‘Of course you can. We went to Spain last year, and they have a saying there: “My casa your casa”. Something like that. It means ...’

‘My house is your house.’

‘Oh, Suzy, isn’t he clever? Imagine knowing Spanish.’

Boysie and Suzy laughed.

He liked the old bird Doreen, she was all right. The father was a bit weird, a bit too quiet. But as long as they had no objection to the wedding, he wasn’t bothered.

‘We’re booking St Vincent’s for the wedding, Doreen, my Aunty Briony is seeing to that for me. She’ll be in contact soon, so you can decide along with Suzy what you want. I hope you won’t be offended, Mr Rankins, but I would like to insist from the start that I shall be paying for the wedding, and there will be no expense spared.’

Suzy watched her father’s face. It looked almost pleasant now. He absolutely hated spending money. His favourite saying was: ‘A penny earned is a penny saved.’

Frank Rankins leant forward in his seat and picked up his pipe.

‘Please, son, call me Frank,’ he said happily.

An hour later Boysie was at Suzy’s front door kissing her goodbye before going off for an evening of business.

‘Well, that went all right, love.’

‘Oh, Boysie, I can’t wait!’

He kissed her cool clean lips and grinned. ‘Neither can I, love. Neither can I!’

Chapter Forty-two

Chapter Forty-two

Jimmy Sellars woke up feeling drained. He had been tripping for most of the previous day, but now he’d come down with a vengeance, from the feeling of paranoia to the quick ‘rushes’ that kept making his heart beat a violent tattoo in his chest. He could hear Delia’s soft breathing beside him and Faith’s low crying coming through the thin wall from the bedroom next door. It was the crying that had woken him. He gritted his teeth. The kid got on his nerves. This whole set up got on his nerves.

Leaning off the mattress that was on the floor, he picked up half a joint from the overflowing ashtray and lit it, taking the cannabis deep into his lungs and holding it there for a good while before letting it out slowly. He felt the rush hit his brain and tried to relax.

He let his eyes roam around the room, settling for split seconds on the posters and paintings all around. He looked at his favourite poster, a back view of a girl dressed in a short white tennis dress, holding a racquet in one hand. With the other she scratched a perfectly tanned buttock. She had no underwear on. Feeling himself getting hard, he allowed his usual sexual scenario to run through his head. The girl turned to face him and lifted the front of the dress, giving him the come on.