He stared at it, confused, the pulse on the side of his jaw beginning to throb. This was the third, maybe fourth text like that he’d had, and he still hadn’t the slightest of ideas what it was about. He knew he needed to deal with it, speak to Franny, but at the moment, he couldn’t take any more, handle anything else. His head was already all over the place as it was. And right now, it was the closest he had felt to Franny for a long time, and selfishly, he didn’t want that feeling to end.

Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, Alfie took another long breath before walking inside the pub.

The place was dark, and it smelt of sweat. A few old men sat in the corner saying nothing to each other and a woman, who looked to be in her mid-sixties but wearing a tiny mini skirt and a tight blue low-cut blouse, sat at the bar on her own, knocking back the whiskey.

Glancing around, Alfie spotted Barry’s friend, Alan. The description Charlie gave Franny was almost exact. He was small, barely touching five foot three, in his early thirties, and dressed as arranged in a blue shell Nike tracksuit and baseball cap with a red letter A on it. To Alfie, there was no doubt he was a smackhead. There was something about the way he was standing at the bar, jogging up and down on the spot, nervously looking around, his pupils wide and dilated, like he could certainly do with a fix.

Alfie, feigning confidence, walked up to him. ‘Where’s Barry?’

‘He ain’t here.’

It was with a mixture of relief and disappointment that Alfie said, ‘But we arranged to meet.’

Sniffing, and agitated, Alan shrugged as he bit down on one of his dirty nails and spat it out on the floor.

‘He thought it was best that I came first, check you out. Who knows, you could be the filth.’

Alfie leant in. ‘Do I look like the Old Bill to you? This was arranged by his son, so it’s hardly likely is it? I’ve known his son for a while, so he was vouching for me.’

Disinterested, Alan said, ‘You can’t be too careful these days, can you, mate? And Barry, well he likes to know exactly who he’s dealing with before he goes into business with them. I’m Alan by the way.’

Alfie answered drily. ‘I know but I ain’t here to make friends. I want to speak to the organ grinder not the monkey.’ Alfie said this as he slid himself with a threatening air of menace next to Alan, perching himself on one of the wobbly wooden stools in front of the bar.