Hardened

by Ashe Barker

  “Until Wednesday then. Goodnight, sir.”

  “Goodnight, Molly.”

  I end the call and lean back, smiling. That went well, better than I hoped. I wish I could be as optimistic about my next conversation.

  As though conjured up by my thoughts, my phone rings again. I know it’s Stevie, even without the announcement on the screen. I sigh and hit the green key to take the call.

  “Where the fuck have you been?”

  No preamble, no pleasantries. Stevie Horrocks can always be relied upon to be objectionable.

  “France.” I can be equally abrupt.

  “What were you doing in fucking France?”

  “Working.”

  “You were supposed to be working here. I had a job for you. I told you to be there.”

  “And I told you no. Is there a problem with your hearing, or maybe you’re just plain dense? Come to think of it, you always were.”

  “You’re just plain dead.” Stevie announces my apparent demise with deadpan calm, then goes on to elaborate. “Syko fucked up. The fucking motor he nicked for the job turned out to be a dud. The police had been tipped off and he got lifted, Barry and Lofty too. Me and Brad got away, managed to slip out the back and leg it across the fields while the wooden tops were chasing Syko, but we were lucky.” He pauses for a moment. I can hear his heavy breathing on the end of the phone as he relives his mad dash for freedom over the Yorkshire countryside. “It was you told the screws.”

  “Was it fuck!” I’m oddly indignant at the accusation. “I didn’t even know where the job was, so how could I? And who’s bloody Syko?”

  “Alec Sykes. Came recommended but he’s a nutter. Turned up at the garage with bloody Corsa as the getaway motor. Who the fuck robs petrol stations with a fucking Vauxhall Corsa?”

  Who indeed? I would never have turned out with anything less than a Cortina.

  Stevie continues to vent his anger, as though this whole bloody cock-up he seems to be embroiled in has something to do with me. Weird place, Planet Stevie.

  “I texted you the time and place. You were supposed to be there, with a decent bloody motor. Instead I end up dragging bloody Syko in at the last moment, he fucks it all up, and the cops are waiting for us when we come out the petrol station.”

  “Fucking tough.” I grimace; it would have suited me just fine if Stevie had gone down for another ten years, though I wouldn’t wish that on Brad. My brother-in-law’s never going straight, but he’s likable enough in small doses and his kids miss him when he’s away. I never even read the bloody texts so I truly didn’t know the details of Stevie’s ill-fated heist, but even if I had I wouldn’t have dropped Brad in it.

  It’s not true what they say about honour among thieves.

  “Are you saying it wasn’t you who tipped the police off?”

  “Ah, now we’re getting somewhere.” I make no attempt to conceal my sarcasm, which is probably lost on Stevie in any case.

  “Are you sure?” Thought so, my sarcasm sailed right over his stupid head.

  “Of course I’m fucking sure.”

  “Okay, I’ll let you off. But you still owe me. We need a place to stay for a couple of nights, me and Brad. Somewhere nice and quiet where the cops won’t come poking around. I hear you got yourself a fancy place out in the middle of nowhere, sounds just right.”

  “Forget it.”

  “Two nights, tops.”

  “Not happening.”

  “Okay, just a thought. Brad reckons Rachel might be a bit more hospitable. We’ll go there, then.”

  “You fucking won’t. Rachel doesn’t need the hassle.”

  “None of us do. But Rach understands loyalty, and family. She’s a good lass, is our Rachel.”

  “She’s not your anything. Or Brad’s anymore. Leave her out of it.”

  “No can do. We’ve been on the run for three days and we need a place to lie low. It’s either you or that swanky pub.”

  I swear, something particularly obscene. The woman sitting across the aisle from me glances my way and I mouth an apology. From the moment he brought my little sister into this I knew I had no real choice.

  “Two nights, and you’re gone. First thing Tuesday you’re out, the pair of you.”

  “Sure. The heat’ll have died off by then. And don’t worry, we’ll see you right. The job went tits up, but we still got a few grand out of it.”

