by Phil Redmond
It was some comfort. But not enough. ‘There’s a lot more in between, Bobby.’
Bobby laughed, the pockmarked pebble-dashed face cracking as he glanced up from his phone.
‘He’s a good lad, my Max, Joe. Really. Sometimes I think he might be a bit of a shirt-lifter, but …’ he shrugged.
Joey couldn’t help but smile as the irony of Bobby wearing Alexander McQueen struck him, but Bobby didn’t notice as he swept on.
‘At least he’s not a tranny, like that bloke in the optician’s. Suppose he thinks folk won’t notice his five o’clock if they need specs.’ He went back to the phone. ‘I’d have to love him though, wouldn’t I, even if he was. And I’ll tell you what. These kids aren’t as rampant as we used to be.’ Then the gravel rattled again. ‘No one is.’ He put his phone down for a moment. ‘I mean. Would you have ever imagined, when we were out marauding … that we’d be ferrying our kids about and then sitting having a coffee, while waiting for them to whistle?’
Bobby shook his head as he sipped the froth from his latte, at both the realisation of what he’d said and the memory of what his dad would have said if he’d even asked for a lift anywhere. His phone vibrated. He picked it up, looked at the message but this time didn’t respond.
Joey grinned at his own memories of his youth and how he never even had the option of asking for a lift. ‘I guess not.’ He raised the latte in a mock toast. ‘But er, how long have they been …?’
Bobby just held out his hands and shrugged. ‘That’s one thing that hasn’t changed. Did we tell our parents anything? Christ, I don’t even tell them what I do now.’
‘I think they might have guessed, Bobby.’
Again the deep gravelly chuckle that developed into a gurgling laugh. ‘I guess you’re right. At least about some of it. But they’re all Facetwitters anyway, aren’t they?’ He waggled his phone. ‘Not that hard to guess what they’re up to. Unlike those that don’t put it all out there. Like you?’
Joey felt this wasn’t a casual question. It was leading somewhere.
‘And how do you know that, Bobby?’ He nodded at Bobby’s phone. ‘You posting now?’
The gravel rattled in his throat again. ‘Weekly sales reports. Can get anything you want through these, can’t you.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘Except what Lukey Carlton and merry Matthew are up to?’
That was where he’d been heading. Joey tried not to react, but could see Bobby was reading his body language. A predator hunting.
‘Go on. You must know,’ Bobby pushed.
‘Know what?’
‘You’re doing some work up at his ghost house, aren’t you?’
‘Don’t call it that.’
‘It’s what it is, isn’t it? A shrine to his dead missus?’ Then added, to emphasise the family connection, ‘And your sister, of course.’
Joey didn’t rise to the bait. ‘The only thing he’s shared with me is where he wants the sockets and switches.’
‘Bollocks.’ Bobby crossed his fingers. ‘You and him were like that. If he’d tell anyone it’d be you.’
‘And why do you think he’s got some big secret?’
‘He might come back every now and then to keep the flame burning, but what’s he brought his Matty for?’ Bobby asked, fastening his predator’s eyes on Joey. Probing. Joey decided to leave the question hanging in the air. He wasn’t going to become the prey. He matched the predator’s stare. After a moment it was Bobby who blinked. Perhaps aided by another vibration from his phone.
Bobby leaned across to pick it up. ‘You know what I reckon?’
But this time Joey didn’t need to think about a response. That moment had passed and Bobby was off on his own track. ‘He’s always wanted to find the smacko who did his missus. He’s always come back hoping to stumble across him. And if he has Tonto with him, I reckon he’s found out who it was. Am I right?’
He then made a quick response on the phone.
Joey smiled. He knew his body language couldn’t possibly betray him now. ‘I really don’t know that, Bobby. Honest. You’ll have to ask him.’
The predator sniffed. But seemed satisfied. ‘He won’t tell me. But you can tell him something for me. If he wants a hand with anything. He’s only got to ask. And I mean anything, Joe. Right?’
‘That be one of those fifty quid contracts you can organise? Or, what was it, five hundred for a proper job?’
The pebble-dashing cracked again. ‘Daft, isn’t it. But true. And if you ever want anything, Joe …’ The crack widened even further. ‘As we may be father-in-laws soon.’
‘God, I hope not.’
