He’d grabbed her by the wrist and throttled it. ‘Are – you – fucking – hearing – me?’

‘Yes, yes. Jesus Christ, I get it. Ow.’

He’d leaned back, then released her arm. For a time, he’d sat there, sucking air in through his teeth and huffing it back out. She’d forgotten this, how comfortable he was with cruelty, catching mice behind her kitchen skirting boards for sport and braining them with his enormous shoes. He’d said, ‘I’ve got some gear I need you to look after. Not your normal thing. It’s going to set me up for good – more money than I’ve ever made – but I can’t have it on me any longer. You’re going to take it off my hands for a few weeks. Or months. I don’t know yet. I have to find a fence who’ll take the gear.’

‘What is it?’

‘I’m not telling you.’

‘All right. Whose is it?’

‘You don’t get to know that either.’

‘God, Mal. What am I supposed to do with it?’

‘Just stash it for me. Somewhere nobody will look. I’ll have to give it you in bits. There’s only so much I can move at once. They find me with it, I’m a goner.’

‘This isn’t sounding good to me.’

‘I don’t care how it sounds.’ The sheep had gathered at the boundary to gaze at them. ‘I’ve got a number you can reach me at. Remember it, then dump it. I don’t want it getting passed around.’ He’d riffled through the glovebox for a stubby pencil. Then he’d snatched a packet of the Capstans from her grip and started writing digits on the inside of the lid. ‘Phone me in the morning. Eight o’clock. I’ll have instructions for you. Do not say your name. Say something else that lets me know it’s you. Like, I don’t know, A lovely day out in the countryside. If it’s safe for me to speak, I will.’

‘Is this a wind-up?’

‘I don’t know, Joy, have a look at me. What do you reckon?’

There’d been no lightness to his face at all. He’d seemed tired and raw and, maybe for the first time since she’d known him, beaten. It had set her heart to panicking. She’d tried protesting and it hadn’t worked. So what else could she do but throw up a few crumbs of doubt and hope to God he swallowed them?

‘And just how big is all this gear I’m meant to hide? I mean, there’s hardly any space where I am now. I’m bunking with my brother. It’s a tiny house and there are four of us – an old man comes to share our bath as well on Sundays. He’s always got his eyes on what we’re doing. Right nosy parker. I can’t even use the pot at night without somebody waking up – it’s too much of a risk. If Charlie doesn’t catch me at it, someone will.’