The Vanishing Point

21

We didn’t have long to wait. Joshu turned up shouting the odds about an hour after we got back to the hacienda. He had to shout because Scarlett had changed the access code on the electric gate and turned off the intercom. We were sitting in the kitchen drinking tea, too wired for bed, when we heard the van draw up. ‘Here comes trouble,’ Leanne said.

The sound of the van’s horn blasted through the dawn. ‘Neighbours won’t like that,’ Scarlett said. She sniffed. ‘Fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke.’

‘I think you should talk to him,’ I said. ‘Even if it’s just to tell him you’re done.’

Scarlett gazed out of the window at the garden with a hundred-yard stare. ‘I really can’t be arsed,’ she said. But she slid off her stool and headed for the door. She turned and summoned us with a jerk of the head. ‘Come on. I need witnesses. So I don’t cave in at the sight of his pretty face.’

Leanne and I exchanged glances. She looked about as thrilled as I felt. Getting between a warring couple is never a good place to be. I had a feeling this was going to be like a Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner film, but without the laughs. So we followed along, Leanne automatically twisting her hair into a ponytail and shoving it through the back of a baseball cap. A minimal disguise, but it had proved effective enough.

At first glance, the scene was mildly laughable. Whoever Joshu had talked into driving him out here had parked the nose of the van bang up against the gates and Joshu had clambered on to the sloping bonnet. He was leaning on the gate, his wrists between the metal spikes that adorned its top edge. ‘About time, bitch,’ he shouted, weaving slightly from side to side. He sounded stoned. Probably because he was. True to form, he’d been drinking and ingesting assorted substances for hours. The only positive aspect of the whole scenario was that it was the middle of the night and the long-lens jackals were all in their lairs, asleep.

‘You think that’s the way to sort this out?’ she yelled back at him. ‘Coming round here off your tits and calling me names?’

‘What the fuck is this all about?’ he demanded, all injured innocence.

‘It’s about you sticking your dick where it doesn’t belong. I’m through with it. I thought becoming a dad had changed your ways, but that’s not what I’m hearing. You dirty bastard. Shagging that cow Toffany then coming home to me? Now I’m going to have to get tested for every bloody sexually transmitted lurgy under the sun. You are a complete and utter prick.’

Joshu kept trying to get a word in, but it wasn’t happening. Scarlett was off and running and she wasn’t giving him a chance to change her mind. ‘I packed up your stuff and now you can sling your hook. I’m not having you back here – I want a divorce. I want nothing to do with your skanky arse ever again.’

‘You can’t do this,’ he finally howled when she paused for breath.

‘I already have, dickhead.’

They glared at each other. ‘It’s a lie, what Toffany said,’ he tried.

‘You are pitiful,’ Scarlett countered. ‘You think I’m going to fall for the oldest line in the book? You think I’m stupid?’

‘You can’t throw me out. What about the boy? I’m his dad.’

‘His dad? You can barely bring yourself to call him by his name because you didn’t get to choose it. You think I haven’t noticed how he’s always, “my boy” or “the kid” or “junior”? His name’s Jimmy, dickhead. And he won’t even notice you’ve gone. He misses Steph if she’s not around for a few days. Or Leanne. But he doesn’t ever miss you.’

‘Oh yeah, he misses Steph.’ His lip curled in a sneer, his voice mocking her. ‘Your fucking lezza girlfriend Steph.’

My mouth fell open. It did. Literally. I couldn’t have been more taken aback.

Scarlett roared with laughter. ‘You are so pathetic and so predictable. You’re all the bloody same. The only possible reason there could be for us not fancying a he-man like you is that we’re big old lezzas. That’s what you have to tell yourself, because you can’t face the truth. Well, here’s the truth, little big man. I don’t fancy you because you’re always drunk, or fucked up on drugs, or you stink of sweat and fags. It’s because you’re disgusting that I don’t fancy you, not because you’re a man. It’s because you’re not enough of a man, as it happens.’

His eyes widened in hurt. She’d got through his addled state and scored a bull’s eye on his self-esteem. ‘But I love you,’ he said, his pitch cracking like a teenage boy.

‘And I don’t love you.’ Scarlett spoke in a low, choked voice. ‘You killed it, Joshu. You killed it.’

‘You can’t do this, Scarlett.’ Now his eyes were wet. I almost felt sorry for him, then I remembered how much I disliked him.

‘I have to. Being with you, it’s one big recipe for misery. And I won’t put Jimmy through that. He’s better without a dad than stuck with a deadbeat like you.’

He gripped the top of the gate. ‘You bitch. You think you can lay down the law to me? You’ve got another think coming.’ It was striking how, under stress, the affectation of street speak had fallen away, leaving Joshu sounding exactly what he was – a well-educated middle-class lad.

‘You don’t scare me, Joshu. I’m not the same woman who fell in love with you.’

Now it was his turn for scorn. ‘Listen to you. You’ve got no idea. You need to remember who knows your secrets. How do you think your precious fans will like it when they find out you’ve been taking them for a ride this past year? You and your airhead cousin – you won’t last five minutes when I tell my story.’

From where I was standing, I could see Scarlett stiffen. For a moment, I thought he’d trumped her ace. But yet again, I’d misjudged her. She took a couple of steps closer to the gate and tipped her head back to look Joshu in the face. ‘You think? It’s me the public loves, not you. They’ll totally get that I had to deal with your scumbag behaviour. You’ll be the one who gets savaged for being a pig. And don’t forget, your hands are as dirty as mine. You’re the one who’s been touting Leanne all round town as your missus. Either you were in on the whole thing, in which case you’re as bad as me. Or you’re too fucking dim to know the woman you’re out on the razz with isn’t your wife. So don’t you dare threaten me, you worthless piece of shit.’

He tried to launch himself at her over the gate. But the sloping bonnet of the Transit was too much for him and he slid out of sight, swearing. There was a clatter and a crash and a yelp then more swearing. ‘I’m not done with you, bitch,’ he yelled from the other side of the gate. The van door slammed, the engine raced and the tyres screamed on the road. Within seconds, the usual early morning sounds of birdsong and the distant hum of traffic were the only soundtrack.

Scarlett kicked out savagely at the gate. ‘Bastard,’ she spat. She turned back to face us and gave a crooked smile. ‘First blood to the bimbo, I think.’

First blood, but not the last.