Дэвид Муди - Strangers

Michelle sighed. ‘It’s just the way you knew who I was by default. I’m not used to living somewhere where everybody knows your business like that.’

‘It’s not like that here, honest. Thing is, you’re always gonna get a few folks who like to stick their nose in, and you’ll get that wherever. The difference here is that Thussock’s so small, people can’t help noticing change. No one’s watching you or spying on you, nothin’ like that.’

‘I think that makes me feel better…’

‘Look at it from the other side. My Dez starts talking about this bloke with a Brummie accent who’s just started working at Walpoles, then I find myself talking to someone else with the same accent here. No spying, just common-sense.’

Michelle relaxed. Slightly. ‘You’re right. Sorry. It’s been a big thing moving here, that’s all. We’re all on edge.’

‘Nothin’ to be sorry about.’

At the far end of the room, a woman wearing a shapeless smock-top and baggy jeans clapped her hands three times. The kids – all bar George – looked up, the oldest of them already starting to get up and put their toys away. ‘Is this us?’ Michelle asked.

‘Aye.’

Michelle pushed herself up from her seat and winced.

‘You hurting?’

‘Hurt my wrist last night. It’s nothing.’

She went to take her cup back to the kitchen. Jackie took it from her. ‘Here, let me take that.’

‘Thanks.’

By the time Jackie returned from the kitchen, having made a detour across the room to collect the twins, Michelle had George ready to leave. ‘Will I see you here again?’ Jackie asked.

‘I’m sure you will. George had a great time, didn’t you George?’ He tucked himself behind his mother’s leg, avoiding answering. ‘Thank you, Jackie.’

‘Thanks for what?’

‘For the chat. For not making me feel like a complete social leper.’

‘All I did was come across and start talking rubbish to you.’

‘That was more than anyone else has done. It was what I needed.’

‘I told you, I know what it’s like. And like I said, it will get easier.’

‘I’m sure you’re right.’

‘Listen, there’s another session here on Friday morning, maybe I’ll see you then?’

‘That’d be good.’

‘There’s a Thursday afternoon group too, but I don’t bother with that one.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Don’t like the folks there. Bit strange.’

‘Stranger than this lot?’ Michelle whispered.

‘Believe it or not, yes!’ Jackie replied, also whispering. Michelle’s laughter filled the hall, her noise loud enough to warrant a few sideways glances.

‘I might see you Friday, then.’

‘Sure.’

She went to walk away, then stopped. ‘Listen, d’you fancy meeting up for a coffee some time?’

‘Yeah, definitely.’

Michelle hesitated. ‘Where exactly do people go for coffee around here?’

‘Usually Mary’s.’

‘Mary’s?’

‘Aye, Mary’s café in town. If you want Starbucks or Costa, anything fancy like that, then you’re lookin’ at an hour’s round trip.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘I wish.’

‘Right, a date with Mary it is then.’

‘Ah, bugger the expense. Just come around to mine. I’m only five minute’s walk from the café, so if you don’t like my coffee, we can still go to Mary’s. Here, let me give you my number.’ Jackie scribbled her phone number and address on the torn off corner of a red gas bill, then handed it over. ‘I’m stuck at home with the twins most of the time. Dez has the car, so you’ve a good chance of catchin’ me.’

‘Excellent. Look forward to it.’

‘Aye, me too.’ One of Jackie’s twins yelled out, fighting over a toy with the other. ‘Got to go,’ she said. Michelle just smiled, scooped up George, and headed for the door.

Scott tried to keep on the road and away from the yard as much as possible, but it was a quiet day for deliveries. As well as himself, Barry Walpole and Warren, there were two other members of staff working today, far more than was necessary. A wiry-framed man in his fifties called Alan shifted slabs, and Chez, a streak of piss and wind who could only have been in his late teens or early twenties, helped. Alan, who Scott really wasn’t sure about, seemed to have an unhealthy preoccupation with the dead girl in Ken Potter’s garden. He kept pressing Scott to talk about her, and when he didn’t oblige, Alan just made stuff up instead. It wasn’t just him, they were all seriously pissing Scott off. He was glad when lunchtime arrived, though his relief was short-lived when Barry shut the yard and disappeared off with the truck. That move in itself took him by surprise. This is the twenty-first century , he’d protested, businesses don’t shut for lunch anymore . Then Warren made a point he found difficult to counter: they’d barely had any custom all morning, what were the chances of missing someone at lunch time? The others all went home to eat leaving Scott alone, stranded.

When they returned, just after half-one, Alan had news. There were still no customers and Barry hadn’t yet come back, so Scott, Chez and Warren were a captive audience.

‘Shona McIntyre,’ he announced excitedly.

‘Who?’ Warren asked.

‘Shona McIntyre,’ he said again. ‘That’s her name.’

‘Whose name?’

‘The girl Barry and him found in Potter’s garden yesterday.’ There was something about the way Alan dismissively avoided using Scott’s name which rankled him. It was almost as if he wasn’t there.

‘Never heard of her,’ Chez said. Scott said nothing. He knew no one.

‘And?’ Warren pressed.

‘And what?’

‘That all you got?’

Alan shook his head and continued. ‘The missus says she wasn’t local.’

‘So what was she doing at Potter’s?’ Chez asked.

‘Been out hiking, apparently. She was a student, Marj reckons. It was on the local news. Involved in geography or geology, she was, sumthin’ like that.’

‘But why was she at Potter’s house?’ Scott asked, repeating Chez’s question. ‘It doesn’t make sense. Took me long enough to find that bloody place yesterday.’

‘Maybe she was lost?’

‘So did she get lost and walk there, or did Potter pick her up and take her back to his?’

‘Not sure what you’re alludin’ to,’ Alan said, his tone a little aggressive. ‘You need to be careful what you’re sayin’. Ken Potter’s a good man. I’ve known him years. He taught me and both my kids, he did, and he never did nothin’ he shouldn’t. He didn’t do nothin’ to that girl.’

Scott couldn’t help himself. The words just came out. ‘So who did then?’

They turned on him as one. ‘I reckon you’d be the best person to answer that,’ Chez said. ‘You’re the one what found her.’

‘Piss off. It had nothing to do with me. Anyway, Barry was with me. You think Barry did it?’

Alan cleared his throat. ‘Barry was with you second time,’ he said, ‘but you was on your own when you first went there. An’ you had a run in with Ken.’

‘Fuck’s sake,’ Scott said, his temper rising. ‘Sure, I had an argument with him, but that doesn’t mean I cut up that girl and left her in his back garden, does it? What do you think I am, some kind of madman?’

‘I don’t know what you are,’ Alan said. ‘I don’t even know who you are. Now Ken Potter had his moments, but he weren’t no pervert and he weren’t no murderer. We’ve all known him for years. You ain’t even been here a week.’

‘I didn’t say he was a murderer or a pervert, I just said I don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense.’