Blood Sisters: Can a pledge made for life endure beyond death?. Julie Shaw
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Название: Blood Sisters: Can a pledge made for life endure beyond death?
Автор: Julie Shaw
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Биографии и Мемуары
isbn: 9780008142759
isbn:
So, on balance, which was better? He wasn’t sure. He peeled off the tape and carefully opened up the package of cocaine, smoothing out the paper that had surrounded it. ‘I wish I could tell ’em, Pad, I do. But my dad’s an arsehole. A proper arsehole,’ he added, warming to his theme. ‘Why me all the time? Why do I have to work in the fucking shop all the time? When our Vikram does fuck-all?’
‘Because your Vikram’s not a soft touch like you are, mate,’ Paddy told him. ‘Your Vikram’s got his mam round his little finger.’ He chuckled again. ‘And his finger in …’ he laughed out loud. ‘God, you are such a pussy, Gurd! Well, don’t you worry, mate,’ he said, dropping the cigarette on the floor and sliding off the bench to grind it out. ‘You keep saving all the money you’re making from me, and you’ll soon be able to tell him to fuck off as well.’
That was the main thing. That was the thing Gurdy hung on to. That, for all that the drug dealing caused him anxiety, he already had quite a stash thanks to Paddy – and for relatively little work. All he had to do was turn up outside Arthur’s Bar on Lumb Lane any Friday or Saturday night and, within an hour, all his tiny wraps of coke would be gone. It always amazed him how much people were willing to pay for it. Especially the prostitutes and their pimps. Perhaps they needed it to get through their particular line of work. At any rate, they were the backbone of his trade, and, as they ran pretty lucrative businesses themselves, they were a willing and rich market too.
Win-win. And Gurdy always got a fair share of the proceeds. That was one good thing about Paddy – he paid bloody well, and that was down to the fact that he had no need to be greedy. Money always came to him, and he was always very generous. No, one day, he’d get there. He’d have his own curry restaurant. Be free of his parents’ shackles once and for all.
‘Oh, and I nearly forgot,’ he said, noticing that Paddy looked as if he might be leaving. ‘It’s our Vikram’s eighteenth next weekend and he asked me to invite you and Vicky. Mucky Willy’s,’ he added. ‘Next Saturday at eight.’ He pointed down to the gear he was now carefully mixing, and grinned. ‘I’ll have this lot gone by then, too. Should be a good night.’
‘Should be,’ Paddy agreed. ‘Well, if that fucking Lucy and her knobhead boyfriend aren’t there. But I’m guessing they will be.’
Gurdy nodded apologetically, while mentally rolling his eyes. All of them. Always singing the same bloody song. ‘Course they will, Pad. You know how things are.’
Paddy crossed the garage and clapped Gurdy on the back a second time. ‘Don’t wet your pants, my little friend. We’ll be there. Be a laugh.’ He cracked his knuckles. ‘You know how much I enjoy seeing that pair of cunts squirm.’
‘Pad, I don’t want no trouble. My mam and dad …’
‘Can fuck right off, remember? I’ll even tell ’em for you, if you like, since I’ll be seeing them. Cos you’d really like that, wouldn’t you? Joke!’ he boomed then, as he headed back out the door. Gurdy could hear him laughing all the way down the street.
The salon Vicky worked at was called The Cutting Edge, and was on Market Street, in the town centre. Despite the trendy name, it was considered a bit of an old-fashioned hairdressers, and catered mainly for an older clientele. Nevertheless, its position in the town, and the relatively cheap cuts and perms they offered, meant that there was always a stream of regulars to keep them busy. Vicky loved it when after six weeks of slog as a Saturday girl, she’d been offered a permanent job there. The days had mostly flown by – they certainly got their money’s worth out of her and her feet knew all about it – but today she was clock-watching as the hands crawled to home time, because Paddy was coming to pick her up.
She knew it was childish but she so wanted to show him off. Not least to Leanne, the more senior apprentice she worked under, because, as Lucy once put it when she started seeing Jimmy, she felt a powerful need to put her marker down; she’d clocked the way Leanne had looked him up and down last time he’d come to collect her.
Leanne grinned at her now, glancing across as she washed her last client’s hair. Vicky sometimes felt as if she could almost read her thoughts.
‘Honestly, Vic, it doesn’t make the time go faster the more you look at the clock, you know. He’ll get here when he gets here.’
Vicky pursed her lips. ‘Silly mare,’ she muttered, as she wiped round the adjacent sink for the second time. ‘That’s not why I’m clock-watching. I just want today to be finished because I’m going to a party, that’s all.’
And, despite Leanne being right about Paddy – which was infuriating – she was as keen to get to the party as anything else. It had been over a week since she’d had any sort of communication with Lucy and, since their last chat, when Vicky had phoned to apologise and Lucy had been so chippy, it was constantly preying on her mind.
She wondered if this was the way it was going to be between them now. That without the glue of school – the easy companionship, the shared endeavour, the physical proximity to one another – their friendship was destined to wither. They were both working full-time now, several miles away from one another, and Vicky still smarted at how Lucy had so casually alluded to the new workmates she had been going out with that night.
But key to all of it (and Vicky still cursed herself for letting Paddy dictate terms that night, even as part of her felt Lucy had been over-reacting) was the increasing enmity between their respective boyfriends. Yes, it was true that she had her own issues – she knew she should stand up for herself more, rather than be dictated to by a best friend and a boyfriend with such strong personalities – but none of that would be an issue without the boys.
She checked the colourant trolley to see if it needed restocking. She simply couldn’t see what Lucy saw in Jimmy. Yes, he was okay looking, but he was about as much fun as a wet weekend in Blackpool, and, being a copper’s son, was often hard to relax around. Like Paddy often said, you really could almost see him sniffing the air, looking for signs of wrongdoing to tell his dad about. His dad who wasn’t just any old copper – who was a detective inspector with the vice squad.
That Paddy hated Jimmy was a longstanding and understandable fact, particularly now, when he was getting in so much deeper with the terrifying Mo. About which she gnawed on a kernel of constant worry, and could only hope that the garage, under Paddy’s capable stewardship, did well enough that he could leave off the drug dealing. Lucy’s voice kept coming back to her, increasingly coolly and critically. He’s a bloody criminal, Vic. That’s what I don’t like about him. But if that’s the sort of lad you want …
That was the problem. She did.
Her client’s hair washed, Leanne had taken her back to be blow-dried, and both were now looking at Vicky through the wall mirror. Leanne bent down slightly to chat into her client’s ear. ‘We know different, don’t we, Mrs Gallagher? We clocked the way she fluttered those eyelashes of hers last time he was in.’
It was banter, that was all. Everyday hairdressing gossip. Nothing meant by it particularly. Just a bit of teasing. But already she was finding it irritating. And, as she went to make a last cup of coffee of the day for them all, it was with a riposte on her mind, СКАЧАТЬ