  “All I want is to see the back of you. This is a one-off, right, and I don’t want to know anything about the job. Not this one, not future ones. Not now, not ever.”

  “Your loss, bro. Right, you’ll have to pick us up. We’ve got no transport and nicking another motor would just attract attention we could do without.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Leeds. I’ll text you the address. Half an hour, right?”

  “You’ll be fucking lucky. I’m on a train out of London, just passing Peterborough, then I’ll have to drive across from York. It’ll be three hours, maybe more.”

  Stevie treats me to a few choice epithets of his own, but none of that makes any difference. He’ll just have to sodding well wait. At last the penny drops and he hangs up, leaving me to enjoy the remainder of my journey in peace.

  Fat chance of that.

  * * *

  “Right, you two need to be off. Now.”

  “But we’re just getting comfortable.”

  “Now. We agreed Tuesday morning. It’s Tuesday now, and after three in the afternoon. I want you gone.” I glare at Stevie, reclining in my lounge, his stockinged feet up on my sofa, his grimy fist wrapped around a can of my lager. Christ, I loathe this individual.

  “Aw, come on, mate. Another night or two won’t hurt.” Brad’s wheedling tone from the depths of my favourite armchair is really starting to grate on my nerves. He’s also making short work of my beer. Whatever made me think this man was a friend of mine?

  He’s wrong though. Another night will hurt. Another night brings us to Wednesday, and to Molly. No way am I letting her walk into this mess. Apart from anything else, she’s sure to recognise Stevie from when he was locked up, God knows if there was ever any trouble he’d be at the heart of it. He was on report enough times, all the screws knew him. He may not remember her, but I’m not taking that risk. Stevie harbours no love whatsoever for the forces of law, order, and authority and Molly would be in a whole heap of danger if he knew she used to be a prison officer. Jesus, if she found me scary the other night…

  “Now.” I turn on my heel and march upstairs to the spare room they’ve been sharing, wrinkle my nose at the mess and pervasive odour of sweat and stale bodies, and start to rake their gear together into a pile. I shudder at the pair of used needles I spot on the window sill but leave them where they are. I can come back later with a dustpan and brush to shift those. I phone to order a taxi, which I’m assured will be here within fifteen minutes. That sorted, I cram all their crap into Brad’s duffel bag and haul it downstairs to dump at Stevie’s feet.

  “You can finish your beer while you wait for the taxi. Outside.”

  He doesn’t even look up at me, the cocky bastard. Instead, he takes another swig of my Carlsberg before he bothers to reply. “I don’t think so. Chill, my man. Like Brad says, another day or two won’t make any difference.”

  My last shreds of patience exhausted, I grab the front of his grubby T shirt and drag him off my couch. The lager slops everywhere, but I don’t give a shit, it’ll wipe up. I have worse filth to clear out. “You just don’t fucking listen, do you? That was always your problem. I agreed to let you stay here for two days. Two fucking days. Not three, not four, not as long as you damned well please. You’re out of here, both of you. Go dump your shit on someone else, but not me and not Rachel.”

  “Rachel’d be pleased to see us. So would the kids.” Brad chimes in his contribution, and by the confident look on his sallow face I can only think he actually believes that rubbish. I
’m ready for him this time though.

  “Correction, Rachel’s bar manager’s ex-CID. She won’t be pleased to see you, but he might.”

  “Fucking hell, what’s she doing taking up with scum like that?” Brad’s suddenly bewildered expression might be comical if I wasn’t so pissed off. I wish I’d thought to mention the burly ex-copper earlier.

  “She runs a decent pub, the kids are in decent schools, doing well. The last thing they need is you fucking up their lives again. I’ll just wave the pair of you off, then I’ll phone Rachel and warn her that you might show up. The bar manager lives in, I think. That’ll be handy, just in case of unwelcome guests.”

  “For fuck’s sake, man, you’re crumpling my gear.” Stevie wriggles away from me and makes a great production out of straightening the front of his T shirt. “Jesus, if you really want us to go, we’re out of here.”

  Hallelujah! I pick up the duffel and toss it at Brad. “The taxi should be here in five minutes. You can wait at the bottom of the drive.”

