Mickey turned to face her. ‘Mum never sent me, although she is worried about you. So am I, Debs. What are you doing living in a shit-hole like this? You can’t bring a kid up round here. And who’s this geezer you’re with? Does he work? Is he looking after you okay?’
Picking up her brother’s box of cigarettes, Debbie lit one and took a deep drag. She’d given up the stinking habit as soon as she found out she was pregnant, but the way she felt at this moment, she could literally smoke the whole box. She flicked her ash into the chipped ashtray then turned to face her brother, determined to stand her own ground.
‘Look, Mick, I’m a big girl now. You don’t have to worry about me, honestly, I’m fine. Billy’s as good as gold. We have our ups and downs, like anyone else does, but overall he treats me really well. He usually works on building sites, but to be honest even when he’s not at work, he’s never short of money. Anything I ask him for, or need, he gives to me. As for this flat, I’m not stupid, I know it’s not the Ritz, but it’s only temporary. Once the baby’s born, I’ll be eligible for a council house, hopefully in a much better area.’
Mickey looked at his sister and just for a moment blamed himself for her predicament. He’d always looked after her when they were kids, always been there for her, and if he hadn’t been locked away in the slammer, she certainly wouldn’t be in the position she was in now. Over his dead body would he have let any of this shit happen to her.
‘Look, Debs, I don’t wanna burst your bubble or fall out with you, babe, but I need to meet this geezer, just to put me own mind at rest. If he’s always got money, even when he’s not working, he’s got to be a bit dodgy, ain’t he?’
Debbie could feel her temper bubbling to the surface and was determined to stick up for the father of her unborn child.
‘Look, Mick, don’t give it Snow White with me. You never go to work and you’ve always got money. Maybe he does the same shit as you do. I don’t know what he does, but you of all people have no right to get on your fucking high horse! At least my Billy hasn’t spent the last couple of years slopping out shit buckets in Wormwood Scrubs, like you bloody well have.
‘You make me fucking die, you do. You’ve always put yourself first, Mick. And as for my caring mother – she’s shoved so far up Peter’s arse, I’m surprised she can even breathe. Now, all of a sudden, everyone’s worried about poor little Debs? Well, bollocks to the pair of ya! I needed you both years ago, not now.
‘I’ll tell you something else an’ all, shall I? When you left home, my life was absolute shit. You didn’t give a toss that I was stuck there with Mum and that arsehole Peter on my own, did ya? I mean it, Mick, my life has got sod all to do with you or Mum now, so you can both keep your fucking trunks out.’
Holding up his hands in defeat, Mickey walked towards her, intending to give her a hug.
Debbie was having none of it. ‘Don’t try and be nice to me, Mick, you’ve upset me now. I’ve tried to make a life for meself and all you can do is come round and pick fucking holes.’
‘Come on, Debs, I’m your big bruv and I love ya. Sorry if I’ve been a bit brutal with ya, but I’m bound to be worried. I wouldn’t be much of a brother if I wasn’t.’
These words moved Debbie in a way nothing else he had said had. The fight went out of her and she suddenly felt tearful.
‘Now come on, don’t cry,’ Mickey said as he held her in his arms.
‘Oh, ignore me,’ Debbie said, half laughing, half crying. ‘It’s just me hormones playing up.’
Letting her go, Mickey reached inside his jacket and took out a pen. ‘Get us a bit of paper, sis, and I’ll give you my mobile number. Are you on the phone here?’
Debbie shook her head. ‘We’ve no phone, but Billy has promised he’ll get one put in nearer the birth.’
Taking a wad of notes out of his pocket, Mickey rolled off a bundle. ‘No arguments, Debs, take this and make sure you get a phone put on. Do it as soon as possible, and treat yourself to something nice with the rest of the money.’
‘Thanks, Mick. I’ll pop next door to Sharon’s. She’s with BT, I’ll get her to ring them for me.’
Mickey rubbed her arm. ‘Good girl, and don’t worry about the bill. If you get stuck, or you’re a bit short, I’ll always pay it. Now put my number away safely. You can ring me anytime on that, day or night.’
‘I’ll put it in me purse. But I’ll make a note of it somewhere else, just in case I lose it.’
‘Right, I’d best be going now, Debs. Me and Steve are gonna have a couple of beers round here, before we shoot home. What pub does your Billy drink in? I’ll buy him a pint if I meet him. I’d like to get to know him.’
Debbie felt her heart sink. This was all she bloody well needed.
‘He probably won’t be in the pub today, Mick. He had to be somewhere earlier.’
‘I’ll have a look anyway, Debs. Where’s he likely to be, if he’s about? I mean, if we’re gonna be family, I need to introduce meself and that, don’t I?’
Debbie knew there was no point in lying. He was a clever bastard, her brother, and he’d find out anyway. If she lied, it would just look like she was hiding something.
‘If he’s about, he’ll be in the Westbury, the Brewery Tap or the Hope and Anchor. Promise you’ll be nice to him if you do bump into him, Mick?’
‘Of course I will. I just wanna buy him a pint and that. You worry too much, Debs.’
As Debbie kissed him goodbye, she felt as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. Ever since the night Billy had laid into her then apologised, things had been going pretty smoothly. Billy had been attentive and caring once more and she didn’t need her brother or anyone else upsetting the apple cart.
Feeling shattered, she lay on her bed, imagining her partner and her brother getting on well together. She knew she was kidding herself, though. Deep inside she had a terrible feeling that they’d hate one another on sight.
* * *
Billy McDaid nodded to one of his regular punters to follow him out to the toilets. The guv’nor, Fred, was in today, and even though Billy knew he was aware of what went on here, he didn’t want to take the piss by serving up right under his nose.
‘Want a drink, Fred?’ he asked innocently as he returned from the Gents.
‘Yeah, go on, I’ll have a large Scotch,’ the landlord replied, busying himself behind the bar. He couldn’t stand McDaid. In fact, he couldn’t stand any of his customers. Scumbags and wasters, the whole bloody lot of ’em. He’d lived through a world war. These arseholes round here wouldn’t be able to survive a fucking thunderstorm!
Billy chatted away happily to a couple of cronies up at the bar. He’d been much more relaxed in himself over the last couple of months and finally felt that his life was on the up. Serving up in pubs suited Billy down to the ground and was much more appealing to him than freezing his plums off on a building site. He’d first fallen into his new career by accident. He’d been dealing to his mates, word had got around, and it had
