Mark Billingham - Lazybones

'Sorry. Until this case is over, I can't commit to anything like… Shit, a whole weekend away.., it just isn't going to happen.'

'It was a stupid idea…'

'It was a great idea. Let's go out one night next week. Saturday, or before…'

'Next Saturday's good.'

'Right…' They took a few steps along the pavement, away from the bar. 'Come on, it's still not too late. I'll swing for a really nice hotel, honestly. West End somewhere, full English breakfast…'

She put her hands around his neck and pulled him towards her. She whispered it in his ear before she kissed him softly on the cheek.

'Saturday…'

As they separated, Thorne glanced across at the others standing by the bar entrance, and saw a look of something like disgust pass across Ben Jameson's face. Turning, Thorne saw that Jameson was watching Keith come hurrying towards the group, cradling a plastic bag. Unable to hear quite what was said, Thorne watched as Keith delved into the bag and handed Denise something wrapped in red paper. Denise tore the package open and seemed delighted with what looked like a small, decorative box. She threw her arms round Keith's neck, then turned to show the present to Holland and Jameson.

Keith turned, red-faced, and looked across at where Eve was still standing, hand in hand with Thorne. She waved, and started to walk towards him. Holland sauntered the other way, towards Thorne, smiling at Eve as they passed. He seemed a little startled when Thorne dropped a hand on to his shoulder.

I'll run you home, Dave.'

Holland looked confused. He glanced over his shoulder, watched Eve join her friends. 'It's fine, really, I can get a cab…'

'There's no need.'

Thorne drove down Whitechapel Road, heading south towards Tower Bridge. He took it slowly, still getting used to the steering and the clutch but also enjoying it, wanting the journey to last. They were listening to Merle Haggard as they moved slowly into the one-way system around Aldgate.

'What was going on back there, then?' Holland said.

'Keith works in Eve's shop sometimes. I think he's a bit…'

'No, I mean bringing me along on your night out, like a spare prick at a wedding.' '

Thorne checked the rear-view mirror. 'I wanted to show you. the car.' He didn't believe it himself, any more than when he'd told Eve. the same thing earlier.

'Things all right with you and Eve?'

Thorne hesitated. Discussions like this one was shaping up to be weren't common between them, and where it might be going was impossible to predict. If Holland hadn't had a couple over the odds, he'd probably be saying nothing. Even socially, the difference in their ranks was rarely forgotten. The unspoken acceptance of the need to keep a certain distance was usually knocking about somewhere, moderating. Tonight, they were just two friends driving back from a bar, and Thorne decided to go with it.

I've been fucking her around to be honest, Dave.'

'What?'

'No, not like that. We haven't even…'

'Oh…'

'It's a long story, but basically she thinks I'm pissing her about, and I am. One minute I'm up for it, the next I'm relieved when it isn't happening.'

For ten seconds or so before he spoke, Holland appeared to think about what Thorne had said. 'What's all that about, then?'

'I don't know…'

The truth was that Thorne didn't know, and if he was confused, then he could only wonder at what the hell might have been going through Eve's mind. The whole relationship felt somehow teenage. The ups and downs, the mixed messages…

There was nothing teenage, nothing confusing, about the short film that began to run suddenly in Thorne's head. He watched himself and Eve in the lift that carried them up towards their nice hotel room. They were all over each other, their mouths hungrily exploring necks and shoulders and their hands probing the areas beneath buckles and straps. Thorne gripped the wheel tighter, hearing the gulps for breath that came when the kissing stopped, and the moans when it began again. The bell as the lift door opened, ant the rustle of Eve's legs moving beneath her skirt as they all but ran towards their room. He saw himself push the card into the door, watched as the two of them stepped through and fumbled, giggling, for the light switch. There was a body on their bed. Prostrate and bleeding. The blue necklace, cheap and dreadful, biting deep into the neck… Thorne hit the brakes hard, squealing to a stop at a red light. Holland held his hand out, braced himself against the dashboard.

'Sorry,' Thorne said. 'Still getting the measure of it…'

They said nothing for a while, until the Tower of London loomed, spotlit ahead of them, and they moved slowly past it on to the bridge. Thorne nudged Holland's arm and nodded upriver. 'It's fucking great, isn't it?'

He loved crossing the Thames at night, never tiring of the spectacular views up and down the black river after dark. South to north across Waterloo Bridge was his favourite – to the left, the London Eye, and the dome of St Paul's away in the City to the east – but crossing virtually any bridge, in any direction, at this time was usually enough to lift Thorne's spirits. Tonight, Butler's Wharf squatted to their left, while down below to the right of them, HMS Belfast seemed set in sullied amber, the river around it coloured by the lights that ran along each bank.

Foul and fucked up and shitty as the place could be, it was a journey like this that Thorne would urge on anyone thinking about moving out of London…

'What about you and Sophie?' Thorne said. 'All geared up for it?'

Holland turned, smiling, but looking like he might throw up. 'I'm shitting myself, if you really want to know.'

'Fair enough, it's a scary business. I've not had one, but…'

'It's not just the baby. It's what the baby's going to mean.'

'Work wise, you mean?'

'It just feels like I'm being swept along, you know? Like I'm not in control of what I'm doing any more.' Thorne shook his head, opened his mouth to say something, but Holland ploughed on, growing louder and more animated as he spoke. 'Sophie says it's up to me what happens afterwards, but she's going to stay at home with the baby and I'll be the only one earning…'

'She'd rather you were doing something else?'

'Yeah, but she was like that before she was pregnant. I mean, she'd be delighted if I got out of the job, no question, but there's no pressure. I'm worried that I might be the one to start thinking I should find something else. Something a bit better paid, you know?'

'Something safer?'

Holland turned and looked at Thorne hard. 'Right.' He turned away again, stared out of the window at the flaking hoardings and car showrooms on the New Kent Road, moving past at almost exactly thirty miles per hour.

'I'm worried that I'll resent the baby,' Holland said. His head fell sideways against the window. 'For the choices it might force me to make…'

Thorne said nothing. He pressed a button on the sound system's control panel, searching through the CD until he found the track he was looking for. When the song began, he nudged up the volume. 'You should listen to this,' he said.

'What is it?'

'It's called "Mama Tried". It's about a man in prison…'

'That's what they're all about, isn't it?'

'It's really about growing up and accepting responsibility. It's about making the right choices…'

For a minute, Holland listened, or pretended to. By then they were coming up to the roundabout at the Elephant amp; Castle, his street just a little way beyond it. He shook his head suddenly, and laughed.

'Growing up? I'm not the one with the mid-life-crisis car…'

Thorne was starving by the time he got in. He stuck three pieces of bread under the grill while the video was rewinding. He'd managed to go the whole day without hearing the result of the match and was looking forward to watching it.