“What is?”
“Looking after your uncle, of course. You take care of him don’t you, Stones?”
“No — he’s in a home, Nuala.”
“Well, I know. But you look out for him. You’re concerned. You’re close, like a family should be. That’s what I mean. You’re a real caring sort of man, aren’t you? You’d make such a good father yourself, it’s a shame.”
I dug my knife into the steak a bit too hard and almost went through the plate. Me, a dad? I’ve spent the best years of my life trying to avoid it. Not to mention the money I’ve spent on condoms.
“I don’t think so, Nuala.”
But she’d gone all dreamy now. You know, the way women do when they get the least sniff of a nappy on someone else’s brat. I could see what was going through her mind. This was ridiculous. Nuala was supposed to be the new bird. How come I’d ended up with two of them getting all broody and meaningful? There was something very wrong here. Was it me? Was I pulling the wrong sort of women? Was I getting too old? Maybe I could ask Uncle Willis when I saw him.
“You don’t really want to be living in this house on your own, do you, Stones?” said Nuala.
But she might as well have been talking to herself as far as I was concerned.
“Yes.”
“It’s lonely for a man on his own. You can’t look after yourself properly, can you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure the reason you haven’t married is because you’ve just been looking for the right woman all this time, isn’t it?”
“No.”
You can see I was trying to keep it simple for her, but she still didn’t understand. Spell it out, Stones, quick.
“I don’t want to get married, Nuala. I’m perfectly happy as I am.”
She smiled at me understandingly. Or rather non-understandingly. It was a look that said she was a woman and could therefore see right into the shallow depths of my male soul. Having looked in there, she felt — what? Pity, probably. Her look meant she knew what I wanted better than I did, but was prepared to let me go on believing my pathetic little fantasy that I knew my own mind. Women, eh?
“I could always just move in with you, Stones. We don’t have to get married. How would that be?”
“No. And no. And awful.”
Well, I’m not made for living with, that’s all. But I realised I’d perhaps been too abrupt. She was starting to look hurt now.
“It’s not you, love. I just I prefer to be on my own, that’s all. It’s the way I am.”
She smiled, reassured that I wasn’t a totally lost cause.
“We’ll see.”
Okay, we’d see. But what we’d see wasn’t what she thought we’d see. Not by a long way, see?
Unfortunately, the steak and the beer seemed to have had more of a softening-up effect on me than Nuala’s arguments. After a bit, she started to look very desirable and a visit to the bedroom seemed called for urgently.
She was right, after all — I did need looking after, in a way.
8
Monday morning there was bad news. A ‘load lost’ message on the answering machine. Not a big job like the French rig, but bad news all the same.
I’m reasonably good in the mornings as a rule, but this particular Monday morning my brain didn’t seem to be able to get into proper gear, like there was dirt on my clutch plate. I got Slow Kid on the phone. I thought he might have had something to tell me about Rawlings and Lee by now, but he was about as informative as a Council Tax demand.
“As far anybody can tell, they’re working for themselves,” he said.
“Yeah? So what have they got against you and me?”
“Pass.”
“So what did Sean say?”
“Not much. Just kept telling me to stay clear of Josh Lee. He doesn’t know Rawlings at all.”
“Great,” I said. “What about on the streets? Anybody new dealing round here?”
“Dunno, Stones. There’s always rumours, but you know I don’t have anything to do with ’em.”
“Come on, Slow. What rumours?”
“Well, just someone around the pubs and clubs, chatting to the kids. A few may have scored from him. Just talk, though. Nothing you can pin down.”
“Could it be Lee?”
“Can’t tell, Stones.”
“This is great, this is. Some organisation we are, pissing about in the dark like nuns in a power cut.”
“Aw, Stones, you know what it’s like.”
“Keep trying, Slow.”
“Course.”
A bit later I was in the Cow’s Arse for lunch with Nuala. I’d promised her the best, and I always follow through on a promise. She’d get her lunch, and be seen with me too. She would even get the genuine Cow’s Arse ambience.
I was thinking about Rawlings and Lee and that burnt-out van. Nuala may have noticed that I was a bit distracted, but she kept up the conversation on her own, without my help.
Then I spotted Moggie Carr across the bar, and something seemed to click in my mind. Moggie is the sort of bloke who doesn’t do anything much himself, but seems to know everyone who does do something. This makes him a top class source of information, and that’s what you need these days.
And something else too — Moggie is a member of the other travellers’ clan, the Carrs. No love lost between them and the Lees, of course. But he knows what’s going on there. It’s in his interests. In a moment I was across the room, my hand on Moggie’s sleeve. He jumped as if he’d been shot. It doesn’t do to sneak up on somebody like Moggie unless you want to give him a heart attack.
“Oh, shit,” he said, slopping beer on my boots. “Don’t do that.”
Moggie’s face was brown and creased, like one of those bits of leather on Ernie and Stella’s stall at the Sunday market, but more genuine. He always looked as though it was a long time since his last square meal and even longer since his last proper wash.
“Nervous, Moggie? Who were you expecting?”
“Nobody at all. I just don’t like surprises.”
“Nor me. Particularly the sort somebody nearly gave me a day or two back with a van load of stuff.”
“What’s that, Stones?”
Moggie looked intrigued. He scented a new bit of information. I told him about the burnt-out van, and how the goods had nearly been in my possession.
“You’re joking,” he said.
I wish people wouldn’t keep going on about me joking. Sometimes I do joke, yeah. I can be a real comic. There are times when I can be so hilarious that I have them rolling on the floor and wetting their pants with my wit. But this wasn’t one of those times.
“What do you know about any drugs business around here, Moggie?”
“Me, Stones? I’m not into stuff like that. You’ve got to be—”
“Don’t say it, pillock. I’m not chuffin’ joking. You know what’s going on, Moggie. Who’s into the drugs now? Is there someone new?”
“I wouldn’t know anything like that.”
“Oh? Would you know what’s it’s like to have that glass shoved down your throat? Tell me.”
Moggie looked worried. But was it me he was bothered about, or something else? Time to try a different tack.
“Do you know someone called Josh Lee?”
“Shit. If you know about him already, why are you hassling me?”
“Moggie. Come over here and whisper in my ear.”
“Er, I think your bird’s looking for you,” he suggested.
I looked round. Sure enough, Nuala was staring my way. She was sitting on her own and she didn’t look happy, but at least she hadn’t stopped talking. It was just that the words she was using weren’t very complimentary, and you could tell that even from a distance. I gave her a quick wave with my free hand and tried to suggest with a few facial expressions that I wouldn’t be long. She mouthed something at me that I couldn’t make out, but the first word definitely began with an ‘f’ and the other with a ‘b’. She might have been asking for a firkin and a basket, but they don’t serve those at the Cow.