Baz stuck his bottom lip out some more and started the engine. We drove and he didn't say nowt until we was near Salford. Then he said, 'You sure about this?'

'What's not to be sure about, man?'

Your dad'll find out.'

'Me dad won't find nowt out. You think Innes is gonna go crying to him?’

‘He might.'

'Nah, I'll make sure he don't. So how's about you fuckin' button it and keep your eyes on the road.'

I pull away from the club, and I don't feel anything. I drive in silence, head for the motorway on autopilot. Paulo's right. But it's not my decision to make.

Part of me wants to be back inside.

The lockdown was safe. I had books and a Walkman that was so battered nobody bothered to nick it. I could close my eyes in there and pretend I was somewhere else until the lights went out. It was comforting, in a way. Yeah, there was the fear of what could happen on the landings, in the yard. But if I kept my head down and my mind off it, nothing would happen. That's what I believed, anyway.

There's a hold up, traffic backed up all along the M62 outside Hull. If I'd bothered to turn the radio on, I probably would have heard about it. As it stands, I'm stuck behind Corsa with a Baby On Board sign in the back, but no sign of a kid. I stare at the woman driving. Catch her face in her rear view. She doesn't have a kid. Not unless they've found a way to stop the menopause.

Part of me wants to rear end that Corsa. My foot hovers over the accelerator until my ankle cramps.

Paulo nearly beat the shit out of me. He had no right to do that, even if he is a mate. I stood up for him enough times in the past. People giving me shit because I was working for a homosexual. Oh right, like the only way I got out of prison was because he fancied me. Get a grip. Sly innuendo and finger pointing. But the trouble with finger pointing is that someone's bound to snap it off at the knuckle.

And Christ, when did I get so angry?

The Corsa turns off at the next service area, and so do I.

The air smells like exhaust fumes. I step into a cafe, order a fried breakfast. When it comes, it looks like someone's thrown up on my plate and put toast by the side of it. I drink a bad cup of tea (their fault) loaded with sugar (my fault) and wish I could smoke.

My jaw aches where Paulo took a right against it. My tooth still smarts. At least the bruises on my neck feel like they're disappearing.

The knife and fork squeak against the plate like nails on a blackboard, so I don't finish my breakfast. I grab a piece of toast. Halfway through it, I realise I need a piss. When I throw the toast back, there's blood in the butter.

In the gents, I splash water on my face and try to blink back the fatigue. I'm not that far from Newcastle now, I can feel it. My stomach clenches.

Fuckin' coward.

And Tiernan knows it. That's why he's using me. And that's why Paulo let me carry on. The same reason he lets a new kid take their frustrations out on him. Sometimes you can't be told. Sometimes you have to learn it the hard way. That was never going to happen with me on my arse waiting for work.

I had work, and I blew it out. Then again, what was that work? Trawling back alleys for someone daft enough to put Dennis Lang in hospital. And whoever did that had more balls than sense.

Which rules me right out. Thanks for thinking of me though, Donkey.

I walk back out into the cafe, hand over cash to a woman with a face that looks like it's been put together by a four- year-old. Then I'm out in the Grim Up North. I shield my lighter with the inside of my jacket, light an Embassy. This place is Yorkshire Ripper territory. Hindley and Brady. Sales- men, truck drivers and cheapskate families barrelling up and down these motorways every day. It's depressing the fuck out of me.

I never thought I'd say this, but the sooner I'm in New- castle, the better.

We pulled up and Baz were still sulking like a kid. I nabbed one of his ciggies before I got out the car and lit it with me Clipper, hand cupped round the flame. Took a couple lights, but I got the bastard smoking in a bit. Walked to the club doors, checked I had me Stanley in me trackie bottoms. Wouldn't need to use it, most likely, but a gunslinger don't leave the house without his shooting iron. Got a bad taste in me mouth and spat at the wall as I clocked a couple lads standing by the doors. They was lads I used to know from the estate. Used to be sound an' all, but gone the way of most of 'em round here. Fuckin' soft as. When the skinny one didn't move out me way, I gave him a dig. He looked like he wanted to make summat of it, so I gave him a couple seconds. 'You want summat, son?'

His shoulders dropped. 'Nah, mate.'

Mate. Fuck off. I pushed open the doors, got a whiff of the place. Christ, it stank in there. Sweat. Damp. I didn't notice it last time I was here, so they must've had a bunch of people stink the place out in the meantime. They looked like they was still working hard at it an' all. Couple kids in boxing garb in the ring, knocking the shit out of each other. Couple more on a bench. Got the Rocky theme in me head. Did a couple steps from me own repertoire.

And then there were Paulo Gray, come out the back office and headed straight for us. And fuckin' hell, he were ugly. I put me hand in me trackie bottoms, double- checked the Stanley. Aye, I were ready to cut this fuck up if need be.

'Help you, Mo?'

'Where's Innes?' I said.

'He's not here,' said Paulo.

'Fuck d'you mean he's not here? Fuck is he?'

'What d'you want Callum for?'

'Who gives a fuck what I want him for? Where is he?'

'You want to step in the back office, Mo?'

'Is he back there?'

'Aye, son,' said Paulo like I were a fuckin' spaz. 'He's back there. I want a word.'

I followed him. But when we went in the office, I kept the door open. Just in case he tried any of that poof shite on me. I wanted to have witnesses just in case. Paulo leaned against the desk and stared at me. 'What's going on, Mo?'

I jerked me head. 'Nowt to do with you.'

'Then why you round?'

I were after Innes. This is his place.'

'Nah, this is my place.'

'Fuck off,' I said.

'Tell you what I think. I think you should leave and I think you should stay far far away from here.'

'Fuck do you get off talking to me like that?'

I mean it, Mo. I'm giving you fair warning, son.'

'Fuck off. Where's Innes? You tell us where he is and I won't come round no more.'

'How about I don't tell you where he is and you don't come round no more?'

'You taking the piss, son?'

I ain't your son, son. You keep talking to me like that, I might have to persuade you to fuck off,' he said. I don't swing like that.'

Paulo smiled and he got away from the desk. Then I felt the fuckin' world choke out with a bang. Next thing I knew, the door were slammed shut and he had me up against the fuckin' wall. Hand on me fuckin' neck, thumb in me Adam's apple, like. I started on at him, but I couldn't get the breath to say owt.

If I wanted you as my fuck-puppet, Mo, you'd be toothless right now.'

I jerked at that. Nah, mate. No fuckin' way.

He held me tight and me heart started battering at me ribs.

'Don't worry yourself, Mo. You're not my type.'

I screwed me face up. Bout the only thing I could do to tell him to fuck right off. Struggled with me right hand, tried to get it into me pocket where I knew the Stanley waited.

'Cal's a good lad,' said Paulo. 'And you got the talent of everything you touch, it turns to shite. He's doing this thing right now because he thinks he has to. Don't get it into your head that he wants to do it, because I know for a fact he fuckin' doesn't.'