‘You reckon you can sort it out?’

Josh outlined his plans. He’d talked it over with Linus Pole and Linus was happy to let two of his best boys do one fortnight on the door, then another two would do the next. Josh would handle the cash, pass them on their bit. Linus would, of course, get a cut too. It would be fine.

Thoughts of Linus made Josh think of the other thing they’d discussed when they’d met up. Linus hadn’t been keen to break it to him, but he had given Josh the bad news anyway: Josh’s mother had finally died in her sleep after years of heavy drinking. At first, Josh didn’t know how he felt about it. After a while, he realized he was relieved. His mother had stood aside and watched his dad batter him as a kid for years. And Josh had never forgiven her for it.

Dave was nodding, his expression thoughtful. ‘Look . . . do you think you would be able to handle something else? It’s a bit . . . delicate.’

Josh refocused, wrenched his mind away from his mother’s sad ending. ‘In what way delicate?’

‘In the way that things are a bit personal, you understand?’

‘No,’ said Josh. ‘I don’t.’

Dave paused, looked down at the desk, pushed the newspaper around with one gnarled yellow index finger. Josh glanced at the headlines. Sadat was talking to the Knesset, and in Rhodesia they were still wrestling with black majority rule. Jimmy Carter’s home church in Plains, Georgia, had ended its colour bar, and trouble was looming in England over public sector cuts. Then Dave heaved a sigh. ‘Thing is,’ he said, ‘I have a friend.’

‘A friend.’

‘Yeah. A close friend.’

Josh watched Dave’s face. He didn’t know this man well yet, but he didn’t dislike him. Their wives had brawled like mongrel bitches, but that was hardly Dave’s fault. Still, Josh felt he was treading on unsteady ground here. ‘Go on,’ he said.

‘A boyfriend,’ said Dave, and Josh could almost have sworn the ugly little cunt was blushing.

Josh said nothing. Dave was a married man, and he’d believed him to be straight. But now he was saying he wasn’t. Well, it was his business if he wanted to bat for both sides. Josh didn’t care one way or the other.

‘This boyfriend’s name is Andrew Meredith. I met him when he came in as a punter and we . . . well, sort of hit it off.’

‘Right.’

‘This was about a year back. Phil don’t know nothing about this, of course.’

‘No. Of course.’

‘And I want it kept that way.’

‘So what’s the problem? Does this friend fit in with the drugs scene here?’