s nostrils flared. But she kept her mouth shut. If anyone else had pulled a stunt like that she’d have kicked the living crap out of them, but she’d never dare raise a hand to her nan, because she knew what she’d get off her dad and his brothers if she did. Nora was a nasty, spiteful old cow, but her lads treated her like the bloody Queen Mother, and woe betide anyone who crossed her.
‘Kettle’s boiled,’ Nora said now, jerking her thumb at Molly to go and finish making the teas. Sitting down, she reached for her cigarettes and slid one out of the pack. Narrowing her eyes when she saw how many were left, she gave Hilda an accusing look. ‘You been helping yourself to my fags?’
Blushing, Hilda shook her head, her gaze flicking guiltily to Larry. ‘’Course not. You know I always ask first.’
‘So what’s that?’ Nora indicated the cigarette Hilda was holding. ‘Scotch mist?’
‘You gave me this,’ Hilda lied, praying that Larry wouldn’t contradict her. Nora would kick her out in a heartbeat if he did, and she didn’t want to miss out on this celebrity visit.
Grunting, ‘I don’t remember giving you nowt, but even if I did, you wanna try buying some for a change, ’cos I’m sick of you scrounging off me all the time,’ Nora handed a cigarette to Larry without bothering to ask if he smoked.
Taking it because he sensed that she’d be offended if he didn’t, Larry gave Hilda a tiny, sympathetic smile as he reached into his pocket for his lighter.
‘Ooh, that’s nice,’ Nora said when she saw it. ‘Look at this, Molly. Isn’t it nice?’
‘Yeah, it’s lovely,’ Molly agreed, folding her arms and giving Larry a shy smile.
‘Have it,’ he said, feeling sorry for her. ‘I’ve got another one at home.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Nora protested. ‘She don’t need no fancy lighter.’
‘I want her to have it,’ Larry insisted, handing it to Molly over Nora’s head, amused by the glint of envy in the older woman’s eyes. Served her right for smacking the girl around the face like that.
The front door opened just then, rattling the glasses and cups that were standing on the draining board when it slammed shut again.
‘You seen that car outside, Mam?’ a man’s voice called out as heavy footsteps headed their way. ‘Looks like someone’s getting married, or something. Can’t be none of these cunts round here, though, ’cos none of ’em could afford a bleedin’ chauffeur.’
Giving Larry a conspiratorial grin, oblivious to the fact that his heart was pounding with fear in his chest as he prepared to come face to face with Dex, Nora whispered, ‘Watch when he sees you sitting here. He’ll have a fit.’
Hoping to God that she didn’t mean ‘fit’ in the bad sense, Larry tensed as the man walked into the room.
‘The driver best not get out for a piss, though, ’cos I’ll have them wheels off in a flash.’ Still talking, Patrick Lewis shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the back of the door. ‘They cost about a grand each, them, so I’d easy get a couple of ton apiece. And them wing mir—’ N
oticing Larry just then, he stopped dead in his tracks and stared at him.
Still grinning, Nora waited for the light of recognition to enter her son’s eyes. When it didn’t after a moment, she said, ‘You know who it is, don’t you?’
‘Seen him somewhere,’ Patrick murmured. Then, clicking his fingers, ‘Larry Logan! Christ, mate! Nice to meet you.’ Reaching for Larry’s hand, he pumped it firmly. ‘Shit, man, I never expected to find a star sitting in me kitchen, I can tell you that for nowt! That your motor outside, is it?’
Giving a sheepish shrug when the man finally let go of his hand, Larry said, ‘It belongs to the studio, actually, but they let me use it for special occasions.’
‘And this is a special occasion? Popping in for a cuppa with me mother?’Patrick grinned.‘Bloody hell, Mam, you’re coming up in the world, ain’t you? What you done to deserve this, then? Been doing secret charity work on the side, or something?’
‘He’s come to see our Dex,’ Nora told him, getting up to finish making the tea which Molly, who was leaning back against the sink still staring at Larry, seemed to have forgotten about.
‘Dex?’ Patrick repeated, frowning now. ‘What d’y’ want with him?’
Wondering why Nora hadn’t told this one to mind his own business like she had everyone else so far, Larry cleared his throat, and said, ‘He, er, applied to be a contestant on my new show. And he got through, but he didn’t reply to confirm his place when we wrote to him, so I’ve been sent to give him the good news in person.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ Patrick snorted. ‘I didn’t even know he could write!’
‘Don’t be cheeky,’ Nora scolded, carrying the teas over to the table and placing Larry’s down in front of him. ‘Our Derek’s very smart. He’s the only one of you buggers who came out of school with certificates, anyhow.’
‘For swimming,’ Patrick reminded her scathingly. Rolling his eyes at Larry now, he pulled a chair out from under the table and sat down. ‘So what’s this show our kid’s entered himself for?’