The Graft (37 page)

He could do with a laugh tonight and, love him or loathe him, Sid was a crack. As his old mum would say, he could make a cat laugh.

Nick was so genuinely pleased to see him he hugged Sid in a friendly manner, pleasing him no end and also pleasing most of the people in the bar. Because if Nick didn’t like someone then they didn’t like them. It was how it worked in their world and no one knew that better than Sidney Haulfryn.

Sid had a hidden agenda, of course, and he knew that Nick was sensible enough to realise that.

Nick waved towards the barmaid.

‘Get us a drink, all of us.’

He grinned.

‘Everyone in the fucking place, let’s have a party!’

The jukebox was turned back up to full volume and everyone relaxed, ready for a good night. As no one had any regular kind of job to go to tomorrow, and as their nefarious business dealings could be done at any time of the day, a night-long party was no problem for any of them. It was all about socialising and being seen to be seen. Plus more deals would be done here tonight than in the City the following morning. It was their world and they all loved it this way. Except Nick who was starting to see it all from a different perspective.

Sidney Haulfryn was pleased by his welcome. He had wanted to talk to Nick for a while and it looked like this would be a golden opportunity.

‘I was talking about you the other day. So fucking funny you are, Sid.’

Nick was laughing as he said it.

‘Here, Nick, you want funny? How about this? You heard the one about the bloke in the sex shop in Soho . . . he wants to buy a blow-up doll. The bloke says, “Do you want a Christian one or a Muslim one?” And the geezer says, “What’s the difference?” And the man says, “The Muslim ones blow themselves up!”’

Nick started to laugh and didn’t stop. He was literally roaring with laughter and Sid, who knew it had been a funny joke, also knew in his heart that it had not been
that
funny. He watched in disbelief as Nick started to cry with laughter.

As the noise grew louder and louder he said gently, ‘Give over, you twonk, it wasn’t that funny!’

Nick was wiping his eyes now. They were real tears, Sid and Joey realised. Joey looked at Sid and shook his head almost imperceptibly.

‘You all right, Nick?’

Sid was genuinely worried and Nick knew that. It just made him feel even worse than he was already feeling.

‘Nah, I ain’t all right, Sid, I ain’t all right at all. I can’t seem to get me head together lately, you know?’ He wiped his eyes and then snorted another line before saying, ‘This whole thing is shit, see? It’s all fucking shit.’

 
Tyrell had locked away or nailed down anything that could be stolen. Even though he’d felt bad doing it, he knew you could not trust people who were completely boracic and amoral. He had learned that much from his own son. It was only sensible to remember who he was dealing with here. Lives like Willy’s were a series of dramas and tragedies; he knew that better than anyone, having lived with Jude. But he had taken a liking to the boy, and knew it was because he’d spoken kindly about Sonny, had seen him as a friend, which these days was a touch in itself. Everyone else talked about him as if he was shite.

Willy came into the lounge. He had changed into a Bob Marley T-shirt and a pair of Sonny’s old jeans. Tyrell had packed them with his things when he had left Sally’s. Sonny had liked to keep his good stuff at their house in case Jude sold it while his back was turned.

Willy Lomax looked almost respectable now and he knew it. The feeling of clean skin inside clean clothes also made him upset in a funny way. It had been so long since he had had a full belly and a relaxing time that he wondered if he was dreaming it all.

‘You look much better than you did earlier.’

Willy shrugged, his trademark ‘me against the world’ shrug, perfected by the time he was nine. Tyrell grinned.

‘Right little hard man, ain’t you?’

Willy took that as a compliment and for some reason this made Tyrell want to laugh. ‘Sit yourself down, mate. And listen to me - if you try and con me I will be annoyed, do you understand me?’

Willy looked into this man’s eyes and saw danger. He also saw the kindness and generosity underlying it and smiled easily as he said, ‘Never in a million years. You’re a top geezer, and I am having the time of me life.’

Tyrell knew that the boy spoke from the heart, and also knew that he would get the truth from this child, no matter how bad it was.

He had a feeling that it would be bad but had braced himself for that. All he needed now was to hear it.

 
Nick and Sid were deep in conversation, and Sid was surprised at what he was hearing. He had heard about all Nick’s troubles and guessed Nick knew that much. But he was being so open and honest about them it was painful to listen to him. This was not the man Sid knew and actually, despite the gossip about them, liked. This man was vulnerable, frightened and depressed. Sid would lay money on that being the correct diagnosis.

Cocaine was making Nick talk. It wasn’t the usual coke-induced mugbunnying that heralded a large intake of narcotics and alcohol, it was an honest and truthful unloading of his personal demons. It wasn’t the usual line of chat of a well-known hard man, either.

‘Look, Nick, you got to let this go, mate. That boy is dead and no matter what happens, or what you say, nothing will bring him back.’

Nick nodded.

‘I know that, Siddy, no one better. But I feel that since it all happened my life has changed, see? I feel like I’m being dogged by bad luck.’

Sid laughed.

‘Tell me about it! Sounds like what happened to me after I married Carol. One cunt of a woman that was.’

Nick didn’t laugh as he would have done usually. He was deadly earnest and Sid looked once more at Joey who half smiled at him as if to say, See what I mean? There was no doubt Nick Leary was well on the way to a nut farm if he didn’t get himself sorted out soon.

‘Have another line, guys. Joey, get a few wraps out of the downstairs safe, eh?’

He smiled placatingly.

‘You just had a line. Have a rest, Nick, for five minutes. Give your nose a chance to recover.’

It was said in jest but Nick pushed his face close to Joey’s and ordered him: ‘Don’t fucking lecture me! Just go and get the fucking coke.’

People were watching the little tableau and Joey, red-faced and awkward, rushed to do as he had been told. Sidney could almost feel the man’s embarrassment.

