At 11.00 p.m. Charlie sits at his computer, chatting to a friend on Facebook. He hears a car pull up outside his house, and rushes to his window.
He sees his father climb out of a taxi and walk by on the near side of the family car, oblivious to the dent on the other side. He hears a key scratching at the front door, then it opens and closes. Five minutes later he hears his dad snoring downstairs in the front room.
He breathes a sigh of relief, and thinks that this might just work out after all. He closes the chat with his friend, turns out the light and climbs into bed.
He thinks about having to do the boring housework. And he thinks about taking more lessons, passing his test and having his own car. Then he drifts off to sleep.
Morning comes and Charlie lies awake in his bed, listening to muffled voices from downstairs. He can make out a few words, and figures that his mother is telling his father about the dent.
He hears the front door open, then the sound of gravel crunching on the driveway. He climbs out of bed, and peers through a gap in the curtains.
His father is crouched down by the rear wheel of the car, running his hand over the dent and slowly shaking his head. His mother then comes outside, standing by the bonnet with her arms folded. Seeing his father start to talk, Charlie opens the window slightly to listen.
“I told you, Steve,” Tracey says, “I was just going to pick up some Chinese for me and Charlie.”
“You don’t even like bloody Chinese!”
“I do sometimes. And Charlie fancied some.”
“How many times have you reversed out of this drive?” Steve asks.
“Hundreds. Thousands. I don’t know.”
“And one day the fence post just jumps out at you?”
“I’ve said sorry. It was an accident. What more do you want?”
He shakes his head and kicks the car tyre. “You’re calling the insurance company. I’m not.” He heads back inside.
Charlie closes the window and sits on his bed. His father looks annoyed, but he seems to have bought the story. He smiles, thinking that he’ll still get his car after all.
He figures he’ll give them some time to finish their conversation, and give his mother chance to call the insurance company.
He brushes his teeth and gets dressed, thinking that things have turned out well so far; but he wonders what torture his mother has in store for him.
Steve sits on the garden bench, taking in the afternoon sun. He smokes a cigarette, and watches his son take a garbage bag out to the wheelie bin.
Charlie then fills up a watering can, and starts to sprinkle the plants around the border of the lawn.
Steve finishes his cigarette and joins his son.
“Bloody hell, that’s a first!” he says.
“What is?”
“Seeing you working!”
“Ha-ha, Dad,” says Charlie. “Very funny.”
“I’m only kidding, son. How come you’re being so productive, anyway?”
“Mum just asked me to do some jobs.”
“Yeah, but why are you actually doing them? You normally find some excuse.”
“I dunno. Maybe she’ll give me some pocket money.”
“Ha-ha! I knew there must be a reason. Have you seen the dent in the car?”
“Yeah, mum showed me last night.”
Charlie uses the last of the water, then takes the empty can into the garage and emerges with the lawnmower.
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re going to cut the grass too!” Steve rubs his eyes theatrically. “I think my vision is getting blurry!”
Charlie shakes his head and plugs in the power lead.
“How come you two were having takeaway?”
“Erm…I don’t think there was anything in for dinner.”
“And why didn’t she just have it delivered?”
“I dunno, Dad.”
“Bloody women. They don’t like to do anything the simple way.” He puts his arm around Charlie’s shoulder and says, “Between you and me, son - women shouldn’t be allowed on the roads!”
“I dunno, Dad. But I have to get on with this. Mum says I have to clean the bathroom after doing the garden.”
“Well, don’t let me get in your way, Mister Working Man!”
Steve watches his son mowing the lawn, and reflects on how quickly he is growing up; he remembers when Charlie used to hate doing household chores.
Elms
Neil stopped by after his day shift, and we sat in my kitchen while he told me the news.
“Danny’s not getting fired,” he said. “Not yet anyway.”
“What? I thought it was a done deal.”
“I discussed it with Paul today. We’ll give him a thirty day extension on his probationary period.”
“Oh,” I said. “Why?”
“Well, he’s not a bad lad. And he’s a decent dealer.”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“No, not at all. I’m just surprised Paul changed his mind.”
“Yeah, well,” he said. “He is the casino manager, after all. We’ll give Danny a final warning, and let him know exactly what’s expected of him. If he doesn’t sort himself out in the thirty days, then we’ll fire him.”
“Yeah,” I said, “then at least you’re giving him a fair shot.”
“Exactly,” he said. “That’s the bad news.”
“What’s the good news?”
He clapped his hands and rubbed them together, saying, “It’s game on tonight!”
“Nice. Who’s playing?”
“The usual suspects. Ian and Martin were on my shift, and they said we can play at theirs again.”
“Excellent,” I said. “What about Danny? And Sean?”
“I talked to them earlier. They’re up for it.”
“Bloody hell! What’s Danny like? You’d think he’d want to stay away after Wednesday.”