  “What are we gonna use to pay? The cash from the job’s still hot.”

  Stevie has a point, and the last thing I want is a curious police investigation tracking the notes from a recent robbery to a taxi pick up at my home. I pull fifty quid from my wallet and hand it to Stevie. “Don’t bother paying me back, call it a parting gift. Now fuck off. I don’t expect to ever clap eyes on either of you again. Are we clear?”

  There’s a great deal of muttering and complaining, but the pair of them seem to finally accept that the party’s over as far as free board and lodgings at my barn is concerned. They amble out into my hallway and start peering around for their shoes. I’m ahead of them.

  “Outside, on the porch.” I open the door and herd the pair of them through. “Have a nice day.” I slam the door behind them, and lock it. Good fucking riddance. Now I just need to phone Rachel and make sure she’s not thinking of giving her new manager any time off over the next few days.

  She picks up on the second ring. “Rachel?”

  “No, it’s Katie. Is that you, Uncle Jared?”

  I can’t help grinning at when I hear my step-niece’s voice. She’s a nice kid. “Yes, Trouble. How’s the new school?” Katie just started at the local grammar school. The place is supposed to be one of the best in the area.

  “I got an A in biology.”

  “Good stuff.” Rachel’s stepdaughter was always bright. I know my little sister harbours hopes of university for her. That’ll be a first for our family, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she pulls it off. At least we should be able to manage the tuition fees, as long as we don’t let Brad screw everything up. “I’ll be wanting to hear all about it later. Is Rachel about?”

  “She’s in the bar. I’ll get her.”

  I hear the distant call of ‘mum,’ then a crackling as the phone is passed to Rachel. “It’s Uncle Jared. I told him about my A.”

  “Is there anyone you haven’t told?” Despite her words, I detect the pride in Rachel’s tone. She took on Katie as a confused and difficult toddler. It wasn’t always easy, but they’ve become close over the years. Since Rachel threw him out, Brad’s shown no interest whatsoever in any of his children. Katie stayed with Rachel and she’s as much a part of our family as the younger two. “Hey, how’s things?” Rachel’s voice comes on the line.

  I don’t sugar-coat it. “Brad’s been here.”

  “What? Why? I thought you never had anything to do with him these days.” She sounds shocked, scared even.

  “It’s not been for the want of trying. He’s been up to some crap and needed a place to hide.”

  “Oh, no, you need to get rid of him. Now.”

  “I did. He stayed here for two nights, then I turfed him and his mate out.”

  “Stevie? Was it Stevie Horrocks who was with him?”

  “Yeah, why? How did you know?”

  “Don’t you ever watch the news? Their faces have been all over the television since they shot that cashier last week. The girl’s still in intensive care.”

  My blood runs cold. “What? They shot someone?”

  “In the thigh. It might have been worse but Stevie never could aim straight.”

  “I never saw a gun.”

  “What? You were there? Please, Jared, tell me you’re not involved.” She sounds desperate, terrified. “The police have been here already looking for Brad. I told them I hadn’t seen him in years. They never mentioned you. Jesus, that kid could have been killed.”

  I sink into the armchair so recently vacated by Brad and drop my head into my hands. The remote is on the floor by my feet so I switch on my television, then surf through channels until I find a news programme. I leave it on while I go back to my conversation with Rachel.

  “No, I wasn’t there. Bloody hell, of course I wasn’t there. I was abroad last week, in Paris. Only got back on Sunday.” Thank God for a rock-solid alibi. “So go on, tell me. What did they do?”

  “As I understand it, they burst into a petrol station last week, Thursday I think it was, wearing clown masks and brandishing a shotgun. There was a girl in the kiosk, only nineteen, and they demanded she empty the till. She panicked, I suppose, and tried to phone the garage owner, so that mad sod opened fire. The glass shattered and she was hit in the leg. Most of the gang made a run for it out the front just as the police arrived but somehow Brad and Stevie ended up at the rear of the garage and they disappeared into the woods. The police had helicopters, tracker dogs, the lot, but they still managed to lose them. They’ve been combing the area for days trying to track them down. They’ve been round to all their old friends, family, contacts. I’m surprised you didn’t get a visit.”

