'Don't push it, Alison.'

She leans across the light again, sits back with an ashtray shaped like a seashell and flicks ash. 'What'd you say your name was?’

‘Callum Innes.'

She purses her lips, looks like a kid about to have a tantrum. 'Well, Mr Innes, I'm not going back to Manchester. You don't know the half of what's going on here.'

'Then how about you wipe that fuckin' pout off your face and tell me?'

Alison shakes her head. The pout's gone, but she's fallen silent.

'Nah, look. When I walk out of here, I'm calling Mo. That's a given, right? And I'm going to be watching this place to make sure you two don't do a flit and make me look bad because Christ knows it's been a hard slog getting to this point and I'll be fucked if I let some brat tell me how to do my job. Now all I can do right now is listen to your side of things. You want to keep your mouth shut, I can understand that. I'll just walk out of here and call your brother.'

'We shouldn't have done it,' she says.

'I know.'

'I can't go back.'

'You're going to have to.'

'Mo's a fuckin' bampot. I can't go back to him.'

'And Rob's any better?'

'You don't know Mo, Mr Innes.' She flicks more ash and sets the cigarette in one of the shell's grooves. 'You don't know what he's like.'

I know exactly what he's like. He's a psycho. And I'm not saying going back to Manchester's going to be easy, Alison, but it's got to be better than staying here, isn't it? How much of the cash has Rob done so far?'

'It's not that.' A sigh breaks out of her. 'Rob's got his problems, yeah, but we're working on them. And you know what Mo's gonna do to him when he gets up here. He's a jealous fucker.'

'What's he got to be jealous about?' I say as I light up.

Alison blinks. 'What's he got to be jealous about? How about — I dunno — the mother of his kid rips off his dad and buggers off to Newcastle with some bloke she's been fucking?'

'What kid?'

But I know the answer. That's where I've seen her before, that's where that spark of recognition came from. The toddler with Uncle Morris. The sleeping kid in the pushchair.

The kid looked just like his mother.

'Mo's your brother,' I say.

'He's my half-brother. My mam wasn't his mam.' She starts picking at something on her top lip. 'Dad doesn't know about it. Thought I got myself knocked up by some lad on the estate. But he went mental about it. And as much as I wanted to tell him the truth — y'know, see Mo get the same treatment — I couldn't do it. I kept my mouth shut.'

'Why?'

'I'm not a grass. And, fuck's sake, why would I tell him? It's not like it was rape.’

‘You're sixteen,' I say.

'Seventeen next month,' she says. 'And Christ, it wasn't as if Mo was the first.' Find me a runaway…

I exhale smoke, shift in my seat. Something rages under my skin and I can't get a grip on it, one of those internal itches. 'So, what? You run out on the kid and — '

'Make a new life up here.' Alison looks at me. Her right eye is half-closed. 'I'm not proud, Mr Innes. But you're right. I'm sixteen and I'm fucked if I go back to Manchester. You've got to understand, it was a mistake, me and Mo. It shouldn't have happened, but I'm a big girl now.'

'Yeah, a big girl getting the shit knocked out of her in a Newcastle council flat. That's a big step up, Alison.’

‘You judging me?'

I shake my head. She has fire in that one good eye.

'Who the fuck are you, eh? Hold on, let me guess, you're an ex-con with a favour to pay back, am I right? That, or you're one of Dad's hatchet men, a fuckin' monkey with itchy fists.'

'That's not true.'

She grinds out her cigarette. 'Whatever you are, you've got a nerve playing the good guy.'

'You're going back, Alison. There's nothing I can do.’

‘And what about Rob?’

‘What about him?’

‘What'll they do to him?’

‘Use your imagination.'

Alison looks away, stares at a faded stain on the curtain. She bites her bottom lip. I don't want to go back.'

'Like you said, it's not up to you. That's a nasty bruise, but next time it could be a lot nastier.'

'That's not the point.'

'It's exactly the point. Look, you want to be an adult, you start acting like one. And I know it's none of my business, but doing a runner isn't the adult thing to do. It's being a fuckin' coward, and I know enough about that. You want to be a big girl, you stand up and face your responsibilities. Morris isn't going to do anything to you. He's your dad, for fuck's sake. He just wants you back safe.'

'You know that, huh?'

'Yeah, I know that.'

'What about Mo?'

I can pick you up and take you back myself. I can call Mo from the road. That way you don't have to be around when he arrives, and you'll be settled in Manchester before he gets back.'

She looks like she's thinking about it. 'What if Rob doesn't stay put?'

'If he does another bunk, I'll find him. I'm not the brightest spark, but I got this far, didn't I?’

‘Why would you take me back?'

'Because I don't want to be around when Mo arrives. I don't know what he's going to do, and I don't want to know. And what's Rob going to think? That you grassed him up.'

Alison starts biting her fingernails again. 'He'd be right an' all.'

'Not your fault. But I don't think he'll see it that way.'

She takes a deep breath, lets it out as if it's her last. When she reaches for another cigarette, I notice her eyes are red. She sniffs and wipes at her cheek as she lights up.

'Well?'

'Okay,' she says. 'Okay?'

'Call it eight tonight. Ring the buzzer for thirty-five. I'll be ready.'

Couldn't be doing with this anymore, man.

Yeah, doing his car over gave us summat to chew on. Fuckin' loved that, like. Rossie made with the tyres and me and Baz did the paint job. That were fun. Got a buzz out of that, but it didn't sit still long enough. Grabbed at it, and the fuckin' fun went poof, out the window. I couldn't hang onto owt these days. Because none of it were bringing us closer to Alison. Felt like I were being fucked around is what it felt like.

Summat had to be done and done right. We was watching Innes ponce about, but it were like watching a film on Channel Five — I kept missing stuff 'cause I couldn't hear or I couldn't see. And when the fuck came out the flats, he had this look on his boat like he'd sorted summat out.

'Take it easy,' said Rossie.

'How the fuck can I take it easy? You think he's in there?’

‘If he was in there, Innes would've called you.' I dunno, Rossie. I don't fuckin' know. I don't trust that cunt.'

'Hang tight, Mo.'

'Fuck off.' I tapped the seat. Wrap of billy long gone and me nerves were fuckin' shot. 'We got to do summat. I can't be fuckin' waiting around forever. Christ, as bad as him, innit?'

'What d'you want to do?' said Baz.

'I want a word with him. Give us your butterfly, Rossie.'

'Nah.'

I looked at him. 'Give us your fuckin' butterfly, ginger nuts.'

'You talk with your mouth, not my blade. Use your own.’

‘He don't have it,' said Baz. 'What happened?'

'Give us your fuckin' butterfly,' I said. 'He's gone,' said Baz.

'You what?' I looked out the window. 'Fuck did he go?'

'Dunno.'

'You're lying.'

'I'm telling you, Mo, I didn't see.'

'You're a fuckin' liar,' I said. And the speed were scratching us up inside. 'Fuck's the matter with you lads, anyway? You bottling this?'

Rossie yawned. 'We're not bottling owt, Mo. You need to chill.'

'Fuck off. You're bottling it, the pair of ya. Fuckin' bottling cunts. Simple as, know what I mean? You supposed to come up here with me and we scope the fucker out and find out where Stokes is and we get my fuckin' sister back and that's the end of the story, right?'