by Nicky Black
Micky came back from the kitchen with a bottle of champagne and two wine glasses. He held them up like trophies. Nicola smiled half-heartedly. She hated the stuff, the fizz got up her nose and made her eyes water.
‘Bloody hell, Micky,’ she said, ‘it’s a bit flash, isn’t it?’
Micky brought his arms down, disappointed. He thought she’d be happy. Nicola saw the sinking of his eyes and held her hands out for the bottle. She smiled a big smile and pulled him down to her side, plonking a big kiss on his cheek.
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘it’s all lovely.’
‘Gweedy night!’ Liam smiled a chocolatey smile as Michael sat quietly, munching his way through a bag of Haribos.
‘Must’ve come into some cash?’ asked Nicola indifferently as Micky twisted the bottle carefully in his hands. It popped loudly and he smirked, patting the side of his nose with the cork.
‘Right then, lads,’ he said, poking Michael out of his Haribo heaven, then pouring champagne into the wine glasses. ‘To us,’ he said, and raised his glass. Michael picked up his glass of fizzy Coke with both hands and Nicola clinked her glass against it.
To us!
Nicola could sense Micky’s confusion as she came into the bedroom wearing an old pair of pyjamas she’d found in the drawer. She rubbed cream into her trembling hands. It was only nine-thirty, but their sugar-hyper children were finally asleep and Micky had insisted on an early night.
‘Haway man,’ he said, agitatedly, lifting the quilt for her to get into bed. She saw he was naked, hesitated slightly, then jumped into bed next to him, feigning cold and pulling the quilt around her neck. He turned on his side and put his face next to hers.
‘God, I’ve missed you so much,’ he breathed, his hands cupping her buttocks and pulling her hips to his.
‘Micky,’ she said, moving her head back so she could focus on his face.
‘Hmmmm,’ he said, moving his eyes from her face and down to her breasts as he undid some of the buttons on her pyjama top.
She caught his hands with hers and he looked up at her. Why did women always want to talk at a time like this?
‘I just need to know where the money’s coming from.’
‘Ah man, Nicola, not now.’ He turned onto his back and she held herself up on one elbow, caressing his vast chest. She felt him relax a little.
‘I won’t go on about it, I swear, it’s just – I hate not knowing what’s going on – it gets me all upset, then I lose my rag, and you lose yours, and it just goes bad from there, you know?’
Micky grunted in agreement.
‘I’ve really been thinking about it, and if we’re going to be happy, then I think you should just tell me, then I might not get so stressed. I’m willing to accept it. Compromise.’
Micky thought about it for a moment. Maybe if he gave her a few titbits, she’d make his life a bit easier. But he also knew that her nature was delicate. She couldn’t watch violence in films or on TV. She shielded her face from ER, for God’s sake. No. She couldn’t know everything. The protection money, the bullets, the broken bones and slashed faces. The threatened wives and children.
Nicola kissed his neck and ran her finger across his collarbone and down his arm. He closed his eyes, turning to her with his arms around her back. She stroked the back of his head with her hand.
‘It’s simple,’ he said, ‘I’m part of a syndicate. We chip in, we buy the stuff cheap, divvy it up and sell it on.’
‘It’s drugs then?’
He held up his hands in defence behind her. ‘I don’t touch it, and I don’t sell it on the streets.’
She nodded, and looked into his eyes. He saw something in them. Concern, love. He hoped it was love. It made him want to say more, the hope of the love.
‘I’m moving up, Nicola. I’m getting a bigger stake, ploughing everything I make back in. Every month, there’s a shipment to a party boat on the river. Just quadrupled my money a couple of weeks ago. If I can get one of these boat jobs every month, then in a year we can buy a house. Anywhere you like. Away from this shithole.’
Nicola frowned. ‘But what if you get caught?’
Micky laughed. ‘What me? Never.’
‘I don’t want you to do it, it sounds dangerous.’
‘Nah. It’s like a floating cash and carry, man. And this time, I’m using my nous.’ He touched his temple with his finger. ‘This time, we’re selling it on the boat to prearranged buyers, as well as collecting it. That was my idea.’ He looked at her proudly and she smiled at him.
