‘Died?’ Rob repeated.
‘Yep.’ Harry nodded and sucked on his rollie, which was now wet at the end and turning a deep shade of nicotine brown in his matching fingers. ‘The mam was a smackhead, and the kid got hold of her methadone when she was gouched out and drank the lot. Little fucker didn’t stand a chance.’
‘So she definitely died?’ Rob asked, thinking it a bit of a coincidence that there could have been a different Josie and Holly living in the same area as the murdered couple if his Josie and Holly had a connection to it. And they obviously did, because why else would Josie have kept that newspaper clipping about them?
‘Far as I know.’ Harry shrugged. ‘My missus reckoned the mam disappeared soon after, but I suppose you’d have to be on a death wish to stick around in a place where everyone knew you’d as good as killed your own baby, wouldn’t you? Remember what happened to that nonce who got put on our wing that time?’ he added, giving a sinister chuckle as he reached for his drink.
Rob remembered the man all right, and he shuddered at the memory of watching him being dragged into a cell and raped with a broom handle before being doused in lighter fluid, set alight and flung over the walkway – in full view of the screws, who had pretended they hadn’t seen anything until the last minute, despite the man screaming the place down.
Rob pushed the horrible images out of his mind and took a sip of his drink. Harry reckoned the Holly he’d known of had died but he hadn’t seemed certain, and Rob wondered if that was because she hadn’t, and was currently sleeping in Suzie’s spare room.
‘Do you know the bloke’s name?’ he asked, figuring he still had a chance of turning the situation to his own advantage. ‘The one who killed that couple?’
‘And why would you want to know that?’ Harry asked sharply. ‘I thought you only wanted to find out if he was banged up?’
Sensing that he’d been too forward and had made Harry suspicious again, Rob said, ‘I just thought it might help Josie if I could tell her the name.’
‘I thought you said it was her ex?’ Harry replied smoothly. ‘In which case she already knows his name, don’t she? And if you’re such good friends, wouldn’t she have told you?’
Rob felt his cheeks reddening. ‘I, um, wanted to be sure it was the same one.’
‘Tell me the name she told you, and I’ll tell you if it’s the same one,’ Harry said, his stare intense. Snorting softly when Rob’s mouth flapped open but nothing came out, he said, ‘Never try to kid a kidder, son. Now what’s the real reason you want his name?’
Shifting in his seat, feeling like a dick for getting caught out so easily, Rob said, ‘I just . . .’ He tailed off, then murmured, ‘I thought I might be able to make some money out of it.’
‘And you thought, Oh, I know, I’ll ask good old Uncle Harry for the bloke’s name, ’cos he’s the kind of dickhead who whistles on command. That it?’ Harry asked.
‘No, course not.’ Rob’s cheeks felt like they were on fire.
The lads who had been playing pool suddenly downed cues and headed for the door, and Rob’s stomach clenched when they glanced over at him on their way out. He had a horrible feeling they would be waiting for him when he left to catch his bus – which he would soon have to do if he hoped to get home before Suzie became suspicious about how long the interview was taking.
As if reading his mind, Harry said, ‘You still living in Manchester?’ When Rob nodded, he said, ‘I’ll give you a lift home.’
‘No, it’s OK,’ Rob said miserably. ‘I don’t want to put you out.’
‘I need to see a man about a dog, anyway,’ Harry insisted. ‘So drink up while I have a quick word with Cheryl, then we’ll get going.’
Harry got up and walked over to his mistress, and Rob watched as the man peeled some notes off the wad and pushed them into her hand. She smiled and leaned her head back for a kiss, which Harry dutifully planted. Grimacing, Rob quickly averted his gaze when the man headed back to their table.
‘Let’s go,’ Harry said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand after sinking his drink.
Reluctantly, Rob finished his own drink and followed Harry outside.
‘Address?’ Harry said when he and Rob were sitting in his plush Mercedes.
Wary of giving his real address, because he didn’t want Harry to take it upon himself to start visiting, Rob gave the name of a road a hundred metres from Suzie’s. Good old Uncle Harry wasn’t the kindly old man he had recast him as in his hazy memories. They had rubbed along all right at the time, but it was hard not to form some kind of friendship when you were locked in a cell with someone for twenty-three hours a day. Now, after less than an hour in the man’s company, he knew they had absolutely nothing in common and he couldn’t wait to see the back of him.
After a nightmare journey, during which Harry had kept his foot to the metal on the motorway, swerving from lane to lane and blasting his horn at every driver who didn’t get out of his way fast enough, almost causing multiple pile-ups, Rob released his grip on the sides of the leather seats when Harry, at last, pulled over.
‘Which one’s yours?’ the old man asked, gazing out at the semi-detached houses.
‘The one at the end,’ Rob lied.
‘Not going to invite me in for a brew?’
‘Sorry, mate, I can’t,’ Rob said, feigning regret as he unclipped his seat belt with shaking hands. ‘The missus thinks I’ve been for an interview, and I don’t want her to know I was lying. We only just got back together, and I’m still on probation. You
