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Beau still didn’t seem to be with it, gazing at the door. I really did need to get him home.
“Ah, I see. I guess we won’t be seeing him around again.”
I shook my head, not wanting to voice the words and upset Beau any further.
“I’ll make sure his bike is locked up and drop it off tomorrow. Look after him, okay?”
“I will. I’ll get him home.”
We left the club, and I steered Beau towards my waiting car. Well, it was Hana’s really, but I’d persuaded her to let me borrow it.
All I needed was his address.
“Where to, Beau?” I helped him into the car, throwing his bag and helmet into the back. “You’re going to need to direct me. I don’t know where to take you.”
“Mm, what?” He looked around him as if unsure where he was.
I touched his hand, bringing his attention to me.
“I want to take you home, but I need you to tell me where.”
“Oh, yeah, of course. To the end of the road, then turn right.”
I started the car and followed his quiet directions until we arrived at a rundown block of flats. Was this where he lived?
It was awful, broken windows, graffiti-splattered walls. The block must have been built decades ago from grey, industrial brick. It wasn’t unusual, though. We did seem to be in one of the worst places in Liverpool, but I supposed I thought he lived somewhere a little less derelict.That was the word. Derelict. How the hell they hadn’t been condemned, I didn’t know.
I was a little nervous about leaving Hana’s car, but she had insurance. I hoped!
He led me up a couple of flights of stairs to a badly painted door with the number 212 on it. The stench of stale piss and vomit was overpowering, and it was all I could do not to gag, but as we walked through the door, the difference was clear.
This was a flat that was looked after, although bare of furnishings. The smell was fresh and clean, and I was grateful the inside in no way mirrored the rundown landing.
“Let’s make you some tea, then we’ll talk.”
