Outside the gate he thinks how it would be quicker to nip up to her flat than back along Love Lane for his phone in Hanley’s van. Maybe she’ll be on for quick one, fuck Hofmans, fuck Hanley’s pie, fuck Hanley.
He decides to get the pies in first before they run out, and for some daft reason explains to Hanley in his head how he likes the way Lyn wants him, how she is one that really wants it, but not like a slag, not a screamer, not desperate either, how there’s something about her he hasn’t worked out yet, something he likes. Class.
There is a man sitting low in the sky.
‘Ufff! Sorry.’
‘Sorry.’
Pete hadn’t seen them, a little black boy reeling away, laughing, not hurt. Though Pete’s knee hurts. ‘Shit.’
The boy’s orange mother, ’Sorry, sorry I am sorry.’
‘It’s OK, no worries.’
His Dad, ‘Very sorry.’
And there is a little girl, her braided hair and round red mouth, big brown eyes, Pete smiles. ‘No worries.’
She says back to him, ‘No worries.’ Not rudely, but smiling, just trying the words out, ‘No worries.’