Дэвид Муди - Strangers

‘So how do I know you’re not gonna throw a wobbler and disappear? Go back to wherever you’re from?’

‘I won’t. We bought the house. Sold the assets of the business and paid cash. We want to settle here. Every penny we own has been sunk into that place.’

Barry rocked back on his chair again. ‘There’s not a lot of work going round here right now.’

‘I’d noticed.’

‘You might have had it shitty in Birmingham or wherever you’re from, but it ain’t much better up here.’

‘I didn’t expect it to be.’

‘I need someone I can rely on, understand?’

‘I get it.’

Barry locked eyes with Scott and wouldn’t look away. Scott held his gaze, figuring this was some kind of bizarre initiation test. It was. ‘It’s important to be able to look the other fella in the eye,’ Barry said after he’d been staring a little too long.

‘Is it?’

‘Absolutely. Key to a man’s soul.’

‘That right?’

Barry didn’t answer. He hunted around the desk for a scrap of paper to take down Scott’s details. ‘You’re a lucky bugger, Scotty lad. Right place, right time, an’ all that.’

‘You’re giving me the job?’

‘I’m giving you a try-out. When can you start?’

‘As soon as.’

‘This afternoon?’

‘Why not. I’ll need to go home first, tell the missus. She’ll need the car to get the kids from school.’

‘Fair enough. Pick up some ID, your bank details, national insurance number, drivin’ licence, all that crap, and make sure you’re back here by one.’

‘A good day all round then,’ Michelle said at dinner. ‘All our furniture’s in, you two have settled in at school, and Scott’s got a job.’

‘I wouldn’t say we’re settled in,’ Tammy said quickly, keen to put her straight.

‘No, but your first day’s over. That’s something.’

‘Made any new friends?’ Scott asked.

She glared at him. ‘Hundreds. You?’

He ignored her sarcasm. ‘They must think I’m stupid. I can’t understand a bloody word they’re saying half the time.’

‘What’s your boss like?’ Phoebe asked, wolfing down her dinner.

‘Miserable bugger,’ Scott replied. ‘Huge, he is. Gave me a right grilling too. Asked all kinds of questions about why we’d moved and why we’re here.’

‘Were you honest with him?’ Tammy said.

‘Give it a rest, Tam,’ Michelle said, interrupting before the conversation degenerated into another fight.

‘Is it a nice place?’ Phoebe asked him.

‘Is where a nice place?’

‘The place you’re working?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s a yard. They’re all dumps. It’s not that far from your school.’

‘And they liked you?’

‘They want me back in the morning, so I guess so. That reminds me, you’ll have to drop me off, Chelle. You can do it when you take the kids to school. And I’ll need picking up after five. Okay?’

‘No problem. It’ll be nice to have the car. I was going to walk into town with George anyway.’

‘What for?’

‘Shopping, register us all at the doctor’s surgery, that kind of thing. All very exciting.’

‘More exciting than school,’ Tammy moaned. Michelle ignored her.

‘It’s all coming together nicely,’ she said. ‘If things are going this well after a couple of days, just think what it’ll be like in a few weeks.’

Later, lying in bed together, lights out, Michelle felt Scott’s hand on her under the covers. She’d almost been asleep, but she was awake again in seconds. ‘Hello you,’ she whispered.

‘Hello you.’

‘You all right?’

‘I’m fine.’

He slipped his hand under her nightie uninvited, cupped her breast.

‘Starting to feel good, isn’t it?’ she said.

‘It is to me.’

‘I’m not talking about my boobs, I’m talking about us… about being here. The girls seem more relaxed tonight, and you’ve managed to find some work. I’ve got a good feeling. This is going to work out, you know. If you’d said a couple of months ago that we could have all this, I’d never have believed you.’

‘I don’t let you down, Chelle. You should know that.’

‘I do. It’s just that sometimes you have to take a few steps back to start moving forward again, don’t you?’

‘Nice cliché.’

‘It’s true. Seriously, love, if you’re happy, I’m happy and the kids are happy, it doesn’t matter where we’re living. I’m really proud of you, you know… just walking into a job like that.’

‘It’s no great shakes. I’m just driving a knackered old truck around, delivering bricks and shit.’

‘It’s a start. You never know, your boss might let you have stuff cheap, make it easier to do all the things you were talking about doing to the house.’

‘Doubt it. You haven’t met Barry Walpole.’

‘I’m sure he’s lovely.’

‘He definitely isn’t. You are, though.’

His compliment took her by surprise. Before she could react she felt him kiss the side of her face. He climbed on top and pushed against her. ‘I’m tired, love,’ she said.

‘I’m not.’

It never ceased to amaze Mairead how little respect folks had for the property of others. This building was here for the good of the community as a whole, and yet people seemed perfectly content to use and abuse the facilities without a care.

The old farm had stopped being a farm more than two decades ago now. After falling into disrepair, the one remaining habitable building, this two bedroom cottage, had been renovated and re-opened as a very basic youth hostel, catering to the needs of visitors attracted to the area by the hills and the hiking. On the whole people usually abided by the basic rules of the facility: pre-bookings only, clean the place when you leave, collect and return the key to Mairead down the road. But the girl who’d used the place last night hadn’t returned the key and Mairead needed it back as three lads from Newcastle were due later this afternoon. She had better things to be doing with her time than chasing around after bloody kids who thought the world owed them. She’d put all her cleaning stuff in the back of the car before she set out. If the lass couldn’t be bothered to hand back the key , she thought, then she sure as hell won’t have cleaned up .

The cottage door was open. The building was cold, but then again, it usually was. Mairead leant in and called out. ‘Hello… Hello, is anyone here?’

No answer.

Agitated, Mairead put her Hoover down by the door. This had happened all too often this season. The remains of a meal had been left on the table. Slovenly. It made Mairead cross. And she could smell tobacco too. Bloody hell, how large did she have to make the No Smoking signs? There was one stuck on every interior door. Was that not enough?

The kitchen could have been worse, she supposed. There was a little washing up left on the draining board, and a pile of clothes which had been washed and rinsed but never hung out to dry.

‘Hello…’ Mairead shouted again. ‘Are you here, Miss? I’ve come for the key. I’ll have to make a charge for the state of the place. It’s really not good enough.’

She picked up a waste-bin and carried it over to the bedroom door. She knocked and waited for a reply. When she moved again, the floor was tacky beneath her shoes.

Mairead looked down and saw blood. More blood than she’d ever seen before.

‘It’s not my fault. I didn’t take your order. No good shouting at me, mate.’

Kenneth Potter pointed accusingly at Scott. ‘Then who else am I going to shout at? And I am definitely not your mate. Good grief, what’s Barry doing employing folks who can’t even load up a van right?’