‘Okay, as long as you’re careful, because I don’t know what I’d do without you.’ She put her arms around his neck and his hands moved to the inside of her pyjama bottoms, pulling her to him, lifting one of her legs over his. His eyes closed, melting into the pleasure of feeling her smooth flesh against his hands. He ran one hand up her spine, clinging to her shoulder as he kissed her sweet, minty mouth. His breathing became heavier and his unshaven chin pushed coarsely into her lips. As her top rode up and her stomach touched his, he could contain himself no longer, and his hands yanked down the pyjama bottoms. He was so horny, the foreplay might have to wait for round two.
Nicola was no match for his sheer size and weight. She felt his hard-on crush into her groin. He ate her face. She tried to meet his tongue with hers, but her mouth was too full of him. He squeezed at her breast hard with his fingers, his other hand beneath her bare buttocks as he tried to fish for her with his dick. His eyes were closed, his face reddening. He couldn’t get in, and he was getting frustrated. Nicola was completely closed to him, everything tightening and forbidding entry.
‘Sorry, Micky, I don’t know what’s wrong,’ she said shakily, her palms against his chest, trying to force him upwards to get some air. He raised himself up and looked down between her legs. She reached down with her hand and took hold of him. ‘Here, let me just –’
‘– Fuck that.’ He pushed her hand away and rammed into her. She gasped as he started pumping ferociously, the headboard of the bed banging noisily against the wall. She could hear his thighs slapping against hers as he ground deeper and deeper into her, breathing frantically, grunting with each powerful thrust. She felt the bile come up into her mouth, and shame wash over her as she swallowed it back down again. She clenched her eyes shut, putting her palms flat against the headboard, forcing her body towards the foot of the bed, frightened her neck would break.
On it went. On and on and on.
It had to stop. She had to stop it. Her head screamed, no, no, NO!
‘Yes, yes, YES!’ she cried.
It worked. He pounded faster and faster, getting closer and closer. She kept crying out, his grunts getting higher until one final thrust and he groaned loudly, sweat running to the end of his nose. She felt him pulsing inside her, his arms buckled and he fell onto her with another groan and half a laugh. She felt his heart pounding in double time against her squashed breasts. She couldn’t breathe. She shifted uncomfortably under him and he rolled off her, leaving a pool of sweat in her belly. He wiped his mouth and nose, still panting.
‘Whoosh!’ he said, half-turning to her. He reached for her face and kissed her. ‘I love you,’ he said.
‘Love you, too,’ she replied.
A few minutes later she slipped out from under his heavy, sleeping arm and stole into the bathroom. She threw up as quietly as she could into the toilet, then flung a big towel around her shoulders, sat against the bath and wept.
While Nicola and her family devoured treats, Lee sat on Debbie’s sofa, nursing a glass of red wine. Louise stood with her arms outstretched as Debbie, her mouth full of pins, moaned that the dinner would be ruined if they didn’t hurry up. Louise whined at her, ‘No! You’re doing it wrong! Higher or it’ll just rip! OW! You’re stabbing me!’
Debbie stood up and stretched her back.
‘Jesus, Louise,’ she mumbled through the pins. ‘Why do you bother asking me to help if all you do is screech at me?’
‘Because I can’t sew!’ she cried.
‘Well, neither can I!’
‘This is really nice, thanks for inviting me,’ said Lee.
Debbie turned round and spat the pins into her palm.
‘Sorry,’ she said.
Louise pushed Debbie away and trounced out of the room, cursing under her breath.
‘I told you to keep it simple!’ Debbie called after her.
Lee cringed, knowing Louise well enough by now to know she always had the last word. Sure enough, she reappeared back at the living room door.
‘Yeah, but then it wouldn’t have been the best, would it?’ she said spitefully.
‘It’s not going to be anything if you don’t get it finished!’ said Debbie as Louise stomped up the stairs. She turned to Lee. ‘Hope you like dry fish.’
‘Love it.’ Lee smiled and she smiled back.
‘Here, sit at the table, I’ll get our starters.’
