‘You work here now?’ she said. ‘Or have you joined the Boys’ Brigade?’ She even mustered up a little laugh, so he would see how normal she was acting.

‘Filling in for someone,’ he said, pulling off the hat and tossing it into the back. ‘One night only.’

‘I suppose the bloke who’s meant to be here got a poorly feeling, did he? Out the blue.’

‘You really want to know?’ He grabbed her by the jaw as though it were a ripe tomato he was choosing at the greengrocer’s. ‘Nah, I didn’t think so. Look at me,’ he told her, shoving his nose close to hers. She sniffed away the shock, glared back at him. His eyeballs were a jelly of red veins. His breath was rank and yeasty. ‘All right.’ He released her. ‘Where’s my money?’

‘In the boot.’

‘It all went like I said it would, then?’

‘More or less.’

‘And how did the old Taffy treat you?’

She gripped the wheel. ‘Like he was happy for the Brylcreem.’

Mal leaned back. ‘He showed you, did he?’

‘Yeah. He wouldn’t let me go until he’d checked them.’

‘All right. Good. So now you know.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘Shut the engine off. I need the keys.’

‘What for?’

‘So I can get my money out. You’d better not have driven here with it unlocked.’

‘Piss off.’ She took them out of the ignition, slapped them in his hand.

Again, he gazed at her. ‘You look much older, all dressed up,’ he said. ‘Not sure it suits you.’

‘Same,’ she answered.

‘Well, at least you’ve got your figure, eh?’ He snickered and got out. ‘Stay there.’

A moment passed. She sat unmoving in the driver’s seat, uncertain what to do or say, or how she ought to be positioned for his anger when it came. She wound the window down as far as it would go. The quarry air was dry and chalky. She could hear the faint clack of machinery somewhere. No sign of the black saloon in any of her mirrors. Those idiots had lost her. Or they’d ditched her. Either way, she was alone with him. A surge of dread burned through her guts. Her stomach was all acid. As the bootlid rose, she watched the mirror, but his face was hidden. He was rummaging inside the boot for less than half a minute. She heard him saying, ‘No no no, what’s this, you stupid cow, you stupid fucking cow,’ and he slammed the boot shut. Then his shoes went scuffing in a hurry on the gravel. He was on the driver’s side, the overnight bag in his hand. He dropped it at his feet. And she was going to ask him what was wrong, and do her best to show her innocence, but he’d already reached in through the window. Her hair was in his fist and he was hauling her up by the scalp. His mouth was right against her ear. ‘Tell me now,’ he said. ‘They coming for me?’