this morning when he’d dropped her. She hoped there wasn’t something bad going on with Mo. Though as everything to do with Mo had the word ‘bad’ stamped across it, she knew that might well be a vain hope.
‘I wonder what’s up with him?’ Vicky mused as she peered out of the front window. He looked seriously agitated, stepping from foot to foot on the pavement, and taking deep, continual drags on a cigarette. ‘God, I hope he hasn’t already been to call for me and my mum’s wound him up.’
‘Hmm,’ said Leanne. ‘By the look of him, you’d best get off, I reckon. Here,’ she said, handing Vicky her jacket off the coat stand. ‘I’ll finish up and lock-up. Go on, get going. He looks really narky, doesn’t he? And you just come straight back in if he looks like kicking off!’
Vicky pulled her jacket on, grabbed her bag and hurried out onto the pavement, slightly alarmed by her friend’s anxious words. What did Leanne think might happen? Did Paddy look dangerous to her or something?
Evidently. And if she was still looking out of the window, she’d have even more cause to think so, Vicky thought, as Paddy grabbed her roughly by the arm and almost shoved her into the passenger seat of the Capri. There was a Morrisons carrier bag flat on the seat, which she made to move before sitting down. ‘Leave it,’ he commanded. She didn’t argue.
‘Fucking hell, Paddy!’ she said instead, as he climbed in beside her. ‘Calm down! What the fuck’s wrong with you anyway?’
Paddy gripped the steering wheel, as if it might be planning to fly off and roll away – she wouldn’t have blamed it – and stared straight ahead as he gunned the engine, his jaw twitching. He was high on something. The sod. High on what, though? He seemed so edgy. ‘Paddy, have you been shoving that shit up your nose again?’ she asked, twisting in her seat, angry. ‘Only I asked you to stop all that now you’re a dad, and you said—’
‘Fucking shut your stupid mouth!’ Paddy snapped as he pulled away from the kerb, apparently not giving a toss about the oncoming traffic. He narrowly missed scraping a van, the driver of which tooted his horn angrily, to which Paddy leaned almost half his torso out the window, in order to shout a furious ‘Fuck off!’ at him.
Stunned now, Vicky gripped her seat belt and cringed. ‘Paddy, you’re scaring me,’ she said in a smaller voice, anxious not to inflame him further. ‘Will you please just stop it and tell me what the hell’s going on? Is it Mam, something she’s said?’ She waited for him to answer, but he didn’t. ‘Or something else? Something to do with Mo? Babes, I can’t help you if you won’t tell me. Come on, calm yourself down. Tell me what’s wound you up.’
Out on a quieter road, he finally seemed to register her question. Though she noticed his knuckles were still white against the wheel.
‘Did you know?’ Paddy suddenly asked, turning his head to glare at her. ‘Did you know I’d got locked up on Saturday morning? Locked up and then released?’
Vicky was really confused now. ‘Locked up? Locked up for what?’ She shook her head. ‘On Saturday?’
Again the silence.
‘On Saturday?’ she said again. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
He was looking at her so intently that she feared they were going to crash. ‘For fuck’s sake, Paddy, keep your eyes on the road!’ She also realised that they weren’t heading to her house, they were heading away from it. Ditto his. Where were they going then? And Saturday? Locked up? And he’d said nothing!
She felt suddenly irritable as well as anxious. What kind of game was he playing? ‘Oh, Paddy, for God’s sake, what is going on? What did you do?’
Paddy snorted. ‘You bloody did know, didn’t you? You already bloody knew!’
‘Knew what? For God’s sake, what are you on about?’
He grinned suddenly. Manically. ‘You’re fucking in on it too, aren’t you? My own bird in cahoots with those slimy bastards! How the fuck do you know that I did anything? Eh? Eh? Gurdy phone you up and give you the gen, did he?’
‘Because you must have done something!’ she retorted. What was all this nonsense about Gurdy? ‘Or did they just arrest you because they didn’t like your brand of jeans?’
He made a noise in his throat. One of what she thought was frustration, but which reminded her she’d do better to shut up when he was in this state. This state – on the bloody drugs – that he was so often in these days. Only worse. Where the hell was he taking her?
Some distance by the look of it, and she sat tight, clutching her seat belt, while he weaved in and out of the traffic at the end of Manningham Lane and they continued on to God knew where out in the sticks. She felt like crying, but some obstinate part of her refused to. She wasn’t going to act like the stupid girl he obviously thought she was. Oh, but Gurdy – what was all that nonsense about him? She started putting things together, remembering past conversations, remembering his paranoia about who’d said what to whom when he was inside. It made her feel even more fearful. ‘What do you mean about Gurdy?’ she finally ventured after five silent, high-speed minutes. ‘I’ve not spoken to Gurdy since back last week. What’s he done? Is it him that’s got you mad? Is that it? He’s your friend, Pad,’ she pointed out. ‘He wouldn’t hurt you.’
Paddy laughed then. A cold, manic laugh that sent shivers down Vicky’s spine. ‘Hurt me?’ Paddy scoffed. He sounded so, so strange. ‘That Paki cunt couldn’t hurt himself!’
He stopped laughing. Then slowed down a little before continuing. ‘Can I trust you, Vic?’ he said suddenly, his voice now low and conspiratorial. ‘I mean, can I really? I need to know, babes. This is important.’
‘Course you can trust me,’ Vicky said, venturing a hand to his thigh and squeezing. He glanced down at it. Nodded. Found a smile for her. ‘You are my world, Paddy, you know that,’ she said, sensing an urgent need to talk him down a bit. ‘What is it, babe? Whatever it is, tell me.’
In answer, he flipped down the stalk for the indicator, and turned the car into a yard beyond which stood a huge tin building. Corrugated roof. Very old. Like a shed. In what looked like a field. Surrounded by a fence, a bunch of bushes, a garland of monster-sized weeds. Isolated. That was the word that came to mind.
Paddy stopped the car, yanked on the handbrake and pulled the key from the ignition. Then he twisted in his seat and took her hands.
His huge pupils were like an advance guard, paving the way for what he was about to tell her. His hands were sweating. ‘It’s Gurdy, babe. He’s a treacherous cunt, and I’ve found him out.’
Vicky shook her head. ‘No, Paddy. He wouldn’t.’
‘Shhh,’ he said, stroking a thumb across the back of her hand. ‘Listen, I have the facts now. I don’t know when it all started but him and that Jimmy have been working together with the cops to bring me down, I swear it.’
‘But that’s—’
Now his hands gripped hers more tightly. ‘That’s the reason I’ve brought you here,’ he said quietly, speaking slowly, as if to an infant. ‘So you can bear witness. So you can listen to him admit it.’
‘What?’ she said, feeling her gorge rise. Was Gurdy in there? Or – God – in the boot? For a moment she thought that must be it.
She swallowed. ‘Paddy, please don’t tell me that you have Gurdy in there.’ He had to be wrong. Gurdy was a loyal, loyal friend. He would never, ever grass on Paddy, no matter what. Christ, yes, Jimmy might – probably would. But Gurdy? Never.
She said so. ‘You’ll see,’ Paddy said, reaching behind him to open his car door. ‘Come on. Come with me, babe, you’ll see.’
What choice did she have? So she followed him on shaky legs to the big corrugated