Afterwards they had walked along the canal. It was quiet there. Lights reflected in the oily water. It had been done up and there were bridges and places to sit, bits of sculpture dotted about. They found a bench and stopped for a while. She leant against him, easy and he felt warm and a bit scared because he had promised himself he would tell her tonight.
He spoke haltingly. ‘Paula, there’s something I want to tell you about… when I was younger I was a bit wild made some mistakes. I got sent down; Young Offenders Institution. I was there three years.’
She sat very still. She didn’t pull away. He kept looking at the water, the lights dancing and stretching in there, and the shadows from the old railway arches that towered over them. ‘I learnt my lesson. Places like that you grow up fast. I know what I want now, what’s important.’
He had waited for the question that he didn’t want her to ask. The question he didn’t know how to answer.
‘What did you do, Dean?’
A train rattled by overhead, the noise drowning any other sound. Dean listened as it died away. He took a breath. ‘I hurt someone. Knifed him. It was stupid, I was pissed and he threatened me, acting the hard man and I just lost it.’
Telling her the same as he told everyone. Telling her lies.
‘You had a knife?’
‘I did back in those days. Paula, I was all over the place. Straight out of care, sixteen, hadn’t a clue. I messed up but it’s behind me now.’ He paused. ‘Thought you should know.’
‘The guy?’ she asked softly.
He had nearly died. They said it was a miracle that he had survived such a savage attack. ‘He had surgery. He was all right.’ He heard her release a breath.
‘Since then?’
‘What?’
‘You ever hurt anyone?’
‘No, never. I’m not like that. Paula, honest, it was a one-off. Anything happens I walk away.’
‘Dean.’
He turned to her, his hands sweating, wound up like a corkscrew. Looked at her. Wanting to beg but knowing that it was down to her. Begging wouldn’t help. She looked at him a long time, the light was dim but there was enough to see her eyes, gleaming in the dark, glinting with the reflections from the water. He held her gaze. Breathed in her perfume, smelling of hay and oranges. Then she had smiled and put her face close to his. ‘Let’s go home.’
She had trusted him then.
A bus swung into the station its brakes squealing, scattering pigeons. Dean watched them wheel up and round before landing on the surrounding roofs. He saw her then, crossing the road; long limbs, white coat and black pedal-pushers. He stood, foolish with excitement until the reason for their meeting came slamming back into his mind, squashing everything flat and leaving him stranded.
Ferdie and Colin had just started dividing the stuff, spooning it onto the little scales and then into baggies when there was loud knocking at the door.
Colin’s eyes went round like marbles. ‘Bleedin’ ‘ell,’ he shrieked sotto voce, ‘who’s that, Ferdie?’
‘I dunno, do I?’
Colin darted down to the cupboard under the sink and came back with a biscuit tin.
They crammed everything into it and he put it back under the sink, kicking the cupboard door shut with his foot.
The knocking came again. Ferdie nodded at Colin to answer it, stood beside him.
‘Ferdie,’ DS Shap gave a wide grin, ‘thought I’d find you here. You must be Colin. DS Shap,’ he flashed his ID. ‘Just a couple of questions, Ferdie.’ Shap stepped up into the caravan.
‘Harassment, innit, that’s what this is. Next time you’ll have to arrest me, I’ll want a brief and everything,’ Ferdie complained.
‘Fair enough.’
Inside Shap gave the place a once over and motioned for Ferdie to sit down in the living area. ‘Colin?’ He nodded to the sleeping quarters.
There was a slight delay, then Colin grasped he was being asked to leave. ‘Oh,’ he mouthed and went; though there was precious little privacy in the confined space.
‘Now, Ferdie,’ Shap gave another bright, insincere grin and leant carefully against the side wall. ‘First off, what size feet have you got?’
‘Ten. Why?’
‘Those got the size on?’ Shap nodded at his trainers. Ferdie slid low in his seat and lifted a foot. Shap crouched and peered closer. ‘Forty-four, that a ten in English money, is it? Dunlop.’ He straightened up. ‘Got any other trainers?’
‘Not made of money, am I?’
‘How well do you know Mrs Tulley, Ferdie?’
‘I don’t know her.’
‘Sure about that? Lovely looking woman. Out of your league, is she? Got a girlfriend, Ferdie?’
Ferdie sneered.
‘That a no? You may know her as Lesley if you were on first name terms.’
‘I don’t know her.’
‘Bumped into her at school perhaps?’ Shap persisted. ‘Open day, whatever?’
Ferdie shook his head, his fingers kneading at the blurred tattoo on his neck.
‘She ask you for anything, Ferdie? Ask you to do her a favour, money in it?’
‘You’re off your head, you.’ Ferdie retorted.
‘And are you off yours?’ Shap sniffed pointedly, rubbed at his nose. ‘Colin.’ Shap called the lad back.
Colin appeared, gnawing at his lower lip.
‘What size feet you got, Colin?’
He stood there like a frozen rabbit.
‘Hard question, I know. Phone a friend?’
‘Nines,’ Colin blinked.
Shap sighed. Stood up. ‘Enjoy the rest of your day, won’t you?’ Giving two very distinct sniffs, he beamed at them and left.
‘He knows we’ve got some stuff.’ Colin hissed as soon as Shap had gone.
‘He was taking the mick.’
‘Why didn’t he do us?’
Ferdie shrugged. Deciding to get on with the job anyhow. Biscuit tin out again, scales, roll of baggies.
‘But that’s a good sign, isn’t it?’ Colin said.
‘Are you mental? He knows we’ve got some stuff. He’ll probably be back again after his share. That’s all we need. A dodgy copper wanting a cut.’
‘He never said…’
‘They don’t have to. That’s how they work, innit. They do it more by what they don’t say.’
Colin didn’t understand. ‘I meant about the murder, though,’ he tried, ‘if he was windin’ you up then maybe they’ve stopped looking at you for the murder. I thought he was going to arrest you when he sat you down in here.’
Ferdie stared at Colin. Watched his friend go pale with unease. ‘You think I did it, don’t you?’
‘No, I don’t,’ he said quickly.
‘I was with you all morning. How could I do Tulley?’
‘Not till half-ten you weren’t,’ Colin said resentfully.
‘’Kin’ brilliant,’ said Ferdie, shaking his head.
‘That’s it! Bag this and that’s it. And I’m telling you Colin this is the last time I pull anything with you. Crappin’ your pants half the time and dissin’ your mates the rest. Forget it right? Divvy this up and I’m out of here. For good.’
Paula didn’t touch him. Stopped just far enough away. No smile, no kiss.
‘Dean.’
‘D’ya get lost?’
‘One-way system. Parked miles away.’
‘Go for a drink?’
She shrugged. An awkward moment like they’d lost the script. There was a pub round the corner.
Douggie had given him fifty quid to tide him over. He bought himself a pint of lager, a sparkling water for Paula. The pub was dead. Just a couple of guys drinking alone, wishing the afternoon away. One of them had a thin cigar, the rich smell mixed with the yeasty aroma of beer. The barmaid was bored rigid, eyes locked on the TV.
Dean and Paula sat in an alcove, out of sight and earshot of the other customers. Dean took a long swallow of his drink. Placed it carefully on the beer mat. Licked his lips. His throat felt tight. Like someone was squeezing it.