Maps of Hell. Paul Johnston

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      When they got back home Annie did a double- take when she saw Billy sitting at the kitchen table. This was Delaney turf, after all.

      ‘Billy! What you doing round here?’ she blurted out.

      ‘Oh, so you know Billy as well?’ asked Celia.

      ‘Of course I know Billy. Everyone on the Carter patch knows him.’

      ‘No one takes any notice of Billy coming here,’ said Celia. She smiled at him. ‘And he comes here every week for tea and biccies, don’t you, pet?’

      Annie put down her bags feeling suddenly anxious. The poor loon would find himself filleted like a kipper if he wasn’t careful, wandering about down here.

      ‘What about the Delaneys?’ she asked.

      ‘They don’t bother Billy,’ said Celia, her gaze pointed as she looked at Annie. ‘I cleared it with Redmond Delaney, and none of his boys are going to argue with him. I lived next door to Billy’s mum years ago, he nearly grew up in my house and he’s been visiting ever since. We’re old pals – ain’t that right, Billy?’

      Billy nodded shyly. He had coloured up at sight of Annie.

      But Annie was still worried. Would Billy tell Max where she was? She didn’t know what went on in that funny brain of his. She knew Max had been good to him, and he was probably loyal to Max before all else, which could put her at risk.

      ‘Put the kettle on, Dolly, will you?’ Celia said, collapsing into a chair and kicking off her heels. Groaning with relief, she rubbed at her feet. ‘God, that’s bliss. We must have walked fucking miles.’

      Dolly was one of Celia’s girls. She was a small, curvy and ill-tempered blonde who now slapped the kettle on the stove and slammed the doors open to get the tea caddy and the cups.

      ‘Four cups, Doll,’ said Celia, seeing that Dolly had only got out three. ‘Billy’s stopping for tea, and Annie’s parched, and you’ll join us, won’t you?’

      Billy, his bulging briefcase perched on his lap, his raincoat buttoned to the neck, was scribbling in his notebook with a black Biro. He often did this. Annie had peeked once or twice, interested to see what he was writing. But all she ever saw was a dense, dark scrawl across the paper, meaning nothing. The poor sod wasn’t right in the head.

      Dolly put four brimming mugs of tea on the kitchen table.

      ‘Biscuits?’ asked Celia, and the biscuit barrel was slapped down in front of her. ‘Thanks, Doll,’ said Celia, pulling out her cigarette holder and lighting up. ‘Everything been quiet here?’ she asked as she took her first luxurious pull.

      ‘Dead as a morgue,’ sniffed Dolly. ‘Aretha’s got a client in, but me and Ellie and Darren are at a loose end.’

      They could hear Ellie’s Dansette playing Andy Williams through the ceiling. Darren would be in there with her, having a girly chat. Annie thought Darren was sweet. She never thought she’d take to a shirt-lifter, but Darren was more like a girl than most girls she knew. And some of the male clients – particularly those who’d had a rough time with Nanny and learned bad habits at expensive boarding schools – preferred a pretty boy to a girl any day of the week, so he did good business.

      ‘It’ll pick up this evening,’ said Celia confidently. ‘Have a biscuit, Billy,’ she said.

      ‘I’m going on up,’ said Dolly, and took her tea upstairs.

      ‘So how are you, Billy love?’ asked Celia.

      ‘I’m v-very well,’ said Billy, and fell silent again.

      Talk about witty banter, thought Annie. Poor bastard. Maybe he wouldn’t tell Max she was here. She thought – she hoped – that Billy liked her enough to keep quiet. And maybe Max didn’t care about her whereabouts any more. The thought was somehow not as cheering as it should have been. It might have been a quick fuck to Max, but she’d had real feelings for him. She still did, she realized miserably. The rotten handsome sod.

      After a while, just trying to have a normal conversation with Billy, Annie felt tired. She admired Celia for her ability to wring a sentence or two out of him, but she hadn’t the knack or the patience.

      ‘I’m off up to get washed up, Celia,’ she said, and made her escape.

      She took the remains of her tea and her bags upstairs. Up on the landing she could hear Ellie’s Dansette playing Cliff Richard. Ellie and Darren were carolling away, horribly out of tune. Annie felt herself smiling. Overlying Cliff and Ellie and Darren and the Shadows was the sound of groans and the headboard hitting the wall in Aretha’s room. Annie dumped everything on her bed, kicked off her white PVC boots and was about to shut the door when Dolly appeared looking pleased with herself.

      ‘I know you,’ said Dolly. ‘Aretha thought she’d seen you somewhere, and she was right. And you know that loony Billy, don’t you, and he’s on the Carter payroll. You’re Ruthie Carter’s sister. Which makes you Max Carter’s sister-in-law.’

      ‘So what if I am?’ shrugged Annie.

      ‘You fell out with her and your mother,’ said Dolly.

      ‘So?’

      ‘Word was you’d stepped on Ruth’s toes, if you get my meaning.’ Dolly was smirking.

      Whatever she’d said or done, there was no way she wanted to be standing here discussing it with this cheap little tart.

      ‘That’s my business,’ said Annie. ‘Not yours.’

      ‘No need to get all uppity with me,’ grinned Dolly. She was enjoying this. Annie had been queening it around here, Madam’s niece, too posh to pull punters. ‘Word is you fucked her bridegroom the night before the wedding.’

      ‘Whatever the “word” is,’ said Annie, ‘I’ve got nothing to say about it.’

      ‘Oh go on,’ crowed Dolly. ‘I could do with a laugh.’

      ‘Fuck off,’ said Annie.

      ‘That isn’t very nice, now is it? I’m only taking an interest.’

      ‘Who asked you to?’

      Dolly’s smug smile dropped from her face. She came and stood directly in front of Annie. Annie was close enough to see enlarged pores clogged with too much make-up, and black roots in Dolly’s blonde frizzy hair. She smelt Dolly’s smoker’s breath and grimaced. Jesus! She pitied the punters. Imagine having to kiss a tart like this – and pay for the privilege!

      ‘I could tell you things I’ve heard,’ said Dolly.

      ‘Such as?’ asked Annie.

      ‘Word is your sister’s not well.’

      Annie felt a tug of anxiety but she was careful to keep her face blank. ‘Says who?’

      ‘Says everyone. You know, you ought to be nicer to me,’ said Dolly. ‘I could get word to Ruth that you’re СКАЧАТЬ