of cigarettes, lifting one out and clamping it between his lips as he rooted in his jeans pocket for the lighter. Andrew
spun to face him as Scott crossed to the window, sparking the cigarette and standing next to the fresh air. He took a deep drag, eyeing Andrew with suspicion.
‘I’m not police, if that’s what you’re worried about,’ Andrew said.
‘Why would it worry me?’
‘I don’t know – I was eighteen, nineteen once. Sometimes you get up to things . . .’
The right side of Scott’s lips curled into a smile. ‘Aye, well, it’s only really the usual. Bit of weed, some underage booze. He wasn’t into fags at all. We went to a few
gigs, had a day at Blackpool the other summer, drank cider in the park, played a bit of footy – what do you want to hear?’
An errant remnant of cigarette ash missed the saucer and landed on top of the air-freshener.
‘What sort of thing would you want to keep from his parents?’
‘He wasn’t some crack-head if that’s what you’re thinking, he was just a normal lad.’
‘I know, but there’s lots of things normal lads do that they wouldn’t want their parents to know about. That’s what makes them normal, isn’t it?’
A puff of smoke disappeared into the air and the half-smile returned. ‘Fair point. I s’pose they didn’t know about the weed but it was never a big thing. He wasn’t a
dealer or anything.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Not really. He liked a bit of porn but don’t we all? He was looking forward to turning eighteen.’
‘Why?’
‘So he could drink legally. We always had pubs we could get into but the better places, the cheaper ones, they usually asked for ID. They had this big splurge on testing bars for serving
underagers when we were at college and suddenly you couldn’t get in anywhere.’
‘Did you go out much?’
Scott sucked the cigarette in between his teeth, brushing his hands on his trousers before plucking it out again. A spiral of smoke disappeared towards the window. ‘Not really. Too
expensive, ain’t it? We’d usually get a bottle of something and go to the park if it was sunny, or nick off down the canal and sit under one of the bridges. Either that, or we’d
go round Kingy’s house when his parents were out. That’s when he wasn’t with Lara, of course.’
Andrew made an effort to search through the pages inside the envelope, as if he didn’t know who Lara was.
‘She was his girlfriend, yes?’
‘If you can call it that. They’d argue all the time: break up, get back together, fight, make up. You never knew if they were together or apart. One minute, he’d be saying he
was done with her, the next they were all over each other again. At first we’d take it seriously but then we realised it was just what they did.’
‘Who usually did the breaking up?’
‘Oh, it was always Nicky – she was a right psycho. She’d threaten to cut her wrists if he didn’t get back with her, then she’d dote on him the whole time they were
together.’
‘What did she do?’
‘She’d get him food and booze, stuff like that. Promise him . . .
things
.’
‘Why did he get back together with her if they were always arguing?’
Scott finished the cigarette and mashed the remains into the mound of butts in the saucer. ‘Why d’ya think?’
Aah . . . seventeen-year-old lads only thought with one thing.
Andrew moved on. ‘Were you out with him the night he disappeared?’
Scott took out a second cigarette and lit it. ‘We all were – Kingy, Gibbon, Ricky, Belly, Lara and a couple of other girls. Nicky was the youngest, so we were all eighteen by then.
It was our first proper night out where we couldn’t be turned away for being underage.’
Andrew began writing on the back of the envelope: this was the information he’d actually come for. ‘Where did you go?’
‘Do you know Night And Day in the centre?’
‘On Oldham Street?’
‘Yeah, it’s this smart little place that has bands.
spun to face him as Scott crossed to the window, sparking the cigarette and standing next to the fresh air. He took a deep drag, eyeing Andrew with suspicion.
‘I’m not police, if that’s what you’re worried about,’ Andrew said.
‘Why would it worry me?’
‘I don’t know – I was eighteen, nineteen once. Sometimes you get up to things . . .’
The right side of Scott’s lips curled into a smile. ‘Aye, well, it’s only really the usual. Bit of weed, some underage booze. He wasn’t into fags at all. We went to a few
gigs, had a day at Blackpool the other summer, drank cider in the park, played a bit of footy – what do you want to hear?’
An errant remnant of cigarette ash missed the saucer and landed on top of the air-freshener.
‘What sort of thing would you want to keep from his parents?’
‘He wasn’t some crack-head if that’s what you’re thinking, he was just a normal lad.’
‘I know, but there’s lots of things normal lads do that they wouldn’t want their parents to know about. That’s what makes them normal, isn’t it?’
A puff of smoke disappeared into the air and the half-smile returned. ‘Fair point. I s’pose they didn’t know about the weed but it was never a big thing. He wasn’t a
dealer or anything.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Not really. He liked a bit of porn but don’t we all? He was looking forward to turning eighteen.’
‘Why?’
‘So he could drink legally. We always had pubs we could get into but the better places, the cheaper ones, they usually asked for ID. They had this big splurge on testing bars for serving
underagers when we were at college and suddenly you couldn’t get in anywhere.’
‘Did you go out much?’
Scott sucked the cigarette in between his teeth, brushing his hands on his trousers before plucking it out again. A spiral of smoke disappeared towards the window. ‘Not really. Too
expensive, ain’t it? We’d usually get a bottle of something and go to the park if it was sunny, or nick off down the canal and sit under one of the bridges. Either that, or we’d
go round Kingy’s house when his parents were out. That’s when he wasn’t with Lara, of course.’
Andrew made an effort to search through the pages inside the envelope, as if he didn’t know who Lara was.
‘She was his girlfriend, yes?’
‘If you can call it that. They’d argue all the time: break up, get back together, fight, make up. You never knew if they were together or apart. One minute, he’d be saying he
was done with her, the next they were all over each other again. At first we’d take it seriously but then we realised it was just what they did.’
‘Who usually did the breaking up?’
‘Oh, it was always Nicky – she was a right psycho. She’d threaten to cut her wrists if he didn’t get back with her, then she’d dote on him the whole time they were
together.’
‘What did she do?’
‘She’d get him food and booze, stuff like that. Promise him . . .
things
.’
‘Why did he get back together with her if they were always arguing?’
Scott finished the cigarette and mashed the remains into the mound of butts in the saucer. ‘Why d’ya think?’
Aah . . . seventeen-year-old lads only thought with one thing.
Andrew moved on. ‘Were you out with him the night he disappeared?’
Scott took out a second cigarette and lit it. ‘We all were – Kingy, Gibbon, Ricky, Belly, Lara and a couple of other girls. Nicky was the youngest, so we were all eighteen by then.
It was our first proper night out where we couldn’t be turned away for being underage.’
Andrew began writing on the back of the envelope: this was the information he’d actually come for. ‘Where did you go?’
‘Do you know Night And Day in the centre?’
‘On Oldham Street?’
‘Yeah, it’s this smart little place that has bands.
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