Nicholas Dane

by Melvin Burgess

  Shiner swallowed hard; he never showed his temper to Jones.

  ‘Man, shouldn’t you be down there looking out for her?’ he asked. ‘Friday night. A lot of drunks about.’

  Jones shook his head. ‘Telling me my business, Sunshine?’ he asked. ‘She’s safe enough.’

  ‘Safe as she would be at home, is she?’ hissed Sunshine, unable for once to keep the hatred out of his voice.

  Jones shot him a glance. ‘You what?’ he asked dangerously, and Sunshine found his smile.

  ‘Never mind. I’m worried about her. I care for the girl, you know that.’

  Jones subsided and shrugged.

  ‘Is she safe? You left her out for the wolves. Where’s she working?’

  ‘She’s on a job - that’s to say, the job’s on her,’ said Jones, watching Sunshine closely for signs of temper. ‘She’s with some acquaintances of mine. My presence is

  not required to keep them in order. But I’m not here for your chat. I have a proposition to put to you, Sunshine.’ ‘Bisniss?’

  ‘Bisniss.’ Jones nodded at Nick. ‘You can leave us alone for ten minutes, son. Don’t go, mind. This concerns you.’ Sunshine paused but only briefly. He didn’t need Jones like Jones needed him, but sometimes, there was money to be made. So long as Sunshine wasn’t too closely involved, he didn’t mind catching a slice of it. He nodded to Nick, who had to leave and go next door, and wonder what trouble he was getting into now.

  Sunshine turned to Jones.

  ‘It had better be better than the last one, Jonesy,’ he said.

  ‘Or what?’ asked Jones, smiling glassily at Shiner.

  No threats, I just don't want to do bad business.’ ‘We’re old friends, you and I, Sunshine. No need for bad business.’

  ‘Then we can cope if I say no.’

  Jones raised an eyebrow. ‘Without even hearing what I got to say?’

  ‘Now. I never said that! I never said that!’ complained Sunshine raising his hands and grinning. ‘But there’s good deals and bad deals, Jones, and last time I got my fingers burned. So. what is it this time?’

  Jones leaned forward. ‘I want to do the chemist up on Charles Road in Droylsden. Know it?’

  ‘Another chemist?’ Shiner was disappointed. ‘I thought you had something more interesting.’

  ‘A lot of money to be made. Is that interesting for you?’

  ‘Pharmaceuticals,’ said Shiner dismissively.

  ‘Different. This is the place the junkies use. They keep the ’eroin in the drugs safe and I happen to have learned when the delivery takes place. And the methadone.’ Jones nodded. ‘It’s happening, Sunshine. It’s just a question of who’s in it with me.’

  ‘And what do you want me to do?’

  ‘It isn’t what I want you to do. It’s what I want you to get something of yours to do for me.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘A share.’

  ‘What sort of share?’

  ‘A quarter. And you don’t even ’ave to be there in person.’

  ‘I’m never there in person, you know that, Jonesy. And what part does our Nick have to play in all this?’

  ‘I don’t expect you to like it, Nick,’ said Sunshine later that same evening, after Jones had left. ‘But I expect you to do it.’

  ‘I don’t wanna do it.’

  ‘It’s payback.’

  Nick was furious. ‘I do things for you all the time!’ ‘That was out of friendship. You didn’t think all this was for free?’

  ‘Fuck you!’

  ‘I forget you said that. Where you going to sleep - the street? You’re one of mine, you do as I tell you. It’s all there is to it.’

  28

  The Job

  Going on a job with Jonesy - Nick was getting badly out of his depth. He went round to Jenny’s place, but it drove him mad round there within a couple of days. He’d left that life too far behind him. He thought about hanging out with his old mates, sleeping on friends’ floors, but he knew he could only get away with that for a short while. Sooner or later someone would put the police on to him and he’d end up where he started - back in Meadow Hill and the tender clutches of Tony Creal.

  He talked it over with Davey, who was furious with Shiner on his behalf. He even went round to have a huge row with him about it.

  ‘You know what Jones is like. What are you playing at? You want him to have a record?’

  Shiner guffawed. ‘A record? Come on, Davey boy, how long do you think he’s going to go without one of those?’

  Davey did his best, but Shiner was immovable.