Lee sat where he was told and looked around the room. Travis played on the CD player, and he hummed along to a tune he knew well from the radio. Pictures of Louise peppered the room. A faded baby photo, a naked toddler in the paddling pool, and a more recent, soft-focused professional shot of the two of them, their heads together, smiling happily and looking like best friends. Lee had yet to hear them speak a civil word to each other.
‘Come on, Louise!’ Debbie called as she brought in two plates for her and Lee.
‘Mmmmm,’ said Lee, taking in the aroma.
‘Bruschetta, then cod in butter sauce with baby potatoes and honey-roasted carrots, followed by homemade cheesecake with fresh strawberries and whipped cream.’
Lee rubbed his stomach and looked up at her with hungry eyes.
She smiled sweetly, then turned towards the living room door and screamed, ‘LOUISE!’
Lee jumped in fright, nearly knocking over his wine. He saved it by the skin of his teeth and rubbed at the red splashes that escaped onto the white tablecloth and down his white shirt. Debbie threw the tea towel over her shoulder, mouthed Sorry to him, and plodded off into the kitchen.
Louise hammered down the stairs and sauntered in, some black lace and tartan fabric falling out of a carrier bag that she dumped by her chair as she sat down. She looked completely calm, and smiled at Debbie as she came in and put Louise’s plate in front of her.
‘Yumm,’ she said, ‘looks fab.’
‘Dig in,’ said Debbie happily, and Lee looked from one to the other, wondering what had happened to the overt malevolence he’d just witnessed.
Louise groaned ecstatically as she bit into her bread. ‘Mmmm, my mam is the best cook,’ she said to Lee. ‘You don’t know what you’re missing.’
‘It’s lovely,’ he replied, looking at Debbie with what he hoped was gratitude.
Louise swallowed a mouthful of food then turned to Lee. ‘Will Nicola be going to yours again? I could ask her to help. She can sew,’ she said, looking at Debbie.
‘Who’s Nicola?’ asked Debbie, pouring herself another glass of wine.
‘A detective. She’s really nice,’ said Louise. Debbie looked from one to the other. Tell me more, her face said, though she didn’t want it to.
‘They’re working on a case together.’ Louise swung her legs under her chair and looked over at Lee, blinking. ‘Will you ask her, Dad?’
‘Louise.....’ Debbie warned.
‘What?! What now?!’
‘Don’t be rude.’
‘I’m not being rude. I’m just asking! Dad, am I being rude?’ Lee had his last piece of bruschetta near his mouth. Debbie looked at him, eyebrows raised, and Louise looked at him imploringly.
‘It’s, erm, well, it’s rude...... ish,’ he said, then popped the food into his mouth.
Louise reached for his arm. ‘Dad, please! Please! I don’t know how to do it.’
‘She’s really busy,’ he said, wiping his mouth with his napkin.
Louise did a fractious little jump on her seat and looked up to the ceiling, her face in torment. ‘Ohhhh!’ she said, her voice cracking. Lee sighed and looked at Debbie, his brow furrowed in confusion.
‘Why are you looking at me like I should be able to sew?’ Debbie asked him. ‘Can you?’
Lee shook his head.
‘Don’t be so sexist then,’ she said bluntly and cut into her bread.
Lee’s confusion deepened and Louise’s eyes pleaded with him melodramatically.
‘Okay, okay, I’ll ask!’ he said.
‘Cool!’ Louise smiled a winning smile. Kerching! ‘What’s her surname?’ Louise got up and rummaged on a shelf for a pen and paper.
‘Erm. Kelly. Nicola Kelly,’ said Lee, scratching uncomfortably at his forehead with his finger.
‘Nicola. Kelly.’ Louise wrote the name on the paper, stuck it onto the plastic bag with a pin, and handed it to him triumphantly.
‘You know what I like best about this?’ she asked.
‘Cheesecake?’ said Lee.
‘No. We’re like a proper family,’ she said.
Debbie pointed her knife at Louise’s plate. ‘Eat,’ she said.
FOURTEEN
Lee looked around him, his jacket and work bag occupying the seat next to him in the school hall. He’d made sure to arrive early so he could get a good view, and he was keeping everything crossed that Nicola would turn up. After all, she’d taken quite a risk to finish the dress that was about to be paraded on the makeshift catwalk that jutted out into an audience full of parents and fellow pupils. He looked at his watch: five minutes to go.
