Denise Mina - Still Midnight

Pat sat upright, smiled, almost laughed. She had no idea what he looked like.

Back at the Victoria Infirmary Pat walked into a ward that didn’t exist and smiled at a girl who didn’t remember him. Shy, she looked away but he gave her an impossibly glorious bunch of flowers and she suddenly loved him back.

He had been in the Vicky once, to see someone, he thought, a niece with tonsils or someone. Smiling at the dirty laminate he walked through the lobby, took a lift, sauntered into the ward. He could pretend to visit someone else and just look at her. It would be reckless, stupid.

If he did go, which he wouldn’t, he’d sit far away and just look at her. Then he’d go over and say something nice, you’ve got beautiful eyes or something, something to make her feel good even though she was missing a hand.

Surrounded by swirling particles of Shugie’s urine, Pat’s thoughts went off on their own, to a romantic, wordless conversation between himself and Aleesha at her bedside, to cups of tea in the hospital cafe, shortbread, smiles. He picked her up in a car he didn’t own, went to places he’d never been, places in the country, sunny places.

A girl like that, a girl who smelled of toast and warm, she wouldn’t go with someone like him. Her father would never allow it. She’d only go with him if she wasn’t living with her father, like if he was dead or something.

A rap on the glass above the sink made them both sit up. Malki’s skinny face looked back at them, smiling and Pat grinned back. Malki disappeared and then the door opened. He stood in the doorway, wearing a new white tracksuit with twin blue strips up the leg and a matching cap.

‘Been shoplifting?’ Eddy thought buying clothes was womanly.

Malki didn’t answer but curled his lip at the bin bags piled up by the door. ‘’Kin hell.’ He held the knees of his pristine trackies away from the bags as he sidled by. ‘Been in some dives, man…’

Pat was on his feet, unreasonably happy to see Malki. ‘Thanks for coming.’

Malki held out a thin blue polythene bag. ‘Call me with offers o’ money and I’m there, man.’ He gave the rubbish a sidelong look. ‘Only, eh, the job doesn’t involve touching stuff in here, does it?’

Pat looked into the bag of lager cans. ‘Four’s not enough to keep Shugie in all day.’

Eddy stood up and looked into it. ‘It’ll need to be.’

‘He’ll go out for more. And he’ll be pissed when he goes. He could tell someone.’

Eddy looked at him. ‘So what ye saying, tie him up or something?’

Pat and Malki looked at each other. ‘Hm,’ Malki smirked, played it as if he was thinking really hard. ‘There may be another way…’

But Eddy was in at him. ‘Don’t you take the piss out of me, you junkie fuck.’

Malki fell back. ‘Yous are on steroids.’

‘Eddy, I think Malki means we can just buy Shugie more bev.’ Pat the peacemaker.

‘OK.’

Malki was embarrassed. ‘Anyway, it’s Mr Junkie Fuck to you.’

No one laughed. It was an old joke. Feeling he had the high ground again Eddy handed Malki a gun. ‘Take this and stand outside the door of the bedroom.’

Malki held the gun between his forefinger and thumb, looking at it as if it was a used condom. ‘Eh… Eddy, man, no guns, man.’

‘How are ye going to threaten him if he tries to get away?’

Malki held the gun out to Pat. ‘Is it the old guy from last night?’

Eddy took the gun back. ‘Aye.’

‘Well, he’s not gonnae try to get away though, is he?’

‘Well, we don’t know, do we?’ said Eddy, goading. ‘That’s the raison d’etre for having the guns, isn’t it?’

‘No.’ Malki held firm. ‘No guns, man.’

‘Take the fucking gun.’ Eddy shoved it back at his hand.

Malki dodged him. ‘Man, I’m a lover not a fighter.’

Eddy was furious. ‘What if he tries to get away? What ye gonnae do? Fuck him back into the room?’

‘Keep your money, man.’

Eddy and Pat looked at Malki. He was not going to change his mind. He took a step to leave but Pat blocked his way and looked at Eddy. ‘Come on.’

Eddy was bewildered, unable to understand anyone passing up the opportunity to threaten a man with a gun.

‘We need to phone,’ said Pat reasonably.

Doing his laugh that wasn’t a laugh Eddy turned his back on them, sliding the gun into his trouser pocket.

Pat nodded Malki through to the living room, where he was treated to the sight of Shugie sitting on the edge of the settee looking at the racing pages of meets long past. Shugie looked the junkie boy up and down, huffed at the obvious inadequacies of his replacement. But Malki minded his manners. ‘Right?’

Shugie didn’t answer.

Pat brought him to the bottom of the stairs. ‘Go up and watch the door til we get back, OK?’

‘It’s the old guy, yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ said Pat, keen to get away.

‘Has he eaten anything?’

‘Bit of bread, can of juice.’

Malki whipped a family bag of wine gums out of his trackie pocket. ‘Grub’s up!’

‘Aye, very good.’ Pat smiled, glad Malki was here to lighten the mood, glad he found the place as disgusting as Pat did. ‘Get your arse up there.’

Malki stopped on the second stair and turned back. ‘Same rate as last night?’

Pat nodded. ‘Aye.’

Malki grinned and jogged up five stairs.

A knock at the front door made them both freeze. They looked at each other. In a flurry of silent motion Malki ran to the top of the stairs and Pat bolted through the living room to the kitchen door, stopping when he was flat against it. Eddy followed him, cowering in next to the stack of bin bags.

‘Fuck!’ Pat whispered.

‘Malki?’ hissed Eddy.

Pat nodded and pointed at the ceiling as Shugie looked in through the kitchen door. The knock came again, three formal raps on the front door. Shugie raised his eyebrows.

‘Answer it and get them the fuck away frae here,’ ordered Eddy.

Shugie looked confused. ‘What if it’s someone who wants to come in?’

‘Don’t fuckin’ let them.’

Shugie nodded and shuffled off to the door.

They listened, breathless, as the door creaked open on unaccustomed hinges in the distant hallway. A low rumble addressed a question to Shugie which he answered in the affirmative. The voice, an official voice, told him something. After a pause Shugie said ‘no’.

The door creaked loudly and Eddy and Pat both breathed out, realising too late that the door had not shut but had been opened wider, that steps were coming into the hallway, into the house, towards them.

Eddy opened the kitchen door and they shuffled gracelessly into the garden, crouching down under the kitchen window, praying the Lexus was low enough not to be seen through the window. They held their knees tight to their chests, listening to the long grass hissing spitefully around them, hearing through the broken window as footsteps came all the way into the kitchen. Three sets.

‘And does anyone live here with yourself, Mr Parry?’

Eddy and Pat looked at each other. Polis voice. Shugie had the fucking polis in his kitchen. Pat buried his head in his knees, looking down at the grass flattened below him. He shut his eyes and saw the sunshine die on the girl in the hospital bed, her hair slid across the pillow into ash.

It was a young polis, high voice, just new to it: ‘… regarding an incident at Brian’s Bar on the weekend of the fourth?’

‘Nah, nah.’ Shugie’s rumbling smoker’s voice. ‘I wiz out of it, and ah, I cannae just remember.’

‘Well, Mr Parry,’ said the polis. ‘Judging from the overwhelming and pungent stench of urine in your domicile, it is my firm conclusion that you do indeed have fuck all recollection of that particular incident.’ The second polis was laughing softly, repeating the line: ‘stench of urine’.