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getting her dependent on him, dependent on anti-depressants, too, his mind games sending her mad. Heā€™d provide tablets, get her docile. Sheā€™d be so out of it, the only option available was for him to run the Barrington for her until she ā€˜got betterā€™.

But she never would, heā€™d see to that.

Yes, it was definitely a long game but one he was prepared to play. Mam had to have that house on New Barrington, and now the fucking drug theft had gone tits up, he had no money to bloody pay for it. As for Francis, heā€™d dope her up anā€™ all, get the pair of them off their nuts. Add extra ground-up tablets to their food, ones heā€™d already got off the black market.

He laughed, a bit loud, then tamped down the mental-ness of it in case Mam heard him from the kitchen below and cottoned on that he was on the verge of losing it. Sheā€™d want to help, and he couldnā€™t have her pecking at him until he gave in and revealed all.

He sniffed some of Richieā€™s cocaine, the rush sending him manic.

Iā€™ve got to talk to someone.

He only had one person he trusted, and even that was stretching itā€”he didnā€™t fully trust anyone, even Mam. Didnā€™t even trust himself when someone called him a prick. God, if he couldnā€™t even rely on him, how could anyone else?

Heā€™d go and see the woman now, get some advice. Sheā€™d kept her gob shut so far after heā€™d spoken to her before, and he reckoned she believed in him, that heā€™d take over the Barrington and rule everyone, and that was why she hadnā€™t informed on him to Cassie. She wanted him as her boss, of course she did.

He left his bedroom and went downstairs, rubbing his nose to make sure no white powder was on show. Christ, he hated this manky little house. It seemed like Dad was still everywhere, even though itā€™d been redecorated three times over and all the stolen furniture taken to the tip after heā€™d ā€˜walked outā€™ on them. Nan had loaned Mam the money to do it up: ā€œā€¦now that nasty bastard wonā€™t get any benefit from it. I said before when you wanted money, Gina: not while youā€™re with that waste of space.ā€ Then came the sour lips and knowing eye, Nan folding her arms.

His father wasnā€™t gone, Lenny hadnā€™t managed to make him disappear completely. His evilness resided in the walls, his vicious whispers still filtering out from the breeze blocks, through the plaster, the coats of paint: ā€˜Youā€™re a prick, lad, a fucking prick.ā€™

Even hearing those words in his head set him off, and he stormed into the living room where heā€™d left his coat in the early hours. He snatched it from the sofa and shrugged it on, the inside cold against his cotton shirt and seeping through to his skin. Mam had taken his glass away, which heā€™d left on the coffee table prior to stumbling up to bed, but the bottle of JD was still there, asking him to have a taste, goading him on. Come on, son, you know you want me.

He fought the battle for the count of three then gave in and unscrewed the lid, slinging the alcohol down his throat, the burn of it forcing fire into his already cocaine-heated veins. He put the top back on, contemplating taking his old bottled friend with him, but common sense prevailed, and he slid it inside the wall cabinet, murmuring, ā€œWe have a date later.ā€

ā€œYou off out, Jase?ā€ Mam called from the kitchen.

He jumped, momentarily thinking the bottle had spoken to him, then went in there, a glut of emotion clogging his throat at the sight of her. Sheā€™d come into her own once Dad had gone, changing her clothing, her hairstyle, becoming this wonderful starlet with her lovely curlsā€”and makeup instead of black eyes. She was beautiful and deserved the best, to get away from here and into a place where sheā€™d fit better, where she belonged more. She was too good for the likes of the folks around here, always had been, especially this street. How sheā€™d ended up with scum like his dad heā€™d never know.

Sheā€™d often said she wouldnā€™t leave this house when Jason had offered to pay higher rent elsewhere, that heā€™d been brought home from the hospital and had grown up there, the memories stitched into her mind so much she couldnā€™t bear to leave the gaff behind in case that meant leaving the memories behind, too, but if he presented her with a New Barrington pad, spacious rooms and fancy furniture, surely sheā€™d see sense?

ā€œYeah, got to see a man about a dog.ā€ He took a slice of bread out of the bag on the side and stuffed some in his mouth.

Mamā€™s eyes went wide. ā€œI hope you donā€™t mean that literally.ā€

ā€œDonā€™t be daft. We donā€™t want one pissing on the carpet, do we,ā€ he mumbled around the bread.

He swallowed then crammed the rest in and walked out, the cold wind whipping his hair about, and got in his car, cursing the snow that had settled. Someone would see his vehicle outside his destination, but there wasnā€™t owt he could do about that. Maybe he ought to buy a clapped-out effort, storing it in a rented garage somewhere, using it for things like this.

He sped off, making a stop halfway, parking behind one of the three little shops on the Barrington. What a shit state, all those wheelie bins with their lids open, rubbish poking out. Thereā€™d be rats here if the owner wasnā€™t careful, and the council would be on her back. Maybe heā€™d tell Cassie about it, egg her on to pay a visit and threaten the woman into cleaning up her act.

He tugged his rucksack from the rear seat and took out one of his fake

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