The Promise Read online

  Something was definitely up.

  ‘I’m free later,’ Mandy said, hoping that, whatever it was, Davey would feel that he could confide in her. She and Davey had got themselves into a bit of a routine lately. If Mandy had a slow night, she’d come here for a nightcap and, nine times out of ten, she’d end up having a lock-in, just the two of them.

  She was starting to enjoy their little nightly ritual.

  Davey would pour them both a nice brandy and they’d sit and talk for hours, putting the world to rights, laughing and joking with the ease of lifelong friends.

  Tonight though, Davey was acting cagey, different somehow.

  ‘I can’t tonight, Mandy. I’m sorry.’

  ‘What about tomorrow then?’ Mandy said warily, testing him. Determined to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering her friend.

  ‘Tomorrow’s no good either, I’m afraid… ’ His voice was thick with regret as he glanced out towards the back; his body language shifty, nervous.

  Mandy shook her head as the penny finally dropped.

  ‘She’s back, isn’t she?’

  The forlorn expression on Davey’s face confirmed what she already knew.

  Mel Lewis, Davey’s fruit loop of a wife had come skulking back to him with her tail between her legs, no doubt, and Davey, being the soft touch that he was, had taken her back.

  ‘Go on, then, what was her excuse this time? Let me guess: “She realised that she’d made a mistake”; “She didn’t know what she had been thinking?”’

  Mandy rolled her eyes as Davey flinched.

  Bingo.

  She should have known. Typical fucking Mel and her melodramatics as per usual. The silly old cow didn’t know she was born, walking out on a man like Davey. The woman treated him like a doormat that she could stomp all over whenever the fancy took her ‒ and the worst part about it all was that Davey seemed to let her. The amount of times Mel had pulled a disappearing act on the bloke, Davey must have been blind, dumb, and stupid to even consider giving her another chance.

  The latest one she’d buggered off with had been one of the Polish drivers that delivered the kegs of beer to the pub, a bloke half her age.

  ‘So what was it then? Love’s young dream just didn’t work out, eh? The grass wasn’t as green as she thought it was going to be? What did she do? Step in some dog shit while she was over there?’

  Davey baulked once again. Mandy was speaking the truth and they both knew it.

  ‘She just turned up here this morning, Mandy. She said she missed me. That she couldn’t be without me.’ Shaking his head in wonderment, he knew he sounded ridiculous as he repeated the cliches that Mel had come out with earlier. Somehow, they’d sounded so genuine. Or maybe he was only hearing what he wanted to hear. He still wasn’t sure himself if he was honest.

  ‘Maybe this time she’s finally seen sense, eh?’

  Mandy screwed up her mouth, wondering who Davey was trying to convince. She would bet her life on the fact that the only reason the gobby cow had come back was because the fella she’d shacked up with had finally cottoned on to what a psycho Mel was.

  It galled Mandy no end, but Davey had clearly made his choice – having taken Mel back again – so who was she to cause a drama?

  ‘Well, you know what, Davey, I really hope it all works out for you. I really do,’ she said, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice as she got her purse out of her handbag.

  ‘Look, I know you probably think I’m mad to even entertain the idea of giving her another chance, but I’ve got to give it a fair go, haven’t I? She is my wife—’

  ‘You don’t need to explain yourself to me.’ Holding her hand up, Mandy stopped Davey mid-sentence. She knew him well enough by now to know that, of course, he would give his wife another chance. Unlike most of the scumbags around here, Davey was a decent man, forgiving. Too fucking good for a woman of Mel’s type, that was for sure. Though Mandy decided to keep that little nugget to herself for now. ‘Your business is none of mine.’

  ‘Ah, I’m so glad that you’re okay about it. I thought that you might, well, you know. I thought it might cause a bit of aggro.’ Davey smiled, the relief written all over his face. ‘You and me, we’re just mates, aren’t we?’ he said, willing Mandy to go along with him, even though they both knew that wasn’t the truth.

  They had become much more than just friends the past few weeks. They cared about each other, or, at least, Mandy thought that they did.

