Blue Summerhouse

Just then the front door opens and there's Jack, quite obviously more than a bit pissed.

"What the fuck...," he shouts. "Leave my fucking motor alone."

"I've come to pick up my boxers," I say, sweet as anything. Boomf, there goes the other headlight.

"Your boxers?" Jack is struggling to work out what's going on.

"Yeah, seems I dropped them here earlier when I was screwing Tracy."

And then the light starts to go on.

"They're your boxers. You're the one screwing my wife?" Jack says, swaying gently as he tries to take it all in

"I don't think you'll find that she's your wife any more; she's mine now," and that's telling him. While this is going on the bedroom window has opened. I look up and there's Tracy looking out, watching everything. "Grab your stuff, darlin'," I shout up, "just enough to go on the bike; you're coming home with me." She nods and disappears from the window.

"Do you know who I am?" Jack snarls. He's getting angry and things are about to get nasty. "Do you know what happens to people who fuck me about?"

And then I play my trump card. Thank you, Spikey, you've saved the day.

"I know exactly who you are, Jack Mason, and I know exactly what you think is going to happen but, before you make any stupid moves let me just assure you that if any harm whatsoever comes to Tracy, or me, or any of the crew, even so much as a snagged fingernail, then Dawed Hussain might get to know what happened to that shipment of charlie that disappeared in the marshes last month, get me?"

That scares the shit out of him.

And then Tracy arrives at the front door. I can hear the gasps from behind me. She's hurting and she's hurting bad. There's blood all down the side of her face, her eye is closed and her lip is split. She's holding her stomach which is obviously giving her grief, I'm guessing a cracked rib. The whole mood changes, getting ugly. The gang weren't expecting this. However, they hold themselves back. They know they're only there as backup. This is my quarrel, and mine alone.

You bastard, Jack Mason, you're going to pay for this, even if it does cost me another stretch for GBH.

"Go to the bike, darlin'," I say to Tracy. "We're nearly finished here. I just need to..." And with that I swings at Jack with the pipe wrench and he falls to the ground howling.

"You hurt her, I hurt you. In fact, if you ever, ever even so much as touch her again I'll hurt you so bad you'll spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair, get it? Better still, just keep right out of my way. I never, ever, want to see you, or anybody connected with you, ever again. And remember, one slip, one little slip and Hussain gets the news, is that completely understood?" All the while my Doc Martens are pummelling his kidneys. He's going to be pissing blood for a week and even then he should think himself lucky. But I haven't got time for this. Far more important is to get Tracy as far away as possible as quickly as possible. A&E will do for a start.

I turn to see her standing beside the bike. She's bruised, she's battered, I can tell she's in pain but she smiles at me and I know it's going to be all right.

"Come on, darlin'. It's time I took you home."