He grinned back, stray whiskers stiffened on his cheeks. ‘Oh, aye … meant to say. They say the shit’s hit the fan down at Fettes … plod being probed big time. Lot of suspensions … and …’ he paused for dramatic effect, raised an index finger to the ceiling, ‘we had it confirmed this morning: the seventies hanging’s being reopened.’
‘That’s good news.’ I picked up the soup, stirred the spoon about a bit.
‘You don’t look too chuffed,’ said Rasher.
Should I be? I raised an eyebrow, spoke, ‘I’ve been strung up, my neck feels like it’s a foot longer … forgive me if I don’t get up and start turning fucking cartwheels.’
Amy blushed, looked away. There was a moment of dead air in the room. Rasher rose, mumbled his excuses and headed for the door, said, ‘Well, I’m a happy camper … put thirty per cent on the circulation with that story. If you’ve any more like it …’
I stopped stirring, let the spoon clang on the edge of the bowl. ‘I very much fucking doubt it.’
I could barely manage a wave. I was beyond sickened. All those deaths, all that hurt and misery I’d seen on Gillian Laird’s face – it wasn’t about circulation figures for any of them. I felt a deep unease growing in me. I was unhappy being part of the human race.
When Rasher had gone, I sensed beady eyes on me. ‘You didn’t need to be so rude,’ said Amy.
I eased a finger between the brace and my neck. ‘I’m just a bit sick of everyone wanting a piece of me.’ My mind flooded with thoughts of Stevo again; I could still smell the stench of his blood. There was no way I’d ever be able to shake it. There was no way I’d shake any of this; even if I recovered physically, I was going to be scarred. All over. ‘I need out, Amy.’
She tilted her head, looked down her nose at me. ‘What about Hod? … He seems to think you’re both in business.’
I waved a flat palm, cut the air with it. ‘He’s wrong … well and fucking truly wrong.’
The brace was pinching again. I loosened the Velcro a notch, stretched my jaw. ‘Look, Hod knew from the off this was a one-shot deal. I got him off the ropes with Shaky, he’s in the clear … now he can leave me be.’
Amy flared, ‘He won’t be pleased.’
‘I’m popping more Harry Hills than Pete Doherty here … I have the shakes, nightmares, and a craving for drink that takes twenty-four-seven concentration to ignore. You think I give a shit if he’s pleased or not? He’s a big lad, he’ll get over it!’
Amy came over to the settee, sat down beside me, placed a hand on my arm. ‘Okay. Okay … let’s just get you well, and take it from there.’
She put those heartmelter eyes on me. Despite everything, she made me feel a little gladness in my heart … even if I didn’t deserve her.