Saturday's Child

‘I didn't steal — '

'Listen to me. You keep the money you took, you keep the lot. But you get out of Newcastle right now. Go somewhere nobody knows you. Change your name, do whatever it takes. Don't fuck it up like you did the last time. Stay out of the casinos, stay out of the bookies, curb that particular enthusiasm, you get me?'

Stokes grunts. If he was here, I'd slap some sense into him. Anger management might as well bite me. It went out the window the day I started this job, and I've been growing angrier by the second. Funny how easy it is to fall into the old ways given half a chance.

'Don't piss about, Rob. I'm offering you a way out here. All you need to do is keep your trap shut and get out of town. And you need to tell me where Alison is.'

'Alison?'

'That's right. She's going home. That's all they wanted. And if it wasn't, then it's what they're going to have make do with.'

Stokes starts to stammer. 'Wait a second.'

'No waiting. The offer stands for the next ten seconds. After that, I collar your man George here and I go to work on his fuckin' arms. Then I'll call Mo and tell him where to find you.'

'Hold on, George is there?'

'Kind of. And you're running out of time.'

'Look, can we meet up and talk about this?'

'I already fell for that one.'

Stokes sighs into the phone; it rasps in my ear.

'Use your brain, mate,' I say.

Another sigh. Then he starts talking. He gives me an address, rattles it out and it's not far from here. I disconnect, open the car door and chuck George's mobile back at him as I get in. He catches the phone. 'What's going on?'

'You're going to the hospital, George.'

'What about Rob?'

'He's not as stupid as he looks.'

FIFTY-ONE

'If we'd stayed at the airport, we'd be fuckin' comfortable at least,' said Baz.

'Shut up,' I said. Me mobile started ringing. I didn't know the number. It weren't Innes, and I'd been trying to call the fuck all night. But nah, he had it on voicemail. Which meant he were up to no bloody good.

'He's right, Mo. Let's just call it a fuckin' day, alright?'

'What'd I tell you?' I answered me mobile. 'Fuck's this?'

'Mo,' she said.

Well, look who it weren't.

Baz started saying summat again, but I knocked him in the mouth so he kept quiet. Instead, he sat there holding his gob and glaring at us.

'Y'alright, Sis?' I said.

'No. No, I'm not.' She started on with the heavy breathing. Crying, but trying to keep it quiet, like. 'I can't do this, Mo. I can't do this anymore.'

'Tell us where you are,' I said.

'He's sneaking about. I think he's gonna grass me up.’

‘We'll sort that out.’

‘Mo, I'm scared.'

You fuckin' should be, I wanted to say. But I said, 'Tell us where you are.'

'No,' she said. I can't. You — '

'We'll find you anyway, Alison. You might as well make this easier on yourself.'

'I don't want you to hurt Rob.' I promise, I won't hurt him.' I can't go back, Mo.'

'You'll come back with me. It'll be alright, Sis. I promise.' There were silence at the other end. Then she said, 'There's still some money.’

‘Good.'

'We could maybe use it.'

'Maybe.' Like fuck. Think I'd mess around with you again, Sis? You're out your fuckin' gourd, love. Give us your address and we'll come round.'

'We?'

'I got Rossie and Baz with us. We been looking for you.'

'He already called you, then,' she said. 'I knew he would. He's a fuckin' liar. Rob's been talking to him. I'm sure it's him. Rob hasn't been talking to you, has he?'

'Nah. I don't know the lad.'

'What about Dad?' she said.

'He misses you. He wants you to come home.'

'I'll give him a ring.'

'Nah, that's alright. You just hang tight and tell us where you are, and we'll come over and you can ring Dad from the road, okay?'

She didn't say nowt for a bit. Then she whispered the address to us over the phone. And I felt like I'd just cleared me bowels after a year of constipation.

'Stay where you are, Sis. We'll be right round.'

I hung up, lit a ciggie and fuckin' savoured that first drag.

'What's up?' said Rossie.

'We're going home,' I said. 'But we got to go round and pick up Alison first.'

'Well, thank fuck for that,' said Baz.

FIFTY-TWO

Newcastle General, Accident & Emergency. I help George out of the car and walk him wincing towards the entrance. The ramp leading up to the automatic doors is a struggle, but he makes it into the reception area without being dropped. I ease him into a chair and he stretches his legs as far as the pain allows. I crouch by George and slip two hundred and fifty notes into his jacket pocket. 'Came through in the end. Thanks, George.'

His face cracks into a sarcastic grin. 'Don't mention it, mate.'

'You going to be okay?’

‘I'll be fine.'

Then I'm out of the building, bump into a wheezy old guy with hair as white as his face, dragging down the last of a filterless cigarette. He tries to swear at me, but he can't find the breath. I get behind the wheel of the Micra and spark a cigarette of my own. The car smells like stale sweat and urine. I make a mental note to get it cleaned when this is over.

The address Stokes gave me, it's in Heaton. I have to consult the A-Z, and when I finally roll into the right street, the place is deserted, just a white van down the road. This is student country, could be anywhere in Britain. Lots of terraced houses with overgrown gardens and tapestries for curtains. I park up the street, keep an eye on the front door. He's been given a last-minute reprieve. I just hope he has the sense to grab it with both hands. When I spoke to him, there

was that tremble to his voice that meant I'd put the fear of God into him. Putting the fear of Mo would have been good enough. But the bottom line is that Alison's in there, prob- ably asleep, and she's got no idea that she's been rumbled.

I close my eyes for a moment. The seat seems to sink and I feel myself slipping away, so I have to snap awake.

Let's get this over with. I grab my mobile, call Mo. Takes him a few rings to pick up. He sounds like he's having a whale of a time, like he's actually smiling down the phone at me. 'Innes! The fuck are you?'

'Morning,' I say.

'Where are you?'

'I'm in Heaton.'

'What's the address?'

I take a moment to flick ash from the end of the Embassy. I hear you got your sister pregnant, Mo.'

Silence at the other end. Then, for a moment, I hear what sounds like a man's voice in the background. He's not at the Travelodge anymore, that's for sure. Mo makes a sucking sound then says, 'You talked to Alison.'

'Is it true?'

'When'd you talk to Alison?'

'I'll take that as a yes, then. So what happens when your dad finds out you've been rolling your own?’

‘She's me half-sister.'

'Semantics, mate. She's sixteen, barely fuckin' legal.'

'What's the matter with you? You have a run-in with the law or something?'

I had a run-in with the hairy side of someone's hand, repeatedly. Then some boots. All this after a nasty wee meeting with the front of a speeding car. And you know what? It makes a bloke think different, gives life a new spin. Because this was never about me finding Rob Stokes, was it?

This was about bringing Alison back home, and some lanky streak of paedo piss bricking it in case I tell his father.'

'Where are you?' he says quietly. 'Tell me where you are.'

I give him the address. Then: 'I lost Stokes. I lost the money. Alison's here. You might catch her. See, the thing is with me, I'm so knocked up I can't think straight. I've been lied to that fuckin' much, I don't even know if I'm at the right house, know what I mean?' A laugh breaks out of me; it sounds like someone else. 'Tell me something, Mo. Did your dad hold you back from this? Is that why you had to have me followed?'