I knew where he was coming from. I also knew he still held a flame for Amy; I let the comment slide. More conflict, more complication, I could well do without. ‘Where are we headed, then?’ I asked.
Mac spoke, ‘Drinker in Leith. Know a man who knows Gemmill.’
‘Think he’s gonna tell us anything?’
Mac looked at me like I’d tested him, said, ‘He’ll tell us.’
I’d forgotten how connected Mac was. If he said he had a man in the know, that was good enough for me. Hod pulled out. As we drove, the silence in the cab of the van was palpable. I knew the pair of them were bursting to have a go at me, a full-on swipe for getting Amy involved, for getting myself in hospital again… for being the usual cockhead that I’d proven myself to be time and time again. But they held schtum. I was grateful for that – fuck knows I had nothing else to be glad of.
I put my hands in my pockets and tried to draw fists to stop the trembling. Knew it was futile. Felt the tremors spreading along the seat towards Mac and Hod. I was, as they were both dying to tell me, in some shape. I let the shakes mount up, mingle with the tension, then I fired up: ‘Look, I know you’re both itching to cane my arse, so let’s just get that out the way, eh.’
Mac looked at Hod. They both shook their heads. This was worse than I thought. They’d gone beyond that stage. They were in damage-limitation mode. I could tell by the look on them that they thought I was past help. I was at the stage where no one else could reach me. I felt their concern; it made me think of Debs. I’d seen the look on her many times before. She knew me better than anyone. Was that why she wouldn’t speak to me? Was it too painful for her to see me this way? I looked at my mobi, in forlorn hope that she might have returned one of my calls… Nothing. I felt an almighty urge to call her again, to tell her I thought I’d sussed her out, but I fought it. Now wasn’t the time. And I had more pressing matters to worry about.
I dialled Amy’s number.
Ringing.
Three rings in total, then voicemail.
I left a message: ‘Amy, it’s Gus… where the hell are you, eh? Look, I saw you with Gemmill. He’s fucking dangerous, I’m not kidding. Tell me where you are, eh? Get away from him and call… I’ll come get you. Please, Amy. This isn’t a game. It’s serious now, call me right back.’
I put down the phone, caught Mac’s eye on me. It wasn’t one of his more kindly stares.
‘Yeah?’ I said.
‘Think that’ll do any good?’
‘What do you mean?’
He turned on the seat, staring intently at me, pointed a finger in my chest. ‘If Gemmill knows she’s connected to you, Gus, she’s probably already on a fucking meathook.’
I brushed him aside, yelled at Hod, ‘Look, can you drive any bloody slower?’
‘Don’t be sparking at me, boyo.’
I wasn’t taking that. ‘Boyo now, is it? Well, let me fucking remind you whose idea this case was!’
‘Aye, aye… and who told you to keep Amy out of it?’
‘You’ll be accusing me of playing Cilla to her and Gemmill next!’
Mac slapped the dash. ‘Right, enough’s enough!… You heard the pair of you? Like fucking four-year-olds. Cool the beans, eh. If we’re going to find this lassie we need to keep the heid.’
He was right, but I wasn’t admitting anything.
I turned to the window, tucked my trembling hands back in my coat pockets as Hod drove. I could see the hallucinations returning if I didn’t snap out of this frame of mind. I felt myself tripping – falling out with myself again. It was never a good state at the best of times, but in the current circumstances, with Amy’s life on the line, I might as well just check out.
As we hit Leith Walk the place was in chaos. Tram works in full swing, the road dug up. A tailback stretched all the way from the roundabout down London Road. Horns blared, the normal rules of the road chucked out the window. At Festival time you expect such shit, but things were worse than ever with the tram works. Every bin in the street was full, spilling rubbish onto the ground. Tourists and locals waded through the muck, shaking their heads. Don’t think I’d ever wanted out more. Felt an unholy pull towards a new life. Somewhere far away; somewhere I could be someone else. I spiralled out of control… out of hope.
I turned to Mac. ‘So, this mate of yours… he reliable?’
Mac’s voice was low, flat. ‘Well, for a start, he’s no mate of mine.’
‘Sounds dodgy.’
‘He’s a mate of Gemmill’s.’
‘But you know him?’
‘We were in Bar-L together. Gemmill was in for a four-stretch at the time. We all crossed paths.’
‘But he kept in with Gemmill?’
‘Aye… I didn’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Cos the cunt’s fucking radge.’
I knew that myself, remembered his face as he’d stomped on my guts in the King’s Arms. He was wild. Lost it. Out of control. None of this sounded promising. ‘So what makes you think he’ll fill you in on where to get Gemmill?’
Mac rubbed the edge of his Chelsea smile. ‘Nothing… just gonna play it casual, hope he’s too dippit to cop on.’
‘Jesus, this could backfire badly. What if he tips off Gemmill?’
Mac dropped his hand, exhaled a long breath. ‘Aye, well, I thought about that myself… but didn’t come up with an answer. You got a better idea?’
I took my eyes off him, looked to the road in front, said, ‘God help us.’
Hod butted in, forcing his voice high above its natural range: ‘It’s Amy you should be praying for.’
Chapter 23
HOD AND I WATCHED MAC cross the street to the pub. I’d seen more than my fair share of Leith drinkers but this place was a total doss. Two skelky yoofs stood outside like ornamental hoodies, hanging off filter-tips, and watching a pair of Staffies in heavy leather and brass harnesses circle each other in preparation for a scrap. Three yards from the door an old man in an Andy Capp hat and dirty mac took a piss against the wall; he could hardly stand and looked likely to keel at any moment. The snoutcasts, at least half a dozen of them, looked unfazed by either of these scenes – it was just another day in paradise.
‘Some fucking kip, that place,’ said Hod.
‘No kidding.’
At the door, Mac took a hand out of his jacket pocket and pushed his way in. I felt relieved this was his gig and not mine. There was no way I was up to taking on any of the locals if they got uppity at the sight of a strange face. Round here, a fresh coupon is likely taken as filth.
Hod spoke: ‘So, the hospital again…’
‘What about it?’ I was in no mood for a lecture. Had taken more than enough of them in my day.
‘Nothing.’ He knew better than to have a go. Went on, but his voice changed tone again. ‘I, eh, bumped into your mam.’
This was unexpected. At the best of times Hod didn’t hang anywhere my mother was likely to be, and he had been lying low. He was up to something. ‘You did?’
‘Aye, okay… Look, I called her, told her you’d been in the hospital.’
I fired up, ‘You did fucking what?’
‘Gus, I had to… She asked me to…’
‘She asked you to what?’
He scratched at the stubble on his chin. ‘She asked me to let her know if you were… y’know, ever in a bad way again, just to let her know.’
