Chris Simms - Killing the Beasts

He put his arm around her and hugged her close, thankful as always for how understanding she was. But a small part of him quietly whispered, Will she be this reasonable if there's a baby in the house?

Jon stared down at his feet. 'I'm going to miss Ellie again. I was looking forward to seeing her.'

'What about if we invite her round tonight? She hates being stuck in on her own on a Friday. I'll get a video and stuff.' 'Nice thinking. I'll try and get away at a decent time.' He pulled his mobile out and dialled. 'Ellie, it's me, Jon. How are you doing?'

He could detect the forced cheer in her voice as she claimed that she was fine.

'Listen,' Jon continued. 'I'm caught up in this new investigation, so probably can't make Edale with you and Alice this Sunday.'

'Oh,' she said, voice now small.

Jon continued quickly, 'What are you doing tonight?'

There was silence as Alice waved at him vigorously. 'Just ask her!' she silently mouthed.

Realizing his question had put her on the spot, Jon said, 'How about coming round to ours? Alice will get a video and curry so we can just take it easy.'

Ellie pretended to think about it for a second. 'Yeah, that sounds great. Cheers.'

'OK,' said Jon, winking at Alice. 'By the way, I'm going to be flitting round the city centre. You want me to get you anything from that delicatessen you like? Some of that Aussie chocolate — what's it called, Violet Crumble?'

There was a smile in her voice as she said, 'No, you're all right. But thanks for the offer.'

Mary Walters smoothed her bedcovers down and straightened up. One by one, she picked up the soft toys from the bedside table and placed them carefully on her pillow. The routine was a daily one, largest bears at the back, leaning against the headboard, smaller ones at the front, leaning against their larger companions. Sometimes she would swap the smaller toys round a bit, just to give each one a front-row view of her bedroom.

Satisfied with her arrangement, she turned her back on their collection of sweet faces. In the hallway she went through her coupons and vouchers, deciding that she would visit Netto later to cash in her discounts on Robinson's Barley Water; even though the sunny weather was long over, the taste would remind her of the summer. She thanked the Lord for little pleasures like that.

Now in her front room, she peeked out of the window at the yard behind her flat, face squirming with distaste at what she might see. But, to her relief, no used condoms were stretched out on the asphalt like huge albino slugs. Her sign had really worked and she thanked the Lord again.

At the table she sat down, knowing there were a couple of hours before her friend Emma arrived. She began sorting through the notices for the forthcoming play at Sunday school. Noah's Ark. It never failed to get the children excited, all the pairs of lovely animals trooping on to the cardboard ship, blue sheets ready in the wings for when the flood waters began to rise.

She glanced at her watch and, as if on cue, the doorbell rang. Mary looked round the curtain and saw a man standing on the top step. He was wearing a suit and holding a briefcase. He looked just like one of the men she went knocking on doors with, handing out the Lord's magazines. As she opened her front door to him, he smiled and said, 'Miss Mary Walters?'

Jon and Alice continued their walk up Portland Street. As they drew level with the Yates's Wine Lodge, Jon said, 'Let's cut round by the law courts — it'll save us a few minutes.'

He moved the shopping bag back to his other hand, examining the ruts the thin plastic handles had gouged in his fingers, flexing them back and forth to help get the blood flowing again.

'No pain, no gain, 'Alice joked. 'It'll be worth it, you'll see.'

Jon looked into the bag at the juicer box inside. 'It had better, the amount it cost.'

'You just wait — I've found this excellent recipe book. With the amount of healthy drinks we'll be having, there'll be no colds in our house this Christmas.'

'No, just mounds of fruit pulp!'

'There's even suggestions for juice drinks to combat cravings. Ginger, aniseed or wheat grass can all help, apparently.'

An image of Alice as some modern-day witch dropping God-knows-what into the top of the appliance appeared in his mind. 'Hubble bubble,' he murmured to himself as they got to the corner of the law courts.

Jon looked at the derelict building opposite, The Department of Employment. There's got to be some sort of irony in that, he thought, scrutinizing the court entrance as the last of another bunch of shaven-headed scrotes in shell suits shuffled inside for their hearing. They crossed the tram tracks curving away to Piccadilly station and Alice began examining the fly sheets that had been pasted on to the chipboards nailed over the ground-floor windows of the empty building. The council had been round making half-hearted attempts at peeling them away, but had only succeeded in ripping off the top layers and revealing what had been taking place on the music scene several months before.

'Heathen Chemistry by Oasis,' said Alice. 'That bombed.'

'Kylie Minogue's Fever Tour, the little minx,' said Jon looking at another. Alice punched him on the arm as he continued, 'David Bowie at the Move festival; we really should have got tickets for that.'

'Yeah,' answered Alice, a nostalgic look on her face. 'The Thin White Duke — that brings back memories.' She snaked both arms round Jon's waist and pressed her body against his. 'In fact, one of our first ever snogs was to 'Ashes to Ashes'. Do you remember? Outside the scout hut disco?'

Jon smiled with the memory.

'How about it? Just for old time's sake,' she asked mischievously.

Jon looked around, seeing other bag-laden shoppers making their way back towards the station. 'Here? Now?'

She pouted with mock petulance. 'You never kiss me in public any more.' She dropped her arms and walked away.

They carried on, walking past the top of Canal Street and then along the side of the Malmaison hotel, crossing over London Road at the big set of traffic lights. The station's gently sloping approach road had only been properly completed in the weeks after the Commonwealth Games had finished — an attendant permanently stationed in a little hut at the junction prevented cars from trying to drive up what was now a road reserved for buses and British Transport Police vehicles. They slipped between the bollards placed across it, stepped on to the pavement and made their way up to the main entrance.

In the tunnel below the station a tram slid to a halt and Sly stepped out on to the platform. He followed the other passengers up the stairs and then on to the shiny escalator, emerging in the main station area.

Looking around, he saw that the interior had been carefully designed to make it hard for beggars to find places to sit. Shame, he thought, thinking about the money he used to make around the old station.

Without consciously doing it, he began to scan the people around him, automatically looking for anyone not guarding their bags properly.

Jon and Alice were standing at the departures board, trying to work out when the next train to Heaton Chapel was. Finally the display changed. 'Ten minutes,' Jon announced.

'Great. Listen, I've got to have a wee; the toilets are over in the far corner now, I think. Wait here with the shopping.'

'Go on then,' said Jon, putting the bag down.

Alice followed the curved wall around, reached the toilets and found her way barred by a turnstile. Placing her handbag on the barrier, she rummaged inside for change, but could only find two ten-pence pieces. 'Excuse me?' she asked a lady coming out, 'Do you have a twenty-pence piece I could swap for two tens?'

Sly saw the fit-looking blonde woman place her bag on the barrier, then turn her back on it as she tried to get change. His reaction was as automatic as that of a spider seeing a fly land on its web. He strode over, one hand darting out and snatching it in an instant. As he went past he moved it round his side, then held it close to his stomach, out of her sight as he sauntered away.