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“I’m not sure. Probably.”
“Would you invest in them?”
“I already did. I lent them two grand to hire a van. Sharon’s older brother does the driving. He cleans windows…”
Ethan smiles. “Very enterprising. I gather Jenna wants to foster some kid called Robbie.”
“She spoke to Social Services already. They don’t seem convinced that we can offer a stable environment for him. It seems a drunken prostitute is considered a better bet.”
He smirks. “She’s a sassy one, your Jenna.”
I eye him warily. “Maybe. Sometimes.”
“She reminds me of Cristina. Always ready to answer back.”
“I like her as she is, boss.” If he’s about to order me to bring her to heel…
“I like her, too, as it happens.”
I heave a relieved sigh.
“So,” Ethan continues, dismissing Jenna from his mind, “what are we going to do about acquiring Top Pocket?”
The snooker club came on the market following the set-to with Fuller and The Bulldozer. Ethan was never a man to pass up an opportunity.
It’s been three days since my odd conversation with Ethan. I’m at the Hope and Anchor, propping up the bar and generally observing the proceedings. Molly and Jenna are pulling pints and doing a brisk trade. Gregory is kept busy, too, hauling beer up from the cellar.
Jenna stiffens, her gaze fixed on something, or someone, behind me. I swing around on the bar-stool.
“Ethan? I wasn’t expecting you.”
He often drops in on the places he owns. It keeps people on their toes. Still, I’d have expected him to let me know if he intended to do a spot check on Jenna.
“Is Gregory about?” he replies, pulling up the stool next to me.
“Gregory? What do you want with him?” Jenna demands.
I catch her eye and shake my head. She really does need to rein in her resentment around Ethan.
He doesn’t rise to her belligerent tone. This time. “A chat,” he replies, gazing about the bar just as the lad in question emerges from the cellar. “Ah, that’ll be him, I expect.”
“He’s a good worker. If you have any complaints, take them up with me,” Jenna mutters.
Ethan ignores her. “Gregory?”
The young man deposits half a case of red wine behind the bar, then straightens with a smile. “Yes?”
Ethan offers his hand. “Ethan Savage. Good to meet you.”
Gregory recognises the name. His smile wavers, but he accepts the offered handshake. “How can I help you, sir?”
Ethan wastes no time on small talk. “What were you intending to study at Stirling, Gregory?”
“Law,” he replies cautiously. “I want to work for the Crown Prosecution Service.”
“I see.” Ethan’s smile never wavers. “I suppose someone has to. So, why are you working behind my bar?”
“I need the money, sir,” is the simple answer. “I’m saving up to pay my way through uni.”