‘Thanks.’
Joey laughed. ‘That came out wrong. I meant, she’s too young.’
‘She’ll always be too young, Joe.’ Bobby’s phone buzzed. A call. ‘But I mean it,’ he continued. ‘If you ever need anything.’ He looked at his phone and stood up. ‘Have to take this one. Suppliers. Want another?’ He pointed at the latte cup as he started to walk away.
Joey nodded and started to ponder why Tanya had to go for Max McBain. She could have the pick of the town, even if that was, like Bobby, only proud dad thinking. So why the town gangster’s son? Brought her up too well, perhaps. Too much telling her to take no bullshit and take people as she found them. All that stuff about people having to live with what fate gave them. Good and bad in everyone. Why didn’t he just tell her to be more picky?
‘Because she wants someone with a bit of edge, Joe. Like I did with you,’ Natasha said on the other end of the phone.
Joey had called her as soon as Bobby moved away. ‘I get that. But why didn’t you tell me it was Bobby’s lad?’
‘Er … perhaps because I didn’t know. Exactly.’
‘And what does that mean?’
‘She only said it was someone you’d throw a strop over.’
‘Me?’ He felt offended. More that his daughter could so easily read him.
‘What you doing now?’
‘Confiding my concern?’
‘Could be a strop. Anyway, it’ll blow over soon enough. She’s too young for anything serious.’
‘You’re not exactly,’ he emphasised the word, ‘comforting me here.’ But all he got back was the sound of her giggling.
‘Oh, Joe, you’re so funny when you get like this. She’ll be fine. Just think how safe she will be with no one daring to try anything. Not even the poor lad himself, if what you said Bobby said is true. So …’ she giggled again. ‘Enjoy your dads’ night out with Bobby.’
At least she was a lot lighter than when he left her, Joey thought. ‘I’m sure I will. Now that you’ve comforted me. As if.’ Then instinctively he lowered his voice. ‘But er … You still OK with what we talked about?’
There was only a slight hesitation before she replied. ‘Yes. You know I’ll back you. Always.’
‘Yeah. And …’ Now he hesitated as he felt his eyes mist slightly as an emotive mix of gratitude, admiration, pride and appreciation swept over him. He was unable to put it into words. It was at times like this that he wished he’d stayed at St Bede’s longer. No matter what he said about surviving the Comp being the best education anyone could want. All that now came out was ‘I really love you, you know.’ He might always be ready to take on the world, but it was a lot easier knowing his soulmate would always be there. Right behind him. No matter what. ‘I really do,’ he added. Unnecessarily.
‘I know,’ Natasha replied, referring more to Joey’s typical macho male inability to vocalise his emotions. ‘As I love you.’ Then came the quick caveat. ‘But … just like we said. Yeah?’
‘Yeah. Yeah. Promise.’ And he had to say it again. ‘I do really love you. And thanks.’
‘Love you too. But stay safe,’ Natasha replied. He could hear the emotion in her own voice even though she was doing her best to sound matter-of-fact. It was one of those calls when neither side knows how to end. Mainly because the one thing you couldn’t send over the phone was the very thi
ng they both needed. A hug. Time to end the call.
He looked across to see Bobby, still on his phone, dropping some money on the counter with a keep the change gesture, and heading back across to Joey. ‘Anyway, he’s on his way back,’ Joey said. ‘I’ll see you later, eh?’
‘You may see me but I’ll probably be asleep when you get back. But look forward to tomorrow, eh?’
‘Absolutely. Love you.’
‘Love you too’ came the automatic response. But this time held for that extra second or two, before Natasha added, ‘No matter what. ’Bye.’
As Joey watched the call end on his screen he knew that, despite the reassurance, they would, no doubt, revisit everything in the morning. He looked back at Bobby and wondered what sort of sales figures he was receiving now. But whatever they were, Bobby’s body language suddenly changed. He ended the call, turned and waved to the girl behind the counter, pointed over at Joey and received a nod.
‘Sorry.’ He waved his phone. ‘Got to go. But I’ve ordered you a raspberry slice as well.’
‘No problem,’ Joey replied as Bobby turned away, but then stopped. ‘You coming to watch the game tomorrow? Now you’re back.’
‘What game?’
