His friend and fellow ex-farmer was sitting alone at a table. He had a newspaper open in front of him, using it as a base to roll cigs.
‘Afternoon Hal,’ John tried not to seem shocked by the other man’s appearance. ‘Get you a pint?’
‘Golden Best,’ Hal replied with the faintest shadow of his old grin.
John bought some beers and took a stool opposite.
‘Cheers,’ he said.
‘What brings you to this neck of the woods?’
‘I’ve come to see you.’
‘Really?’
‘I’ve been back in Bingley. Bit of business to do. Someone mentioned your name.’
Hal scowled and lit the tattiest roll-up John had ever seen. ‘Didn’t think anybody knew where I was.’
‘I bloody didn’t. You just upped and went.’
‘Aye, well. Wasn’t in the mood for leaving parties, was I?’
Hal’s current pint looked like it had been on the go a while. John studied him as he finished it, reckoning he’d aged ten years in the last two. His eyes were still red-lidded, as if he’d never recovered from that night in the barn. He couldn’t have shaved for a week. And his teeth were completely buggered.
‘You sold up quick,’ he said.
‘Sold out, you mean?’ Hal laughed. ‘Aye, I took thirty pieces of silver. Paid Sean Dwyer told the bank to fuck off and here I am. Got me own council house and everything.’
‘Are you working?’
‘I’ve been invalided out.’
Hal held up his left hand. No wonder his roll-ups were tatty, he’d lost three fingers.
‘How did you do that? It wasn’t . . .’
‘Dwyer’s lads?’ Hal laughed again. ‘Yes and no. I should have let you call that ambulance. Me hand got infected.’
‘Hal, I’m sorry.’
‘Not your fault. If I’d listened, I’d have been right.’
John sipped his beer and kept quiet a moment. Farmers didn’t just quit altogether, not because they’d lost the odd finger or two. Losing an entire farm was a different matter, though. That could bring any man down.
‘Isn’t there anything you want to do?’ he asked, speaking as gently as he could.
‘Working, you mean? I don’t know. You could say I’m still looking.’
‘In here?’
‘Here or The Market Arms. They’re the likely places in this town.’
‘Don’t get me wrong, Hal, but Keighley isn’t a real market. Not our sort of a market.’
‘You think I don’t know that?’
They stared at each other.
‘Okay,’ John said finally. ‘Can I get you another beer?’
‘Don’t see why not.’
Hal made an effort to lighten up. When John came back with refills he was met with a slightly better version of the old grin.
‘How’s your dog?’
‘Gyp’s fine. He’s guarding the Landy.’
‘What about the wife?’
‘Susan’s fine too. She’s over in Cheshire today, fetching Heather home for the weekend.’
‘Home?’
‘Aye. From school.’
This time Hal frowned rather than scowled. ‘Heather goes to school in Cheshire? How far’s that?’
‘Couple of hours in the car,’ said John, suddenly uncomfortable with his new life. ‘How’s Gwen?’
‘How should I know? She divorced me last year. Didn’t even send a Christmas card.’
John decided not to ask about the rest of the family.
‘She’s been seeing someone else,’ Hal went on. ‘I don’t blame her. Just wish she hadn’t turned the kids against me.’
‘Things must be pretty bad.’
‘I get by. I’ve no bills or Mr Taxman to worry about these days. And I get more to live on since I was registered.’
‘Registered?’
‘As dependant,’ Hal tipped his glass in mocking salute. ‘They don’t give me it all at once, mind. In case I drink it in one go.’
‘Jesus.’
‘That’s what happened with those pieces of silver. After I found out how I’d been had.’
‘Sorry Hal, you’re losing me.’
‘Sean Dwyer, right. Remember him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Remember how he poisoned me land? Made me too flayed to live in me own farmhouse?’
‘Hal . . .’
‘It was all part of the game. That guy who came along, wanting to open a B&B, he was one of Dwyer’s mates. They knew I’d let it go for a song. Just like they knew they’d get planning. Dare say they had someone on the panel.’
