Garnethill

by Denise Mina

  Maureen scratched her head miserably.‘Leslie,’ she said, ‘you’re right.’ She did up the helmet strap under her chin.

  ‘To be honest,’ said Leslie,‘I liked her better when she was scared shitless and couldn’t talk.’

  ‘She thinks we’re her big mates now. She said she knew she’d be safe because she’s got us to look after her.’ ‘Oh, fuck,’ said Leslie, and bit her lip.

  Maureen sighed.‘I wanted to make a single heroic gesture. I didn’t want to be her mum.’

  Leslie laughed and swung her leg over the seat, knocked the stand away with her heel and kick started the bike, revving the engine.‘Annie taught me an effective technique for dealing with needy people like that.’

  ‘Yeah?’ said Maureen, pleasantly surprised by Leslie’s tolerant attitude.‘What’s that?’ She slipped onto the back of the bike and wrapped her arms around Leslie’s waist.

  ‘Tell them to fuck off,’ said Leslie, and pulled into the stream of traffic in Duke Street.