as she’d said it she could have kicked herself again at the look on his mam’s face – the senior Banerjees were both teetotal.
Paddy seemed to have no such concerns. With Gurdy’s mam and dad busy chatting to some elderly relative, he shook hands with Vikram and pulled him in close. ‘Now then, me little Paki mates,’ he said, grinning at both brothers, ‘point me to the bar, my son – this one has proper worn me out.’ Ah, so he was in that sort of mood, then.
She slapped Paddy in the stomach with her handbag, as was her usual response. A small part of her loved the way he alluded to her being so sexy, but the larger part – the much larger part – hated it, and made her squirm. And she could see Gurdy squirming too, so she threaded her arm through his. ‘Take no notice, pal – he’s all talk,’ she whispered as they walked inside. ‘More importantly, are Lucy and Jimmy here yet?’
Gurdy nodded and pointed. In fact, it looked like everyone was here. Vikram not only had a family that seemed to stretch from Bradford to Leeds, he was popular too and had lots of mates of his own. Most of which, Vicky guessed, were his fellow workers from Fields Printers, the large factory between Clayton and Lidget Green where he worked, which was famous for printing cigarette packaging.
And despite the relative earliness of the hour still the party was in full swing, the dance floor packed and throbbing and long queues at the bar, and, with the curtains closed and the disco ball scattering the room with coloured diamonds, Vicky felt a surge of happiness, despite the ache in the balls of her feet. This was going to be a great night, she just knew it.
But Vicky’s confidence looked like turning out to be short-lived. No sooner had she spotted Lucy and Jimmy, and raised a hand to wave a greeting, than she felt Paddy’s hand grip her arm.
‘Hey, you’re with me tonight,’ he hissed at her, while still smiling at the barmaid. ‘Let’s do the sensible thing, yeah? Leave the fucking numpties where they are.’
Vicky shook his hand off, and he didn’t resist, thankfully. ‘Oh, Paddy, for God’s sake, don’t start! I only want to go say hello to Luce. She’ll think I’m being funny if I don’t.’
‘Then she can come talk to you here,’ he said firmly. ‘I mean it, Vic. You’ve got to let her come to you. That’s the way to play it. And if she wants to, she will,’ he added. ‘Won’t she?’
Vicky wished she’d never mentioned her and Lucy’s last conversation. Why had she done such an idiotic thing? She should have realised she was only giving him ammunition against Lucy. She made a mental note never to do it again.
She looked at Lucy again, making what she hoped was enough of an apologetic face for Lucy to understand how her hands were tied, but not so much that Paddy would notice and think she was taking the mick. Lucy made a face back, and this time it was entirely unmistakable. She’d seen Paddy stop her going over and it was clear how she felt about it. Her expression said, Yeah, I get it, you’re a doormat and your boyfriend is a dick.
Well, sod it, Vicky decided, stung. It was all so bloody childish. Were it not for the fact that it would probably turn into a fist fight, she’d like to bang her best friend and her boyfriend’s bloody heads together. So she turned instead to the drinks Paddy was lining up on the bar. Perhaps getting something down her would chill her out a bit.
As was his way, he’d got a row of shorts lined up on the bar – three whiskies for him and two vodka and limes for her. ‘Come on, Vic,’ he said nudging her, ‘get them supped up.’ He downed his three in turn. Three tips of the head, three bobs of his Adam’s apple. He then picked up his pint. ‘Can’t have you lagging behind, can we?’
Vicky felt her spirits sink. Paddy liked his drink, but unfortunately it didn’t like him much, and she could already spot the tell-tale signs that he was going to be in the mood for bother. Not least that he kept glancing across the dance floor to where Lucy and Jimmy were sitting, despite his earlier reassurance that, because they weren’t worth the effort, he intended to ignore them.
He downed the pint, too, and immediately held the empty glass up, after another. It would only take another couple of drinks before he was well and truly pissed. Great.
‘Slow down a bit, babes,’ Vicky said, stroking his arm. The last thing she wanted was for him to show her up in front of everyone. ‘Tell you what, forget the pint – why don’t we go have a dance?’
It was always touch and go, such a suggestion; Paddy never like being told what to do. But he was still just on the right side of belligerent. Plus he did so love to dance, and here he had a big audience.
‘Good idea,’ he said, grinning as he set the empty glass down on the bar. ‘But first,’ he said, grabbing her hand and tugging her out onto the edge of the dance floor, away from the bar queue, ‘I’ll go get that DJ to put something decent on, seeing as I’m all dressed up in my best dancing gear.’
Vicky groaned inwardly. That meant Northern Soul, of course. And much as she loved him, and loved dancing with him, too, this would go down like a lead balloon. If the DJ agreed – which he would, because Paddy would charm him – the dance floor was likely to empty in moments, leaving only the hard-core Soulies stomping around.
She watched disconsolately, her eye naturally travelling from Paddy over to Lucy, making an automatic connection. Lucy would know exactly what she was thinking right now and would probably sympathise. But she didn’t appear to. In fact, her own gaze seemed to sweep right over Vicky. Preoccupied by something else, she clearly hadn’t seen her, and, later, when they unpicked everything, she’d regretfully – so regretfully – know this to have been true.
As it was, Lucy’s non-look was immediately followed by her dipping her dark head to Jimmy’s blond one, and whispering something in his ear, which made him laugh. And at exactly the point when Paddy returned to her from his visit to the DJ. From such tiny sparks, she thought wretchedly, watching his gaze following hers, do whole bloody infernos explode.
‘What’s that fucker laughing at?’ Paddy demanded. He’d let go of her arm now and was staring straight at Jimmy.
‘How the hell should I know?’ she said, trying to distract him. ‘Come on, “Nine Times Out of Ten” – great choice. It’s my favourite.’ She grabbed both of Paddy’s hands and started to try and swing him to the rhythm. Unfortunately, right at that moment, Jimmy decided to laugh even louder. And now she caught his gaze, which seemed to ask, ‘What the hell?’
‘No, fuck that!’ Paddy said, and his tone made Vicky’s gut clench. ‘He’s taking the fucking piss.’ He stalked across the floor of dancing couples which, as she’d predicted, was already thinning, heading straight for Lucy and Jimmy’s table.
Jimmy stood up as Paddy reached him, Vicky hot on his heels. Paddy was big and imposing and could intimidate pretty much anyone if he wanted to, but Jimmy was big too. And he could handle himself, even if in a less obvious way – as a copper’s son, he’d had to learn to since he was small.
And it looked as though he was in just as much of a mood for trouble as was Paddy, because as he closed in, Jimmy was already rolling up his sleeves.
And in they went, nothing said, both girls looking on helplessly, while, almost as if choreographed to go along with the music, fists began to fly and connected with faces, then both of them falling to the floor in a rolling heap of knuckles, legs and hair.
It would take a brave man to separate them, but a determined female was in with a shot, at least,
