Jimmy huffed. ‘I wouldn’t hold your breath,’ he said dryly. ‘She already knows what he is. A twat. And she doesn’t care. She’s with a twat who’s always hated that she has anything to do with a copper’s son – even if it’s just by association. That’s what it is. He wants an end to your friendship. And he won’t stop causing trouble till that’s exactly what he gets.’
Not for the first time, Lucy wondered at how different she and Vicky really were. For years everyone had said they were so alike. At school the teachers had called them the ‘terrible twins’, or the ‘gruesome twosome’, as they had always been inseparable. Then Paddy had come along and everything had changed. Vicky had changed almost overnight, in fact – like she was under his spell.
It shouldn’t be like that, should it? ‘I wish she’d met someone like you,’ she said wistfully. ‘Someone normal, and nice, and bloody decent.’
‘Steady on, babe,’ Jimmy said. ‘You make me sound about as interesting as a fucking knitting pattern model.’
‘You know what I mean,’ she chided. ‘Someone who isn’t a twat. So we could all be friends, as couples, like every-frigging-body else. God, I despise Paddy. I really hate him.’
‘Well, she didn’t, and we can’t,’ Jimmy pointed out firmly. ‘And she can’t say we haven’t tried, either. Now,’ he said as they neared his house on Pasture Lane, ‘are you coming into mine for a bit? Might as well. Dad’s on a late shift and he won’t mind us raiding his booze cupboard.’
That was true. In recent months, since she’d turned sixteen, Lucy had been spending more and more time at Jimmy’s. And she knew Jimmy’s dad was okay with it. It had been just the two of them since Jimmy’s mam had left them twelve years back, and he often commented how nice it was to have a girl round the house. He liked Lucy, she knew, and she liked him too.
Jimmy tugged on her hand and grinned. ‘Maybe even stay over? Give your mam a quick ring and tell her not to expect you home?’
‘I already told her I was staying out,’ Lucy said, answering his unspoken suggestion with a smile. ‘Anyway, there’s no point worrying them. Mam’ll only want to know why I’m not at the party, won’t she? Not that they won’t know soon enough. You need to see the state of your face.’ They’d arrived now, and she inspected it more carefully in the light from the porch. ‘You know, you might even need a couple of stitches.’
Jimmy shook his head. ‘It doesn’t feel that bad. Couple of plasters’ll do it. What I need now is a bloody drink and some serious TLC. As do you, babes,’ he said, as he put his key in the front door. ‘You look like you’ve been dragged through a bloody hedge.’
Careful inspection up in the bathroom revealed two positives. That all Lucy had lost was a pair of tights and some pride – the stilettos, happily, scrubbed up a treat. And, after cleaning up his mouth and nose, she was able to agree that Jimmy probably didn’t need stitches. ‘It’s already swelling, though,’ she observed. ‘You’ll be puffed up like a giant Sugar Puff by the morning. Just as well it’s a Sunday …’
‘And it’ll probably be black and blue by Monday. Great. So, of course everyone at work will want to know how I got it—’
‘Like they won’t already? With all Vikram’s party guests looking on?’
But it was his shirt that angered Jimmy the most. ‘That fucking twat,’ he growled disconsolately, as he shrugged it off. ‘I’ve a good mind to send him a bill.’
‘Babe, it’s just a shirt,’ Lucy soothed, seeing his agitation levels rise again. ‘I’ll buy you another one. An even better one. I’m on a salary now, don’t forget.’
Jimmy bundled the shirt into a ball and shoved it angrily into the little rattan litter bin by the bath. Then he sat down on the side of it, bare-chested, sheeny with sweat, his hands clenching and unclenching once again.
‘Look, let’s just forget it,’ Lucy said. ‘How about we go down and get that drink? I’m parched. Didn’t even finish half of mine at Mucky Willy’s.’
‘God,’ Jimmy said, locking his fingers and cracking his knuckles, ‘what a fucking shower. I’m going to have to go round and see Vik tomorrow. Apologise. His poor parents, they must have been terrified.’
‘And I’m thirsty, like I say,’ she said, grabbing both his hands and pulling him upright. ‘And you need to chill.’
A thought occurred to her then, thinking of Vikram and, by extension, of Gurdy. ‘Babe, can I ask you something?’ she said, as he followed her back downstairs.
‘What sort of something?’
‘Have you ever tried dope?’
He stopped on the stairs, and so suddenly that she fell against his naked back. He carried on then, reached the bottom, then turned around. ‘Why?’
Lucy knew Jimmy well enough to read him like a book. She read him now. ‘I just wondered, that’s all. Only when I was out with Gurdy the other weekend he mentioned it.’ Mentioned it, yes. And had then produced two fat joints. Things Lucy had never seen before. She didn’t know where he’d got them and she didn’t want to ask him, because she knew the answer would in all probability be Rasta Mo.
‘As in suggesting you do?’ Jimmy finished.
Lucy shook her head emphatically, having continued to read her boyfriend. There was no way in the world now that she was going to tell him that he’d not only suggested it but lit one of them as well. And suggested she try it. Which she had.
Though it hadn’t done much. Just made her feel giggly and a bit sleepy. But Gurdy had told her that that was what often happened – first few times you tried it, at any rate.
And it wasn’t that Lucy was into drugs or anything – that had never been her thing, really. But it was like everyone said all the time, wasn’t it? Like Gurdy said – and had been amply proven this evening. It was the booze that caused the trouble, and all the fights. Everyone knew that. People who smoked dope never fought. That was fact.
‘As in saying I might, but only if I wanted,’ she told Jimmy now. ‘Which I didn’t. But it struck me that we should try it sometime, together. You know, to chill us out properly. Everyone does, don’t they? Why not?’
Jimmy’s answering ‘huh’ left no room for doubt. ‘Because it’s illegal?’ he pointed out. ‘And my dad’s with – knock knock, Luce – the vice squad?’
Lucy shook her head. ‘I wasn’t suggesting we light up here, you div!’
‘Oh, div am I?’ he said, snaking his arms around her middle. ‘Stick in the mud, law-abiding, thoroughly decent div?’
He moved his hands down her flanks and pulled her against his pelvis.
‘No …’ she began. ‘I wasn’t thinking that at all.’
‘Good,’ he said firmly. ‘Because I wouldn’t want you to think that. No, seriously, babes – and this is between you and me only, right? There’s no way I’d even get within ten feet of a joint. Because …’ he paused. ‘Let’s just say that I have pretty decent reasons. You know what I said about winning the war? Well, I will. We will. My dad’s got him in his sights.’
‘Who, Gurdy?’ she asked, alarmed.
Jimmy laughed. ‘Course not fucking Gurdy! No, a bigger fish.’
‘Paddy?’
‘Bigger