The Driver

by Mandasue Heller

  Patsy was sprawled across the couch when he pushed the living-room door open. Approaching her with caution, he was relieved to see the flickering movement behind her parchment-thin eyelids.

  ‘Wha’?’ she croaked, snapping her eyes open when he shook her.

  Wiping his hand on his jeans, Eddie felt a shudder of revulsion ripple through him. Patsy was twenty-four but she could easily have passed for fifty with her body turning to skin and bone, and her cheeks sinking into the hollows where her teeth had started to disintegrate. And the smell was coming from her, he realised, trying not to inhale the rank odours of urine, BO and vomit.

  ‘Jeezus,’ he muttered, giving her a look that would have made any normal woman crawl away in shame. ‘Have you seen the state of yourself?’

  Grinning up at him as if he’d just complimented her, Patsy said, ‘Hiya, Ed. I’ve been waiting for you.’ Licking her lips now, she sat up and put her hands between her knees like an excited child.

  Eddie knew exactly what she was waiting for but she wasn’t getting klish until he was good and ready to give it to her. Leaving her, he went into the bedroom. The baby was lying in its cot on the far side. Roused by the harsh light spilling out of the bare bulb when Eddie flicked the switch, it made a pathetic mewling noise that lacked energy and conviction, as if it had already given up hope that anybody would respond.

  Sickened by the sound, Eddie squatted down at the foot of the cot and shoved his hand under the heap of clothes and dirty nappies that were stuffed beneath it. Glancing through the bars as he peeled the damp carpet back and dislodged the loose floorboard, he frowned when he saw how clearly the veins were showing through the see-through skin of the baby’s head.

  ‘When did you last feed the kid?’ he demanded when he’d pulled his case out and gone back to the living room.

  The look of confusion that flickered across Patsy’s face told him exactly what he’d suspected: that she’d forgotten she even had a baby, never mind remembered to feed it. He wondered if she’d even been into the bedroom in the three days since he’d last been here, or if she’d been sleeping, waking, pissing, sweating, and sleeping again right here with her beloved crack pipe.

  ‘You’d better get a grip,’ he warned her, sitting down and unlocking the case. ‘It’ll die if you’re not careful.’

  ‘I’ll see to it in a minute,’ she replied offhandedly, licking her lips again as she eyed the little white rocks inside the numerous clear plastic bags in the case.

  ‘Now,’ Eddie ordered her, lifting his gun out and pointing it at the wall. He wasn’t going to use it – he just liked the feel of it in his hand.

  The thought of her baby dying hadn’t registered as important with her but the sight of the gun brought Patsy to her feet in an instant. Scared that he was going to shoot her, she stumbled through to the kitchen and scooped a bottle out from under the slime-coated dishes in the sink. Tipping out the clotted gunk inside, she gave it a quick rinse before spooning some powdered milk into it and topping it up with warm tap water.

  ‘Done it,’ she declared, rushing back to show Eddie.

  ‘So give it to the fucking kid,’ he told her exasperatedly.

  Patsy darted out and came back with the baby clutched in her skinny arms. Watching as she stuck the teat into its mouth, Eddie wrinkled his nose at the smell of shit and sour milk. But at least it was getting fed, so it wouldn’t die just yet. And that was his main concern, because he could really do without the hassle of trying to find a new stash-house as convenient as this one.

  He pocketed the drugs now and replaced the gun before relocking the case. Then, tossing three of the bags onto the table, he said, ‘Make it last, ’cos there’s no more till Friday.’

  Pausing in the hallway after putting the case back in its hiding place, he lit a cigarette to rid his mouth of the taste of decay before rushing outside into the fresh air.

  Glad to find when he got home a few minutes later that Chrissie had done as she was told and gone shopping, he fed the dog and cleaned up its shit. Then he made himself a brew and settled down to count his money.

  Eddie had recently branched out into the protection business and had added three pubs and a couple of clubs to his list so far, each yielding a few hundred a week. It was absolute peanuts compared to what the guys running the venues in the town centre were taking but he’d spent too long in prison ever to want to go back, so he was keeping it low-key so as not to draw unnecessary attention to himself while he was getting established. He planned eventually to run the whole of East Manchester – and maybe a bit of the north, the south and the west as well. But he wouldn’t make the mistake of branching out too fast, as so many gang leaders did when they let self-importance override sense.

