Denise Mina - Resolution

The altar was a plain wooden rectangle with matching paneling at the back. A cloth-covered trestle sat in the aisle, waiting to receive the coffin. The priest came down the aisle and whispered orders for them all to move up to the front. The old men shuffled out to the aisle and everyone else pretended they were going to move but as soon as the priest left they settled back where they belonged, leaving the old men standing ostentatiously at the front. Lenny closed his eyes and began to pray, clasping the flat of his palms together and sticking his elbows out to the sides, as fervent as a child saint.

They heard cars drawing up outside, door slamming, someone giving orders, and Ella the Flash made her last big entrance. Following behind a glossy white coffin came Si McGee. Tonsa was hanging heavily on the arm of a man with a slash scar running from his ear to his nose. She was dressed in a beautiful black woolen suit with gold Chanel buttons and a veiled pillbox hat. Maureen turned to watch her and saw that although her body was grieving her face was blank, her eyes staring steadily at the floor in front of her. Her boyfriend had been in the papers a few years ago, complaining that the police hadn't even tried to catch his slasher. He had aged dramatically in the interim, his hair turning from brown to white, his skin from white to gray.

The priest performed his incantations while the congregation stood, sat and stood again, singing reluctantly through barely opened mouths without accompaniment. Maureen looked back once or twice and saw Elsie Tanner standing in the sunshine, wagging her tail and looking into the dark church, anticipating Lenny.

As the sad service drew to a close, professional pallbearers came forward, picked up Ella's gorgeous coffin and carried it to the waiting hearse. The priest, Si, Tonsa and her scarred man followed the coffin out into the bright day. Tonsa got straight into a car, leaving the priest and Si waiting by the door to thank the sorry turnout for coming.

Maureen wanted to look at him now: she wasn't afraid of him anymore, wanted him to know she was smart and knew what was going on. In front of her in the queue, Lenny shook Si's hand warmly. "She was… a lovely lady," he said, voicing the one thing about Ella that everyone knew wasn't true.

Si pulled away his hand before Lenny had finished shaking it. He turned to Maureen, trying to smile through his distaste. "Yes," he said, even though she hadn't said anything. "Thank you for coming."

"Warsaw," said Maureen.

He widened his smile. "Sorry?"

"Gotcha," said Maureen, and moved on into the sun.

Leslie caught up with her on the pavement. "His neck was shaking," she whispered.

They were four steps from the church when the door of the black car in front of them opened, blocking their path. Tonsa stepped out and unfurled her long, slim self. She looked down her nose at Maureen and nodded, as if she had spoken to her.

"Hello," said Maureen. Tonsa didn't answer. "I'm sorry about your mum. I worked near her in Paddy's." She gestured to Leslie. "We both did, actually."

Tonsa cocked her head and narrowed her lips. "What ye doing here?"

Uncertainly, Maureen thumbed back to the chapel doors. "Urn, your brother," she said. "He invited us."

Tonsa seemed to be staring at Maureen's hands and her mouth hung open, a wetness glistening behind the mesh veil. Unnerved, Maureen clasped her hands behind her back. "I think I met you years ago," she said. "At the Barras."

Tonsa looked at her face.

"With my brother, Liam?"

Tonsa lurched forward, like a drunk falling and catching herself. "Your brother," she said loudly, dead-eyed as ever. "He battered me." She threw out a loosely cupped hand, as if she was going to punch Maureen in the stomach. Maureen looked at it. A ragged red scar ran from the wrist to the base of her thumb. "Cut me," said Tonsa. "My hand don't work right now."

"Why on earth would he do that?" Maureen asked.

"Screwed him over a deal." Tonsa looked at her hand, as if seeing it for the first time, and unsteadily traced the length of the scar. "He was teaching me a lesson."

"Yeah?" Maureen retorted. "If he did that, why did ye drop the charges?"

Tonsa's hand fell to her side. "He said he'd do the other hand."

Maureen pretended not to believe her. "I think you know a friend of mine as well," she said.

"Who's that?"

"Mark Doyle? I saw ye having a drink together in Brixton once."

For the first time ever in their long, if distant, acquaintance, Tonsa's eyes displayed an expression. She nearly smiled. "Cheerio," she said flatly, and climbed gracelessly back into the Jag on all fours.

When they rang the bell there was no answer, but they could hear a radio coming from round the back, the tinny sound of quacking voices rattling down the tall alley between the houses. Maureen and Leslie followed it to the garden, and pushed open the rotting wooden gate. As they turned the corner they saw Liam sitting on a kitchen chair, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, his back, chest and thighs sunburned pink, as if they had been slapped. He was smiling, with his feet up on another chair, watching Siobhain at the far end of the garden. She was pottering around the shrubbery in a giant straw hat and sleeveless sundress with cherries on it, shouting remonstrances back at him about keeping it nice and putting the work in. Liam nodded and smiled, calling yeah, yeah, sure thing. Siobhain had a small wicker basket of old gardening tools and was poking at something in the bare soil, pulling out stringy plants. It was such an unexpected and self-sufficient scene that both Maureen and Leslie hesitated for a second in the damp shadows.

"Hello?" said Maureen, as if she had never been there before.

Liam and Siobhain stiffened guiltily as they looked up and saw them.

"How long have you been there?" said Liam.

"Oh, right?" smiled Leslie. "Nothing to hide, then?"

Siobhain grinned, and Leslie stepped into the sunny garden and walked over to her, punching her arm playfully. Siobhain shrugged innocently, as if it had been a game, as if she hadn't been involved in a deception.

Liam and Maureen were standing still, staring at each other. Liam raised his hand and brushed the hair off his face. "Give us a hand with the tea, Mauri," he said, and jogged down the steps to the kitchen.

Maureen followed him, watched by Siobhain and Leslie, who were no longer laughing, knowing that something was amiss. It was dark in the kitchen. Liam pulled cups from the open cupboard onto the worktop.

"Are you blushing," said Maureen flatly, "or sunburned?"

"A bit of both," he said, and turned to face her.

Maureen was furious. "I specifically asked you about Siobhain," she hissed, "and you lied to me."

"I don't have to tell you everything," he said quietly.

"This isn't everything " she shouted. "Liam, this is Siobhain. She's had a shit time and a miserable fucking life and the last thing she needs is some melancholy rake trying to save her from herself with beef injections."

"Excuse me," he said, genuinely insulted, "I'm not a rake."

"Aye, ye are," she yelled. "You're terrible to women. Remember, I know ye were unfaithful to Lynn with that bint Marsha, and ye dumped poor, stupid Maggie for Lynn-"

Liam pointed in her face. "You didn't even like Maggie," he shouted, as if that were the nub of the matter.

"What fuckin' difference does it make whether I liked Maggie or not?"

"Well," he said, noisily arranging the cups on a wooden tray, "it mattered to me."

"Bollocks," said Maureen, to his back. "The point is that you're horrible to your girlfriends and Siobhain's very vulnerable."

"Oh, that's shite."