Shit. The look on Jory’s face.
He’d been so fucking great about Mal pretty much having a nervous breakdown in front of him too. After nearly killing both of them—Christ, what had he been thinking, grabbing the wheel like that? Mal felt like a total arse as he walked the short way from Mother Ivey’s Bay to the Sea Bell.
That was why this thing, him and Jory, had to not happen. Because he was fucked up big time, and if he went into something with Jory, he’d fuck that up too.
And then he’d have let Dev down on top of everything else.
Christ. Mal walked blindly through the pub’s back door.
Sometimes . . . sometimes he felt like it should have been him hitting the front of the train with that godawful thump, getting carved up by the wheels— Shit . . .
He wasn’t supposed to think like that. That was what the counsellor had said. But she didn’t get it, did she? He’d killed someone.
“Babe?”
Mal glanced up. Tasha was staring at him through the open door of the kitchen, her usual worried expression in place. Well, usual when she looked at him, anyway. Great mate he was turning out to be. “Keep frowning like that and you’ll end up with wrinkles,” he said weakly.
“Fuck off, you wanker. What’s happened, babe?”
“Mixed messages much?”
“Oi. Stop stalling and come and sit down. You want a drink?”
Christ, why was everyone trying to push alcohol on him? He traipsed wearily into the kitchen. “Want me to turn out like me uncle Bob, do you?”
“Is he the one who drank a bottle of Jack a day and had a stroke in his forties? You ain’t gonna make it to your forties. Someone’ll murder you way before then. Sit down, cos I’m getting you a glass of water and you’re either drinking it or wearing it. Your choice.” She stepped over to the sink.
Mal sat down at the kitchen table. A moment later, she clonked a pint glass of water down in front of him.
He drank. It felt better than expected going down. Cool and clear. Unlike his fucking head back on that beach.
Tasha slid into the chair next to his. “Babe, if you don’t wanna talk, that’s okay, yeah? But you just look . . . rattled, yeah? Like something’s happened. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I saw that bloke again,” he blurted out. “Jory. Roscarrock.”
Tasha would make a fucking epic mother tiger. He could have sworn she actually bristled. Maybe even growled a bit. “What did he say to you? What did he do?”
“Gonna send the boys round? Nah, it ain’t like that. I think he’s all right, you know? He swears he never knew about Dev. And he wants to get to know him.”
“Why?”
“Cos he’s a decent bloke. He said sorry like a hundred times for what his bruv and sister did.”
“And you believed him?”
“Well, yeah. Why’s he gonna lie about it? What’s in it for him?”
“I dunno. So he can get in your kecks, maybe?”
“No one’s gonna go to all that trouble for a leg over.”
Tasha shrugged. “True. You ain’t that good-looking. And I’ve seen your kecks. I’ve washed your kecks.” She made a face.
“Cheers, love. You really know how to make a bloke feel special. Oi, you still ain’t said nothing to Dev about Jory, have you?”
“Not yet. Wasn’t sure what to say. But we’d better, hadn’t we? What if he gets Dev’s address from that cow and gets in touch?”
“He won’t. I got him to agree not to. Not until Dev and Kyle get down here.”
“You told him Dev’s coming down? What did you bloody go and do that for?”
“Come on, they’re gonna be staying literally just down the road from where Jory lives. It ain’t like he’s gonna be able to miss him.”
“S’pose. Least it means we ain’t gotta rake all that shit up again before we have to. And Dev won’t have to worry about it till he gets here.”
Mal frowned. “D’you think . . . Do you think he’d, like, not come here if he knew?” The minute he’d said it, he wished he could take it back, cos what if she said yes? Then they’d have to tell him, and maybe he wouldn’t come here, and Mal wasn’t sure he could handle that.
It wasn’t like he needed Dev or nothing. But he’d been looking forward to a couple of weeks with his best mate, pissing about, having fun. Like, after he’d had that, he’d be strong enough to go back to London. Maybe even back to work.
“Nah, he’d still come.” Tasha said it firmly, but then she turned her face away. “Shit. I dunno. Maybe we oughtta tell him. Give him a chance to make up his own mind. It’s just . . . I don’t wanna put him off, yeah? I haven’t seen him for like months. Am I being a selfish cow?”
Mal gave her a hug. “If you are, that’s two of us. Moo.”