  She could kick herself. She knew better than to let her guard down, better than to trust a man. This was a painful lesson. Mel Lewis had swanned back in here again, and within seconds Davey had dropped her quicker than a hot turd.

  ‘Yea, Davey. We’re just mates,’ she said, her head held high.

  Picking up the two glasses, Mandy turned on her heel and made her way back over to where Josie was sitting at the table waiting for her.

  ‘Uh Oh! What’s wrong?’ Josie could tell by her friend’s face that something was up. She could read her friend like an open book. Mandy had done nothing but harp on about seeing Davey tonight, and now that she was here at the pub they’d hardly said two words to each other, and Mandy had a face on her like a slapped arse. ‘I know that look, Mandy. What’s Romeo said to you?’

  Mandy shrugged, handing Josie her glass.

  ‘Guess who’s come crawling back out of her hole?’ Mandy said, still fuming from Davey’s rejection. ‘His mardy cow of a wife. Turned up here this morning.’

  ‘What, and he just took her back again?’ Josie rolled her eyes.

  Men. They really were fickle. Josie had honestly thought that Davey had come to his senses this time but, clearly, they’d both been wrong about that.

  ‘What is it with fucking men, huh? Selfish bastards the lot of them. All they think about is themselves,’ Josie said wistfully as she downed her glass of wine in one. She had enough on her own plate today without Davey pissing her off too.

  ‘It’s my own fault,’ Mandy quipped. ‘I should never have got involved with him in the first place. He’s married. I knew that from the start.’

  Mandy felt stupid. She’d broken her golden rule. Never get emotionally involved. She’d done quite well with it up until now: she was a cold, heartless cow, never allowing herself to let her guard down, never allowing herself to get hurt. But she’d thought that Davey was different. He treated her as an equal, with respect.

  ‘That man must be a right bloody soft touch, swallowing his knob and letting that one waltz back in after she was swanning about with a bloke young enough to be her son. The woman’s had more pricks than a second-hand dartboard since she married Davey; she’s making the man look a right laughing stock.’

  Mandy was rambling. The combination of Davey’s blatant rejection mixed with the cheap acidic wine she’d just downed had put her in a thoroughly shitty mood.

  ‘You really liked him, didn’t you?’ Josie said, surprised by the genuine hurt that she could hear in Mandy’s words.

  ‘Liked him?’ Mandy shook her head, determined to save face. She wouldn’t allow herself to get all sentimental over a man. Not even a man as decent and kind as Davey Lewis.

  ‘Nah, I just feel sorry for the bloke that’s all. I mean, I must have, what else was I thinking, huh? He’s not exactly the catch of the century, is he? His hairline is so far back, even a archaeologist would have trouble finding it.’ Mandy laughed at her own wit, but when Josie didn’t join in, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of momentary guilt at slagging Davey off.

  She shook her head.

  ‘Why is it girls like us never seem to cut a break, Jos? We ain’t that bad, are we?’

  Josie looked down at her empty glass, twisting the stem with her fingers. She was starting to wonder the very same herself.

  ‘Fuck knows, Mandy. You’re asking the wrong person if its reassurance you’re looking for. Trust me, I’ve had the day from hell… ’ she said – about to tell Mandy about her run-in with Javine Turner
this morning, and the latest gossip about Delray, when Mandy tapped her arm, interrupting her.

  ‘Looks like our prayers have just been answered, Jos.’

  Hearing a loud racket behind them, Mandy eyed the two handsome younger men as they stumbled in through the main pub doors and staggered over towards the bar, talking and laughing animatedly, clearly both having a good time. They were good-looking fuckers and both smartly dressed. Mandy guessed they were in their late twenties. A bit younger than the clients Josie and Mandy usually pulled in, but the fact they’d both had a skinful told Mandy that she and Josie would be in good stead.

  ‘Looks like our luck might have just changed.’ Mandy grinned, then realised that Josie didn’t look as keen. The girl was still staring at the main door, looking through the glass at the shadowy figure outside.

  ‘Hello, earth to Josie. Did you hear me? Those two might be potential customers if we play our cards right. Maybe tonight hasn’t been a waste of time after all, eh?’

