She turned and shuffled out of the room.
Matty and Sloan watched her go before they both followed.
***
Matty told Gloria everything again while Sloan made a pot of tea. The older woman sat quietly in the chair and listened.
“And that’s when he pushed a photograph across the table.” Matty looked up as Sloan re-entered the room carrying a tray with tea things. She waited until Sloan placed it down before adding, “…of you in the pub with Brandon. And then me and Sloan arriving to take you home.”
Gloria’s face split into a grin, and she guffawed a laugh so loud it made Matty and Sloan jump. “Blimey. Caught red-handed.”
Sloan narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?”
By the side of Gloria’s chair was her handbag. She lifted it up and delved inside, pulling out a small plastic bag.
“I might’ve bought something off him.”
“That’s what he meant by ‘Gimme a call, Glo,’ wasn’t it?” Matty said, the penny finally dropping. “I wondered why he’d want to—” She caught Sloan’s face. “Anyway, why are you buying weed?”
Gloria’s grin turned smug. “Because I felt like it. She turned to Sloan, adding, “It reminded me of your dad, and I was already there, and this Brandon mentioned it, and…I’m not dead yet.”
“For God’s sake. Give me that.” Sloan snatched the baggie from Gloria. “We could have the police round here any minute wanting to talk to us about Matty, and you’ve got a bag of bloody weed in your handbag—bought from the very dealer she’s accused of being employed by.”
“Well, when you put it like that,” Gloria said, dry as dust, “I suppose it doesn’t sound quite so much fun.”
“What are you going to do with it?” Matty asked.
“We could smoke it,” Gloria said, hopeful.
Sloan rolled her eyes. “I’m going to flush it down the toilet.”
“No.” Matty stood. She held out her hand. “Could leave traces. I’ll take it outside and tip it into a drain.”
“That sounds—” Sloan handed it over. “Like a good idea.”
“Right. I’ll do it now while it’s still dark.” Matty looked at Sloan. “I’m sorry.”
Their fingers laced. They squeezed.
“I’ll be right back.”
Before she made it to the lounge door, Sloan called her back. “Matty?”
She stopped and turned. “Yes?”
Sloan’s eyes flicked down. “You need shoes.” She kicked off her slippers, bent down, and picked them up.
“Oh, that would probably be a good idea.”
Sloan handed them over. “Be quick. It’s freezing out there and I’ve only just warmed you up.”
She waved the little bag. “Trust me. The sooner it’s gone, the better.”
“Shame,” Gloria grumbled, sipping her tea instead. “Might’ve been fun.”
“Thank you, Stoner Slater,” Sloan said, turning to Gloria.
“Dramatic much?” Gloria had returned fire, but she couldn’t quite hide the small smile. “Loosen up, love. Might do you good.”