‘Are they building on it?’
‘Come on, John. Don’t pretend you don’t know. Everyone in Bingley must know.’
‘I don’t. I sold out myself. Not long after . . . after you told me you were selling.’
‘After six generations?’ Hal’s watery eyes went round.
‘Aye; and I’m still losing sleep over it.’
‘Did you get a fair price?’
‘I did all right.’
‘I cleared thirty grand,’ Hal said, matter-of-factly, ‘once I’d settled with Dwyer and everyone else. Gwen took twenty of it. I supped the rest afore she came back for that an’ all.’
John thought of the profit he’d made and felt even more uncomfortable. Okay, Hunters Farm was three or four times the size of Hal’s place, but he’d come out with millions.
‘I know it’s me own fault,’ Hal went on. ‘I should have taken that mortgage with WYB; bought missen time to sell properly, through agents and what have you. Funny what a few six-inchers can do to your business sense, isn’t it?
* * *
Once he’d found his paperwork Geoff got his head down and time became relative. Before he knew it his boss was hovering, wanting to know if he didn’t have a home to go to.
‘It’s quarter to seven,’ Henry said mock-sternly. ‘We need that finished, but not by burning every last drop of midnight oil. Can’t be having all work and no play, can we?’
Geoff checked the time on his screen. Henry was right, of course. The number five was just ticking over to make it 18:46.
‘It’s done anyway,’ he said. ‘I’m just summing up by email.’
‘Done? You do surprise me.’
Henry came around the desk for a preview. ‘Very bullish,’ he concluded. ‘That’ll teach ‘em to get bolshie. How confident are you?’
‘Ninety per cent.’
‘What about the client?’
‘At least a hundred and fifty,’ Geoff laughed. ‘But my counter-proposal works for them.’
‘And can you meet that deadline if the other side play silly beggars?’
‘Papers are here.’ Geoff patted a file on the desk. ‘Bet you a fiver I don’t need them.’
‘Not taking you. I think you’ve nailed it. Now be on your way. We’ll catch up in the morning. The bacon butties are on me.’
Traffic in Leeds was bad news but Geoff always drove. He had to; not only did he have a highly endangered parking space, he never knew when he might have to nip out to see a client . . . except nobody nipped anywhere in these parts, not to his knowledge, anyway. To be fair, getting to the office in the morning wasn’t too challenging because he set off very early. Anything after then was awful, however, and getting away on an evening could cause nightmares now he had to hurry to Auntie Sue’s. Tonight, leaving the office as late as seven, it was easy as pie. The rush-hour snarl ups had all been and gone. When he stopped off at his local wine shop it was quarter to eight, more or less the usual home time if he left before six.
Why do I bother? he thought wryly, heading for the cooled drinks cabinet.
Home was a third of the way down Ferrands Terrace, in the Poplar House area of Bingley, close to Myrtle Park. He pulled up behind Penny’s shiny blue Ka. Number Ten/Twelve looked like the Sea of Tranquillity from outside. But then it always did . . . from outside.
Bracing himself, he opened the d
oor. It was quiet in the bit of the house they used as a hall. He kicked off his shoes and went through to the lounge to find . . .
More tranquillity. The television wasn’t even on. Sandy and Becky were sprawled on the carpet, busy with crayons and colouring-in books. In pre-Green days the girls would have charged to meet him, shouting over each other before going into manic overdrive for half an hour. Not tonight, though. Tonight Sandy just glanced at him.
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘hi Dad.’
Becky didn’t even glance. ‘Hi Dad.’ Her tongue was sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated, determined to stay inside the lines.
‘Hi Geoff,’ Penny had arrived from the kitchen, not a hair out of place. ‘You’re early.’
‘Yeah, I thought you might need rescuing.’
‘What, from these little angels? We’ve been having a great time, haven’t we, girls?’
