‘I know, but—’

‘You still defending that tosser?’ asked Connor. He twirled a finger around on his brow. ‘You’re mental.’

‘None of this would have happened if you’d given him some work,’ said Aysha.

Connor eyed her with disbelief. ‘Oh, so this is my fault? Jesus, Aysh. That bloke’s a liability. Face it.’

‘So what’s happening now?’ asked Josh.

‘Joey mugged his two mates off to the police,’ said Shauna. ‘Said he was the innocent party, that he’d only mentioned he was working there to them, nothing else. They’ll go down for manslaughter at least, no doubt about that. The muskras . . .’ Shauna paused, a brief look of disgust crossing her face. She corrected herself. ‘I mean, the police pulled them in. They’re nicked – and they never did crack that safe open.’

‘So Joey’s out,’ said Josh.

‘He’s out on bail. Cost us a fucking fortune,’ said Connor.

‘I’d better get over there,’ said Aysha, awkwardly bending to snatch up her cardigan and handbag. She felt ill with the baby, this was all she needed. Her family were right. Joey was a fool. But she loved him. ‘He’ll be upset.’

‘You want me to drive you?’ asked Connor, concerned.

‘What I want, Connor, is for you to leave me alone,’ she said, brushing past him and vanishing into the hall. ‘This is all on you,’ she added, and the front door slammed behind her.

107

107

Aysha went outside and started up her BMW. ‘My Heart Will Go On’ by Celine Dion roared out of the speakers and irritably she flicked the thing off. Fuck romantic songs and fuck romance. She could barely get behind the ruddy steering wheel; she was massive, she felt sick and fearful, and bloody Joey was playing them all up. She was starting to feel that the whole bloody marriage thing was just too much fucking trouble.

She drove over to the estate and parked the car outside the house, behind Joey’s old beat-up Ford with its boom box in the back. Joey loved music, the louder the better. He was still like a teenager in that respect.

In a lot of respects.

She got out. There were kids zipping up and down the street on skateboards, and they eyed her car with interest.

‘Anything goes missing on this bloody thing and you’ll pay for it,’ she snapped at them, and they grinned.

‘Keep an eye on it for you for a tenner,’ said one, a carrot-topped porky kid with eyes like a riverboat gambler.

‘Five,’ said Aysha.