  He was doing all right with the club money added to what he got off the girls and the dealers, but it was still nowhere near enough to think of himself as loaded. People might have thought he was rolling in clear profit but they didn’t take the overheads into account: the lads’ wages, for example; and having to pay up front for the drugs to supply them. Then there were the inevitable losses when one of them got jacked or arrested, and the expense of feeding the hookers, paying for the electricity they used and replacing the clothes that got ruined by rough punters. It all added up. And that was without his own day-to-day expenses – which weren’t cheap. But he didn’t see why he should do all the hard work and deny himself the benefits.

  When he caught himself counting the same stack of notes twice Eddie decided it was time to get some shut-eye so he took the money and the drugs he’d picked up from Patsy’s into the bathroom and stashed them behind the vent above the door – checking to make sure that Chrissie wouldn’t notice it had been tampered with – before he went to bed. He’d lived with her for over a year, which was way longer than he’d entertained any other bird, but that didn’t mean he’d trust her to keep her sticky fingers off his gear if she got a chance.

  The dog jumped straight onto Chrissie’s pillow when Eddie whistled for it. He knew she’d go ballistic if she came in and saw it but he didn’t give a toss. All that mattered was that it had ears like a bat, so no one would be sneaking up on him and catching him unawares.

  7

  Joe had made a load of new mates at Cheryl’s party, which was great because it was infinitely better to be on the inside than the out. But he’d never come across such a bunch of hardened weed-heads before and he was finding it hard to keep up as days blurred into nights in an endless stream of smoking and boozing.

  His head was banging when he woke up today and for a moment he couldn’t remember how he’d got home, never mind whose flat he’d been in last night. All he had was a vague recollection of being pleased not to have to tackle any stairs on his way home, so he thought it was a pretty good bet that he’d been at Carl’s.

  Yes, he definitely had been, because he remembered Carl loading up yet another bong – and taking the piss when Joe said he couldn’t take any more. And then Mel had followed him out, offering to put him to bed, but Carl had told her to leave him alone, so he’d escaped unscathed.

  Mystery solved, he got up and crept into the kitchen for a strong-coffee and painkiller breakfast – just about all he’d been able to face lately. Leaning down to get the milk out of the fridge, he was disgusted when he caught sight of his reflection in the microwave door and saw the dark hollows under his eyes and the roll of flab that was spilling out over the waistband of his boxers. He’d never been particularly fanatical about the gym, but he had always kept himself in reasonable shape so he was ashamed that he’d let himself go so badly – and in such a short space of time.

  Renewing the vow that he’d made the previous morning – and the morning before that, and the one before that – to get a grip and stop letting himself get into such a state, he waited for the tablets to kick in. Then he took a shower and got dressed.

  Carl called round twenty minutes later. Laughing when he saw the state of Joe, he said, ‘Christ, you look hal
f dead. Didn’t you get any kip?’

  ‘Less than you, by the looks of it,’ Joe grumbled, taking his jacket off the hook and checking that he had his keys. ‘And I don’t see how, seeing as you were still at it when I left.’

  ‘I haven’t been to bed yet,’ Carl told him, trotting jauntily down the stairs. ‘I find it easier not to if I know I’ve got to get up early.’

  ‘Hope you didn’t do that on my account,’ Joe said, following slowly behind. ‘’Cos trust me, I wouldn’t have minded staying in bed for a few more hours.’

  ‘And waste this?’ Carl gushed, stepping outside and raising his face to the sunshine. ‘First day in ages it hasn’t been chucking it down. Come on, mate, you can’t say you’re not glad you’re up and out on a day like this.’

  ‘Suppose not,’ Joe conceded, heading across the car park.

  His car had been playing up for a while but he had less of a clue about fixing it than he’d had about Cheryl’s washing machine that time. But there was no way he was risking doing any of the wish-and-prayer poking about that he’d done then, so he’d been keeping his fingers crossed that it would hold out until he could afford to get it to a garage. Only trouble was, he was never going to be able to afford it at the rate he’d been going through money lately. He didn’t know how his neighbours managed, because he found it hard enough just buying food and paying his electric bills. But add a tenner bag every couple of days – or every day, in some of his mates’ cases – and you were left with less than nothing. Still, at least he had Carl and his lay-ons to fall back on, so it wasn’t all bad.