  ‘Yeah maybe… ’ Josie said vaguely. ‘Is that Billy Stackhouse out there do you reckon?’ Josie said, squinting, as she tried to get a closer look at the man smoking on the footpath outside.

  ‘I think so.’ Mandy narrowed her eyes, scrutinising her friend. ‘Why? You after him about something?’

  Mandy’s words were loaded. The last person Josie needed to run into tonight was Billy Stackhouse.

  ‘Oh, no. I just thought I recognised him, that’s all,’ Josie lied, unconvincingly.

  Mandy eyed her friend, suspicious. ‘What did you see, Jos? A fucking long brown tail and a pair of goofy fucking teeth? He’s a fucking rat, Josie. You need to stay the fuck away from him.’

  Josie nodded.

  ‘You haven’t been seeing him again, have you? After last time?’ Mandy said, sick of pussyfooting around the fact that Josie had been acting more than a little off lately.

  ‘’Course not.’ Josie was unable to look her friend in the eye. ‘I ain’t bloody stupid, Mand. I just saw someone through the glass, and asked a question; no need to get all on your horse about it, mate.’

  Mandy nodded, knowing that if she wasn’t careful she’d say something she’d regret.

  ‘Sorry, love. It’s just I worry about you. You know?’ she said, seriously. Hating herself for doubting her friend, but she had to ask. She’d been here before. With Josie lying to her, and keeping secrets. She couldn’t go through it all again. ‘You just seem to be in a better place lately. I wouldn’t want you to jeopardise that. Especially not for the likes of Billy Stackhouse. The bloke is a parasite, Jos.’

  ‘I promise you, Mand, hand on my heart,’ Josie said, looking her friend in the eyes and seeing genuine concern. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. I was just making conversation, that was all.’

  Mandy nodded, though she still wasn’t entirely convinced. But she knew she didn’t have much of a choice other than to take Josie’s word for it. All she could do was look out for her friend. What the girl did was down to her.

  ‘What do you say then?’ Mandy said, changing the subject.

  ‘About what?’ Josie shook her head, confused.

  ‘About Tom Hardy and Jason Statham over there. You up for it? I reckon if I work my magic on them we could still get an earn tonight.’

  ‘I dunno, Mand; for starters they look too bloody young for us… ’ Staring over towards the two men, Josie raised her eyes warily. ‘And not being funny, but they probably have women throwing themselves at their feet. We might not be their type.’

  ‘What are you trying to say?’ Mandy quipped. ‘That me and you are fat and old and bloody well past it? Speak for yourself, girly. Have you seen the time? There’s no such thing as an ugly woman at closing time. As long as their shot glasses are as strong as their beer goggles we’ll be quids in. You wait and see.’ Mandy was full of confidence. ‘We can call it an education. The poor fuckers won’t know what hit them.’

  Her eyes flickered over to where Davey stood, and she felt a pang of anger towards the man.

  ‘Unless you’ve got something better to do, of course?’ She eyed Josie, knowing full well that the girl was just as skint as she was.

  ‘Go on, then. Let me just go to the loo, yeah. I need to sort myself out. I’ll meet you over there.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Jos, leave the negotiating to me. I’ll have them eating from the palm of my hand, you’ll see.’ Mandy grinned, pleased that she’d managed to get her mate on board.

  Getting up, she made her way over towards the bar.

  So far, tonight had been a complete non-starter. They’d earned fuck all money and she was almost twenty-five quid down from the booze she’d bought.

  These blokes were their last-ditch attempt at not having to go home empty-handed once again.

  Besides, they offered her a much bigger incentive than money. Mandy reminded herself about all that crap Davey had told her about giving it another go with his slapper of a wife.

  Two could play at that game.

  She was going to have great pleasure in pulling these blokes right under Davey’s nose.

  Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and all that.

  Chapter Five

  Billy Stackhouse leant up against the wall outside the Old Bell pub, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He grinned to himself as he counted out the pile of money in his hand.

  Tonight had been a lucrative evening. A very lucrative evening indeed. Changing his supplier recently had turned out to be a right touch. They’d come up trumps for him.