“Yeah,” he said and laughed. “He just can’t say no to poker.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“We’re all meeting at The Blue Bell at nine.” He checked his watch. “I’m gonna nip home and get changed, then I’ll meet you there.”
Neil left fifteen minutes ago. I’m sitting at my kitchen table with a beer, waiting for the taxi and thinking about Danny Elms. What a lucky sod he is! Let me explain…
I work at The Wheel, which is the casino in town. I started as a dealer, or croupier as people like to say, and now I’m a senior inspector.
I’m friends with a number of my workmates, and we’ll get together for drinks and socialising when our shifts coincide.
For the last couple of years we’ve been playing poker. The stakes are friendly and we’ll play two or three times a month. Usually we play at Ian and Martin’s house, which is just around the corner from the pub.
Lately the games have been picking up in size and frequency, and it’s down to our new arrival.
Danny Elms has been working at The Wheel for four months. He’s around twenty years old and a bit of a party boy. He seems friendly enough, but I think he’s had a few issues with timekeeping.
He came along to the pub one night with Sean, and he participated in the game that followed. After that he was a regular fixture.
In my humble opinion he’s not much of a poker player, but he does love to gamble. You can learn a lot by watching and waiting, but Danny doesn’t have the patience for any of that; he has to be involved in every hand played.
We had a game on Wednesday night, and he got spanked. He’d had a few drinks, and his decisions were poor – you could say it was a poor decision to sit down and play at all.
I was very pleased with the outcome, as he ended up owing me £500. But there was a surprise for me when I returned to work on Thursday afternoon.
I saw Neil in the break room, and he led me out to the corridor.
“Danny’s getting fired,” he told me.
“What? Why?”
“
Well, Paul and I were talking about him earlier. His probation’s nearly up, so we have to decide if we’re keeping him or not.”
“And you’re letting him go?”
“Yeah,” he said. He shrugged his shoulders. “I’d probably keep him, but it’s not really my decision. I’m just the assistant.”
“And when will he go?”
“His ninety days is up in a few days’ time, so it’ll be this week.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. Well. Obviously, keep it to yourself.”
I started my shift, and thought about things as I watched two boring games of Roulette.
Danny would be fired, which was bad for him. I figured he just wasn’t cut out for casinos.
But how would I get my £500? It would be awkward asking him to pay me right after he’d lost his job, and once he’d left I might never see him again. So how could I get my money?
I deliberated that afternoon, and made my offer to Danny when he came in at eight.
“Listen,” I said, “I could use some cash quickly. If you give me two hundred and fifty by tomorrow, then we’ll forget about the rest.”
“So you don’t want the other two fifty at all?” he asked.
“No, forget about it. But I need the two fifty tomorrow or it’s no deal. I need to buy-”
“Yeah. Excellent! I’ll bring it in tomorrow night.”
I watched him walk away, pleased that he hadn’t suspected my motives. I think he only cared about saving himself some cash, and why I would need the money so quickly was immaterial to him.
He paid me during our lunch break the following afternoon.
“It’s a pleasure doing business with you, sir,” he said.
He looked very pleased with himself. A little part of me wanted to tell him the real reason I wanted the money so quickly, and watch the grin dissolve from his face; but I just thanked him instead.
That was last night. Now I’m sat at my table, waiting for a taxi and cursing my luck.
I’m annoyed at myself for halving the debt, but how could I foresee the manager changing his mind?
And I can’t really hold Danny accountable, as he doesn’t even know how close he came to the sack. It could happen later on anyway, unless he sorts himself out.
I hope it works out for him. But not tonight. I hope he loses money. To me. About £250.
A Letter
Adam left his home town two years ago and never returned. But as he stared at the letter, he realized he might have to.
He found the envelope that morning, with some other mail on the mat by the door. His name typed on the front. No address. No postmark. He opened it and read it; then wished he hadn’t.
He needed to talk to Jimmy, but his bedroom door was closed. Adam was on his second coffee when Jimmy entered the kitchen. “Read that,” he said, handing the letter to Jimmy.
“Wow!” Jimmy said when he finished reading. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. But…”
“What?”
“How did he find me here?” Adam asked. “How does he know where I live?”
“Yeah, that’s weird. I don’t know.”
“You didn’t bump into Henry while you were in Stockport?”
“What? No! I don’t even know the guy to talk to.”
“And you didn’t see Kenny or Malcolm?”
“Jesus, Adam! No. I don’t really know those two psychos either. I was at the same senior school as them, but they were a couple of years above me.”
“Sorry. I’m just wondering how the hell they found me.”
“If I knew I’d tell you, mate. Honestly. I just went to see my mother, like usual.”
“Do you think I should go?” asked Adam.
“Well, yeah. If you want to know what’s going on.”
“What if it’s a set-up?”
“Well, there’s one way to find out.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. I should go.”
“I think there’s a bus at seven. Give the station a call.”
