One of Farmer’s attackers was now leaning down, speaking close to his ear. He felt wetness on his face, sticky wetness, not rain but blood.

‘This fucking Maguire business. You drop that, sunshine. You hear me?’

London accent. Hard as iron.

He couldn’t draw breath. Taking in air felt impossible.

The man shook him roughly. ‘I said, you hear me, you little arsehole?’

Farmer nodded. He couldn’t do more.

The man drew back. ‘Right, then,’ he said.

And then, as suddenly as they had appeared, the men were gone and Cory Farmer was alone there in the alleyway, drenched with rain and creased with agony, wondering what the fuck had hit him. He lay there for what felt like hours. Then there were blue lights, police lights, from a car that drew in at the mouth of the alley, and two police officers were getting out of it. Soon, they were bending over him.

So the bloke who’d come out into the alley from the restaurant hadn’t turned his back after all. He’d gone back in and phoned the Bill.

‘You all right, sir?’ asked one of them.

But he still couldn’t speak. He nodded.

‘Can you stand, sir? If we help you?’

He nodded again.

They helped him back to his feet, into the police car, and away.

130

Things get worse before they get better, so the saying goes. Angel wondered how much worse, before the fates were finally satisfied that she had been kicked enough.

Thank God for Tom. When she was finally evicted, he was there straight away. Christ, maybe there actually was some advantage to having family close at hand. She’d never believed that was possible, until now.

‘You can stay over as long as you want. I’ve got a spare room, it’s not a problem,’ he told her.

They sat in Tom’s flat in the evenings, laughing at daft stuff on the telly together. The flat wasn’t marvellous, but it was homely and Tom was a surprisingly neat person, for a bloke.

‘You’re in the crap too,’ Angel told him. ‘Aren’t you? Lenny’s club’s shut, everything repossessed. That means you’re out of a job.’

‘I’ll get another one,’ he shrugged, tossing a peanut into the air and gulping it down. ‘See this face? It’s an honest face. People like me. I’ll schmooze into another manager’s job, just you watch.’

‘Such confidence! Wish I felt the same way. All I’ve ever done is work in a shop. And I was rubbish at that. Since then I’ve been a lady who lunches. Which is, I have to tell you, a lot nicer than dishing out Eccles cakes.’

‘All good things come to an end,’ sighed Tom, necking a beer while Angel sipped on red wine. He shot her a sideways look. ‘You haven’t been to see him then?’

‘I’m filing for divorce.’ She’d been to the solicitor’s, checked out her options. They were few and far between. Lenny had been way in over his head and she’d been lucky that very little of his shit had stuck to her.