Lost Angel (12 page)

Ruth ran out from the kitchen when she heard Johnny coming in and threw herself into his arms.

‘I’ve missed you so much,’ she gushed. ‘Have you missed me?’

‘Yeah, course.’ Johnny eased her away. ‘Don’t get too close. I stink.’

‘I don’t care,’ she insisted. ‘Anyway, I’m used to my dad coming home filthy, so it doesn’t bother me.’

‘
I
’m not used to it,’ he said firmly. ‘Is it all right if I get a bath?’

‘I can’t believe you’re still asking.’ She giggled. ‘Darling, you live here. You can do whatever you want.’

That was the first time she’d ever called him that, and it made Johnny feel weird because it sounded contrived, as if she’d spent the day practising it in front of the mirror.

‘That you, Frankie?’ Rita’s voice drifted out from the parlour.

‘No, it’s Johnny,’ Ruth told her.

‘Isn’t your dad with him?’

‘He, er, said he had something to do,’ Johnny called to her. ‘And he said not to bother waiting up ’cos he might be late.’

‘No change there, then,’ Ruth whispered, giving him a conspiratorial smile. ‘Anyway, I hope you’re hungry. I’ve made something special to celebrate your first day at work.’

‘Starving,’ he admitted.

‘Thought you would be.’ She smiled and pushed him towards the stairs. ‘Go and get your bath. I’ll have it on the table when you come back down – like a good little wife.’

True to her word, there was a steaming plateful of food and some bread and butter waiting on the table when Johnny came back downstairs a short time later.

‘What is it?’ he asked, sitting down and reaching for his fork.

‘Chicken chasseur,’ Ruth told him, perching on the edge of the chair opposite his and clasping her hands together under her chin.

Johnny got started, but glanced up after a couple of mouthfuls. ‘Where’s yours?’

‘I’ll get it in a minute,’ she said. ‘I just want to see what you think of it first. I’ve never made it before. I got the recipe from a book at the library.’

‘It’s great,’ he told her. ‘Really tasty.’

‘Oh, good.’ Ruth exhaled as if she’d been on a knife’s edge, and fetched her own dinner to the table. But instead of tucking in like Johnny, she just pushed the food around.

‘Something wrong?’ he asked, wishing she’d just get on with it because she was making him feel uncomfortable.

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Just been feeling a bit sick today. But don’t worry about me. Tell me about your day.’

‘It was all right, actually,’ Johnny said, reaching for a piece of bread. ‘Your dad seemed pretty pleased with me, anyway.’

‘Oh, that’s brilliant.’ Ruth smiled. ‘The last lad was terrible, so he had to sack him. But if he’s already pleased with you, you won’t have anything to worry about.’

‘I met some of his other lads,’ Johnny told her, mopping up the last of the juice off his plate. ‘One of them mentioned something about doing pickups, but I didn’t know what he meant. Do you?’

‘No point asking me about dad’s business.’ Ruth laughed. ‘I don’t get involved in man stuff.’

Johnny’s stomach groaned when she whisked his plate away and replaced it with a steaming bowl of rice pudding, but he dutifully reached for his spoon. She’d cooked his dinner every night since the wedding but she’d gone overboard tonight, as if she thought that he would need twice as much now that he was a working man.

‘Cake?’ she asked when he’d finished his dessert.

‘No!’ Johnny held up his hands. ‘Seriously, I couldn’t eat another thing. I just need some water and a lie-down.’

‘It’s not even seven o’clock,’ Ruth pointed out. ‘You can’t go to bed this early. Anyway, that film’s on in a bit. I thought we could snuggle up together on the sofa.’

With your mum giving us dirty looks all the way through?
thought Johnny.

‘Nah, I think I’ll give it a miss.’ He scraped his chair back and stood up. ‘I’m absolutely knackered. And it’s going to be the same again tomorrow, so I’ll need an early night. Don’t want your dad to think I’m not taking the job seriously.’

‘I suppose not,’ Ruth conceded, sighing her disappointment. ‘I promised my mum I’d watch the film with her. You don’t mind, do you?’

‘Course not. Don’t worry about me.’

Barely able to suppress his grin of delight, Johnny ran upstairs, threw off his clothes, jumped into bed, and spread his arms and legs, revelling in the space and freedom. He hadn’t felt this relaxed since he’d been in his own bed back at the flat.

God, he missed it.

The bed, the flat . . .