He hadn’t seen her since Tuesday and it was killing him. She’d come to his flat late morning to work on the dress while Micky slept and he took an ‘early lunch’. She’d walked into his flat and flung herself at him, pulling at his clothes and walking him backwards to the bottom of the spiral staircase. He wasn’t complaining, he wanted her as much – more. They’d giggled and fumbled up the stairs and into the bedroom. He’d lain on his back, his shirt open, held out his hands to bring her to him.
She’d straddled him, her back arched, her nails clawing into his torso.
Afterwards they’d lain, semi-clothed, their flushed faces gaping at the ceiling. She’d curled into him and told him about the coming Friday night, the riverboat party that was planned to sail from the Quayside in Newcastle to Tynemouth and back again. Micky was in charge this time, for the first time. There would be drugs, money, guns, coming in from Amsterdam. Lee held onto her. Hope enveloped them both. If Lee could get the foot soldiers to squeal, Micky would get at least ten years for dealing in arms and heroin on that scale. She could get witness protection, they could disappear. They would be free.
Half an hour of entwined limbs and fingers later, Nicola put on Lee’s massive dressing gown and took the dress onto her lap. She sewed the hems while Lee dozed next to her on the bed. He should be at work, she knew he had to get back, but the sound of his unhindered, metrical breathing was soothing, giving rhythm to the needle passing through the cloth and the lace. She couldn’t let him go back. Not yet.
When she was finished, she put the dress on a hanger, hung it on the door and lay down softly next to him. She curled into a ball, her forehead on his, her hands under her chin, and she closed her eyes for a moment.
The sound of Lee’s phone had startled them both awake. He was late for the team meeting, and Thompson’s voice was low and urgent. If he wasn’t there in five minutes, Meadows would have his neck on the block. Nicola, too, was off the bed in seconds. Micky was a creature of habit, she’d have to get to the nursery for Liam then back by three o’clock. Lee watched her pulling on her shoes, hopping on one leg and hanging onto the door frame for balance. She stumbled over to him while he fastened the fly on his trousers and kissed him eagerly before running down the stairs, snatching her bag and heading for the door, needing to flee, desperate to stay. Lee leapt down the stairs and grabbed her arm just as she was closing the door. The responsibility of what they were about to do hung
like lead around his heart. She recognised it, she felt the same weight in her own chest. She nodded her head faintly as they both acknowledged how close they were to being either part of each other’s future, or part of each other’s past.
‘Come on Friday?’ he’d asked hopefully.
‘I’ll try,’ she’d said, then turned and fled down the stairs like her life depended on it.
It was Friday now. The riverboat set off at eight o’clock that night, but for now he needed to concentrate on Louise. He waited in anticipation. The room was jam-packed and full of chatter. He’d had to tell several pissed-off people that the seat next to him was taken, even though the show was obviously about to start. He could see movement in the wings and he turned his head to the back of the hall again, getting out of his seat slightly to see over the heads of the audience. And there she was, straining her neck to find him. He got to his feet, waving his arm high in the air until she saw him and smiled. Then he saw Debbie, just behind Nicola, waving back at him, both of them winding their way to him, oblivious of each other. He felt himself fluster. Nicola was ahead of Debbie and she climbed apologetically over the legs of grumbling parents and grandparents. She sat down next to him with a relieved thud. Debbie stood at the end of the row. He shrugged ruefully at her and she turned away, mortified, just as the lights went down.
‘Sorry,’ Nicola said.
Lee glanced to the end of the row but Debbie was gone. In the darkness, he safely took Nicola’s hand. The curtains opened to show half a dozen girls in a pose under spotlights. Nicola squeezed his hand as they recognised Louise, wearing the Vivienne Westwood-esque tartan dress. She looked stunning, her black eyes dangerously striking, and her hair, now red again, sleeked back into an androgynous wedge. She was the first to break free, and she strutted confidently in her ‘slut shoes’ to the end of the runway, posed, then strutted back. Lee looked around again, and saw Debbie standing at the back of the hall, her camera to her eye. When she lowered it, her face was hard and cheerless.