  Not for the punters, though, but then ignorance was bliss. Those fuckers didn’t care what they were shoving up their nose or into their veins, as long as they got their hit.

  Which was just as well, seeing as the new shipments his supplier had been bringing in was cut with so much dodgy shit, even Billy himself wouldn’t go near it. Not unless he wanted his flesh to wither off and die – that’s how much levamisole they were putting in the product these days.

  The punters didn’t give a shit. As long as they got their high, they were completely ignorant to the fact that they were snorting cattle de-wormer. The heroin was even worse. The usual laundry detergent and rat poison used to cut the gear had been replaced now by fentanyl, a synthetic opioid considered to be up to fifty times more potent than heroin. To the suppliers, the punters were just a means to an end ‒ and the craziest thing of all was the junkies couldn’t get enough of it.

  Ignorant to what they were shooting into their veins, they just wanted the high. Billy knew that there was nothing on the market that came anywhere close to the level of hit in the gear he was supplying.

  It really was a win-win for all involved. Unless some divvy fucker OD’d, of course ‒ but even then, it was another waster dealt with. No loss, really.

  Billy had made a good earn for himself tonight, pulling in just under nine hundred pounds with minimum effort on his part. The punters were coming to him now in their droves

  If business continued like this he was going to be laughing.

  He no longer touched the shit himself anymore, not now he knew the potential risks involved. These days he was too busy reaping the rewards of his new-found fortunes. Money was his new drug, and Billy Stackhouse was addicted.

  Debating whether or not he could be bothered going into the pub and have a well-earned celebratory pint or go home and have an early night, Billy grinned to himself as he saw Josie Parker tottering unsteadily around the corner in her trademark red high heels. The woman was clearly half-cut.

  He knew exactly what she wanted, but there was no way that Billy was going to make it easy for the girl, not when he had the upper hand.

  ‘You all right, Jos?’ Tucking his money back down inside the pocket of his jeans, Billy smiled, his eyes roaming Josie’s impossibly thin figure. Dressed in a tight leather skirt that hung loosely off her bony hips, he scanned the red lace top; her skimpy bra underneath leaving very little to the imagination.

  ‘You’re
looking lovely this evening, doll.’ Billy smirked to himself. He was lying, of course. Josie looked dog rough, but it wouldn’t be in his interests to say as much.

  That was why he was as successful as he was; because Billy Stackhouse knew to lay on the charm as and when he needed to. He was a master at playing people.

  ‘Couldn’t nick a puff of your fag could I, Billy?’ Josie smiled, looking flattered at the compliment.

  Billy stared down at the floor, trying to hide his distaste at the smear of bright red lipstick covering her two front teeth.

  ‘Here, have this. I’m feeling flush!’ He smiled, passing her a brand new cigarette from his pack and lighting it for her. Even from a few feet away, he could smell the alcohol fumes radiating off the woman, mixed with the bitter stench of body odour.

  Fuck knows how the woman makes a living by selling her body, she bloody stinks.

  Taking a deep puff of the fag, Josie inhaled the smoke down into her lungs before breathing it out, her eyes watching the white cloud of smoke as it hit the night air, disintegrating before her very eyes.

  The wine had hit her more than she realised. She was drunk.

  She’d hoped that the alcohol would have taken her mind off her cravings, but it seemed to do the complete opposite and make her want some gear even more.

  ‘You had a busy night?’ Billy said with a smirk, knowing full well that the likes of Josie Parker wouldn’t know a busy night anymore if her life depended on it.

  She was the bottom of the barrel these days, compared to her competition.

  The girls around here seemed to be getting younger and younger. Prettier too. Skimpy clothes, and faces full of make-up. Josie could no longer keep up.

  ‘It’s been a bit slow, but you know, it’s not payday yet, is it? Everyone’s skint.’ Josie shrugged, making light of the situation.

  Billy nodded, guessing, rightly, that when Josie said slow, what the delusional cow really meant was that her night had been dead. She might fancy herself as a lady of the night, but the truth was she was showing her age, and even under a cloak of darkness out here on the streets, Josie would be hard pushed to generate any kind of real business. She didn’t even look like she’d combed her hair today let alone had a bath.