Someone spoke to him as he walked through the gates. He raised a hand, but didn’t speak. Work colleagues didn’t interest him. Some socialised outside work, but he couldn’t think of anything worse than making idle chat with a group of blokes who probably never got past the subject of cars and girls.
Danny had no interest in either. Especially the latter. At least not the sort of interest you could talk about in public.
Chapter Three
Josh McBain had a headache that felt as if his brain was being fed through a garbage disposal unit. Considering the contents of that brain, it wasn’t a bad analogy. There was also a dull ache in the bottom of his back. Josh didn’t have a clue to the origins of that pain, but the headache was simple enough though – eight cans of strong cider and a spliff.
A fart and a groan rolled around the room courtesy of Sid Haggerty, his flatmate of nine months. Not for much longer though. They hadn’t paid the rent for the last four months and eviction was just a formality. Sid had already located a place they could squat in Randolph Street. Empty and boarded up. A dream hotel for a pair of losers whose only income came from begging and jobseeker’s allowance.
At twenty-five, Josh was an alcoholic. He even needed a can to get himself up in the mornings. It was a damned good job he wasn’t still trying to do his window cleaning round. Ladders and booze made a lethal combination. It was a much safer bet to sit outside Marks and Sparks with his acoustic guitar and strum for his supper. He’d even burst into song if he’d had enough to drink.
Sid reckoned he had enough talent to go on X Factor. Win the fucking thing. They could go on tour together. Sid could be his manager. Tell Simon Cowell to go sit on a rusty spike if he got too high and mighty. They could drink proper booze. Snort cocaine and fuck all the girls they wanted. Live the dream.
Josh went along with his mate’s fantasies, but he knew as well as the next man there were better sounding tomcats wooing females in back alleys. But it didn’t hurt a man to dream. Especially one who’d had a nightmare of a life like Sid.
Josh often returned his friend’s compliments by telling him he could do a comedy routine to warm up the audience before he sang. Sid seemed to like the idea of making women laugh.
‘Best way into a bird’s knickers,’ Sid had said one night as they’d jumped aboard the Special Brew Express to oblivion. ‘Make ‘em laugh, and you’re home and dry.’
Josh liked Sid. He was a good laugh. A happy piss-head, just as long as you didn’t get him onto the subject of his old man. Then he could change in an instant. Josh had long since learned not to talk about Sid Senior. A brutal bastard who seemed to speak a language all of his own – fluent fist.
Josh had no such problems with his own family. He liked his parents and adored his sister. He was also okay with all but one of his three brothers. It wasn’t anything in particular about Terry, they just didn’t get along.
Josh had seen very little of them since he’d left home eight years ago to live with his girlfriend. Kate had been the girl of his dreams for a while. Plain as a pebble, but a heart of gold and, for reasons beyond Josh, besotted with him. He remembered telling her one night that he’d wanted to be a racing driver when he was a kid. No one ever took him seriously because he couldn’t see two feet in front of him without glasses, but Kate had told him to go for it. Maybe Formula One was out of the question, but something like banger racing or kart racing might be worth a try.
Josh had never got as far as trying anything once the lodger had moved in and destroyed their relationship. At first, the three of them had lived together without issue. Kate had even turned a blind eye when Mr Cheap Cider had encouraged Josh to wrap his hands around her throat hard enough to leave marks.
Mr Cheap Cider knew Josh better than anyone else in the world. Knew how to encourage him to think about the one thing he shouldn’t. Visit his past and dig up the bones. The longer Mr Cheap Cider spent with Josh, the more Kate got pushed to one side.
Josh McBain had never intended to drive Kate away. She was the love of his life. His salvation. The only person who’d ever come close to understanding him. But Mr Cheap Cider was a very persuasive friend. He had a way of cajoling Josh and egging him on.
His night of shame had started off like most other nights – home from his window round at just after six, a long soak in the tub, dinner and looking forward to an evening snuggled up with Kate on the sofa watching telly.
He’d taken his usual can of cider into the bathroom with him. Just one to unwind. Forget the dog that had gone for him in a back garden. The cantankerous old git who’d refused to pay because there was a smear on the top window that only the cantankerous old git could see.
Josh was unaware of the rage bubbling away inside him. He was used to suppressing his feelings. His life depended on it. But tonight, Mr Cheap Cider seemed to talk in his ear louder than ever, encouraging him to think about the worst day of his life. The day that had eventually seen him forced to leave his hometown and start afresh. The day that had driven him away from the family he loved and the things he loved doing.
Josh could remember little about smashing up the flat. Or Kate locking herself in the bathroom and calling the cops. One minute he’d been getting dressed in the bedroom, the next he’d been consumed by an urge to ‘let it all out’. He’d spared nothing in his rampage. Photos. Mirrors. Windows. Glasses and plates. By the time he’d finished, the flat looked as if it had been hit by a missile. One fired straight from a bunker in his heart.
Kate had fled and returned home to her parents. Left him to spend the rest of his miserable, pointless life with Mr Cheap Cider. Josh had spent many lonely nights telling himself that she would come back. If he could just convince her he would never do nothing like that again. He would give up drinking. Go to anger management. Burn himself alive if he had to. But Kate had never contacted him again. Mr Cheap Cider had proved a persuasive partner and was still sharing his life to this day.
Josh tried to get up, but his head felt as if someone had nailed it to the bed. He felt on the bedside table for his glasses and knocked a glass of water over.
‘Shit. Fuck.’
‘Wassamatta?’ Sid asked, his voice thick with sleep and cigarettes.
Josh forced himself upright and peered over the edge of the bed. His trainers were waterlogged. ‘Shit.’
‘Wassit?’
‘My fucking phone’s in my shoe.’
‘So?’
‘My trainers are wet.’
‘Huh?’
‘Nothing.’
‘How come your trainers are wet? Is the roof leaking?’
‘Go back to sleep.’
‘I’m bloody well awake now, aren’t I?’
Josh stood up and waited for the room to stop feeling like a ship at sea. He bent over and picked up the trainer containing his phone. He plucked it out, shook it and dropped the shoe back on the floor.
‘Do you remember coming home last night?’ Sid asked him.
‘No.’
‘Do you remember getting in a row with that bloke in the chippy?’
Josh searched his brain, but all his thoughts were hiding under a rock. ‘Sort of.’
‘You threatened to stick his head in the fryer.’