  ‘I’m not his dad, I’m not his mama. He go leave if he like.’

  ‘Yeah and go where?’

  ‘Then he has to do as he’s told, like every other kid that wants something for nothing.’

  And that was that. The way it felt to Nick was, he had no choice. And who knows? Maybe he’d make some money out of it. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  On the appointed night, Jonesy came to bang at the door. Shiner gave him a nod and Nick went down the stairs to meet him. He jerked his head along the road and set off, with Nick at his heels.

  Jones led Nick northwest, up through Ancoats and out into Salford. It was a long walk in a cold wind neither of them was dressed for. Barely a word was said the whole way, except when Nick asked why they were walking.

  ‘Good for your health,’ was all Jones would say.

  ‘Is the job tonight?’ asked Nick.

  Jones turned to look at him. ‘Don’t ask questions. I don’t like people who ask questions. You never know what they’re going to want to know next.’

  ‘Sorry, Jonesy,’ began Nick, but Jones snapped at him like a dog.

  ‘I’m not Jones, Jonesy or anything like it to you, son, get me?’

  Nick cringed back. ‘Sorry. But what do I call you?’

  That one seemed to stump Jones, who had rarely been called anything but Jones. ‘Mr Jones will do,’ he said in the end, and gave Nick a smile as if he was joking - but he wasn’t. They carried on their way in silence through the night until they got to Salford and the house where he lived with Stella, in a two up, two down in a warren of streets behind the poly. Jones put the key in the door and opened it directly onto a sitting room, where a tall, red-haired man was lounging on the settee, dressed in a pair of thin, grey, stained suit trousers, a tight T-shirt with slashes in it punk fashion, a pair of huge boots and a couple of rings through his nose. His hair was done up in a half grown-out mohican at the back, but he was beginning to go bald at the front. He’d made a halfhearted attempt at a comb-over, to conceal the bare scalp on either side of the central tuft. He had a can of lager in one hand and was watching Coronation Street on the TV.

  ‘Is this the monkey, then?’ he asked as they came in, looking Nick over. ‘Bit big for a monkey, isn’t he? What’s ’is name?’

  Jones grunted, and went into the kitchen for a beer.

  ‘Nick, Nick Dane,’ said Nick.

  ‘Surnames already! I’m pleased to know you, Nicholas Dane,' said the tall man. ‘Surnames are for friends, and I’m going to keep mine till I know you a bit better. Best friends keep the best secrets, eh? You can call me John. Not my real name, of course,’ he added. ‘On a job like this, no one has real names. I only ’ope Nick Dane is a made up as well.’

  Jones appeared at the door holding a beer. ‘We’re only doing a chemist, Mr David Manley of 17, Crescent Road, Salford,’ he said. ‘It’s not the cold bloody war. You can trust Nick. He’s one of Shiner’s. If he’s any trouble he knows he’s dead, so why would he?’ He smiled mirthlessly at Nick, as his friend closed his eyes and sighed, but didn’t dare say anything. Jones took a swig out of his can. ‘Where’s Stella?’ he asked.

  The other man pointed up at the ceiling. ‘I don’t get the impression she’s all that fond of me, Jones. You might get a more entertaining girlfriend next time we’re in on it together.’

  Jones pulled a face. ‘She’s only fri
endly when she’s paid to be friendly,’ he said. He dropped himself in a chair, tipped his head back and yelled, ‘Stella!’ at the ceiling. Above them, the floor creaked as she got off the bed. A moment later, she came down the stairs in the middle of the house. She and Nick looked at each other anxiously over the heads of the two men slouched in the chairs.

  ‘It’s dinner time,’ grumbled Jones.

  Stella nodded and went through into the kitchen. Nick, glancing at Jones to make sure it was all right, followed her. She was walking stiffly, he noticed, with a bit of a limp. Her face was bruised all down one side.

  ‘You all right?’ he whispered.

  ‘Yeah, OK.’ Stella straightened up and went to give Nick a hug. ‘Nice to see you, hon. How’s things at Shiner’s?’

