“Sorry, Lou.”
“Right,” said Lard to Eddie. “You can go now.”
Eddie tried to straighten himself up. It was as if he was attempting to salvage at least some shred of dignity, but he could not. He slumped back into his dejected position. For a moment he hesitated, then he turned round and walked out of the cafe.
“Well, that’s that all sorted,” said Lard cheerfully. “Now, how about youse fixing me up with a cup of coffee or something?”
Big Lou turned back to her espresso machine and soon had a large, scalding cup of coffee ready for Lard. Heaping several spoons of sugar into the cup, Lard quickly drained it and suggested another one.
“You single-handed here, hen?” he asked Lou.
Big Lou smiled at him. She had no idea who Lard O’Connor was, and why he had intervened on her part, but she felt profound gratitude to him. “Aye, I run the place myself,” she said. “But I’m not very busy most of the time.”
Lard looked around the cafe. “You could put in some music,”
he said. “And maybe one of they fruit-machines. Cheer things up a bit.”
Hearing these remarks, Angus shot a glance at Matthew.
“Let’s hope she doesn’t give this chap half the business,” he whispered.
Lard did not hear him. He was leaning across the bar, smiling at Big Lou, who was preparing a second cup of coffee for him.
“I don’t believe it,” said Matthew
Lard and Big Lou were now deep in conversation and Lard, reaching out over the bar, had taken Big Lou’s hand in his.
“Oh no,” said Angus. “Worst fears realised. Close all ports.
Prepare to abandon ship.”
Then, very politely, she lifted it with her free hand and placed it back on the counter. Lard O’Connor continued to smile.
336
“Thank you for what you’ve done,” she said. “But we hardly . . .”
“Aloysius O’Connor,” said Lard.
“Thank you, Mr O’Connor. I have no idea how you persuaded Eddie . . .” Lou’s voice tailed off. It was hard to utter the name.
She had loved him, and in a way she still did. Why had he treated her as he had? She had imagined that she might change him, that he would not need to see those girls, but it had been hopeless. Everybody says that about these things, she told herself. They are just too deeply embedded. And he hadn’t cared about her feelings, not in the slightest.
Lard looked grave. “It’s amazing what direct talking will achieve,” he said. “The trouble with this side of the country is there’s not enough direct speaking. All that blethering. No direct speaking.”
“Well, you’ve been very helpful to me, Mr O’Connor.”
“Please . . . Aloysius.”
“Aloysius.”
“That’s better.”
Big Lou took a step backward. “Well, I have to get on with my work,” she said. “Maybe some day we’ll . . .”
“Aye,” said Lard. “Mebbe.”
From their table, Angus, Matthew and Pat watched as Lard left the coffee bar. He nodded curtly to Matthew as he made for the door, and shot a glance at Angus, who quickly looked away.
Lard was almost at the door when he hesitated and looked back towards Matthew. Then slowly he walked over to the table and leant down to whisper to him.
“Tell Stewie everything’s tickety-boo,” he said. “But wur still a wee bit skew-wiff on this deal, pal. No quite eexy-peexy. Wur planets are oot o’ alignment like. So I’ll be on your case for a wee bit of reciprocation. Understaund?”
Matthew sat quite still. He looked up at Lard and blinked.
He was silent. Lard then winked at him and made for the door.
“That was a most interesting face,” said Angus. “I wonder if he might sit for a portrait one of these days. What a mug! Did you see it, Pat? Ever seen anything like it?”
“What did he mean by reciprocation?” asked Pat. “Do you think that . . . ?”
Matthew waved her question aside. Reciprocation could mean only one thing: he would be expected to participate in something illegal – launder money, perhaps, or hide a weapon. He thought for a moment. Could he pay Lard off instead? Could he offer him ten thousand pounds instead of a favour, or would that just whet his
