Page 72 of Indie

“Luke’s gonna die again, mammy. And he still won’t give me a turn.”

“I’ve got stuff in for pancakes, Emmie,” I called out, watching the young boy wave his weapon, surrounded by the enemy.

“Pancakes?” Emmie asked, opening the cupboard in front of her.

“Yeah. Always have stuff in for pancakes. Granted, it’s out of a packet. Bottom cupboard, just there,” I pointed.

“Ah, man. I can’t get past this level. Indie, you got past this level?” he called, his eyes fixed on the giant television in front of him.

“Yeah, mate. Ages ago. I’ll show you how to do it later. Get your breakfast,” and then I turned to Emmie. “I need to go downstairs and talk to Tori. She’s been waiting for me for nearly forty minutes. She’ll have either drunk all my drink or shit in the sink just to piss me off.”

“Would she really do that?”

I smiled. “Nah, babe. I was just being dramatic. But she’ll probably chew my ear off. Better get it over and done with.”

Although when I got downstairs, she’d helped herself to coffee, the coffee machine now lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Fucking hell, Tori man. What have you done to this?”

“I dunno. Pushed a few buttons till something came out.”

The dark-haired girl moved to the doorway and crouched down, coffee cup in hand, her other feeling over the charred patch in my carpet.

“What happened to your carpet?”

“Some arseholes tossed a burning cut through the door.”

“Really? Who’s was it.”

“Beanz.”

“Beanz? Is he ok? How did they get hold of his cut?”

“Seems the daft fucker lost a spare one.”

“Didn’t know he had a spare,” Tori commented.

And for a moment, something rang in my head, something I couldn’t quite grasp.

“No. Neither did I.” But this conversation was club business we were encroaching on, and that wasn’t a discussion with Tori, no matter who’s old lady she was.

“What are you doing here, Tori?”

“How long you been fucking Ste’s nurse?” There was a hint of tension in her face.

“Tori,” I warned. “You wanted to talk to me about my dad?”

“Yeah. He wants to come home, Indie. The hospital says they can get him comfortable and then he can be nursed from home.”

“Ok.”

“Well, I thought it would be better if he came here to the clubhouse, rather than our house.”

His house, not hers, but I didn’t correct her.

“Why? Surely, he wants to be in his own home?”

“Thought it would be for the best. Plenty people round here to help, and he can stay involved in the club a bit more. It would be where he wanted to spend his last days, Indie. And besides, if we’ve got a live-in nurse, reckon that would be even better.It’s not like she’s got a job to do anymore. Heard she got herself suspended. Might as well be useful to the club.”