  ‘OK.’ Nick leaned up against the work surface and watched her as she got mince out of the fridge and started to chop an onion.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he began, but he was interrupted by the door opening wider. It was Jones. He nodded at Stella. ‘She fell down the stairs drunk, the silly bitch,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, sorry,’ said Stella, without a trace of sarcasm. Jones nodded and went to sit down, making sure the door was wedged open, so they could see him keeping an eye on them as he watched TV and drank his beer. The TV was on loud, though, and they could at least talk without being overheard.

  ‘You know about the job?’ asked Stella.

  ‘Yeah, but I don’t know when.’

  She shrugged and shot him a glance. ‘You must be mad to get wrapped up in this, Nick. I thought you had more sense.’

  ‘So must you.’

  ‘I don’t ’ave any choice.’

  ‘Oh, you do.’

  She chopped her onion fiercely.

  ‘I've set up with him, I have to stick by him, don’t I?’ ‘Do yer?’

  ‘I do. You don’t even have to be ’ere.’

  ‘Oh, I really do. Shiner made that clear enough.’

  ‘Leg it, Nick. It’s not worth it.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘What about that woman you told me about?’

  ‘Jenny? Someone’ll shop me if I stayed there.’

  ‘So go back into care. It can’t be worse than Jones hanging over you.’

  Nick shrugged. ‘At least you know where you are with Jones,’ he said, by way of an excuse.

  Stella looked at him irritably. ‘You must really hate that place to prefer to get wrapped up with this.’

  Nick smiled vaguely. He glanced up to see Jones staring at him through the door.

  Stella saw it, too. ‘Here, chop up some carrots. We’re having mince and potatoes. He won’t mind if he sees you doing something. Make yourself useful.’

  Nick took the carrot and began chopping. Jones settled back down in his seat.

  ‘Just like old times round at Shiner’s,’ whispered Nick, not without bitterness, and Stella gave him a hint, just a hint, of her old smile.

  He didn’t get much more chance to speak to Stella. Even though they were obviously both on edge, Jones and Manley were both snorting speed, which was making them more edgy than ever. Jones was ready to blow up at anything. After they’d eaten the mince, Jones insisted they all sit in the front room together and watch the TV, just in case anyone tried anything, whatever that was. Manley called him a paranoid bastard.

  ‘I’d rather be paranoid than done,’ replied Jones.

  So they all sat and watched a repeated cop show, with Jones glaring and watching them all like hawks. Nick did his best to stay quiet but even that wound Jones up.

  ‘Creeping about like a fucking weasel, you’re getting on my tits,’ he barked into his face.

  From his place in the armchair, Manley cut in.

  ‘Don’t break him, Jones. You’ve already broken the driver, there’s not going to be anything left at this rate.’

  Jones glared at him, but Manley stared at the telly and avoided looking directly at him. Jones let Nick be, though, and the long night crept by.

  It was gone two in the morning before Jones put down his beer and caught Manley’s eye. They nodded at each other and stood up. Manley went into the kitchen and started rooting about in the cupboard under the sink, while Jones went upstairs and came down a moment later with something long wrapped in a blanket. Stella groaned when she saw what he had. He put the bundle on the kitchen table and began to unwrap it.

  ‘Oh, gawd, no, Jonesy,’ she whined. ‘It’s not worth it...’

  ‘Don’t you start,’ he snapped. ‘It’s nothing to do with you. Anyway, do I look stupid? I’m not going to use these beauts. Folk sometimes need a little persuading, right, Manley?’

  ‘Oh, definitely, Jones,’ said Manley. He stroked the guns with his finger. ‘Very persuasive little numbers these. They have a golden tongue. You’d be amazed what people will do when they begin to talk.’

  Stella scowled and sulked for a moment, but then she burst out. ‘It’s not fair getting Nick involved in this, Jones. He’s nothing to do with it. And his mum died with heroin, you shouldn’t make him

  ‘Who asked you for your opinion? He has a boss and his boss has a job for him and his job’s helping me and Manley out tonight. I told yer. It’s nothing to do with you, so just.. .just shut it.’ Stella shrugged her shoulders apologetically and turned away upstairs.

  Before they left, Manley delved around in his tool bag and came out with a bag of masks, all the worse for wear. There was a Ronald Reagan mask, a Thatcher mask, a monkey and a grinning red fox. Manley claimed the Thatcher one, as he was her biggest fan, he said. He tossed Nick the monkey one - no arguments there. Jones took the fox.

