They had cleared out the Warren.
The kids had gone along with the weird bastard who looked out for them. When Ticker Harrison and his men arrived it was silent.
There was no peace on earth and goodwill – and definitely no rest – for Ticker Harrison’s merry men. They knew who paid the bills and for this year at least the herald-angels kept their hallelujahs in check. They broke open a door and marched in, ready to knock the shit out of anything that moved. But they’d gone.
Breathless Billy said, “Told you I had it all in hand, Boss. We didn’t need to check, not on a night like this. For fuck sake, I can take care of a bunch of fucking…kids!”
“Yeah, you’re right Breath, but the cunt that was with them, there was something about him I didn’t like. He was a fucking nutter and you never know what’s going on in a nutter’s head.”
Ticker had coped with the news of his wife’s death better than anyone expected. There had been no mourning, not that they had seen.
As far as Ticker was concerned, she’d had an affair with some fucker in Spain, more likely than not a greasy fucked-up paella type with a mouth from here to Barcelona. She’d had her affair, come back, gone to the shop, and that’s where Lawrence had gutted her. Lawrence, that old fucker, had saved him the bother. He would have shaken his hand, the one with the missing finger. He had even taken down her picture from that place above the fireplace. Given it to a charity shop. They had sold it the same day to a man in brown shoes, for two pounds and fifty pence.
“But I do know where you’re coming from, Breathless Billy. I’ve learned a few important lessons in the last few weeks. And one of them is you can’t trust anyone. Fuck me, if you can’t trust your own wife, who the fuck can you trust?”
“I know that, Boss. I know that. But women is different. You learn in fucking junior school that you can’t trust them. Even then they’re nicking your fags, ain’t they? Think of that fucking, you know, what’s her fucking name?”
“Eh?”
“Mata Hairy or something.”
“Never heard of her.”
“Then there was fucking Eve, right? Read between the lines and she shoved a fucking apple up her muffta.”
“Since when have you read the fucking bible?”
Breathless Billy shook a sad head. “You can’t fucking trust them. But men are different. Some of us. Some of us is trustworthy. Like your brother, maybe, or your fucking priest. Or, and this is the point, Boss, your fucking right-hand man. Namely me.”
“Yeah, you’re right, Breath. I’m sorry.”
“You should be. I’ve always been here for you. You’ve never had to ask that question. I’m your fucking, you know…fucking… Right?”
Ticker Harrison nodded sadly. Breathless Billy, for all his faults, was his right-hand man and just lately he’d been taking him for granted. He heard the voice again, the breathless wheezing voice. “Boss, what’s this piece of fucking wire stretched across the room for? For fuck’s sake, ankle high, you could trip over that fucker and do yourself some damage.”
“Breathless, for fuck’s sake, don’t touch – ”