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them, they was chasing me. They’re a right load of nymphos! I could have copped with loads of ’em if that teacher hadn’t seen ’em flocking round me. They were gagging for it!’
            ‘They were checking the wheels, not you, you tosser,’ said Mal, coming back with a pack of beers and throwing one can to each of them. ‘Why would they want a sad old fart like you with all them young lads about?’
            ‘Me big dick!’ said Lee, quite seriously. ‘No schoolboy’s gonna satisfy them nubey babes like me.’
            Mal shook his head in despair. ‘Drink your ale and cool yourself down, man.’
            Lee ripped the tab back and slurped at the froth bubbling over the edge of the can. Licking his lips, he turned to Ged with a glint in his eye.
            ‘So how’s your little ’un these days, Ged? I haven’t seen her for years, man. How old is she now? Twelve? Thirteen? Must be getting big, eh?’
            ‘Belt up, Lee,’ Sam warned, flicking a nervous glance at Ged. The last man to disrespect his daughter had been confined to bed with a drip-feed for a month. Lee was definitely stepping into dangerous territory.
            Ged didn’t move. Holding his hands to his mouth, one huge mitt cupping a jaw-breaking fist, obscuring all of his face except his eyes, he pinned Lee with a glare. His voice, when it came, was low and dark. ‘She’s fifteen, Lee. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll never mention her again.’
            ‘I was only asking!’ Lee spluttered. ‘Jeez! What’s it coming to if I can’t ask a mate about his family?’ Turning to Mal, he held his hands up innocently. ‘Did I say anything wrong? Did I?’
            ‘Pack it in,’ Mal said, hoping to avert the looming disaster. Everyone knew how Ged felt about his kids. ‘We’re not here to talk about girls. We’ve got business to sort out.’
            ‘Yeah, I know . . . I was only saying—’
            ‘Well, don’t! You can see you’re pissing Ged off, so leave it, yeah?’
            ‘What time is it?’ Sam asked, anxious to get this over and done so he could get home before Wendy got back from her night out with her mates – and, he hoped, be in bed asleep, avoiding the dreaded nightly tussle. This last month she’d been like a raving schizophrenic. Bitch-queen one minute – sex-mad crazy woman the next. If she wasn’t screaming at him for something he’d done wrong, she was screaming for a shag, and he was worn out trying to keep up with her.
            ‘It’s only half-eight,’ said Mal. ‘We’ve got loads of time yet. Got any new films, Lee?’
            Sam groaned. ‘Aw, not a bluey. That’s the last thing I need!’
            Ignoring him, Lee jumped up with a grin. ‘Sure have!’ he said, pulling three videos from a heap of rubbish beside the couch. ‘New Danish imports, these,’ he bragged. ‘Picked ’em up down Tib Street last week, and they are capital-D Diiirty! Take your pick.’
            ‘Any,’ Mal said. ‘But I’m warning you now, man – touch your dick and I’ll kick your bleeding head in!’
            ‘What about the job?’ Ged reminded them. ‘Shouldn’t we be sorting that out first?’
            ‘Shit, yeah.’ Lee slapped a palm to his forehead. ‘I forgot about that.’
            Jumping to his feet again, he ran across to his jacket and pulled out the plan he’d spent the whole of the previous night drawing. Smoothing it out, he put it on the table and turned it towards them, then perched himself on the edge of the couch to explain it.
            ‘Right,’ he began, rubbing his hands together importantly. ‘This is the plan of the shop. These—’ he pointed out the relevant bits ‘—are the counter, aisles, fridges, and what-not. And these are the doors front and back. These—’ three little stick-men ‘—are the goons. And the “X” is himself counting up.