BooksBarbecue
Back The Bad Place Save as PDF
Chapters (72)
  1. Cover
  2. THE BAD PLACE
  3. Contents
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. Acknowledgements
  71. About the author
  72. An Invitation from the Publisher

She scrambled out of the lounger.

‘Kev! Get inside!’ Her husband pressed forward, aiming to get another punch in at Nelson, and she pushed him away. ‘Now!’

Scrabbling around on the floor, Nelson put his hand to his bloody nose.

‘He hit me! He hit me!’

Ursula was beside him in a second, offering kitchen roll. The kids stood at the top of the garden watching; one girl was filming it on her phone. Kev dropped the tongs and, ignoring the food that spat and hissed on the grill, stormed inside.

34

Austin was sitting in his usual place on the railing outside the estate before midnight. He was enjoying a smoke, listening to the quiet roar of the night, when he saw his bruv Roy in the gloom of garages beneath the concrete walkway, yakking to a woman who stood in the shadows. Roy kept looking in his direction, and Austin knew it was only a matter of time before he came up. Sure enough, a couple of minutes later, Roy loped along the path.

‘Got a lady wants to talk,’ Roy said with a wink. ‘And she looks loaded.’

‘Yeah?’ Austin watched the woman pacing. ‘If she wants to talk to me, she knows where I’m at.’

Roy shook his head. ‘She’s nervous, bruv.’

But Austin was comfortable on the railings where he could see in every direction. The last thing he wanted to do was head down into that piss-stinking place, where someone could put a knife to your throat and rob you of your hard-earned, or handcuff you and throw you in the back of a patrol car, and you wouldn’t know a thing about it until it was too late.

‘If she wants to buy from me, she’s got to come here. It’s so dark down there she could be wearing a fucking police helmet.’

Truth was, Austin was sick of being patronized by middle-aged professional people. You got a lot of them in the summer, all those respectable nursery school teachers and advertising executives and artisan bakers. They’d all get together for a drink, and the sun and the prosecco would go to their heads and they’d start talking about the good old days, before they were saddled with a house full of kids, a cockapoo and a crippling mortgage on a holiday home in Portugal, back when they were young and went to festivals to get off their tits. They’d get this drunken idea that they wanted to recapture those glory days, so they’d ask around in a few pubs and stumble across Austin’s name. And suddenly they were parking their 4x4s at the edge of the estate in the dead of night, all these idiots in summer shorts, crocs and bum bags, pissing their pants at the excitement of buying a bit of weed or coke.