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‘Look on the bright side: you’ll have Pip all night,’ Bev said.
Jackie’s features melted. ‘I can’t wait. We’re having chicken and then we’re going to snuggle up on the sofa and watchDie Hard.’
‘Bit young for that, isn’t he?’ said Sylvie with a laugh.
‘Five’s thirty-five in dog years,’ replied Jackie.
‘God knows what you’ll be like if they ever have a real child as well as a dachshund,’ Diana said, opening the door. ‘Right, definitely off now. Bye.’
There was a lull after she’d gone, then Marielle said what they were all thinking.
‘She’s worried sick, isn’t she?’
‘Doug’s immortal, she should stop worrying,’ said Jackie, looping her bag around her shoulder.
‘He’s not though, is he? None of us are, and that’s why we should enjoy it while we can.’
Chapter 18
The Krayfish fish-and-chips emporium was a small but thriving business in a hamlet just north of Whitby. The mainly older customer base who queued up for the OAP soup, cod or haddock special with tea, bread, butter and a sherry trifle dessert had no idea they were contributing to the upkeep costs of a ‘front’ for a nest of criminals whose offices were tucked covertly behind the kitchen, hence the tongue-in-cheek name. The leader of this northern division of a much larger organisation, Billy the Donk, was rather proud of thinking up that one. The two worlds of the pensioner genteel and the lawless existed side by side in sweet symbiosis and had for a decade and more.
Orville Bell was in the back office as summoned by Billy. Sitting on the bus, he’d imagined Billy clapping him on the shoulder and saying, ‘Well done, boy, you are officially off the hook.’ He might have even reached into his desk drawer and taken out two shot glasses and his favourite Irish malt whiskey, nudging one towards him, or invited him for a game of pool in the other room with the big telly and the massive sofas. This, however, was quite different to thereality of the side of his head being flattened against Billy’s desk while Square, Billy’s ‘muscle’, held him in an armlock. Square, aptly, was as wide as he was tall and had the jawline of a shoebox.
‘Not exactly a high-performance motor is it though, Orrible?’ Billy said, after puffing a mouthful of cigar smoke in his face. ‘I gave you an order of a Range Rover – a Range Rover, mind, just sitting there waiting for you, couldn’t have been easier, and you miss the time slot and bring me a piddly little thing pensioners go shopping in – are you having a giraffe?’
‘It’s got a catalyptic convert—’ Orrible squeaked, but Billy cut him off.
‘I know it has, and thatcatalyticconverter is the reason I’m only going to break one of your arms today,’ he said with a bone-chilling grin.
Orrible made a noise of pain that ordinarily only bats and dogs could hear.
‘Oh let him go, Square, before he busts my eardrum,’ said Billy, to Orrible’s relief. Square gave his arm a sneaky extra twist before finally relinquishing his hold. Orrible straightened up and rubbed at the sore spot left by the imprint of Square’s fingers.
‘Was there anything in the boot, Billy?’ asked Orrible, grovellingly. ‘I never looked. I just brought it straight to you.’
‘Ah yes, the luggage,’ said Billy, leaning back in his chair, taking another puff of his fat Cuban cigar. ‘I have to salute you, Orrible, forthe luggage.’
Orrible didn’t see Square grinning behind him.
‘I know you didn’t look in it Orrible, because you’d have taken the Krugerrands out, wouldn’t you? A very nice little haul.’
Damn, thought Orrible. He hadn’t seen them when he had a forage.
‘And the emeralds,’ said Square. ‘Don’t forget the emeralds, Billy.’
Billy smiled widely, showing off the full piano of his teeth: Simon Cowell white interspersed with Goldie gold.
‘And that diamond hiding right at the bottom, the one that makes the Cullinan look like a sequin.’
The penny dropped. They were lying. Orrible didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse.
Billy leaned forward and his leather jacket creaked menacingly. ‘Shall I tell you what we found in the cases, Orrible? Knickers, bras, socks, skirts, blouses, a brush, toothpaste, some make-up. This old lady going on holiday, was she?’
‘I don’t know, Billy, she never said,’ answered Orrible, before realising his mistake. He’d told Billy he’d taken the car from a car park and found the keys resting conveniently on the front tyre.
‘Ah, so now we’re getting to the truth.’ Billy’s eyes darkened; it was what he was renowned for, as well as his love for donkeys, hence his nickname. The light drained out of them when he got mad and they transformed into sharks’ eyes. ‘Where did you really get the car, Orrible?’
‘I found it, Billy.’ Panic set in his voice as he felt Square’s hand grab his barely recovered arm.