“Cheers. I will. I’m off until Wednesday anyway.”
“Well, I’m going back to bed. I feel terrible.”
“Yeah, you look like you’re sweating a bit.”
He got a seat at the back of the bus. He sat by the window and gazed outside, studying the buildings around the station.
He wondered when he would see Middlesbrough again. It wasn’t the prettiest of towns, but it had been kind to him. He thought about how much it rained here, a feature it shared with his destination. He had missed Stockport initially, but this wore off as he adjusted to living in Middlesbrough.
It helped that he lived with his friend Jimmy Mulligan. They had worked together in one of the Stockport casinos. Jimmy had been working in Middlesbrough for almost a year, and it was Jimmy who persuaded him to leave Stockport and come to Middlesbrough.
“Come and work in the casino with me,” Jimmy had told him. “We’re recruiting at the moment.”
“I don’t know,” Adam had replied. “What’s it like there?”
“It’s alright. Plenty of pubs and women. And, to be honest, mate, you should probably get out of Stockport.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. But where would I live?”
And that’s how his new life started. Jimmy’s house-mate had just resigned and left for Luton; Adam could move in with him. Jimmy arranged a table-test and interview for him; two weeks later he was living and working in Middlesbrough.
The casino staff was friendly, and he found the work environment less stressful than the Stockport casino.
He worked mostly the same shifts as Jimmy, often having the same days off and spending their spare time together. They would go drinking in the pubs on Southfield Road, and sporadically Jimmy would invite girls back to their place. A number of girls found Adam attractive, and he would chat with them and socialize, but he rarely took it any further than that.
Other times, they would just get drunk and watch Unforgiven. Jimmy liked it because he liked every Clint Eastwood film, but Adam liked it because it was about a man who had put his past behind him. They would stay up until the early hours, drinking and smoking and predicting every line of dialogue.
Adam kept in touch with his parents and sister by email, and the occasional telephone call. He told them that he was doing well, making plenty of money and having a good time. He told them not to worry about him. He did not tell them where he was.
Now he sat on the bus, absently rubbing the corner of the envelope in his jacket pocket. He read the letter again.
Hello Adam
I guess my writing must come as quite a surprise to you, as we haven’t kept in touch for a few years.
It seems like not so long ago that you were a part of this family, and I regarded you as one of my own sons. I was very disappointed when you left, but I can understand why you felt you had to go.
I was angry at you when Julia passed away, and I blamed you. I’ve had time to think, and I can see that you were just young and reckless like my daughter. Neither of you should have been dabbling in drugs, but you didn’t know any better. You are not to blame.
No father ever wants to bury his daughter, and I just wanted somebody to be responsible for her death. Kenny and Malcolm were very shaken too, and I know they made things a little uncomfortable for you – they both loved their little sister very much. But they’ve promised they don’t hold it against you any more.
Anyway, I would like to apologise on behalf of my family.
I would like you to come and visit me. You know where I live. There is something I would like to ask you, but I will only ask it in person.
I’m sure you have your reasons for staying away, but I’m asking you to put your reservations aside and help an old man put his mind to rest.
I’ll be expecting you.
Henry Twilley.
He would be in Stockport in two hours’ time, and he could feel his stomach tightening; what would he do when
he got there?
His parents would be delighted to see him, but they would ask him where he’d been and what he’d been doing and why he left in the first place. They would want to talk about Julia.
He had thought about Julia a lot over the years, and that was the primary reason he had left: there were reminders everywhere.
He could go and see Henry Twilley. He was apprehensive about this, remembering the threats he had received from him and his sons only two years previously.
How had Henry found out where he was living? Had he always known where Adam was?
Who knew where he was living? He had not told his parents or his sister, so that left only Jimmy.
But Jimmy was his friend, and they had known each other since working in Stockport. He knew Jimmy would go back to Stockport a couple of times a year, but it was mostly to visit his mother. Did Jimmy know Henry Twilley? He didn’t think so. Jimmy only knew the reputation of the Twilley family, and Adam was fairly sure that Jimmy did not know Henry or either of Henry’s sons personally.
Maybe he could move somewhere else, somewhere Henry couldn’t find him. But Henry had found him this time, so perhaps he would find him again. And he’d put a lot of time and effort into making things work in Middlesbrough; he liked it there, and did not want to move.
He knew it was risky, but there was only one way to get answers to his questions – go and see Henry.
He was first off the bus when it arrived in Stockport, and five minutes later he was sitting in a taxi.
He got out in front of a neat, semi-detached house. He looked it over, thinking how little it had changed.
“Let’s go, numbnuts,” he said to himself. He opened the gate, walked to the door and knocked.
He could see a shape approaching through the frosted glass. He took a deep breath.
Henry opened the door and froze, staring at Adam.
“Hello, Henry,” Adam said.
“What the -”
Little Dramas Page 2