‘God you are out of touch, mate. School match. Your Alex plays for the Under-15s, doesn’t he? Used to do them on Saturdays in our day but …’ He shrugged. ‘They either won’t pay the overtime, or they’re all too busy getting excees for the community teams. So they miss Maths and English instead. No wonder the BRIC economies are racing ahead, eh, and buying up all them London mansions you make your cash out of.’ His grin broadened. ‘Give my love to Anastasia. And my future daughter-in-law. See you at the footie tomorrow?’
Joey refused to rise to the Tanya crack but nodded agreement on the football. But then asked, ‘What about Max? I could give him a lift back.’
‘What? And watch the two of them snogging in your back seat? Er, awkward. As they say.’ Then he let out another deep, gurgling laugh at Joey’s obvious discomfort thinking about it. ‘Honest, Joe. You’ve got a real dad’s face on you tonight.’
Joey shrugged to acknowledge that he had, as Bobby swept on.
‘But thanks. Although there’s no need. The only benefit of still having the ex on the scene is that he stays with her midweek. I don’t mind dropping him, but she’ll have to turn out later. Give him a lift home on her broomstick. But I best be gone.’
The phone back at his ear, he waved to remind the counter staff not to forget Joey’s latte and raspberry slice. Joey watched Bobby’s rapidly departing back, thinking there was more to this parenting than he remembered. He checked the time and wondered whether to call Nat back, but decided that might kick them both off again. He then checked his texts. One from Benno. ALL GOOD. LOCK-UP STUFF TOP PRICE. ON NEW JOB. OLD MATE. CATCH UP WHEN. That sounded good. Joey had told him to sell everything from the lock-up after moving on. Without him Benno would soon become another target for the bully boys. You always needed someone watching your back.
There was nothing from Luke. Joey wondered what he and Tonto, as Bobby had called Matt, were up to at that moment, but knew he wouldn’t let him know. Then something else caught his eye. Outside. Bobby was walking rapidly towards an old boy who was sitting on what was some public artiste’s interpretation of a bench. As he finished his call, Bobby pulled out what looked like a £20 note, wrapped it round the phone then neatly dropped it into a shopping trolley by the side of the bench. Nothing more than a faint grin passed between the two as Bobby headed off to find his Range Rover. Now Joey had something else to wonder about. The mysterious world of pay-and-throw phones.
Sean had just entered the code for the alarm and picked up the plant tray Sandra had selected and asked him to bring home in the Land Rover, when his phone went. He hadn’t bothered putting in his Bluetooth earpiece for the short walk to the car so thought about ignoring it, but then wondered if it might be Craig Harlow calling back. Or worse: Noah in trouble again. He put down the box, fished out the phone and saw it was Joey. Yo, bro, he heard, as he tried to wedge the phone into the crick of his neck and pick the box up again so he could talk and carry the box, but as usual found it wouldn’t stay in position. So he put the box down again.
‘Don’t you wish these so-called smartphones had rubber grips or something round the edges?’ he asked Joey.
‘Er, not something I spend that much time on, to be honest.’
‘You can’t wedge them into your neck, like the old ones with buttons.’
‘That’s true but, er, have you tried those little things that go in your ear and connect …’
Sean sighed. He’d asked for it. ‘What’s up?’
‘Where you now?’
‘Where do you think I am?’
‘Either at some charity do annoying Sandra or locking up. But …’ Joey let it hang, to egg Sean on. ‘Guess where I am?’
‘How many guesses do I get? Seeing as London is such a big—’
‘Warrington,’ Joey cut across.
‘Why?’
‘Because I love my wife and kids. And want to be near them in their hour of need.’
‘OK,’ Sean said, getting the gist. ‘But when …?
‘Last night. Well, this morning. You heard what happened to Tanya outside the chippy?’
‘Had Sandra in my ear all morning. She’s my personal social networker. Then had Noah all afternoon.’
Sean brought Joey up to speed on that, trying to keep his temper under control as he relived the trauma before eventually asking him what he was doing in Warrington.
‘Taxi duty,’ Joey responded. ‘No point going home. By the time I got there I’d be on my way back. So been hangin’ with Bobby McBain.’
‘What’d he try and sell you?’
‘Reassurance. About Tanya and his lad Max.’
‘What about them?’ Sean asked, surprised. And intrigued.
