And he’s off, down the bookies. Sticks fifty quid on Jumping Jack Flash to win. Comes in second. Old man’s losing his touch! Rips up his slip. Jumps in the van. Next stop: home. He showers, shaves and shits. Eats a microwave burger. Necks a can of Stella and he’s off. Spliff in gob, he drives up to The Gate. Every fucker’s out. Pint of Stella on tab. Sits in his corner. Waits for the debts to roll in.


Here’s one: Wayne. Staggers in with some bitch under his arm. Armstrong eyes him. Too late for his escape.


—Alright butt, whass ‘appenin? I don’t normally see you in yere on a Friday night. —Just out f’ra drink. —Listen, about… —Save it! Juss ge’ it sorted by th’mornin’!


Wayne leaves. Amstrong lights a fag. Some woman looks over at him. He hasn’t seen her before.


—Aye, go on then: Malibu and coke… double, please. He orders drinks. Strokes her knuckle. —I love your gold, she says, eyeing his collection. —See this? he asks, slipping a diamond ring from his pinkie. —Cost me a ten-pound deal. —Are they real? —Course!


Later, in the toilets, he fucks her. They do a line each and he goes. Back in the van. Next stop: home.


Gemma June Howell


Gemma’s brand new spanking book, from which this story is taken, “Inside the Treacle Well” is available NOW from selected stockists, & online from gemmajunehowell.com


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