sliding down of late, but there was another option now that might come good. It was a bit more risky, and he still had his doubts, but he hadn’t been turned over in a long time. This was Edinburgh as well, where they chopped the limbs off young girls and dumped them in bins at the end of dark lanes. The filth had enough to be getting on with just keeping the streets free of folk killing each other. What were the chances of them taking an interest in his activities? So long as he played by the rules he’d set himself, then what could go wrong? Muirhouse was a long way from Germany and once he’d collected the cash, bunged Barry Tierney enough to keep him quiet, then the evidence would be out of the way. Well out of the way; the filth could say and do all they liked, but the evidence would be out the country.
McArdle’s car was parked outside the post office. He turned the key in the lock and eased into the driver’s seat. The clock on the dash said it was after six now. That meant Tierney had had the best part of five hours to shoot that shit into his veins. It might just be worth giving him a rattle, making sure there was a deal to be done. You just couldn’t take a junkie’s word for it; these things had to be checked out. He started the ignition, engaged first gear and pulled out. The traffic was light on the roads, hardly anybody walking about either. Funny that, thought McArdle. He wondered if it had anything to do with the young girl’s murder he’d just seen on the news.
Chapter 11
Barry Tierney brushed dried vomit from his face. He couldn’t recall being sick, but there was no disputing the fact. At some point in his stupor, somewhere between taking the works from the Deil, going home to Vee, and shooting up, he’d thrown up. It was a milky sick, like a baby’s. He was familiar with the sight of baby sick lately, though this was a new occurrence and not entirely something he was happy about.
The child was crying again.
Barry pushed himself up. His sick-wet hand slipped on the greasy mattress and he fell towards the floorboards. The motion sent his brain swimming in his skull. He felt another heave in his gut; more puke rose in his throat and appeared in his mouth. He delivered the mouthful onto the mattress. He didn’t care whether it stained or smelled, he’d long since lost all desire to care about such matters.
The child continued to cry, loud breath-filled shrieks. She’d be hungry again. Why the hell did they need so much feeding and changing? Did it never end?
Tierney suddenly felt cold. He started to shiver. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and tried to rub warmth into his arms and shoulders with the palms of his hands. It didn’t seem to be working. The cold he felt was too deep. There was no heating in the flat — they had no money left for power cards after paying McArdle for their hit.
Several attempts later Tierney got up. He swayed on his feet, like a much older man, and clutched the wall for support. His vision was weak, tired. He could never understand this — how could his eyes be tired when he’d just woken up? He scratched at his eyelids with blackened fingernails. His eyeballs burned. He wanted to scoop them out, drop them in cold water, iced maybe. He wanted another hit — the aches and pains disappeared as soon as he had a hit. He looked around the room for Vee. He couldn’t see her. All he could see was the kid, lying in a drawer, crying again.
‘Shut the fuck up.’
He staggered to the other wall, felt his way to the door. ‘Vee… Vee, where are you?’
There was no reply. She was supposed to be looking after that kid, that was the idea — and it was her idea. Tierney knew he’d played his part in bringing the child into their chaotic lives, but he didn’t want it to be like this. He didn’t want to have to think about the hows and the whys. He only knew it shouldn’t have been like this — it was wrong, all wrong.
‘Vee… Get up to that kid!’
He dragged himself from the sitting room. There was no sign of her. Had she gone out? Where? If she had gone out she was whoring or scoring. Tierney tried to find strength to hit the wall but his dull thuds were barely audible. He saw the bathroom door ahead, sat ajar.
‘Vee… you in there?’ He edged closer, his aching limbs dragging.
At the door to the bathroom Tierney’s heart rate picked up, only a little at first, but as he touched the woodwork his blood raced. ‘Vee…’
He wondered if she was in there — why would she go in there? After last night Tierney could hardly bear to take a piss in there. ‘Vee.’
There was no reply. As he edged inside the door, the hinges creaked. The mat caught behind the door as he pushed it open, tugging and dragging. Tierney felt moisture gather on his brow — he was sweating. His hands felt clammy as he turned towards the bathtub. The shower curtain was drawn shut. Mould and mildew grew at the top but at the base, where the bleach had been splashed about, it was white, bright. Tierney paused before the unusual cleanliness. His mouth dried over. He could see Vee’s pale feet resting beside the taps. Oh Christ, what had she done?
He whispered, ‘Vee?’
His voice cracked but seemed above his normal range in the small room. Oh Jesus, what had she done? Was it too much for her? If it was too much for her, it was too much for him. Where would he go? What would he do?
He heard the child’s cries again. ‘Oh, Jesus, Vee… what have you done?’
Tierney gripped the curtain and pulled it back. Vee looked pale and still. Her head rested on the rim of the bathtub; Tierney could see the blue veins in her temples. He wanted to shake her, to poke at her and wail, tell her to get up and stop being so fucking selfish… It was all her fault, after all. Everything was her fault.
‘Vee…’ Tierney’s voice rose, became a growl. ‘Vee.’
There was a twitch in her brow, a curl of her lip, and then her head turned. Tierney leaned over her. ‘Fuck’s sake, Vee!’He grabbed her face in his hand, squeezed hard. ‘You’re out of it!’
Vee groaned. She seemed to try and open her eyes but her head lolled from side to side with the effort. Tierney pulled her hair, banged her head several times off the rim of the bathtub. Vee groaned, but failed to come round.
‘You selfish bitch!’ roared Tierney. ‘You lazy, selfish piece of shit.’ He drew a fist, aimed it at her face but stopped himself. ‘You’ll keep.’ He turned from her, went to the shower unit and flicked on the switch. Thin streams of water jetted onto Vee where she lay, fully clothed in the bathtub. She mumbled at first, then her mumbles became moans as she tried to wave away the water.
Tierney left her to come round. Somebody had to look after the kid; she wasn’t capable, that was clear. He pushed at the door. It stuck again on the mat. He struggled harder and freed it. As he forced his weight into the door the action made the hinges squeal, then a layer of dust was dislodged from above the frame as the door slammed into the jamb and rebounded back towards Tierney.
‘Fuck’s sake!’
Vee had started to react to the pelting of the water on her. She screamed out, seemed to have found a surprising amount of strength. ‘Turn it off… Turn it off.’
‘That’ll be right.’
‘Barry. Barry, get that off.’
He started to laugh as Vee tried to fumble for the shower, hands outstretched like a blind woman; the scene was comical to him. ‘Serves you right, leaving me to mind that kid.’ He left her slipping, stumbling, ungainly in the bathtub, trying to escape the pounding of the thin jets of water.
Tierney plodded back towards the hallway. He found himself coughing loudly after his exertions. A wisp of mucus trailed from his mouth as he raised a hand to steady himself on the wall. There was no strength left in him. He found his head ached once again. There was a dizzy spell queuing behind his eyes and he needed to sit down. As he stumbled towards the living room he put his hands out in front of him in preparation for a flop onto the filthy mattress he had left only a few moments ago. Once he was inside, the baby’s cries attacked Tierney like jabs. He couldn’t lock them out. The child was Vee’s responsibility, not his, he thought. But somebody had to see to it. He couldn’t let any harm come to the baby — there was far too much at stake for that.