‘Boy/girl stuff. I’ve been told not to fret about it.’
‘I would.’
‘I’m not you, though.’
‘True,’ Sean responded. Recalling his earlier thoughts about hoping Noah wouldn’t turn out like Joey.
‘So what else should I know about Bobby?’ Joey asked.
‘Oh, he’s winding everyone up with a makeshift car park off the High Street.’
‘When you say winding people up do you mean real people or—’
‘Or my do-goody council mates, you mean?’ Sean felt the spike of annoyance he always did on hearing his little brother’s dismissive tone.
Joey felt the resentment. He’d done it again. Pressed the insecurity button. He tried to row back. ‘I didn’t mean … But, well, it’s the same with his counterfeit stuff, isn’t it. Everyone says it’s disgraceful. But everyone’s got one. He’ll say it himself, Sean. He just offers what people want.’
He had a point. As did Bobby, but right then was not the time to get into a semantic argument about market forces and social policy. ‘Can we argue this over dinner or something? I’ve got to get home.’
‘Things to do, you mean. Instead of chatting to your brother who is trying to while away a few hours waiting for his daughter?’ But it was light. Banter.
‘How about I call you back when I’m in the car. And bluetoothed?’
‘Great. You struggling with something?’
‘Yeah. Box of winter greens to spruce up Janey’s grave.’
‘Ah yeah … and er … as usual, big bro. Thanks for doing that sort of thing.’
‘No worries. It’s Sandra actually. But part of what we do. So what you after?’
‘Feel a bit crap now, but was going to ask if you had the trailer hooked up?’
Sean hesitated. He knew it was a hook for something. But in the end he had to fill the silence. ‘Go on. Yes, so what?’
‘The one you could sling on those fence panels you promised me?’
Sean let out another sigh of frustration and glanced back at the now bolted and alarmed compou
nd. ‘How about we sort that tomorrow, now you’re home?’
He could hear Joey laughing at the other end.
By the time Sean drove home, Joey had driven back to park outside the club, using the travel time like he did on the train, to catch up on things so he could thoroughly impress his big brother by knowing who Craig Harlow was. Being Joey, he had crossed paths with nearly everyone from Highbridge during his own rites of passage years, but he’d duly agreed to be sworn to secrecy about Santa’s Garden. Due to his own history he was also able to calm Sean down over thinking Noah was going off the rails, then arranged for Sean to drop the panels the following day, confirmed arrangements for a family lunch at the weekend and explained why he was back. Fed up with London. Missing the kids’ growing up. Eventually getting to the part about realising that, although she would never admit it, perhaps everything might be putting too much stress on Natasha, especially with her mother deteriorating. And how he was grateful their own parents still seemed fit and well. He decided not to mention the bit about bankrolling Luke to sort out the chippy crew.
Instead he switched the conversation to whether Sean knew anyone who needed work doing. Now he was back, he’d have to start building up his business.
‘Well, there is one thing you could do for me, actually,’ Sean replied. ‘Santa’s illuminations?’
‘Will I be able to tell anyone about it?’ Joey laughed.
‘If they work. Catch you tomorrow.’
‘You will.’ But before ending the call, Joey fired another question. ‘Hey, Sean. Bobby told me there’s a guy in the optician’s who’s a tranny.’
Sean immediately brightened. At last something Joey didn’t already know. ‘Everyone knows that, Joe. Well, those who live here.’ He couldn’t resist the barb. Nor the follow-up. ‘But that’s a double hit.’
‘What is?’
‘Well, Martin or Marian as he, or she calls herself must be the only thing in a dress you haven’t tried to bed.’
‘Oh, nice one, Bro.’
‘Tomorrow,’ was all Sean said before ending the call. But Joey heard him laughing at his own joke. That made him chuckle, wondering how early the optician had started and, if he was even half decent, whether he might have tried to pull him at some stage. He decided not to go too far down that memory lane as he swiped the phone to check his messages just in case there was anything from Luke. There wasn’t. But he was getting a visual message from the two piles of muscle outside the club. Being suspicious was part of a bouncer’s job description. He might be just another dad waiting to pick up the kids. But he could be an illegal taxi driver who would kick off a fight with the licensed guys. Or he could just be a perv on the prowl. No matter, they now had him on their threat assessment list.