McArdle leaned over, pointed. ‘How much do you think it costs to keep a kid? Eh? I’m forking out a small fortune on fucking nappies and rusks and Cow and Gate this and that!’
Tierney put the money back in the envelope. ‘We agreed more.’
‘Are you complaining?’ He approached the pair again.
Vee spoke: ‘We agreed.’
‘Well, if you’ve got a better offer, I can always take the money back.’ McArdle reached out for the envelope. Vee snatched it and rose. She stared at McArdle; he could see the veins pulsing in her neck. ‘Nah, didn’t think you had,’ he said.
McArdle turned for the door. As he went, Tierney and Vee held the envelope between them and watched him.
Tierney spoke: ‘That’s us quits.’
McArdle raised a hand above his head.
‘We’re quits!’ shouted Vee.
McArdle turned, stared at them. ‘If you say so.’ He took two steps forward, locked his fingers briefly, then stretched his arms, palms out towards them. ‘What a way to settle your debts… You people disgust me.’
He unlocked his fingers and spat at them.
Tierney and Vee didn’t move.
Chapter 29
Barry tierney leaned into the bar, raised himself on the little brass rail that skirted its base. The barmen were ignoring him.
‘Prick’s not wanting to serve us, Vee.’
Vee twiddled the black straw in her vodka and Coke. She looked uncomfortable in the George Street style-bar, twitching and jerking at her new blouse.
This part of town was for people with money to spend, lots of money. It was for the bank workers and the young professionals, thought Tierney. They didn’t want him there; they hated him and he hated them back.
‘Hey, you going to serve me?’ he shouted.
One barman was polishing a glass, looked over to Tierney and sighed. The action sparked something in the junkie. He wanted to take the glass from the barman’s hand and thrust it in his face. The bastard, the cheeky bastard looking down his nose at me, he thought.
‘Look at this, Vee… He’s talking to his boss.’
Vee put down her glass, slapped the bar. ‘Hey, you serving here?’
The bar staff looked around them, approached Vee and Tierney. ‘If you don’t keep the noise down, I’m afraid we’ll have to ask you to leave.’
‘Eh, what you on about?’ said Tierney. ‘I’m just trying to get a few drinks in here.’
The barman who had been polishing the glass rolled eyes, said, ‘I think, perhaps, you’ve had enough, sir.’
‘Oh do you, perhaps?’ Tierney spat out the last word. Some flecks of spittle landed on the barman’s black waistcoat.
‘Right, that’s it. Out!’ The other one pushed forward. He slid past the cappuccino machine and opened up the bar counter. He stood hands on hips as he called over the door stewards.
‘Fuck this,’ said Tierney. He launched himself at the man behind the bar. He could feel himself being pulled back as he lunged and immediately realised the door steward had caught a hold of him.
‘Right, don’t make this hard on yourself.’ He sounded Australian, or South African; he was foreign.
‘Get your hands off me, you’re not even Scottish… Get back to your own fucking country.’
Vee threw back the last of her vodka and Coke and joined the melee. She smashed the glass over the steward’s head and screamed, ‘Leave him, you bastard!’
Shrieks went up around the bar. Chairs scraped on the floor as people moved away.
‘Get them out! Get them out!’ shouted the manager.
People ran to left and right, headed for the edges of the room to be free of the scene. A group of reinforcements — more stewards — arrived from the front door and Tierney and Vee were bundled onto the pavement. Tierney struggled with the men in black jackets, lashed out and kicked. As Vee was dragged she lost one of her new shoes and removed the other to hit at her attackers.
‘Fuck off… Bastards!’
When they got them far enough from the bar, the stewards dropped them on the ground and backed off. They brushed down their jackets as they went.
Tierney ranted, ‘You’re fucking dead, you are!’
‘Calm down, just calm down,’ said the biggest of them. ‘We’ve called the police and they’re on their way.’
Tierney got up, jutted his head at him. ‘You’re dead! Do you know who I am? Barry Tierney, ask about town. I’ll be back to do you in.’
Vee swung her bag as the men retreated indoors, shaking their heads. ‘You’ve lost it, love,’ said one of them.
‘Let the cops deal with them,’ said another.
Tierney watched them go inside. The blood rushed in his veins. He felt his adrenaline spike and looked around for something to throw at the window. There was nothing, no brick or an ashtray even. He scoped about — further up the street there was a chrome stanchion, outside the next bar. He ran over and unhooked the red cord. The stanchion was heavy; he struggled with it down the street but somehow managed to get it onto his shoulder.
‘Vee, get ready to run. I’ll show those bastards.’
Tierney edged closer to the window and started to spin with the stanchion in his arms. When he felt he had enough momentum he released his grip. The noise from the smashing window was like the one o’clock gun. Tierney and Vee ran off, laughing and jeering.
The pair made for Hanover Street and kept going until they were completely out of breath.
‘Did you see their faces?’ said Tierney.
Vee struggled to stay upright, gasped. ‘Yeah… Total fucking idiots. You showed them, Barry.’
‘I showed them.’ Tierney felt proud of himself; no one was going to talk to him like that. It was a great feeling to have a few quid in your pocket. He didn’t want to think about how he’d come by it, but that didn’t matter now. He was free of his debts to the Deil, he’d scored enough to see him through the weeks ahead and he had a new set of clothes and more money in his pocket to spend.
He stepped into the road and flagged a black cab. ‘Come on.’
‘Where to?’
‘The night is young, so it is.’
Vee giggled as she was dragged into the cab. Tierney gave the driver the name of another bar — he couldn’t sober up. Not now. As he sat in the back of the cab his mind returned to the events of the last few days and he felt his bolster subside.
‘What is it?’ said Vee.
‘Nothing.’
She knew well what it was, he thought. As he looked at her, eyes slow-blinking, out of it as ever, he knew she was going to be a constant reminder to him. He looked away, out to the road, the hum of street lights and the blur of shopfronts and takeaways on Broughton Street. He felt sick — not physically, deeper than that. He felt sick in his soul.
‘Barry, what the fuck’s up now?’ said Vee.
‘Shut it,’ he snapped.
The driver’s eyes appeared in the rear-view mirror. Tierney flagged him down. ‘It’s okay, mate. No bother here.’
Vee tugged at his arm. ‘You’ve gone all moody again.’
