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clown in the games room arguing with one of the youngsters next to the dartboard.
    “How’s your lad doing?” asked Ernest. “I haven’t seen him around ours for a couple of weeks.”
    He didn’t really wish to start a conversation with big Des, but if Steve happened to look over and saw them two getting all friendly, there was less chance of him coming back over. It would, of course, piss Jeff off, too, knowing that his beer was getting warm and Ernest obviously having no inclination to bring it over.
    Desmond unwrapped his arms from around the barmaid’s waist and pulled himself another pint. “Well, apart from this bloody headache, I’m pretty good. Hey, our Ashton’s at your place tonight, mate, along with half the teenagers on Breakspear.” Desmond smirked at Ernest’s shocked expression. “Oh dear, I’m guessing that you didn’t know that your son was having a drug-crazed party then?”
    He shook his head. No, he didn’t have a bloody clue. He was going to tear Darren a new arsehole for pulling a stunt like this. Bloody hell, they’d just bought a new carpet for the living room as well. The thing would be ruined by the time this party ended.
    “Your house is going to be in a right state.”
    Ernest cringed, wondering if that was a jibe about the condition of their house. Christ, he sure hoped not. With the pint in one hand and the bottle in the other, Ernest made his way back to his smirking friend. He was willing to put down his next wage that Brenda knew all about this party. Hell, she’d probably helped to organize it too.
    “You took your bloody time,” Jeff said.
    “Oh I’m sorry. I had no idea that you were timing me. If had have known that, I would have run.”
    Ernest placed the drinks down on the table, gave Jeff a mucky look, and collapsed into the seat. “Anyway, it’s about time you slowed down. You’re supping the stuff like its pop. You’re gonna be three sheets before last orders at this rate.”
    Jeff grabbed his fresh pint like a starving man reached for the plate of roast beef. His friend was behaving very strangely tonight, stranger than normal anyway.
    “Erm, did you know that our Darren was having a party tonight?”
    Jeff nodded. “Sure, our Billy took his new bird there.”
    “And you didn’t think of informing me?”
    Jeff shrugged. “With it being your own fucking house, I had the feeling that you might already know.”
    Ernest pulled a lump of foam out of the seat and rolled it between his fingers before flicking it under the table. “No wonder this place is like a bloody morgue tonight, they’ll all be at the party, wrecking my house.”
    Jeff put his glass down; he’d already drunk three-quarters. “I don’t think they’ll all be at your gaff.”
    He had a point there. The old fellow who propped up the end of the bar at weekends was missing. Ernest couldn’t remember his name, Dennis or David, something like that. Somehow he doubted that he’d be getting down with the kids. That reminded him, he hadn’t seen the guy’s wife for weeks; he wondered if she had passed away.
    He scanned the bar and saw that Scary Mary was missing too. She propped up the other end of the bar and never missed a night.
    “I wonder where Mary is. I hope she isn’t at my house.”
    A foil packet had appeared in the palm of Jeff’s trembling hand. He had four white caplets in his hand already and was busy popping the rest out. “Don’t talk daft, why would she be at your place? The fat bitch will probably be in bed with an electric blanket over her head.” He threw the caplets in his mouth and swallowed them down with the last dregs of his beer. “And that is where I should be tonight.”
    “In Scary Mary’s bed?”
    “No, you fucking unfunny bastard, I mean in my bed.”
    “So why aren’t you?”
    He caught sight of Desmond lip dancing with the landlady and turned away, bloody hell! It looked like he was trying to eat her. That sort of nonsense belonged out of sight.