Chapter 12

The orange-tinged dawn was clearing to a dirty daylight by the time Vinko headed back to the corner shop, his collar turned up against the drizzle. He was grateful it had only just started and he’d managed to do most of the round in cold but clear air. When the weather was right, if he had to choose he might even say he preferred the paper round to his main job at the factory, though he hated both. On mornings like this he would simply think of the extra money through a haze of embarrassment and regret at the impulse that had made him respond to the card in the window a few weeks ago. The other paper rounds were the territory of boys who seemed half his age or less – he couldn’t remember ever feeling that childish. Their initial phase of mocking his accent had by now settled into a respectful distance, and he was happy to keep it that way.

As he rounded the last corner his heart sank as he saw the silver car parked across the road. Giving his uncle a minimal wave he disappeared into the shop to hand over the empty bag and the reflective vest, trying to stall for time by engaging Mr Choudhury in conversation as he bought his tobacco. Today, the shopkeeper was more interested in the customers and getting his own small children off to school on time than chatting to an oversized paper boy.

He lingered in front of the magazine rack gathering his thoughts. Two calls from Novak in as many days had been ignored, but now he had to make some kind of decision. He desperately wanted to feel he belonged somewhere, but although he’d warmed to Anja, Boris had eyed him with suspicion from start to finish and he couldn’t imagine them ever offering him a way in. It would be a while before he could face going back. Now he had to deal with Novak’s insistence. Whatever he felt about the family that should be his, he had no taste for the job he’d been given, either. Then again, if Novak paid him well, he would have no need to depend on anyone. Anyone at all. After a few moments he reminded himself that if he stood for much longer by shelves of headlines that meant nothing to him, he’d miss his bus to work. He steeled himself and stepped out onto the street.

Novak grinned as he crossed the road to the car.

‘Going up in the world, are you?’ He nodded towards the shop.

‘I can’t stop or I’ll miss my bus.’

His uncle gestured towards the passenger door and Vinko reluctantly accepted the offer of a lift.

‘So, have you seen them yet?’

‘I went, yes.’

‘And?’

‘Nothing you’d be interested in.’

Novak turned out onto the main road and put his foot down, swearing as he dodged to avoid two young girls crossing the road.

‘Watch it,’ Vinko muttered, gripping the edge of his seat. ‘We’ll get stuck in traffic whatever you do. No need to kill anyone.’

‘Since when have you been able to drive? Shut it.’ He slammed his brakes on within inches of the last car in the tailback. ‘So, bore me. What did you talk about?’

‘Nothing. My father. The past. All right? I didn’t tell them I knew you, where I live, where I work, so you’ve no need to worry on that account.’

‘Did you find anything out about the money?’

‘I looked in a few drawers. Found nothing. No one said, “Hello Vinko, so lovely to see you, now can we give you a tidy sum to set you up in life?” And I didn’t ask. One thing I don’t do is beg.’

‘That’s exactly what you will be doing if you don’t start showing some respect. Listen, son, you were in trouble when you came to me. The way you’re talking anyone would think you’re squeaky clean. We both know you’re not. I’ve helped you, set you up here, and now it’s your turn. Not even a favour – I’ve said you’ll get your share. My friend’s getting impatient. I need to be able to tell him something.’

‘Tell him I don’t want to know!’

The traffic lights were on red and Vinko moved to get out. The central locking clicked on.

‘Not so fast. I’ve got some information might help you. Someone my friend would really like to see. If you could track him down for us… Play your cards right and not only will you get yourself a decent financial reward, but he could also help you with old Boris Pranjić. It’s a long shot, but… We’re ninety-nine per cent certain he’s the one who gave them the money, so we think he must be living somewhere in the area. He was a friend of your father’s. I was told to ask if you knew him.’

‘I don’t know anyone.’

‘Then you can help us to look.’

The traffic started moving and they drove the rest of the way in silence. Novak stopped the car a little way down the road from the factory. The expensive glow of the dashboard clock told Vinko he was early.

‘So,’ his uncle said as he offered him a cigarette. ‘Do you know Jay Spinney, by any chance?’

‘No.’ He lit up and inhaled deeply to avoid looking at Novak. ‘What makes you think I would?’

‘Like I said, he knew your father. You’d think he might have wanted to get to know his mate’s lad. Do something for you. But that was down to me in the end, wasn’t it?’ He sighed dramatically. Vinko stared through the windscreen. Much as he hated to admit it, it was true. Novak had been there when no one else was. But that didn’t mean he had to trust the man.

‘Look, what’s going on? Who is this “friend” of yours? If he even exists.’

Novak gripped his wrist so hard it hurt and pushed the glowing tip of the cigarette to within a centimetre of his face. ‘Like I said, boy, time you started showing some respect, right? Let’s just say he’s called Lek. That’s all you need to know – and if you don’t buck your ideas up you’d better hope you never meet. He’s been inside till recently so he needs the money. And he has a strong suspicion our friend Spinney might have had a hand in putting him away, so you’ll understand he’s also got personal reasons for wanting a reunion. Enough information for you?’

Novak released Vinko’s arm, took a drag of his cigarette and produced a photo from his pocket. Vinko was fairly sure it was the same man he’d seen in the picture Anja Pranjić had shown him a few days ago. Young, with short wavy hair and a clean-shaven face – Vinko still couldn’t be certain it was the busker he’d seen in Holdwick. He shook his head. Novak stowed it away. ‘Keep your eyes and ears open.’

‘I’m not promising anything,’ Vinko muttered.

‘I know you won’t let me down. You’ve got a phone; use it. Let us know the moment you find anything out.’

He released the lock, smiling unpleasantly as Vinko made his escape.