Big Bernie Lugg’s housing association flat was bathed in the dim light of a dozen red Lava lamps. Stale dope fumes mixed with the smell of staler cider and cigarettes. An old VHS player played a flickering copy of Goodfellas with the sound turned down. An expensive sound system played Steve Hillage’s ‘Rainbow Dome Musick’ at low volume. Bernie sat on a battered brown sofa smoking a spliff.
Hattie Lugg stormed into the room from the kitchen, taking sips from a frothing can of Special Brew. She was drunk and she was fuming.
‘We just can’t let that posh cow get away with it, Bernie?’ said Hattie. ‘Look at me. Luck at the friggin’ state of me!’
She pointed to her scarred face, slumped in an armchair and swigged her beer.
‘Yeah, I know,’ said Bernie.
His West Country accent burred like a t