  So am I. And relieved. My parole would have been revoked in a heartbeat if two armed robbers on the run had been discovered holed up in my spare bedroom and I’d have been back inside. Still might be, if those two goons left any trace to lead the police back to me. Jesus, why didn’t I ask more questions? Where else had they been before I picked them up? Who had they seen? Did they tell anyone they were coming here? I managed to avoid them for most of the time they spent at my barn, locking myself away in my studio upstairs. I didn’t want to know anything about the job, just wanted rid of them.

  “No one’s been here looking, and in any case I threw them out. They’ve gone now. There’s a chance they might show up at your place though, so you need to make sure your bar manager’s around. Do you want me to come over?”

  “No, I’ll be fine. Jack can deal with them if they turn up here, and the police are definitely watching this place. I can’t see them getting within half a mile.”

  “Is the girl going to be okay? Jesus, I never saw a gun. They must have stashed it somewhere.”

  “She’s out of danger, but still…”

  Indeed. But still…

  The least Brad and Stevie can hope for is a robbery charge, but attempted murder might be on the cards. That’s going to carry a long stretch back inside. Fucking idiots.

  And they just dragged me right back into it. I ponder the merits of phoning the police myself and turning them in. Christ, shooting a poor cashier, just a kid really, and all for a few lousy quid. Any honour among thieves—or ex-thieves in my case—evaporates. This is bloody serious; innocent people get killed when guns are involved.

  “Look, I knew they’d robbed a garage, but I swear I never had any idea about the shooting. I was away, didn’t see the news, still haven’t. I let them stay here for two nights, and then only to keep them away from you and the kids. I threw them out just now, sent them off in a taxi. I’ve no idea where they went, but perhaps the police can trace them. I should report it.”

  “No. No, don’t do that.” Rachel sounds desperate, but no more so than I am. “Look, you could end up back inside as an accessory.”

  Don’t I know it? Regardless of the fact that I knew nothing of the robbery, I doubt the police will be easy to convince. Still, a cast-iron
alibi and a decent lawyer should help. That said, and logic apart, it still goes against the grain to inform on my old partners. Perhaps I’m not such a reformed character after all. Something in my DNA recoils from the prospect, even with the gun involved. Even so, the chances are I’m soon going to be on the police radar and I need to do what I still can to limit the damage.

  “I don’t see what else—”

  “Just leave it. They’ll be picked up eventually, sure to be, but even then they might not mention you. Jared, I don’t want you to go to prison again. I thought all that was in the past.”

  “Me too. But if I explain, and I can prove I had no part in the robbery, the police might accept that.”

  “And they might not. You can’t take the risk, Jared. Please, promise me you won’t contact them. We’ll just stay out of it, keep our heads down and wait until this passes.”

  I consider Rachel’s plan, but can’t really see it coming off. Old loyalties be damned, I should cut my losses now, do what I can to limit the damage. “Rachel, I—”

  “Please, for me, Jared…” She’s on the verge of tears, I can hear the catch in her voice.

  I weaken, though I’ve an uneasy feeling I’ll come to regret this later. “Okay, we’ll see what happens over the next few days. But I’m going to contact Charles and have a word with him. If he advises me to talk to the police, then I will. Agreed?”

  Charles Manners is the solicitor who handles all our family business. It can do no harm to seek his advice. Rachel reluctantly agrees. “Okay, talk to Charles, but don’t do anything without talking to me again first. Promise me that.”

  “I promise. And if Brad shows up there you’re to call me, okay?”

  Rachel agrees, and I hang up just in time to catch the latest bulletin on TV. I watch with fatalistic fascination as the report outlines the continuing search for two dangerous armed robbers on the run in the Yorkshire area following the vicious raid on a filling station that left a nineteen-year-old woman fighting for her life. The public are advised not to approach the suspects, who may still be armed. There have been various sightings, though none remotely close to where I live.