Rating: Green Cortina
Word count: approx 850 words
Spoilers: Series 1 Episode 8
Disclaimer: they do not belong to me - wish they did but no
Summary: Vic Tyler thinks on how this all started
Notes: have been wanting to have a go at one of these challenges for a while and this was the first idea that occurred. Not too sure it works exactly how I would want so please comments and concrit welcomed as usual.
Vic bitterly took another sip of his tea and scowled round the dingy transport café which he was now sitting in. It had been a day of unrelenting driving, away from Manchester, any direction as long as it was away. After having faced the policeman with his son’s name he was on the run and could hardly believe that everything had gone downhill so bloody quickly. All those precisely laid down plans with all the details worked out just gone. All it took was one thing. One moment that had involved the police, that had involved the clearly unhinged DI Tyler and the assorted misfits he worked with.
This was all it had taken to bring everything crumbling down around him, in the blink of an eye almost. So from the peculiar double life he had been living for years, travelling salesman coming home to a beautiful loving wife and spirited son alongside his growing involvement in the seedy side of life, he was reduced to this low point, to nothing.
To think that it all started with one lie. A fairly simple, forgivable, almost white lie. Ruth had turned to him one day all shimmering smile and kind eyes and asked a question. Did they had enough money this month to get a new pushchair for Sam? The brakes on the current one had stopped working again even after having been fixed for the third time. And he had said yes, no thought, just looked at her and said yes. Once it was said he couldn’t, wouldn’t, take it back. He could provide for his family after all.
It was down in the pub later when he was looking contemplatively at his pint and realising that it would be the last one he had for a while that Jimmy Doyle had sat himself down, two whiskey chasers in hand. Doyle was one of those shifty looking guys that only his own mother could believe was innocent and not even her all the time. Now that he thought back on it while eating a greasy bacon butty sat at a dirty Formica table Vic decided it showed his distracted state of mind that he didn’t tell him to piss off straight away. Instead he had drunk the offered drink, drank more drinks and talked about nothing.
Finally Doyle had wound his way round to the purpose of his imposition. Their conversation had covered Vic’s job and after drink number three he remembered talking about the places he had to go this week which would include Salford, Warrington, Liverpool and Runcorn. A comment about the exotic nature of his work had earned a muffled snort and chuckle from his drinking partner.
So Doyle had looked right at him and suggested that he could deliver something for him while he was in Liverpool, nothing major just something he didn’t want to post and that he didn’t have time to take himself. Vic remembered the feeling of suspicion that had started yelling for attention through the haze of alcohol but then Doyle had uttered the deciding words - of course we’d pay you for having to go out of your way.
That was the moment of undoing really, just one delivery; don’t ask what it is ,don’t get involved after that, and get a bit of extra cash. So almost with the same thoughtlessness that he said yes to his wife he said yes to Doyle. It was so easy as well. The box which had sat taking up most of the bottom of his suitcase was easily delivered. It hadn’t been far out of his way and he had enough money to stop him wondering what was in it. After all what harm could something 2 feet by 2 feet by 2 inches be.
It was easy to say yes again 2 months later when heading to Birmingham and a month after that to Bristol. And everything else was a gradual progression: finding out what he was carrying, suggesting better delivery routes, missing out the middle man, being introduced to the suppliers, organising meetings, putting a stop to any competition, being involved in production and more. All very business like really.
Until the other part of his life was almost the secondary one. No longer the motivating factor. Because this was easy and he was good at it. That first meeting with Doyle had started to feel like one of the most important moments of his life.
And now, Vic thought grimly, things had changed again and his life had twisted and shattered into pieces. Oh and he knew who to blame for this as well. Draining the last dregs of his sugar filled tea he decided there and then that he wasn’t going to let things stay as they were. Lie low for a while, make sure the Manchester pigs had stopped looking and then……….well then he’d start again and make sure everything was set in stone, unmoveable, unbreakable. Then perhaps a trip back to Manchester would be in order.