Carlo's first night at home hadn't been quite as bad as he'd expected.
Bert had been brilliant – as soon as the Occupational Therapist left, he'd put the kettle on and made a sweet, soothing cuppa. For tea, fish, chips and mushy peas cooked on the premises, topped off with a micro-waved jam roly-poly and custard pudding. Couldn't have been more pleasant, though Bert might have been more forthcoming about Kylie.
It seemed she and Kris were going through a sticky spell, but that was all he'd say. Even so, there was enough of a hint in the news to give him the boost he needed.
He held on to that thought as he put the chair into gear and headed towards her door.
Calling her first would have been sensible, but he was happy to have the element of surprise in his favour.
He knocked on the door and hoped the surprise would be a pleasant one.
Her face appeared and he tried to read her reaction. Pale and thin around the cheeks, her hair uncombed and she was still dressed in her dressing gown. Old before her time.
"Carlo," she said. "You'd better come in."
Kicking a few toys out of the way, she cleared a path through to the kitchen.
Carlo's wheelchair managed the hallway easily. Meant he'd made the right choice. The brochure had been full of motorised chairs, each subtly different from the others. This baby was the Rolls Royce of the motility range. Light, narrow and fast, it boasted extra stability and adjustable height. Everything was controlled by buttons and switches, perfect for the one-hander.
She put the kettle on.
Carlo wondered if tea drinking was a genetic condition.
"Joe's sleeping," she said, as if she'd anticipated the first question. "I'd rather not disturb him. Some other time, eh?"
Carlo felt shockwaves pass through him. It wasn't the start he'd been hoping for.
He shook himself back into the moment, determined to get it right this time. Some other time, she'd said. That could mean the next day if all was well.
"Yeah. Sure," he said. "Let him sleep."
"How have you been?"
The hospital routines weren't interesting enough to bother with and the ins and outs of his recovery seemed too grim. All he mentioned was the food and his chair and the way her dad had been a solid friend.
"He's a good man, Dad," she said. "I think he had hopes for us."
Had. The way she said it knocked his confidence.
For a moment he wondered whether his plans to get back with her made any sense. Not that it mattered. What was important to him was getting to see his son.
"And you? Do you have hopes?"
She looked blank. Lit up a cigarette and paused to let the nicotine give her a kick.
"Listen. When we met, I was mixed up. Kris was seeing another woman and I wanted to hurt him. You were a good catch. Then you had your…incident."
People never wanted to talk about what happened. Like they weren't supposed to ask about the arm and leg. They took glances at the prosthetics when they thought he wasn't looking, but he saw all right – there was nothing wrong with his vision.
"I'm not sure what you mean," he said.
"I'm saying it was all bollocks. You didn't even get me a proper ring."
"Aye, cos your fucking boyfriend was busy tying me to a bloody train track." His trauma counsellor would have been impressed by his outburst. Felt a pulse beat in the vein in his forehead. "Pardon me for not leaping out of my hospital bed and running along to the jewellers."
"Kris never did that to you." She leaned forward to make her point. "Swears he didn't. On his nan's grave."
"Lying bastard." Had to have been him. Had to.
Kylie's voice got higher. "He didnae, Carlo. I believe him."
"Doesn't he mind looking after somebody else's child?"
She looked down. Something was wrong. "Joe's his."
It hit Carlo like a ball in the nuts.
She was lying. Had to be.
"I was seeing him right up to our first night," she said. "I did the maths. Nine months, right?"
The pressure built inside until he felt he might burst. Tears filled his eyes as if there wasn't enough room in his body to contain them.
What happened was done before he could do anything about it.
His left hand, powerful now he'd rewired his body to use his unnatural side, moved so quickly that he wasn't fully convinced it had really happened.
It walloped her on the side of the face.
The chair legs gave out under her and she fell to the side. On the way down her head cracked the corner of the table.
"What the fuck?" He didn't expect an answer.
It was a mess. The whole damned thing.
He didn't bother to check whether she was all right. Just turned for the door and left.
Reaching the pavement, he noticed Jimmy approaching.
Pulled the lever in the opposite direction and accelerated to full power.
His heart was pumping. Kris Ramsay. He was going to get his all right.
Which meant taking on Mikey, too.
Which meant 4 arms against 1.
Which meant he needed to even up the odds.
Only way to do that was to get himself a gun.
Which meant it was time for him to reacquaint himself with Billy down at the Cross Keys.