Dave.

Unexpected tears flooded his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he bit down hard on his lip and told himself to get a grip. Men didn’t cry – especially not over other men. But he couldn’t help it. Ruth hadn’t let him out of her sight since the wedding, and whenever he mentioned going to see Dave she made excuses to stop him. Johnny knew he should take a stand and tell her that he was going to see him, whether she liked it or not, but it just wasn’t that easy.

So don’t tell her, dickhead.

The thought came from nowhere, but it was so obvious that Johnny didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. It had been easy for Ruth to keep control of him when she’d been with him day and night, but she couldn’t keep tabs on him now he was working, so she’d be none the wiser if he took a detour on the way home. And none of his mates liked her, so even if she bumped into any of them they’d never drop him in it by telling her that they’d seen him.

Happier now that he’d figured out a way to claw back a bit of freedom, Johnny rolled over and closed his eyes – willing sleep to come before the film finished and Ruth came up.

It was gone eleven before Rita had sunk enough whisky for Ruth to be able to sneak away without waking her. She tiptoed out of the room, ran lightly up the stairs, got undressed and climbed into bed.

Johnny had his back turned, but he wasn’t yet snoring, so she leaned over him and whispered into his ear, ‘Are you awake, Johnny? Mum’s asleep, and dad’s not back yet, so we’re safe if you want to do it.’ Getting no response, she shook him gently. ‘Johnny . . . can you hear me?
Johnny
?’

Her breath tickled his ear and he jerked his head away from her.

‘Are you awake?’ Ruth whispered again.

I am now
, Johnny thought grumpily.

‘What’s up?’ he asked, gazing sleepily back at her over his shoulder.

‘I was just saying mum’s asleep and dad’s still out, so we can make love without anyone hearing us. If you want to?’ she added shyly. ‘I know you’re tired, but it’s been ages.’

Johnny was surprised when Ruth slid her arm over him and started stroking his cock through his pyjamas. She’d never been this forward before; she’d always been more of a lie-back-and-let-him-get-on-with-it kind of girl. But if she thought her newfound forwardness was going to reignite his passion, she was wrong.

‘Ruth, I’m tired,’ he said, gently moving her hand.

‘You’ve gone off me, haven’t you?’

She had a plaintive edge to her voice that signalled impending tears, and Johnny squeezed his eyes shut.

‘Don’t be daft. I’ve just told you, I’m tired. It’ll be better when I get used to the routine.’

‘Promise?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I love you, Mr Conroy.’ Ruth wriggled closer and pressed her body against his.

‘Great,’ he murmured. ‘Now, let’s go to sleep, eh?’

Ruth sighed and tried to relax, but it wasn’t easy. She didn’t just want him to make love to her, she
needed
him to – and if it didn’t happen soon, things were going to get very tricky.

6

Johnny was up and out of bed before the alarm went off again the next morning. And, again, he was ready and waiting at the door by the time Frankie came downstairs. But this time he’d eaten breakfast and had made himself a sandwich in case he couldn’t get out for lunch.

‘You’re keen, ain’t you?’ Frankie remarked as they set off. ‘I thought I was going to have to drag you out of bed of a morning, but this is two days on the trot you’ve been up before me. I’m impressed.’

‘Thanks.’ Johnny grinned, chuffed that Frankie was pleased with him. ‘I know it probably sounds stupid to you, seeing as you’ve been at it so long, but it gave me a right buzz seeing how good the cars looked after I’d finished polishing them yesterday, and I just want to get back to it.’

‘I vaguely remember the feeling,’ said Frankie, amusedly. ‘But I don’t get it no more myself. They’re just chunks of metal to me now.’

Reminded of one of the questions that had been flitting through his mind, Johnny said, ‘I meant to ask, how come none of them have got prices on them?’

‘No point trying to flog them till they look the part,’ Frankie explained. ‘And I had to sack the lad before you, so there’s been no one to sort them out till now.’

‘Couldn’t Del or Robbie have done it?’ Johnny ventured, thinking that Frankie must have lost a whole heap of money leaving the cars sitting there in that state for so long.

‘They’ve got other things to do,’ Frankie said evasively. ‘Anyhow, what’s with all the questions? You an undercover cop, or what?’

‘Sorry,’ Johnny apologised. ‘I just figured you’d make a lot more money if the yard looked more . . . customer-friendly, I guess.’

