‘I knew you’d turn up’
‘Want another one?’
‘One! You owe me more than one lad. Yorkshire Blonde. Ha ha. Pint of.’
Pete goes to the bar.
Hanley has had a few already, shouts across, ‘Let you down did she? They always do. Bitches.’ Downs his beer holds up the empty glass looking round and saying to no one in particular. ‘He’s lost in love, the prat.’
Pete puts two pints on the table. ‘I didn’t have to come.’
Hanley leans closer than Pete likes, ‘Y’fucking did. Where y’bin?’
’Walking.’
‘Walking about.’
‘Yes.’
‘Walking about. Like those fuckers up there, fucking disgrace.’
Pete knows he shouldn’t’ve come. He bends down under the seats, pushes Hanley’s leg aside.
‘What you doing now ya’pooftah?’
‘Looking for a socket.’