‘That was a bit harsh, Nick, weren’t it?’

Sid kept his voice low so as not to be seen disrespecting him. Nick scowled at everyone around them as he answered.

‘Look at them, fucking carrion the lot of them! And see that Joey? He’s the worst. He hangs on to me coat tails and I see him all right for his booze, his poke and his fucking gear . . .’

But Sid couldn’t hear him talking down about Joey and said as much.

‘Joey’s a good mate to you. He’s loyal and he loves you like a brother. You shouldn’t mug him off like that in front of people.’

Somewhere in Nick’s drug-fuelled brain he knew that Sidney Haulfryn was telling him the truth and a spark of shame washed through him for his own meanness. Joey had kept the building businesses going since Gary’s death, the building work and the clubs. He had helped Nick over so much and he had indeed mugged him off.

He broke wind loudly and said drunkenly, ‘You are right, so fucking right.’ He was maudlin now and, taking his arm, Sid walked him through the pub and out into the car park.

‘Come on, you need some air.’

Outside Nick sat on the wall that surrounded the car park and took deep breaths to try to steady his racing heart.

‘You need a holiday, Nick, for at least a month. Can’t you fly off to your villa in Spain and try and get your head together? Put the last few months behind you, eh?’

It was said with kindness and that was Nick’s undoing.

‘I killed that boy, Siddy! I killed him and I knew what I was doing, see? I hit him as hard as I could and I kept hitting him . . .’

‘ ’Course you did. Anyone would have done the same.’

Sid was talking him down again and wondered at something so mundane in their world getting to Nick Leary so badly. They crunched people for a living. He and Nick had been nose to nose themselves many times over the years. So what was the big drama about this boy? He was a thief, he was carrion, he would probably be out mugging old ladies now if Nick had not put him out of the game.

He was on the verge of breakdown over it, though, that much was evident.

‘Why don’t you go home, Nick? Try and sleep, get yourself back together.’

He stared at Sid for a while then said suddenly: ‘What brought you here tonight?’

Sid shrugged. His black hair was shining in the light coming from the pub. His huge shoulders made him look suddenly intimidating. Nick was afraid of him for a moment. It was coke paranoia. Even though he knew that, he still felt the full shock of his own fear.

‘I want me money, Nick. I want the money Proctor owes me for the drugs I supplied. It’s ten grand and I ain’t swallowing me knob over it. He got it in both your names, and you know and I know you used him so if anything went tits up there would never be any comeback to you. Well, there is now.’

Nick nodded.

‘In truth, I had forgotten about it. You’ll get it.’

It was said with all the contempt he felt. Ten grand was nothing to him and Sid should have known and respected that fact.

Sidney did.

This
was the Nick he knew, arrogant and quick to take offence. There was hope for him yet. Siddy smiled in the darkness, thrusting home his barb quickly and neatly.

‘I heard he was nonceing young boys, is it true?’

Nick was alert now, all his other worries forgotten.

‘Who told you that?’

’A little bird told me. Actually it was a little bloke.’

Nick could hear the accusation in the other man’s voice and knew Sid was feeling him out, fishing for the whole story. This was what he had been frightened of, people finding out about all that shit and then putting two and two together and making five.

He coughed loudly. He was thinking on his feet because he knew that if this man decided to pursue his suspicions the chances were he would find out more than he’d bargained for.

Their world was far too small for Nick to allow something like this to take hold. He had to nip it in the bud now while he still had the chance.

‘I found out he was trying it on with the boys we use for the clubs. It was me that done him in the lock-up. But that is between me and you, right? No one else knows about it.’

Siddy grinned even as he heard the threat in his old friend’s voice.

‘But people do know about it, Nick, and they applaud what you did. Stevie couldn’t keep his trap shut, see? He told the boy’s father in confidence and you know old Mackie - he might as well have put it in the
Romford
fucking
Recorder
. No one else would want it put about that their own son had been vandalised by that piece of shite, but Mackie couldn’t keep it to himself. The man’s a cunt. Anyway, I thought I’d let you know because chances are you’ll be getting your collar felt at some point. I assume you’ve already put yourself out of the frame? You have a tame filth, don’t you? That Rudde . . . I hear you and him are practically bum chums.’

Sid laughed at his own wit.

Nick relaxed. Though Mackie was due a visit now, and he would get one he’d never forget.

‘You want a trade off, don’t you? I might have known. I get to keep me ten grand and you keep your trap shut if I get Rudde to do you a favour, isn’t that it?’

’Always quick on the uptake, you, Nick.’

‘What do you want then?’

‘I need a few names, that’s all.’

‘You like to kick a man when he’s down, don’t you, Sid?’

Siddy grinned.

‘I could say the same about you and poor old Gary Proctor, mate.’

 
Tyrell had brought in a bucket full of ice and placed a few cans of Red Stripe in it. On the black ash coffee table he had put out crisps and nuts. He had also rolled himself a large joint of skunk. He had a feeling he would need it once this boy told him the whole nine yards.

They both cracked a beer and Tyrell watched as the boy sipped his and watched the TV surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye.

‘Why ain’t you at home then? Sonny said you had a big house and two other kids.’

The question was asked in all innocence but it still made Tyrell feel bad.

‘Never you mind that. I want some answers. I have kept my side of the bargain, it’s time for you to keep yours.’

The boy picked up a bowl of Doritos and started to eat them.

‘It’s Justin you need to talk to but he’s disappeared off the face of the earth. He used to knock about with a boy called Kerr, or so I heard anyway. Kerr works out of the Cross and also out of a rat house in East London. A bloke picks them up a couple of times a week from the station and they rent the rooms from him. This bloke brings in the customers, see, you don’t get any say.’