R.I.P Robbie Silva (5 page)

I went over to the table but Jody didn't even look up. She just sat there, motionless. I eased out a chair, trying to be as quiet as I could, but the action gave her a start and she jumped. Her face seemed to whiten, then she let out a little squeal. I'd scared her and I felt gutted by that.

'Jody ... Jody ...' I said. 'It's only me. What's the matter?'

She froze again. The stare was gone but the look was one of terror now, animal terror, like when you see a wild creature trapped. 'Jody ...'

I got up, tried to comfort her, pat her on the back, put an arm around her, but it only made her worse. She screamed out and that's when the old man came stomping in from the kitchen.

'The bloody hell's going on in here?' he blasted out.

'Nothing ... it's Jody, look.' I pointed to her as she sat there, trembling all over. She looked away from us both, towards the radiator on the wall and seemed to be shutting us out.

'There's nothing wrong with her,' said Dad.

'But ...'

'No, I mean it ... don't pander to her, she's just being a stupid little bitch!' He turned to her, roared, 'Aren't you?'

He leaned out and grabbed her arm, yanked her from the seat; my sister yelled out and I felt myself take a step back in shock. As I cleared a space on the carpet, she pulled her arm away from my father and ran from the room. When she was gone, my old man stood shaking his head. I heard Jody sobbing in the bathroom.

I fronted him, 'You didn't need to make her cry ... couldn't you see she was upset about something.'

'Crap!' he snapped. 'She's just being a typical lassie.'

I didn't know why he was being so harsh; I was ready to duke him out for acting this way. I felt my heart pounding; my hands started to curl into fists.

'You upset her ...'

He looked at me, stared in my eyes. His moustache moved above his lip as he grinned. 'Don't be getting above yourself there, son.'

I didn't want to be his son.

'You made her cry.'

'She fuckingwell made herself cry ...' He raised a finger, pointed at me. 'You're just a fucking boy, you don't know what you're saying. She's a woman for Chrissakes. They're all about setting men against each other. Have you not figured that out yet? Watch the dogs on the street and learn something!'

He turned away. His eyes were wide and bright as he went and then his jaw tightened as he left through the door.

I knew he was wrong. He always was. I never thought like him, not once. Not ever.

Even looking back now, even seeing his face in my mind for the briefest of moments, made me want to puke. Or hit out. Hit out at something, anything.

When I remembered the look on Jody's face then it brought a pain to my chest, a heartscald, hurt. I never knew why she was looking that way, why she was crying. Not then, I never. But, I did now. The memory burned harder with the knowledge that I could have done something to help her. But I didn't. I found out too late what it was that caused Jody's pain.

* * * *

The Chinese dude planted the order up on the counter, shouted out the list, 'Chicken chow mein, barbecue spare ribs, prawn cracker, boiled rice, fried rice, special fried rice and chips and gravy ...'

I stood up. Gail got up with me. My first thought was, shit, Moosey isn't here yet. I took a deck up the street; there was no sign of movement.

'Look, that's our order, hon,' I said.

Gail failed to enthuse.

I walked for the counter, made a show of taking in the fridge-cabinet behind the bloke. 'What you got there in bottles?'

He turned, waved a hand. Could hardly blame him for being a bit of a cock; his job, I'd last five minutes before I'd be lamping some cunt with a two-litre bottle of Diet Pepsi.

'Okay, how about an Irn-Bru ...'

He turned, opened the fridge up and reached in for the Irn-Bru.

'Eh, no ... diet please, squire.'

He looked like I was taking the piss. Diet, with that order? He swapped the bottle. I watched him tot the lot up and then he said, 'Is £27.55.'

I pinched my lips, whistled out. 'Pricey order.'

He didn't bat an eye.

I started to count out the cash and then there was a knock on the window; I spun to see Moosey smiling at me. He pointed over to a blue Ford Focus sitting in the bus lane.

'Fucking nice one, Moose!' I muttered.

I turned away from the counter, was nearly at the door when I realised I'd left the food and hadn't paid; went back: 'Sorry, mate.' I dropped a twenty and a ten-spot. 'Here, keep the change.'

Gail was at my side as we ran for the car.

The guy in the Chinese stared out the window as I got in the driver's door and pushed back the seat. As I chucked a U-turn in the road I saw Moosey heading towards the bus stop. I made a point of not acknowledging him. He'd done me a good turn.

As I glanced at Gail her head was pinned against the back of the seat like she was waiting for take-off in a F-16. She seemed to be thawing, but I hated to break it to her, we weren't in the clear yet.

The window on the driver's door of the motor was out; Moosey had likely shattered it with a spark-plug, part of the kit he carried. Though as I looked inside I saw he hadn't needed his steel rule – the ignition had been started with a screwdriver. Fucking car was a biscuit tin. I upped the revs and started to fly through the gears on the way to Gorgie.

'So, you want to go home?' I said to Gail.

There was a pause, some lip-biting before she spoke. 'I could do with a drink.'

'State you're in, I'd be steering clear.'

I took a hairpin right, rolled the box into a tight side street to avoid the heavy traffic on the main road. Gail was winding down the window, trying to catch some air. 'What do you mean by that?'

'You're hyper ... probably tipped a bucket of adrenalin into your blood. You take one sip, you'll be pished out your face!'

She looked at me, sneered. 'What's wrong with that?'

'After the day you've had ... I'd sooner you went home and had an early night.'

She turned to face me, got riled: 'Don't you trust me or something?'

Was that a real question, I mean after the way she'd performed in the fat Jambo's place? No never. That was a conversation for another day.

