2

It was nearly midnight. The estate was lit by pools of orange tungsten light that softened out into darkness. Mark Brannon pulled his hood up and walked across the central grassed area, passing by the small rubber-surfaced toddlers’ playground. In this dispossessed space a group of boys were turning bored circles on pushbikes. One of them stretched out his hand as he cycled past to slap Mark’s outstretched palm. Mark looked to his right and saw with approval that a sweatshirt had been thrown over the CCTV camera that covered the area.

Mark’s days of cycling around in the early hours drug-dealing were more than ten years past him. He’d moved on, was driving for one of the local crime families now. He had the don’t-mess-with-me look. Although he was no more than five foot eight tall, he was big-chested, muscular and walked like a fighter. He wore jeans, brown chukkas, a denim jacket with a hoody underneath. He made his way along the concrete walkway, took his shoes off outside the front door and slipped his key into the lock. He eased the door quietly shut behind him and padded into the sitting room in his socks.

Georgie was asleep with the dog on the sofa. The dog raised her head slightly and waved her tail cautiously. He’d found her a couple of years previously in a cardboard box on the street with the rest of her litter. She’d been no more than a ball of fluff with eyes as pale blue as his own. He’d tucked her under his arm and taken her round to his cousin Marley’s. Marley shampooed the dog, used the hairdryer, tied a ribbon round her neck. She got a box specially from Paperchase and he’d popped the puppy inside and presented her to Georgie and his daughter. He could still remember Skye’s screams of delight when she opened the box. A puppy! He could see the mixture of love and slight irritation on Georgie’s face. He should have asked her before he got a dog. Skye had been given the job of naming the puppy and she’d chosen Candy. It was also of course a name for heroin. He’d taken some flak off the boys for that! The dog had started small but just kept getting bigger. There was something slender in her frame and narrow in her head that suggested greyhound, or saluki maybe, but the fur was all wrong for that – fluffy, brown and black.

He squeezed next to Candy on the edge of the sofa and tried to stretch out. He’d been drinking for hours. After he’d argued with Georgie, he’d gone to Marley’s. It was important to go out when he felt like that, and Marley and him, they went way back, right back to the beginning when it was just the two of them against the world. He could trust her. She’d got his back. Good old Marley. When even Marley had had enough of listening to him, he’d moved on. He’d walked to a friend’s, had a few joints, a line or two of coke. He’d finished up with a bottle of whisky by himself in the park.

The television was on, the sound low. The screen lit Georgie’s face with changing white light. It was one of those reality programmes about houses. The house had a view of the beach. The surf rolled in and the presenter walked slowly along the sand. The dad wanted to make a new life in Australia. The mum wanted to stay in Halifax. The family had difficult decisions to make. Mark pulled a roll-up from his pocket and lit it. He got up and walked to his daughter’s bedroom.

Although she was seven, Skye still slept with the blue canvas night light that rotated and threw pictures of the moon and stars. Her face was peaceful. Her hands rested over the covers of her princess quilt. She was a mini-me version of her mother: slender limbs, long straight blonde hair. He squatted by the side of the bed and watched her, put his hand above her mouth, feeling the almost imperceptible rise and fall of her warm breath. The room smelled of clean child, of laundry and shampoo. God, he loved his family so much he thought his heart would burst. That was what made him so angry.

He went back into the sitting room. He moved around the flat, stood in the kitchen. It was all open-plan, but the main room was an L shape with the dining and kitchen area in the bottom stroke of the letter. He saw the perfect order of the kitchen. She’d been cleaning while he’d been out. No dishes on the side. Her shelf of knick-knacks rearranged and polished up. How could she be so heartless? He hadn’t been able to think of anyone but her all night. He’d practically made himself sick with it. But Georgie? She didn’t even wake up when he got in. He flicked ash into the kitchen sink.

He stood behind the sofa, tapping his foot on the floor. The programme was still playing. He reached for the remote control from the sofa arm, turned the volume up to maximum until the presenter sounded like a crazy person, shouting about a mezzanine. At last Georgie stirred, raised her head, bleary-eyed.

‘Shh, Mark. Skye’s sleeping.’

Christ, if only she could be kind!

‘Is that all you’ve got to say to me?’

Candy, catching his tone, lifted her head and growled softly. Georgie was getting up, unfolding her long limbs. She was in loose pink pyjama bottoms and a sleeveless T-shirt, bare feet, as supple as willow. She moved to the television and flicked the off switch.

‘Not waking the kid. Is that all you care about?’

Georgie rubbed her eyes. She was so fucking beautiful and sexy.

‘Where’ve you been, Mark?’

He moved around the sofa towards her.

‘Never mind that.’

‘I’m pleased to see you. I’m pleased you’re back.’

But the words were ruined by the tense little frown that had tightened between her eyebrows. Why couldn’t she just love him completely, like he loved her? His family, it was everything to him. Who was it put the food on the table while she stayed at home lighting joss sticks?

He grabbed her, one hand on her bottom, the other between her legs. She put her hand on the back of his neck, moved her mouth against his. But he could feel that the action was half-hearted. He stopped, pushed her away. ‘What’s the matter with you?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You had your boyfriend round here? Can’t do it twice in a night, is that it?’

‘I’ve been here with Skye all night.’

He took her phone out of his jacket pocket, threw it on the floor. ‘I want you to unlock that. I want to see your texts.’

She laughed – as if she thought that would make him believe her!

‘Fucking funny, is it?’

He pushed her in the middle of her chest. She stepped backwards, had to steady herself. The dog growled again.

‘I love you, Mark, you know I do.’

He pushed her again, then heard the light tap of the dog’s paws on the laminate floor as it trotted towards him, growling softly. ‘What the fuck?’ He grabbed the dog by its collar and dragged it into the kitchen. That fucking dog, it owed him its life! Was that how it repaid his kindness?

‘Don’t you fucking growl at me!’

Georgie watched, the heels of her hands under her chin, her palms spread across her cheeks. ‘Please don’t hurt Candy.’

‘What do you think I am? Some kind of fucking MONSTER?’

He’d raised his voice and the bloody dog started barking. He picked up a chair to threaten it and then, when the dog snarled, he hit it with the chair. There was a yelping whine, then a whimpering. The dog crawled under the table.

He stormed back to Georgie, grabbed her by her T-shirt.

‘You happy now? Is it fucking funny now? Look what you’ve made me do. You happy I’ve hurt the dog?’

She shook her head.

‘I fucking love that dog.’

‘Mark, please.’

All she fucking needed to do was to be nice.

His daughter’s bedroom door opened. She stood on the threshold, looking at him. He said, ‘Go back in your room, Skye. Right now.’

Georgie turned to her daughter. ‘That’s right, Skye. Go back to bed.’

The door closed. He said, ‘Happy now? Happy now? Happy now?’ She didn’t reply so he asked her again. ‘HAPPY NOW? ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?’

She shook her head just once. If she could only say something kind! That was all he wanted.

‘I love that dog, you bitch.’

‘I love the dog too, Mark. We all love the dog.’

He slapped her across the face, hard. ‘You fucking bitch. You’ve made me hurt the fucking dog. Don’t you dare tell me you love the dog.’

She wiped the side of her mouth.

And after that he couldn’t remember exactly what happened.