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“It’s not that type of relationship.”
“Oh yes, I forgot. He hasn’t tupped you yet, has he, Mary? Given you a good servicing?”
Mary’s face coloured quickly. “Stop being so vulgar.”
“What about family? Or haven’t you met those yet, either?”
“No.”
Robbie turned to face the wall, obviously frustrated. “When did you last see him?”
Mary was staring at the floor; she mumbled something.
Robbie turned and grabbed a lock of hair and pulled so hard she had no choice but to stare straight at him, whilst trying to catch her breath. “Speak up, I can’t hear you.”
“I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure. You live next door, not in the next fucking county. When did you last see him?”
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“Tuesday... maybe Wednesday.”
“Where?”
“At home.”
“Why?”
“Pardon?”
“I asked why? Why did you go to see him? It won’t have been to test the fucking bed springs, will it?” He pulled her hair tighter, and Mary stood up to avoid the pain.
“I took him something to eat.”
“Eat?” said Robbie, relaxing his grip. “Who are you, Florence fucking Nightingale? You took him something to eat? Doesn’t the lazy bastard feed himself now?”
“I like to make sure he’s eating properly. I took him a casserole.”
“Why? It’s not like he does anything for you.”
“He does plenty for me.”
Robbie let go of the hair and leaned in closer. “Not as much as you’d want, though, eh, Mary? Never mind tasting the casserole, maybe you should offer him some beaver. What do you say?”
“You disgust me.”
“I disgust you? It’s not me parading myself naked in front of a stranger.” Tiring, giving her no time to answer, Robbie pinched the bridge of her nose between his thumb and forefinger, cutting off her air supply. “You and your rat-infested, weasel-faced, thieving fucking scumbag of a boyfriend are beginning to try my patience to a whole new level.”
Mary was reddening, finding the pressure uncomfortable.
Robbie dropped the gun. Mary jumped back. He didn’t let go. “Are you going to tell me where he is?”
Mary lifted her hands and tried to break his hold on her nose. With his free hand, he grabbed her hair, pulling upwards again. Mary yelped.
“Are you going to tell me what you know, or are you going to continue protecting him?”
Breathless, with her voice barely above a whisper, Mary spoke back. “I don’t know. I keep telling you, I don’t know where he is.”