We'd cleared the scene, couldn't even hear the sirens anymore. I was beginning to feel we'd been lucky. Relieved almost. But we'd caused a lot of damage, some proper fucking carnage. Plod was going to be scoping for us, for sure and certain.

'Gail, hear me, go home. Settle down for a few days, keep a low profile.'

'I'm not fucking stupid, y'know.'

That was one for debate too. 'Then do as I tell you, right?'

She folded her arms, huffed.

Something told me this girl had more grief in store for me.

* * * *

Jasper was a good lad, type that would always sooner do you a good turn than a bad turn. We'd shared a cell in Kilmarnock a few years back. He'd been lumped in with me after the bloke he was sharing with had been tea-bagged in the yard; they'd left this boy with more perforations than PG Tips, but Jasper knew nothing about it. He'd been under suspicion because the screws found a chiv in his cell but it turned out to be the victim's – obviously hoping to get his retaliation in first hadn't worked out.

Jasper was doing a two-er and I was on a five that got cut to 18 months on appeal but in the time we struck it off we became firm mates and ended up running a snout ring; on the out we had enough of a bundle to set ourselves up with a gaff. The situation worked out a treat because we kept ourselves to ourselves and never got in each others way. When Jasper heard I was on the out again, he was good enough to offer to put me up once more.

I hit the button for the buzzer – hoped it was the right address because I'd left my jacket – and the piece of paper with Jasper's details – in Gail's Beemer.

'Hello.'

I recognised the voice.

'All right, mate ... it's Jed.'

'Jed boy – I'll buzz you in.'

Jasper's flat was two flights up; when I reached the landing he was waiting for me with that shit-eating grin of his. 'Jed, you old bastard!'

He grabbed me in a bear hug.

'Whoa, watch my ribs.'

Jasper looked me up and down. 'You been boxing?'

I gave him the
as if
look, marched indoors. 'Hope you've got the kettle on.' I tried to make it look like I hadn't just seen a shopkeeper torched, then made my escape in a hot motor, which I'd dumped in an industrial estate on the other side of town before legging it by bus and hoof. But Jasper wasn't buying it. He'd seen the look too many times before.

I sat myself in front of the gob-unit, flicked a few channels whilst Jasper put on the kettle. He was playing it cagey. 'So what's it like to be out?'

'Yeah, y'know ... same as I remember it.'

A conversation killer if ever I had one. Thing is, talking about the inside when you're on the out is a no-go. You want to move on, get away from all the shit that fills your head in there. You have to block it out, and that means removing the differentiations. A hoor of a business.

'I heard from wee Rab this afternoon.'

'Bandy Rab?'

'Said you pulled yourself a nice little blonde bit in the pub.'

I exhaled; my breath escaped louder than I imagined it would. Came like an awesome sigh.

'Fuck, that bad, eh?'

I looked up to see Jasper standing in the door jamb. 'You could say that, yeah.'

He dried off the cup he was holding, returned to the kitchen. 'That's the kettle boiled.'

'Great. Got any biscuits?'

'Fucking hell, you getting your feet under the table already?' said Jasper.

He had me there. Funny how you always look at your old friends as a kind of extended family – or in my case a substitute one – I wouldn't want to be relying on any of my kin to look out for me. Not now.

Jasper came through from the kitchen with the two teas and a pack of Kit Kats tucked under his arm.

I took my tea, swiped the chocolate biscuits, said, 'Ah, nice one.'

'Thought you'd appreciate it ...' He nodded at the Kit Kats. 'Be a fairly decent score in Killie, eh?'

I smiled, tucked into the two fingers of confectionery heaven.

I was in two minds about whether to tell Jasper about the afternoon's events with Gail. I felt sure I could trust him and he would stand by me no matter what; but I was a professional standover man and keeping the puss tightly buttoned was an old habit I'd never got rid of. It was a case of what he doesn't know can't harm me. I knew if he had plod busting his chops he wouldn't be too pleased but fuck-tae-fuck, it was a career hazard that Jasper had already grown used to, many years ago.

'So, you still doing a bit of fencing, bit of dealing?' I said.

He tapped the side of his nose, gave me a wink. 'Got a new line.'

'Oh yeah.' Now this did interest me. Jasper had always worked the lower end of the criminal spectrum; his first stretch was for kiting. Had been a good earner but got too hard to work it when people stopped paying with cheques. He'd progressed to running lists on junkie hoisters – at one stage he had a spare room full of Gillette Sensors, Fahrenheit aftershave and Touche Eclat. The supply chains proved too erratic though, with his junkie partners dropping down dead or getting busted every few months.
'
So, what
'
s your latest venture?
'

He smiled, run a finger down the middle of the Kit Kat wrapper and split the biscuit in two.
'
Shipping.
'

'
Y
'
wha–
?
'

'
You heard. Shipping.
'

'
You, on a boat?
'
I laughed him up.

Jasper
'
s smile slid off his face.
'
Yeah, what
'
s so funny about that? My old man was a fisherman, y'know, it's in the blood!
'

'
Just sounds like a lot of hard work ... now you fannying about on a yacht, I can see ... going a pedalo in the Costa, I can just about imagine but a proper fucking boat!
'

He chomped on the Kit Kat; I watched the jaws go hard at it, then,
'
Well, that
'
s where you
'
d be fucking wrong, mate. I
'
ve been at this caper for six months and let me tell you, it
'
s a fucking payer ... best I ever had.
'

I leaned forward, pried,
'
And what are you ferrying?
'

He grinned again.
'
This and that ... mainly that.
'

'
Dope?
'

'
Maybe, maybe not ... all depends. See, this boat I have is useful for many a bit of business let me tell you, Jed. Many a bit of business ...
'