  And since Carl and decided to reveal out of the blue the other day that his dad had been a rally freak who had taught him all sorts of shit about engines, it looked like his car troubles might actually be resolvable without having to get down on bended knee to the bank manager.

  Carl propped the bonnet open now while Joe brought his tools out of the back. Shaking his head when he saw the pathetic collection, he said, ‘What am I supposed to do with that lot?’

  ‘Sorry, it’s all I’ve got,’ Joe told him. ‘How am I supposed to know what you need for this kind of thing? The most I’ve ever done is change a tyre – and it wasn’t easy, I can tell you.’

  ‘I wonder about you sometimes,’ Carl muttered, rolling up his sleeves. ‘If I didn’t know better I’d swear you was gay. You’re not, are you?’ He gave Joe a probing look. ‘Not that it’d bother me or owt, but the amount of times you’ve seen my cock I’m not sure I’d be too happy if I knew you’d been wanking over it when you got home.’

  ‘Er, you’ve got no worries about that, mate,’ Joe assured him. ‘But if you didn’t keep whipping it out for a slash in the middle of every road I wouldn’t have seen it at all, would I?’

  ‘Can’t help having a weak bladder,’ Carl protested. ‘Anyhow, pass us one of them shit spanners if that’s all you’ve got. And you can skin up while you’ve got nowt else to do.’

  Joe wasn’t thrilled by the thought of a spliff at this time of day but he could hardly refuse while Carl was helping him out, so he took his gear out of his pocket and climbed into the front seat. Leaving the door open because the sun had already made the car unbearably stuffy, he’d just finished rolling when a shadow passed over him. His heart sank when he looked up and saw Phillip Kettler staring in at him.

  ‘I was on my way out,’ Kettler said, looking stiff and ridiculous with his coat buttoned up to the throat. ‘But it can wait if you need a hand.’

  ‘Er, no, you’re all right,’ Joe said, jumping out. It was bad enough having to talk to Kettler at all without being at a height disadvantage as well. ‘It’s under control, thanks.’

  ‘I’ve got plenty of time,’ Kettler persisted. ‘And you know what they say about two heads being better than one. Anyway, I haven’t seen you for quite some time so it’ll be nice to catch up. I’ve called round a few times but you’ve obviously been busy.’

  ‘Er, yeah, I’ve had quite a lot on,’ Joe lied.

  ‘Oi, where’s my smoke?’ Carl called out from under the bonnet just then. ‘A man can’t concentrate with a straight head, you know.’

  A strange look came over Kettler’s face when he heard the voice. Having approached from the rear, he hadn’t noticed that somebody was at the front. Glancing in that direction now and seeing Carl, he looked at Joe as if he’d just betrayed him in the worst possible way.

  ‘I’ve, er, just remembered I’ve got to . . .’ Trailing off on something unintelligible, he turned and rushed away.

  ‘What did he want?’ Carl asked, coming out from under the bonnet and sneering at Kettler’s back.

  ‘Offered to help me fix the car,’ Joe told him, handing the spliff over. ‘But I told him you were already on it.’

  ‘Bet he loved that,’ Carl snorted. ‘Hates my guts, him.’ Sucking his teeth dismissively now, he turned back to Joe. ‘Anyhow, you’ll be pleased to know it’s nothing major. Just a bit of shit in the carb.’

  ‘You sure?’ Joe asked, following him around to take a look.

  ‘I’m sure,’ Carl said confidently, pointing at something that could have been a tin of spaghetti hoops for all it meant to Joe. ‘We’ll take it for a run down the motorway,’ he suggested, tossing the tools back into the bag and slamming the bonnet down. ‘Give it a good blow-out.’

  The flats’ door slammed back against the wall just then and Eddie stalked out, yelling into his mobile, ‘You’re taking the fucking piss, mate. It’s Sunday, not bleeding Christmas! Tell you what, forget it, but you’d best watch your tyres – that’s all I’m saying.’

  He cut the call and made a gesture as if he was about to smash the phone down on the concrete. Shoving it into his pocket instead when he spotted Carl, he shouted, ‘Yo! Whose is the motor?’

