He weaved his way up to the girls' house in Crumpsall, avoiding the main roads as much as possible. Pulled up further down the road from their terraced house. He rang the doorbell and waited until he heard the echoes die away. Then he pressed it again. Longer this time letting it ring and ring.
A light came on in the hall lighting up the fanlight then the front door opened up a crack. He saw Ewelina behind it. Even in the dim light behind her, Caramarin could tell she'd been crying hard. Ewelina tried to push the door closed, but Caramarin held it open, forearm braced.
The girl pushed harder but she was no match for his strength. She gave up and the door flew open. Caramarin stepped up and into the hall. A pile of coats was piled up on the bottom banister post. The top one was still damp.
"What's the matter? What's happened?" he asked.
"You bastard. Get out. Get out of here. I hate you." Her pretty heart-shaped face was blotchy, twisted with rage and misery, tears streaming down her cheeks. Black lines streaked her cheeks from her mascara.
"Why? What have I done?" Caramarin asked genuinely confused. He cast his mind back. Yeah, he'd just come from doing some bad things but they didn't know that and he'd never hurt the girls here. "C'mon, what's wrong?"
Ewelina flew at him, her small fists pounding uselessly on his chest. He grabbed her wrists, fending her off. She still struggled furiously, trying to hit him, still sobbing. Her slippered feet kicking out at him. Her white robe slipped open with her struggles, her nightie loose underneath. He caught sight of her small breast, even a glimpse of her pink nipple.
Caramarin looked away, ashamed.
"Go on, you bastard, why don't you rape me? Like you raped Narcisa's feelings?"
"What? What are you on about?"
Suddenly, Ewelina stopped her one sided struggle. She broke away from his grasp. She wrapped her robe tighter around her body then sat down at the foot of the stairs. She held her head in her hands, her shoulders hunched up and her body shook with her misery. Deep sobs racked her body.
"I still don't know what's happened," said Caramarin. He went to the kitchen and switched on the kettle. He set out two mugs on the counter.
He took the tea through into their lounge. Ewelina had moved into the living room and sat on the couch. She'd stopped crying now and looked up at him. She blew her nose.
"You bastard," she spat. "Narcisa took you in when you were hurt and you've gone and wrecked her life. I wish she'd never met you."
"Look," said Caramarin. "I've no idea what's going on. Honest. Please tell me what's happened."
"Narcisa's been arrested!"
"What!"
Now it was Caramarin's turn to sit down. He'd never expected that. The force of Ewelina's words hit him harder than any blow. The scalding tea slopped over onto his hand. But he barely noticed the pain.
"Yes. The police came for her at the shop this morning. There'd been a few complaints from customers – about loans they hadn't taken – so her manager had done an audit and found those moody loans she'd done for you. I told her not to do it. I told her. You bastard. She loved that job, she loved living here and now she'll never work again."
Ewelina's body shook, but her eyes were dry now. Anger more than sorrow now her dominant emotion.
"I'm sorry. I was going to pay her back." But how true was that? He still had next to no money on him.
"Yeah? A bum like you? You're a taker, Nicolae. That's what you are. A taker. You just use women for your own ends. And then you move on. Narcisa told me you probably still have a girl on the go back in Odessa."
Caramarin threw his arms wide. "I'm not like that," he protested.
"Yes you are!" Ewelina looked up at him. "You're going away now. You're running out like a rat. You killed someone yesterday, didn't you? The I.D. picture on the local news looked just like you before you shaved your head."
"That wasn't me. Promise. It was a set up. And I've sorted it out," but he could tell what he said wasn't believed. Okay, he'd sorted things out with the real murderer although he hadn't sorted it out with the law. And he had no intentions of walking into a police station and clearing his name.
"If you haven't killed that man then who else have you killed? You're some sort of gangster. I always knew you were no good but Narcisa wouldn't have it. She said you were okay. Well, you're not and you've gone and wrecked her life now.
"If you were a real man instead of some low-life crook, you'd go down the police station and turn yourself in. Tell them that you forced Narcisa to take out those loans. Then they might go easier on her."
But that wasn't going to happen. No way was he going to hand himself in and do years of hard time again. They'd never believe he'd not killed Mihai Pojer, not after they'd sifted through his past. No way. He wasn't going down again. Not for anyone.
"So when will they let her go? She'll post bail?" asked Caramarin, desperate to change the subject.
"I don't know, do I? She phoned earlier and I told her to get a lawyer. She'll need one."
"But that's not all," Ewelina said. She stood up, wrapping her robe tightly around her body. She seemed to have recovered some of her calm now. Or maybe her mind couldn't take any more emotion for the time being and had sailed into the eye of a hurricane. She searched among the clutter on top of the mantelpiece and found a small pink box. She opened the box and handed a white plastic stick to Caramarin. He looked at it.
"What's this mean?" he asked. At one end of the stick was a small window with two pink lines showing. But he had a horrible idea what was coming next.
"She's pregnant. She was so looking forward to telling you this evening. Now she can't."
"So that's what she wanted to tell me this morning," he said. Caramarin slumped onto the other couch. His mind racing but his thoughts were going in ten different directions at once.
"But we used protection. I had no idea." He felt weak and his muscles trembled. Even Ewelina could have beaten him up at that moment.
"You wouldn't know. You're only a man," said Ewelina. "You don't pick up on these things like us girls." She clutched a cushion in front of her chest like a barrier.
He shook his head.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry how it's all turned out. I never meant for any of this to happen," he said.
"That's the trouble. You men don't think how you affect us. You just go ahead, doing what you want, when you want and leave us girls to pick up the pieces afterwards.
"I think you should go now."
Distantly, at the end of the road, he heard a siren race past. Sure, it could be an ambulance, nothing to do with him, but Ewelina was right. He needed to get away very soon. He was pushing his luck by remaining here. He struggled to his feet.
He nodded agreement. "Narcisa's got my number. Ask her to call when they let her go," he told Ewelina.
"I will. But don't hold your breath. You've really let her down, you bastard."
In the corner of the lounge, near the door, he saw his battered old rucksack. Somebody, probably Ewelina herself had packed it for him. He lifted it, swung it onto his shoulder then let himself out of the house and down the steps.
The rain mixed with his tears as he walked back to his car.
THE END.