Thirteen
Ruby couldn’t walk in a straight line or always urinate where she was supposed to, but she remained a good judge of character.
So Barry was not surprised to see her hanging back a little when they emerged from the basement to discover the appalling Darren lurking around in the hallway outside the kitchen.
Barry muttered ‘Good girl’, and bent down to rub her ears.
He could not have been happier at the dog’s reaction unless she’d bared her teeth and rushed forward to take a bite out of the smug tosspot’s ankle.
‘All right?’ Barry said.
Darren grunted as he raised the glass of wine he was holding, then nodded towards the basement door which Barry had just closed behind him. ‘It’s like watching some creature come crawling up from its hole.’ He produced a dark chuckle. ‘You know, whenever you make an appearance.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Yeah, a creature from the dark depths.’ He leaned forward and began to do something with his hand; a bizarre mime of some sort that was presumably meant to convey …
claws, or whatever. He tottered a little and it became obvious that the glass of wine was not his first. ‘A giant mole, or a rat, or something.’
Barry turned and walked towards the front door, aware almost instantly that Darren was following him.
‘Stacey’s not here,’ Darren said. ‘In case you were wondering.’
‘I wasn’t,’ Barry said. ‘Thanks for the update, though.’
‘Out on the lash with some mates. I don’t think you’d know them.’
‘Right.’ The implication was obvious. New friends, new life (without you), new everything.
‘So, you taking the dog out, then?’
‘That’s the plan.’ Barry couldn’t fault the bloke’s eyesight or powers of deduction.
‘Over the park?’
‘Maybe,’ Barry said. ‘We might try somewhere different today.’
‘Probably a good idea. You know someone was murdered in there the night before last.’
‘Blimey. Well, cheers for the heads-up.’ Barry had not told Stacey about what had happened to him in the park, or that he was planning on handing himself in.
That morning, when he’d asked her to look after Ruby before he left for the police station, he’d told her he had an appointment at the Job Centre.
‘Listen, I think we need to get things sorted out,’ Darren said.
Barry stopped and turned round. The dog crouched to do a small wee, then crept behind his leg.
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake …’
‘I’ll clean it up,’ Barry said.
‘This daft … arrangement.’ Darren took another slurp of wine. ‘I mean, don’t you think we need to sort it out?’
‘Well, yes.’ Barry took a wad of tissue from his pocket and bent to mop up the dog-wee. ‘No, it’s not ideal.’
‘That’s putting it mildly,’ Darren said. ‘I’m guessing it’s not great being stuck down there, either.’
With nowhere obvious to dispose of it, Barry stuffed the tissue into his pocket. ‘Oh, you meant it’s not ideal for you?’
‘Yeah, obviously.’
‘Obviously.’
‘You know … you being down there, with me and Stacey up here trying to get on with our lives. It’s doing our heads in, tell you the truth. We need our privacy. We need to move forward … and, to be fair, so do you.’
‘Well, I appreciate your concern,’ Barry said, ‘I really do, but—’
‘Look, I know you don’t think very much of me and that’s understandable, but think about Stacey.’ Darren took a step towards him, concern etched clumsily across his doughy features. ‘Think about everything she’s suffered … what she’s still suffering.’
‘Me moving into the basement was her idea.’
‘Right, and she was only thinking about what would be best for you.’
‘Course she was.’
‘But now she realises that it was a very bad idea.’
Barry stared down at the dog for half a minute or so, then looked up to the picture on the wall next to the front door.
It was a print he’d bought years before and had framed; one that -Stacey had spotted, mooching in some antiques shop in the Lake District while they were on their honeymoon.
She’d told him how much she liked it and how clever she thought the painter had been to get the streaks of sunlight through the trees.
‘So, what do you suggest we do, then?’ he asked. ‘How do we “sort it out”?’
‘OK, so I might be able to scramble together a few grand, which I’d be happy to lend you. Enough to get you out of here and back on your feet, you know? When you’ve sorted yourself out you can pay me back, a few hundred quid at a time or something. We can iron out the details later on.’
‘That’s very generous of you,’ Barry said.
‘Whatever it takes, right?’
‘Except, this is my house.’
‘Ah, well …’
‘Why should I have to leave my own house?’
‘See, it’s theoretically your house, but not for very long, because Stacey’s already talking to a solicitor and he says you’re likely to end up with sod all if you’re difficult about things. After everything you put her through.’
‘You’ll have to remind me what that was.’
‘Mental cruelty, that’s what the solicitor says it is. All that shouting and carrying on, lashing out in the night and what have you.’
‘I had nightmares, mate.’
‘Whatever—’
‘Don’t you understand that?’
‘Yeah, course I do,’ Darren said. ‘And I sympathise, after everything you did for Queen and country, but I’m telling you that if you’re stupid about all this, it could easily turn into a very different sort of nightmare.
’ He made a second attempt at an expression of compassion and concern, but couldn’t quite pull it off and just looked as if he was having trouble relieving himself.
‘Just … take the money and sling your hook, Barry. It’s honestly what’s best for everyone. Come on, what d’you say?’
Barry turned away to open the front door, then stood aside and waited for Ruby to move past him. Just before she did, she turned round herself until she was facing Darren, then squatted, meaningfully.
‘Oh, please …’ Darren looked disgusted. ‘You’re kidding, right?’
Barry watched as Ruby squeezed out a trio of small, if not quite solid turds, just inside the front door. When she’d finished, he led her out into the front garden, then looked back to see Darren staring helplessly down at the mess the small dog had left for him.
‘I couldn’t have put it better myself,’ Barry said.