‘That right?’ Frankie glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. ‘And how do you suggest we do that?’

His tone was mocking, but Johnny thought he had a valid point, so he shrugged and said, ‘I just reckon people would be more interested in having a look around if they knew how much everything was. And it might help if you opened the gates.’

‘Reckon I need to start attracting passing trade, do you?’

Encouraged by his responsiveness, Johnny nodded. ‘Yeah. And maybe we could line the motors up along the fence so they don’t look like they’ve just been dumped all over the place.’

‘
We
could, could we?’

‘Look, I know I don’t really know anything about it, so you probably think I’m talking through my arse,’ Johnny went on. ‘But if
I
was looking to buy a motor, I’d take one look at your yard and go to the one down the road instead.’ He caught himself, and cast a nervous glance at his father-in-law. ‘Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that last bit.’

‘No harm in voicing your opinion, so long as you’ve actually got something to say.’ Frankie shrugged. ‘And I suppose you’ve got a point. It
is
a bit of a tip. But that’s what I’ve got you for, isn’t it?’

Johnny nodded, but he still had loads of questions. As far as he could tell, nobody seemed to be in charge of the sales side of things. Big Pat stayed in the garage all day, only venturing out to let people in and out. Del and Robbie usually only worked at night – although doing what, Johnny still had no clue. And Frankie stayed in his office.

‘What’s going to happen after I’ve finished cleaning them?’ he asked. ‘Only, I was thinking that I wouldn’t mind having a go at selling them. But only if you think I could do it,’ he added quickly, not wanting to appear too pushy.

Frankie sighed, and said, ‘I’ll think about it. But belt up now, eh? You’re giving me a fuckin’ headache.’

Johnny went into his storeroom when they reached the yard, and switched on the light. Compared to the mess that had greeted him yesterday, everything was clean and orderly, and it gave him a real sense of achievement to know that he’d done it all by himself. It was a weird feeling, because he’d never really cared about anything before. But then, he’d never had anything to prove before and now he did. Frankie tolerated him because he was married to Ruth, but he wanted the man to like him for himself. More than that, he wanted Frankie to respect him. And the only way that was going to happen was if he proved that he was willing to do whatever was asked of him in order to provide for his new family – the way that Frankie worked to provide for his. So he pulled on his overalls, filled his bucket, and got to work.

Several men called in to see Frankie throughout the day but, just like yesterday, none of them so much as looked at the cars on their way in or out, leaving Johnny to wonder – again – what kind of business Frankie was running here.

The rest of the day passed quickly and before Johnny knew it, it was four o’clock. But this time, when Frankie drove around and gave him a tenner to make his own way home, Johnny wasted no time. He threw the bucket and sponge into the storeroom, shrugged out of his overalls, snatched his jacket off the hook, and made it to the gates before Big Pat had a chance to relock them behind Frankie.

Dave was sitting cross-legged on the couch, sucking on a bong. Eyes narrowing when he heard a scraping sound coming from the front door, he slid his baseball bat out from under the cushion and rushed out into the hall with it raised above his head – at the exact moment Johnny walked in.

‘Fuckin’ hell, man, it’s me!’ Johnny squawked, stumbling back when Dave took a wild swing and the bat whizzed past his face.

‘Jeezus!’ Dave croaked, realising how close he’d come to caving his friend’s head in. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Nice to see you, too.’ Johnny laughed, then tipped his head back and inhaled deeply. ‘God, it’s good to be home,’ he murmured, savouring all the old familiar smells.

‘Home?’ Dave gave him a quizzical look. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve gone and left her already?’

‘Like I’d dare,’ Johnny snorted.

‘So, what’s up?’ Dave put the bat down and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants.

‘Nothing.’ Johnny shrugged. ‘Just thought I’d show my face before you forget about me.’

‘You’ve only been gone two weeks,’ Dave reminded him amusedly.

‘Feels more like two years,’ Johnny moaned. Then, grinning, he pounced on his friend and gave him a big bear hug. ‘Have you missed me?’

‘Not that much, you big poof.’ Dave pulled a face and shoved him off.

‘Yeah, you have,’ Johnny teased, throwing a mock punch at his arm.

‘Pack it in,’ Dave complained, rubbing at the spot where it had landed. ‘I need that arm for bong-lifting.’

‘Oh, yes, count me in for some of that,’ Johnny said longingly. ‘Go and get it loaded up, I’ll be with you in a minute.’