  ‘The quick brown fox, that’s me,’ he said.

  Standing in the front room, they all tried their masks on. They were big latex things, larger than life caricatures of the people and animals they represented - funny, but scary in a downy sort of way. It was odd, but when he put it on, Nick suddenly felt his fear lift a little, as if he’d become someone else. They stood in a circle looking at each other. Suddenly, Nick felt a surge of laughter coming up in him. Manley snorted. Jones huffed, and suddenly they were all giggling hysterically. At least, it looked like all three of them, but suddenly, Jones pulled his mask up. He wasn’t laughing at all - his face was twisted with rage.

  ‘What are you two on, bloody acid? This isn’t a circus, it’s a bloody break-in. Strewth! Give me strength!’

  Manley stared at his accomplice. ‘But you was laughing!’

  ‘Do I look like I’m laughing?’

  ‘Well, your shoulders were going up and down...’ muttered Manly.

  ‘Fuckin’ ’ell,’ growled Jones. ‘The morons I have to bear. Let’s get!’

  They left the house and walked a few yards down the road to where a red Scimitar was parked - their getaway wheels for the night. Jones got in the front, Nick in the back. Manley got behind the wheel, started up, and they were off.

  The chemist was miles away, in Droylsden. Manley parked up quietly a few streets away and they walked through the lamp-lit roads into a car park and loading area behind the main road where the chemist stood. They hid in the shadows and Jones showed Nick what his job was.

  ‘You’re goin’ up that drainpipe there,’ he said, pointing out a black pipe running up the back of the house. ‘And then you’re gettin’ in that window there.’ Nick followed his finger and there, sure enough, was a light open above the window. ‘That’s the bathroom,’ said Jones. ‘And with a bit of luck, there’ll be no alarm. Don’t matter either way. You run down and get that back door open quick. Once we’re in, we’re through the house and out the other side before you can count to three.’

  ‘What if they’re awake? What if they catch me?’ asked Nick, scared out of his wits.

  ‘What if, what if, what if,’ sneered Jones. ‘Just do it.’ ‘I can’t get up that pipe,’ began Nick, but before he could say another word, Jones hoiked him up by the front of his shirt, pushed him up above his head and handed him to Ma
nley, who sat him on his shoulders.

  ‘Now you can,’ said Jones. ‘Right, boys. Masks on.’ The three thieves pulled their masks on - the fox, the monkey and the Margaret Thatcher. Manley walked Nick over to the pipe, where he was able to reach an offshoot joining up to the main pipe. From there, it was possible to clamber up and across the bathroom window.

  ‘Don’t be long, the longer you are, the more likely you get caught,’ hissed Jones, gesturing down the road. Nick looked behind him - he could be seen from miles off. It wasn’t much of a plan Jones had cooked up. The only thing on Nick’s side was that at half past two on a Tuesday morning, not many people were about.

  Nick crawled along the pipe towards the window. It was a rusty old thing that rattled on its hinges and creaked as he climbed. He got along as fast as he could and soon he was able to climb onto the windowsill and stick his head up into the open light on the window. He was hoping the alarm would go off there and then, so he could get down quick, but all was quiet. He waited a moment, then, urged on by a hiss from Jones below him, pushed his head further inside and began to snake his way through the narrow gap and into the room.

  It was a tight fit. He was on the small size for his age, which is why they picked him, but he still got stuck halfway, squirming around like a toad stuck on its back, until he managed to get one hand inside to lean on the sill, which helped him lever his legs up and further through. He got his hips in, then his thighs, and tried to let himself slowly down with his hands, but he was squeezing in the dark over the wash basin and a small cabinet. The inevitable happened - he caught the cabinet as he jerked about, the door opened and down tumbled a little avalanche of toiletries and medicine.

  Nick paused, three-quarters in. Someone was moving inside the house.

  He was stuffed. He couldn’t get back so he had to go on. A board creaked outside the door. Frantically, Nick squirmed and wriggled but it was too late. The bathroom door opened - the chemist must have slept in a room right next to the bathroom. The light clicked on and from his position upside down, Nick bent his neck up to see a fat, greying man peering round the door at him with an open mouth.