“So, what ‘appened next?” Molly asked impatiently, leaning over the pub table and almost knocking over her Bacardi Breezer.
Gary took a heavy breath and shook his head. “I’ll be totally honest with ya—I nearly shit myself. Ronnie’s no fool, and he’s one mean son of a bitch. Only one idiot ever tried to rob him before, and word is he’s permanently chilling at the bottom of the Manchester Canal.”
Hannah gasped, her hands flying to her chest. “What the ‘ell were you playing at, trying to rip off someone like that? ‘Ave you lost your actual mind?”
“I didn’t know it was his shop, Han,” Gary fired back, immediately on the defensive. “I’d have never set foot in the place if I knew Ronnie the Razor was sitting in the back room.”
Hannah looked ready to tear into him, but she clamped her mouth shut, taking a slow, furious breath through her nose before looking away. Across the table, Liam sat like a statue, silently staring down at his pantyhosed thighs. He hadn’t spoken since they arrived at the pub, and his made-up face said it all: he’d had quite the fright.
“But you got away with it, right?” Molly chimed in, trying to sound optimistic. “I mean, you’re sat ‘ere drinking with us, aren’t you?”
“Barely,” Gary replied, a grim half-smile tugging at his mouth. “Thanks to Tiff ‘ere.”
Hannah and Molly’s heads snapped toward Liam. He kept his eyes glued to his lap, his long, manicured nails aimlessly picking at the hem of his leather skirt as he dissociated from reality.
“Oh, do tell,” Hannah said, sounding intrigued as she looked back at her uncle.
“Well, there I was sweating bullets, thinking my time was up, when Tiff goes full Meryl Streep. She folds her arms, glares right into Ronnie’s eyes, and spits, ‘What do you mean, cheap piece of glass? We came ‘ere for a ring, not to be insulted. If you won't help us, we’ll take our business elsewhere.’ I swear down, for a second, even I believed she was my actual fiancée.”
“Then what happened?” Molly pressed, gripping the edge of the table.
“Ronnie looked sceptical, but Sharon—his missus—put a hand on his chest before he could speak. She then stared us down, dead serious, and asked Tiff if she genuinely loved me. Without blinking, Tiff says, ‘With all my heart,’ before grabbing me and planting a proper, passionate kiss right on my lips.”
Hannah’s jaw dropped. She slowly turned to look at her feminised brother. Liam’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut, his features twisted in a grimace of pure, stomach-churning revulsion as he relived the traumatic necessity of kissing his own uncle.
“Then, the room goes dead silent,” Gary went on. “I’m standing there, trying to hold it together after the kiss, and Sharon’s whispering in Ronnie’s ear. My heart was hammering so hard I thought my chest would crack. Then, after an absolute eternity, Ronnie smiled. ‘Alright, Gary,’ he said, terrifyingly calm. ‘A lot of time has passed. If you’re being genuine and you really are trying to make a new life for yourself, who am I to stand in your way? Tell you what—I’ll set this stone in platinum for you. Call it an olive branch... my way of saying let the past stay in the past.’”
“Shut up! No way!” Hannah and Molly blurted out.
“I swear on my life,” Gary nodded grimly. “But there was a catch. Right as we’re leaving, he drops the hammer. ‘But if you’re lying to me, Gary... if I find out there’s no actual wedding, I’ll chop you and your pretty little fiancée up and feed you to my pigs. Am I clear?’”
All the colour drained from Hannah’s face. “So, what you’re telling me is you’ve fucked us. This psycho is going to come looking for you, and now me and Mols are going to be fed to the pigs along with ya?”
“Pigs?!” Molly screeched, her eyes welling up. “Dad, I don’t want to die!”
“Oi, pack it in! Nobody is getting fed to any pigs!” Gary barked, waving his hands to keep them quiet. “We just lay low. It’ll blow over.”
“Blow over? Are you actually mental?” Hannah fired back. “He’s making you a ring! He’s going to expect a wedding! What exactly happens when there isn’t one?”
“Then we make it look like there’s a bloody wedding,” Gary snapped.
The words hit the table like a grenade. Liam’s head snapped up for the first time all evening, his eyes flying wide beneath his heavy false lashes in absolute horror.
“Look, I know it’s not ideal,” Gary muttered, ignoring their stunned silence. “But trust me, the old man has bigger fish to fry. He’ll lose interest. Now, hold that thought—I need to go drain the one-eyed lizard.”
He downed half his pint and swaggered off toward the toilets, leaving Hannah disgusted, Molly completely blank, and Liam paralyzed with fear.
“This is an absolute nightmare,” Liam groaned, letting out a shaky breath through his glossed lips.
“I know,” Molly panicked, her eyes darting toward the pub door. “We should do a runner. Move to Ibiza and become travel reps or somethin’.”
“Cracking idea, Mols, except it’s November—we’ve missed the season,” Hannah sighed, squeezing her cousin’s shoulder. “Look, as mental as it sounds, until we can figure a way out of this, we have to make it look like a wedding is happening.”
“What?!” Liam choked out, practically hyperventilating. “Absolutely not. I am not marrying Uncle Gaz. That’s sick.”
“Wind your neck in, will ya?” Hannah shot back, rolling her eyes. “You’re not actually going to marry him. But we can book some viewings for venues, pick out some floral arrangements, stuff like that. Leave a paper trail to make it look more legit.”
“It’s not gonna be that easy, Han,” Liam said, taking the deepest breath his faja would allow. “There’s something Uncle Gaz left out of his story.”
Hannah rubbed her temples. “What?”
“Sharon, Ronnie’s wife. She said she’s got a friend with a bridal shop. She wants to help me pick out a wedding dress and said she’d be in touch.”
“Shit,” Hannah hissed, the remaining colour draining from her face.
“What?” Molly asked, completely oblivious to the danger.
“Think about it, Mols. If this Sharon woman starts poking around looking for Tiff, she’s not going to find anything. That’s going to ring some alarm bells, dontcha think?”
“Oh, right,” Molly muttered, the penny finally dropping. “So we need to make her real. Put her name on the gas bill or somethin’?”
“Exactly. And the disguise needs to be bulletproof,” Hannah mused, her gears already turning. “One slip-up and we’re all dead. I’ll message Mei, see if she can help.”
Liam stared across the table in disbelief. Things hadn't just gotten out of hand; they had spiralled into complete insanity. As his sister and cousin casually plotted his full-time transition into a chavvy bride-to-be, Liam realized his sore feet and crushed ribs were about to be the least of his worries.