They sign out and wait to be let out. Pete wonders if everyone knows what has just happened to him, the drugs in his pocket, stupid stupid, the joke, stupid stupid. No one is saying anything, but all the shaved heads and a woman officer look like they’re holding in grins, smirks, belly laughs, sneers which feels worse than everyone just having a good piss take.
Hanley nudges him and nods at a poster warning of the things it is forbidden to take into the prison, apes a wide eyed surprised expression.
They walk into the street lights and Hanley says, ‘Drinks on on you mate, for the rest of the century I reckon. Come on.’
‘I can’t.’
Hanley has the van at the gate end of Love Lane.
‘Fucking unlock it, come on!’
Hanley looks at Pete over the roof. ‘You daft twat, what were you thinking?’
‘I just forgot it was there, alright? Now fucking open it.’
Pete hears the click and dives for the glove box.
‘Shit. Shit. Shit. You got a charger?’
‘Why would I want a charger? I’ve got a van.’
‘Oh fuck off.’
‘You should be more grateful young man, have you any idea what they could have done … oi, come back here.’