me.’
Anton stepped aside, waved for her to go past, and watched as she went to the till and paid for the bottle of milk she’d come in for before walking quickly out of the shop. He wasn’t stupid; he had seen the veil fall over her eyes at the mention of probation. She obviously thought she was better than him, but that was okay. He was out now, and there was no way he was ever going back inside, so there was plenty of time to win her over.
He made his way back to the front of the shop now, intending to take up his post at the door. But he hesitated when he heard his boss mouthing off. ‘You talking to me?’ he asked, turning to face the man.
‘Yeah, I said you’re bloody useless!’ Abdul’s tone was scathing. ‘That was a full litre of vodka that thieving bitch got away with while you were busy chatting up that girl. I should take it out of your bloody wages.’
Aware that customers were listening, and especially conscious of two teenage girls who he’d previously messed around with who were now giving their toddlers free rein to run riot while they watched to see what he would do, a smile came onto Anton’s lips. ‘Say again,’ he said, walking calmly up to the counter behind which his boss was standing.
‘I said you’re an idiot ,’ Abdul repeated, raising his voice for the benefit of his audience. ‘This is what I get for hiring low-life criminals, but you wait till I speak to your probation officer, ’cos I’ll—’
Anton seized him by his shirt-front before he could finish the sentence and dragged him over the counter until they were nose to nose. ‘You ever mug me off like that again,’ he hissed, ‘I’ll string you up by your ankles and slice your fucking throat open, then sit and watch while you bleed to death. ‘Y’ gets me?’
Abdul let out a strangled squawk of terror when he saw the icy look in Anton’s eyes and quickly nodded his agreement. Satisfied that he wouldn’t make the same mistake again, Anton let him go and wiped his hands on his trousers.
Just a few more months , he reminded himself as he strolled to the door … All he had to do was stick this shit out for the remainder of his sentence to keep the probation officer off his back, and then he’d be free to get his life back on track. And the first thing he was going to do was kick this poxy job into touch.
Scared that Abdul might send the security guard after her, Tracey ran all the way home. Out of breath when she got there, she fumbled her key into the lock and fell into the hall. Hands shaking, she rushed into the kitchen, twisting the cap off the stolen bottle as she went, and slopped a large measure into a cup before carrying it and the bottle into the front room.
That was the closest she’d come to getting caught in ages and her nerves were frazzled. Abdul didn’t faze her; he was too fat and soft to do anything. But that new security guard lived on the estate, and he looked like he wouldn’t think twice about giving her a good hiding.
Almost jumping out of her skin when someone suddenly started hammering on the front door, she crept to the window and peeked out through the gap in the curtains. Relieved to see that it was only Chantelle, she went back to the couch and flopped down to finish her drink in peace.
Chantelle knocked a few more times. Then she raised the flap of the letter box, and shouted, ‘I know you’re in there, Tracey, I saw you go in – and I’m not going away till you tell me where my mum is. I mean it … I’ll stay out here all night if I have to.’
As another volley of knocking echoed around the uncarpeted hall, Tracey squeezed her eyes shut and hissed, ‘Oh, piss off and leave me alone. I’ve got enough problems of me own to deal with.’
Outside, Chantelle moved from the door to the window. She was sure that she’d seen Tracey going into the flat but the room was pitch dark when she peered through the thin gap between the curtains, so maybe she’d got it
Anton stepped aside, waved for her to go past, and watched as she went to the till and paid for the bottle of milk she’d come in for before walking quickly out of the shop. He wasn’t stupid; he had seen the veil fall over her eyes at the mention of probation. She obviously thought she was better than him, but that was okay. He was out now, and there was no way he was ever going back inside, so there was plenty of time to win her over.
He made his way back to the front of the shop now, intending to take up his post at the door. But he hesitated when he heard his boss mouthing off. ‘You talking to me?’ he asked, turning to face the man.
‘Yeah, I said you’re bloody useless!’ Abdul’s tone was scathing. ‘That was a full litre of vodka that thieving bitch got away with while you were busy chatting up that girl. I should take it out of your bloody wages.’
Aware that customers were listening, and especially conscious of two teenage girls who he’d previously messed around with who were now giving their toddlers free rein to run riot while they watched to see what he would do, a smile came onto Anton’s lips. ‘Say again,’ he said, walking calmly up to the counter behind which his boss was standing.
‘I said you’re an idiot ,’ Abdul repeated, raising his voice for the benefit of his audience. ‘This is what I get for hiring low-life criminals, but you wait till I speak to your probation officer, ’cos I’ll—’
Anton seized him by his shirt-front before he could finish the sentence and dragged him over the counter until they were nose to nose. ‘You ever mug me off like that again,’ he hissed, ‘I’ll string you up by your ankles and slice your fucking throat open, then sit and watch while you bleed to death. ‘Y’ gets me?’
Abdul let out a strangled squawk of terror when he saw the icy look in Anton’s eyes and quickly nodded his agreement. Satisfied that he wouldn’t make the same mistake again, Anton let him go and wiped his hands on his trousers.
Just a few more months , he reminded himself as he strolled to the door … All he had to do was stick this shit out for the remainder of his sentence to keep the probation officer off his back, and then he’d be free to get his life back on track. And the first thing he was going to do was kick this poxy job into touch.
Scared that Abdul might send the security guard after her, Tracey ran all the way home. Out of breath when she got there, she fumbled her key into the lock and fell into the hall. Hands shaking, she rushed into the kitchen, twisting the cap off the stolen bottle as she went, and slopped a large measure into a cup before carrying it and the bottle into the front room.
That was the closest she’d come to getting caught in ages and her nerves were frazzled. Abdul didn’t faze her; he was too fat and soft to do anything. But that new security guard lived on the estate, and he looked like he wouldn’t think twice about giving her a good hiding.
Almost jumping out of her skin when someone suddenly started hammering on the front door, she crept to the window and peeked out through the gap in the curtains. Relieved to see that it was only Chantelle, she went back to the couch and flopped down to finish her drink in peace.
Chantelle knocked a few more times. Then she raised the flap of the letter box, and shouted, ‘I know you’re in there, Tracey, I saw you go in – and I’m not going away till you tell me where my mum is. I mean it … I’ll stay out here all night if I have to.’
As another volley of knocking echoed around the uncarpeted hall, Tracey squeezed her eyes shut and hissed, ‘Oh, piss off and leave me alone. I’ve got enough problems of me own to deal with.’
Outside, Chantelle moved from the door to the window. She was sure that she’d seen Tracey going into the flat but the room was pitch dark when she peered through the thin gap between the curtains, so maybe she’d got it
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