Read Online Still Midnight by Denise Mina - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Denise Mina
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motioned to Pat to drop the cans underneath the van and stepped back, guiding Pat away, checking the ground they were stepping away from for oily smears of petrol.
Malki was taking no chances. He made Pat stand a good distance away along the tire tracks because he’d been in the van and would be all fumed up. Malki went back himself, crouching at the end of the tube, his lighter sparking twice before the flame caught. He held it to the end of the tube and got up quickly, backing off to Pat’s side.
A warm glow shot along the tubing, spilling a sudden sheet of light into the grass. The flames took, licking up at the surrounding air, racing into the petrol tank until a thwump and a spluttered belch of fire spilled onto the grass, lighting every drip and smear of petrol. The inside of the van was on fire, the back windows bright. The fire spread to the front seats and a wave of warm and smoke hit their faces. Pat blanched at the heat but Malki didn’t even blink. His mouth had fallen open a little, his small teeth white against the dark.
“ ’Mon,” said Pat, anxious to get back. He hurried out of the trees, following his path to the Lexus. Eddy’s head was no longer visible over the scraggy hedge around the field. Pat sped up, keeping his eyes on the place where Eddy had been standing, imagining him crouched over the old man’s body, rolling him into the ditch. Malki trotted after him, almost bumping into him at the mouth of the field when Pat stopped in his tracks.
Eddy was gone.
Pat ran towards the car, looking over the roof, in the ditch by the car, but Eddy was gone.
“Where the fuck…?”
Malki was behind him, staring hard at him, worried. With a limp hand he pointed at the car, at the driver’s seat. Eddy was sitting in it.
“Oh,” said Pat.
“… in the fucking car,” mumbled Malki, shaking his head.
Pat looked at Malki. The harsh moonlight cut lines deep into his face, he looked forty and he was only twenty-three. And yet he was looking pityingly at Pat.
“Fucking junkie twat,” said Pat.
Malki turned square to him and raised a warning finger. “Patrick, my friend, I have to say: you’re being a bit ignorant there.”
“Get in the fucking motor.”
“No need for rudeness, my friend. We’ve all got our troubles.”
Pat rolled his eyes. “Malki—”
Malki raised both hands. “ Polite . That’s all I’m saying…. Us and the animals, man.” He opened the back door and slipped his skinny hips in next to the pillowcase, shutting the door before Pat had the chance to tell him off again.
Heavily, his head throbbing slightly from the fumes, Pat made his way around to the other rear door and got in. The pillowcase was slight as well as small: Pat’s hips didn’t even touch him. It was like sitting next to a child.
Eddy started the engine and his eyes met Pat’s in the rearview mirror. Pat blinked and looked away.
When they hit the motorway, Pat looked back to where the van was burning. A calm smoke plume drifted up into the clear night. It could pass for insignificant, unless a local was going by and knew there was no house over the shoulder of the hill.
They drove on in silence as before but now Malki was content, having had the release of setting fire to something, on his way to a midnight assignation with his beloved scag. And Eddy was happy at the wheel of the Lexus, imagining a future where he owned such a car and could look at himself in the mirror.
But the pillowcase was rigid with fright and Pat looked out at the dark fields and wished himself someone else, somewhere else. He should have refused to get out of the van.
EIGHT
Rain fell softly in the dark street, regular and rhythmic, like a comforting pat on the back. Beyond the tape the boys watched Morrow’s feet as she came towards them. Their cigarettes were polka-dotted with drizzle. Neither could bring their eyes up farther than her knees.
Young, slim, and handsome, their clothes were expensive and well
Malki was taking no chances. He made Pat stand a good distance away along the tire tracks because he’d been in the van and would be all fumed up. Malki went back himself, crouching at the end of the tube, his lighter sparking twice before the flame caught. He held it to the end of the tube and got up quickly, backing off to Pat’s side.
A warm glow shot along the tubing, spilling a sudden sheet of light into the grass. The flames took, licking up at the surrounding air, racing into the petrol tank until a thwump and a spluttered belch of fire spilled onto the grass, lighting every drip and smear of petrol. The inside of the van was on fire, the back windows bright. The fire spread to the front seats and a wave of warm and smoke hit their faces. Pat blanched at the heat but Malki didn’t even blink. His mouth had fallen open a little, his small teeth white against the dark.
“ ’Mon,” said Pat, anxious to get back. He hurried out of the trees, following his path to the Lexus. Eddy’s head was no longer visible over the scraggy hedge around the field. Pat sped up, keeping his eyes on the place where Eddy had been standing, imagining him crouched over the old man’s body, rolling him into the ditch. Malki trotted after him, almost bumping into him at the mouth of the field when Pat stopped in his tracks.
Eddy was gone.
Pat ran towards the car, looking over the roof, in the ditch by the car, but Eddy was gone.
“Where the fuck…?”
Malki was behind him, staring hard at him, worried. With a limp hand he pointed at the car, at the driver’s seat. Eddy was sitting in it.
“Oh,” said Pat.
“… in the fucking car,” mumbled Malki, shaking his head.
Pat looked at Malki. The harsh moonlight cut lines deep into his face, he looked forty and he was only twenty-three. And yet he was looking pityingly at Pat.
“Fucking junkie twat,” said Pat.
Malki turned square to him and raised a warning finger. “Patrick, my friend, I have to say: you’re being a bit ignorant there.”
“Get in the fucking motor.”
“No need for rudeness, my friend. We’ve all got our troubles.”
Pat rolled his eyes. “Malki—”
Malki raised both hands. “ Polite . That’s all I’m saying…. Us and the animals, man.” He opened the back door and slipped his skinny hips in next to the pillowcase, shutting the door before Pat had the chance to tell him off again.
Heavily, his head throbbing slightly from the fumes, Pat made his way around to the other rear door and got in. The pillowcase was slight as well as small: Pat’s hips didn’t even touch him. It was like sitting next to a child.
Eddy started the engine and his eyes met Pat’s in the rearview mirror. Pat blinked and looked away.
When they hit the motorway, Pat looked back to where the van was burning. A calm smoke plume drifted up into the clear night. It could pass for insignificant, unless a local was going by and knew there was no house over the shoulder of the hill.
They drove on in silence as before but now Malki was content, having had the release of setting fire to something, on his way to a midnight assignation with his beloved scag. And Eddy was happy at the wheel of the Lexus, imagining a future where he owned such a car and could look at himself in the mirror.
But the pillowcase was rigid with fright and Pat looked out at the dark fields and wished himself someone else, somewhere else. He should have refused to get out of the van.
EIGHT
Rain fell softly in the dark street, regular and rhythmic, like a comforting pat on the back. Beyond the tape the boys watched Morrow’s feet as she came towards them. Their cigarettes were polka-dotted with drizzle. Neither could bring their eyes up farther than her knees.
Young, slim, and handsome, their clothes were expensive and well
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