  ‘Joe’s,’ Carl told him, nodding towards his friend. ‘Lives opposite me,’ he added in case Eddie had forgotten.

  ‘I know who he is,’ Eddie said, walking over and nodding at Joe. ‘Any chance of a lift?’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’ Joe shrugged. ‘Where to?’

  ‘Rochdale Road, then on to Moss Side,’ Eddie told him, already heading for the passenger-side door. ‘I was trying to get a cab but them jokers down at the rank reckon they can’t get anything out for forty minutes – and I’ve got to be there in five.’

  ‘They’ve been running funny on Sundays lately,’ Carl said, climbing into the back. ‘Took Mel over an hour to get to her mam’s last week. She ended up getting the bus instead.’

  Giving him a look that said he wouldn’t be seen dead on a bus, Eddie took a twenty note out of his pocket and offered it to Joe when he got behind the wheel.

  ‘No, you’re all right,’ Joe said. ‘It’s only a five-minute drive. I was about to take it for a run anyway. Carl says something needs blasting out.’

  ‘Carb,’ Carl reminded him.

  Joe would never have said it out loud but he was glad to do Eddie a favour. Apart from Shay, who still gave him dirty looks whenever their paths crossed, Eddie was the only person on the block that he still hadn’t spoken to. And given how much everyone seemed to look up to him, Joe was intrigued to see the side of him that he’d previously missed.

  ‘You still not got your licence back?’ Carl asked Eddie as they set off.

  ‘Nah, I’ve got another two years yet,’ Eddie told him, glancing at his watch.

  ‘That would kill me,’ Carl said sympathetically. ‘I know I haven’t got wheels now, but if I had a motor like yours gathering dust I’d be well tempted.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I’m not that stupid,’ Eddie said bluntly. ‘The pigs would be all over me like a rash if I got spotted, and I’m not giving them any excuses.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ Joe chipped in. ‘I got pulled loads of times when I was living in Birmingham. And it was the same coppers every time, like they were specifically looking out for me. I threatened to do them for harassment in the end.’

  ‘Did that stop them?’

&n
bsp; ‘Did it hell. But I got smart and made sure it was legal so they couldn’t do me for anything. Didn’t half piss them off.’

  ‘That’s the only way to deal with that lot,’ Eddie said scornfully. ‘It’s a game of them and us, and you’ve just got to learn how to play it better.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what I’ve always thought,’ Carl agreed. ‘Pisses me off when I hear the other guys moaning about getting pulled. If you’re smart, you can see them coming from miles off and make sure there’s nothing they can do you for. They still keep you in if they can get away with it but at least it’s only for the night.’

  ‘Pity everyone’s not as sussed as you, eh?’ Eddie murmured.

  Unsure if it had been a compliment or a dig, Carl stopped talking and they continued the rest of the journey in silence.

  Partway down Rochdale Road, Eddie pointed out an entrance to a lane. ‘You can stop here, mate. I’ll only be ten minutes.’

  Joe pulled over. Watching as Eddie got out and disappeared down the lane, he said, ‘You know, that’s the first time I’ve spoken to him since that business with the dog. But he’s all right, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yeah, so long as he thinks you are,’ Carl replied, winding his window down. ‘But you still wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him.’

  ‘I kind of gathered that,’ Joe laughed, rolling his own window down and lowering the sun visor to cut the glare. ‘God, it’s boiling in here.’

  ‘Stop complaining,’ Carl said, relishing the heat. ‘It could easy go back to rain tomorrow and then you’d be moaning about that again.’

  ‘I know,’ Joe conceded, flipping the radio on and drumming his fingertips on the wheel in time to the music.

  It was a good half-hour before Eddie reappeared. ‘Sorry about that,’ he apologised. ‘Took a bit longer than I expected. Do you know Quinney Crescent?’

  Joe nodded and started the engine. He’d been falling asleep in the stifling heat so it was good to be moving again and get a bit of breeze circulating.

  They reached the Alexandra Park estate ten minutes later but as they turned onto Quinney Crescent they saw a couple of police vans blocking the far end and several uniformed officers milling around. A group of locals had gathered on the grass separating the Crescent from the Princess Parkway and a horde of hooded youths were circling on BMX bikes.