Her tantrum had passed and she smiled, said:

‘I’ve been working on it, that’s why Jimmy has to go to work.’

He shook his head, said:

‘Jimmy doesn’t work, okay.’

She outlined the plan and Ray said:

‘Jimmy works.’

Jimmy didn’t seem to mind and once they’d got him in place he actually liked the job, began to bring home stories about the guys at work. Ray suffered this nonsense for a few days then walloped Jimmy on the back of the head, said:

‘Enough with this citizen shit. You’re not some kind of moron who does nine to five, you’re a career criminal and once the deal goes down, you’re out of there.’

Jimmy seemed hurt and asked if he could keep the uniform. Ray sighed, said, ‘Yeah, yeah, keep the fucking thing,’ like he gave a rats about that. Wanted to say if we pull this off, you can get a goddamn uniform made.

Angie was into it and began to stroke Jimmy, asking,

‘So, the other guys, they like you, yeah?’

Ray stormed out. Angie might be sex on wheels and smart as a whip but she could be a royal pain in the butt sometimes. He walked along the Balham High Road and stopped in a pub he hadn’t ever been in. Ordered a pint and took a seat. He was smoking Dunhill Luxury Length, the fancy red box you didn’t see much of any more. He and Jimmy had hit a van a few weeks back and had been smoking it large ever since. It had been a long time since he’d had to resort to roll-ups; those days seemed to be long gone. He kind of missed the stuff that went with rolling your own but felt he couldn’t really go back. Plus, Angie hated them and said they smacked of prison. Much as he liked Angie — she was the best woman he’d ever had — she was crazy; there was a wildness that got to be tiring. She burned brighter than anyone he’d ever known but he figured she was going to burn out fast and bring down all around her. Ray didn’t intend being part of that. Once they got the dosh, he’d have to seriously consider deep-sixing her, making sure she’d never return. It was a shame but the mad bitch would have to go.