Free The Wine of Angels by Phil Rickman

his family knows that there’s ...’
    Gomer paused, took off his flat cap. Wild white hair erected itself.
    ‘... the First Unhallowed Ground.’
    Merrily thought she understood, but she wasn’t sure.
    ‘You dig up decently buried bones, see, well, that’s one thing. You just puts ’em straight back. But any bones the other side o’ that ditch ... Now don’t get me wrong, Vicar, I’m not saying I goes for this ole toffee, I’m just telling you the kind of superstition you’ll encounter if you sticks around these parts ... But the bones t’other side, them’s the ones you don’t wanner be diggin’ up, you get my meaning.’
    On the other side of a curtain behind the counter was an iron spiral staircase leading up into what seemed like complete darkness, apparently a loft without a window. Jane stuck her head through the curtain.
    ‘OK, Lol. He’s gone.’
    ‘You sure?’
    The voice was hollow with – Jane was amazed and thrilled – actual, real fear. It made her think again about the little crunch before the man had left.
    ‘Jane?’
    ‘Yeah, honest. I’m certain. Gave him two minutes, then I went to the end of the mews and he was talking to Colette Cassidy, then he was getting into this pretty smart yellow sports car. Toyota.’
    ‘He didn’t see you following him?’
    ‘Not a chance.’
    His face appeared at the top of the spiral, blinking from the dark, full of suspicion and ... yeah, anxiety. Definitely that. The lines around his eyes deeper.
    ‘You know the Cassidy girl?’
    ‘Only by sight’
    He came down. ‘That means you’re local?’ He looked dismayed.
    ‘I am now,’ Jane said. ‘For my sins.’
    She was still feeling rather electrified. This could be the most utterly bloody brilliant place she’d ever lived. Best of all, she felt in control. She’d saved this man from God knows what. He owed her one.
    ‘So what exactly are we looking at here?’ Jane said loftily. ‘Drugs?’
    ‘Huh?’ He slumped back on the stool behind the counter, shaking his head. He looked drained, as though he’d spent the last few minutes on the lavatory.
    Pretty heavy.
    ‘Listen.’ Putting on her cynical smile. ‘I might be local now, Mr Robinson, but I’ve been around. Like you’re into that guy for some amount you can’t afford, and he wants his money. What are we talking? Coke? Smack?’
    ‘What?’
    Jane said, ‘Es? Whizz?’
    ‘Huh?’
    ‘You can tell me.’
    ‘Oh ... God. ’ It was probably the last thing he felt like, but he started to laugh. ‘Who the hell are you?’
    ‘Don’t change the subject. My general feeling is, that wasn’t a very nice guy. Underneath all the charm and the Florida tan and the really white teeth. I can sense these things.’
    ‘He buy anything?’
    ‘He said he was looking for an old friend. He described you. Puny little guy, long hair, glasses. He said he’d been to your house and asked around and somebody said they’d seen you with Miss Devenish, and this is her shop, so ...’
    ‘And you said?’
    ‘I said I didn’t know anybody called Robinson, which was true. I said I couldn’t think who he meant. So he’s like ... Oh, well, he might’ve changed, got fatter, lost his hair. And I’m saying, Well, in that case he could be any one of a dozen people.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘Like, I don’t think he believed me that you weren’t here. He said – in this kind of knowing way – that if I should just happen to come across you, tell you he’d be back. And he kept like looking at the curtain. As if he was wondering whether to thrust me aside and go in and drag you out.’
    God, this was fun. If not so much for Mr Robinson.
    ‘He say when he’d be back?’
    ‘Nn-nn.’
    ‘What was his attitude?’
    ‘Like I said, charming. Lovely white teeth. Capped, I suppose. He imports the stuff, does he?’
    ‘Look ...’ Mr Robinson pulled hair out of his glasses. ‘He may be into drugs, I wouldn’t know. We are not business associates. He’s