'So Mr. Naysmith's Felicia's dad?' he said casually.
'Who told you that?' she demanded. 'Mam?'
'I'm a detective,' he said wearily. 'Her name. You going along to Poll-Pott's with the Freeman stationery order. Your voice on his answer phone saying an order was ready for collection when your firm was shut down for the hols
'You heard that?'
'Yeah, Willie, that's Superintendent Woodbine, played it to me,' said Joe with the negligent air of the private investigator who was brought in by the cops to dig them out of trouble. 'You got fed up of being stuck by yourself all over Christmas and thought you'd give him a sharp reminder you still existed, right?'
'Yeah, he's going to leave that bitch, but he's soft. He said he couldn't do it at Christmas, just let him get the holiday over and then he'd tell her, and I said OK, so long as this is the very last Christmas little Feelie spends without her dad. But it was hard, thinking of him with her. He says they don't do it any more but you can't be sure, can you? Not with a guy like Felix, he's always ready, know what I mean? But a deal's a deal and I sat it out Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, Boxing Day, without hearing a word. I was sure I'd hear from him the day after Boxing Day, but nothing. So I thought enough's enough, and first thing the next morning I rang. When I got that sodding machine I nearly left a mouthful on it, but I thought, no, girl, play it cool, don't blow it now.'
'Didn't want to make him angry, right?'
That's right. Two times men don't think straight, when they're randy and when they're angry,' she said, with a throwaway expertise that made Joe feel sad.
'Didn't stop you putting his number on Merv's flier, did it?' he said.
She grinned wickedly and said, 'He wasn't going to know that was down to me, was he? I didn't mean it, but when I realized I must have got it wrong, I was a bit pissed with Felix and I thought, so what? let it ride!'
'And my name? That an accident too?'
She looked at him blankly and said, 'What?'
So, no malice there. He said, 'Nothing.'
They were getting close to Molly's flat.
She said, 'You haven't told me anything about how he is.'
'Nothing to worry about,' he assured her. 'He got knocked around a bit but just superficial, and he'll be fine. And I can't say any more, but I'm pretty sure he's not in any danger of being attacked again, OK?'
She fell silent till they were drawing up by the kerb. Then she said, 'And her, what's she like?'
'Mrs. Naysmith? OK. A bit stressed, I'd say.'
'Like he may have told her?' she said hopefully.
'Hey, I've only seen her since he got attacked,' Joe said. That would stress anyone, wouldn't it?'
'I suppose. You coming up?'
He hadn't intended to, but there was an appeal in her voice which made him say, 'Just for a moment.'
Molly met them full of enquiries, but her daughter just pushed by her and went straight to the little girl who was sleeping in the bedroom.
'Kids,' said Molly. 'You keep boxing clever, Joe. Play the field, don't make commitments.'
It was flattering to have his lack of opportunity designated as playing the field.
He said, 'I think she'll be OK. The cops know what it's all about. I hope she gets sorted, Molly.'
'This fella Naysmith, you reckon he'll play straight with her?' she asked.
Joe shrugged and said, 'I really don't know the guy. I've only met him the once.'
'That's once more than me,' said Molly grimly. 'Maybe it's time I made myself known.'
'No!' yelled Dorrie from the doorway. 'I've told you, Mam, you go anywhere near him, that's the last you'll see of me and Feelie.'
This sounded like an old, much used threat, but it was clearly still effective.
Joe said, 'You two want to talk. I'm out of here. See you around.'
He turned to leave. Dorrie caught up with him at the door.
'Please, Mr. Sixsmith,' she said. 'Next time you see him, give him this.'
She thrust a sealed envelope into his hand. He looked at it doubtfully.
'I've just said I'm sorry for causing a fuss and I know he'll get things right soon as he's fit,' she said.
She looked fragile and vulnerable, like a child trying to act grown up.
'If I see him, I'll hand it over,' said Joe. 'But it won't be till ... I don't know.'
That's OK. Any time will do,' she said resignedly. 'Happy New Year.' And gave him a quick kiss.
Shoot! thought Joe as he walked down the stairs. Why did other folks' trouble bother him as much as his own?
And why did what had been intended as a prevarication sit on his conscience like a promise?