She giggled. “Fucking moo to you too.”
“Mooooooooooooo.”
“MOOOOOO . . . Oh, all right, Jago? Didn’t see you there. What you after?”
“Milk,” Jago said, deadpan, and Mal and Tasha cracked up.
That night, Tasha barged into the bathroom while Mal was flossing his teeth in his boxer shorts. She stood there with her arms folded and watched for a minute or so before she spoke. “Are you gonna see that Jory bloke again?”
“Maybe. But I ain’t seeing him.”
“Good.” She didn’t move.
Mal chucked the floss in the bin and got out his mouthwash, thought sod it, and offered her a capful with a sarcastic bow.
She made a face. “It’s all yours.”
“Suit yourself. Dental hygiene’s very important.”
Tasha waited while he gargled and spat. “Gonna shag him?” Her tone was sharp.
Mal rolled his eyes and shook his head firmly. “No. I’m not gonna risk messing things up with him and Dev. They got enough to deal with, with that bloody family.”
“Good.”
“Why you got such a problem with him, though? Seriously, he’s all right.” He was more than all right, which was why Mal needed to steer well clear of him.
“The problem I got is you saw him today, didn’t you? And you came in looking worse than you did when your rat died, and don’t think I didn’t notice you never told me why. So what did he do to you?”
“What? Nothing.” Mal caught her disbelieving expression in the mirror and sighed, slinging his towel round his neck. “It wasn’t his fault, okay? I was in his car and . . . I had a dodgy moment, that’s all. Sorta flashback thing.”
“Oh, babe. Did anything, like, happen?”
“No. No thanks to me. Shit. I grabbed the wheel, didn’t I? Thought he was gonna hit someone, but it was all in my fucked-up head.”
“Fuck.” Tasha came up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist. Her hair tickled his neck, and her bare arms were a bit too warm on his skin for comfort. It still felt good, though. Like when he was a little kid and his mum would give him a cuddle.
Or when he was not so little, for that matter. Mum had wanted him to stay with her and Dad while he got over stuff, but he just . . . couldn’t.
“I don’t get it, Tash.” His voice sounded thick. It was from the gargling, wasn’t it? “Dad was on the Tubes for twenty years. I know he had stuff happen. But he never . . . He just went for a few pints with the lads and then went back to work next day. How come I’m such a fuckup?”
She squeezed him then, so tight it actually hurt. “You’re fucking well not a fuckup, Mal Thomas. You ain’t your dad, babe, that’s all. Everyone’s different.” Then she loosened her hold, and he could breathe again. So it was stupid how he was sort of disappointed she’d stopped squeezing the life out of him. “Your Jory bloke, was he okay about it?” Her words were hot puffs of breath on his skin.
“Yeah. He was great.” Mal couldn’t help smiling at the memory.
She stuck her bushy head out from behind him and met his eye in the mirror with a teasing grin. “Looked after you, did he? Give you a little cuddle? Did you manage to cop a feel while he was at it?”
Mal laughed. “It wasn’t like that. We had a cup of tea with his old school mate’s nan, all right?”
“You’re shitting me.”
“No, swear to God. There was chocolate biscuits and everything. He’s a good bloke, Tash. You’d like him if you gave him a chance.” Probably. Tasha could be funny about blokes. “Now are you gonna let me get to bed or what?”
“Yeah . . .” She didn’t let go of him, though, and a minute later she spoke again. “Got a text from Ceri.”
“She okay?”
“Yeah. Sounds like she’s having a great time.”
“That’s good, then, innit?”
“S’pose.” She stepped back, letting her arms fall from around his waist. “Yeah. Imma go bed, now. You sleep tight, babe.”
“Yeah, you too. And oi, no having X-rated dreams about me, all right? Don’t think I won’t know when I see you in the morning.”
“You’re so full of shit, you wanker.” But it got her to smile, which was the main thing.
Lying in bed later, Mal couldn’t help thinking about Jory. Christ, he hoped the bloke would forgive him. Kissing him like that—it’d been well out of order when he’d known it couldn’t go any further.
Could it?
No. No way. Jory was . . . He was Dev’s. In, like, a totally nonsexual sense. Jesus. And Mal’s crap handling of it all showed he couldn’t be trusted with anything that belonged to anyone else.
He’d see Jory again, yeah, but just to apologise.
That was all.