‘Yes Auntie Penny,’ the girls chorused. Geoff couldn’t help noticing they both looked up and beamed at her before going back to their books.
‘Talking about angels, where’s Jamie?’
‘He’s up in bed, snoring away.’
‘Is he? Wonders never cease.’ Geoff shook his head, genuinely amazed. ‘I brought wine, because I thought you might need fortifying. I’ll stick it in the fridge while I sort these two some supper.’
‘No need. They’ve already eaten. So has Jamie. Yours is waiting in the oven.’
Geoff followed Penny into the kitchen, obediently sitting at the table when instructed.
‘Something smells nice,’ he said. ‘What did the girls have?’
‘Lasagne . . . the same as you and Jamie.’
‘You’re joking. Jamie only eats things that are dinosaur-shaped.’
‘Well he likes my lasagne now. He ate just as much as Becky and Sandy.’
‘Did you say your lasagne?’
‘Yes. I don’t do oven meals. And as for frozen roast potatoes . . .’
She put a plate in front of him. Becky’s voice rang out before he could pick up his fork. ‘Say grace first, Dad. Auntie Penny thinks it’s a good thing to do.’
Penny flushed. ‘I didn’t make them say it, it was Becky’s idea.’
‘Don’t apologize. I happen to agree with Auntie Penny; it is a good thing to do. Let’s see if I can remember the words.’ Self-consciously, he said, ‘Thank You for the world so sweet, thank You for the food we eat; thank You for the birds that sing, thank You God for everything.’
‘Well remembered,’ Penny smiled. ‘You can tuck in now.’
‘Aren’t you eating?’
‘I had mine with the children. Sorry, with the kids.’
‘It tastes even better than it smells,’ he said truthfully. ‘I didn’t realize you were Delia’s biggest rival.’
‘Lasagne’s nothing. Wait until you try my apple pie. It’s the second best in the world.’
‘Whose is best?’
‘My granny’s; she’s eighty, but still cooking and baking.’
Penny picked up Geoff’s bottle of wine. ‘Great minds,’ she said, putting it in the fridge, pulling out a properly chilled one with a matching label. ‘We must be on the same wavelength. It’s not even on special offer.’
Geoff watched as she filled two glasses. ‘Crayons; books; wine; cooking ingredients . . . I must owe you a fortune for all this. And how long have you been here? The place is spotless. You can’t possibly have landed an hour ago, prepared meals and washed up.’
‘Oh, I don’t mess about.’ She treated him to another smile. ‘Shall I get the girls ready for bed while you finish off?’
‘Why not,’ Geoff grinned. ‘Go see how angelic they really are.’
* * *
Rick’s formal debrief was as mysterious as the original brief. In fact, as debriefs went, it couldn’t have been briefer. The Range Rover had reappeared four and a half hours after its initial visit. This time it only had two PIRA men on board, swiftly identified as Player Two and Player Three. They weren’t returning anything; they were there to collect more. Tommy got the go-ahead so, two shooters per target, they had taken them down.
And that was as deep as the spooks wanted to go.
Back at base the soldiers had their own, private debrief; just the four of them, unshaven and still in their shitted-up gear. This was standard practice after every mission, totally successful or not. A learning exercise where they took turns to go through everything in detail, all free to chip in with constructive criticism. Scouse broke out the beers while they did this but nobody went OTT. Rick drank least, limiting himself to two cans, valuing the chance of being involved.
‘Okay,’ Phil said finally. ‘Which was our tout?’
‘Can’t be the pair who came back to die,’ said Scouse. ‘And it’s not going to be McGuire. It’s between Player One and the other two.’
‘That’s what I was thinking.’ Phil shrugged. ‘But we’ll never know for sure, will we?’
‘Stick ‘em all on your hit list,’ said Tommy.
‘Don’t worry mate. I already have.’
‘What I can’t understand,’ Rick said carefully, ‘is why we got the go-ahead. PIRA must realize there’s a tout. And if we can get it down to one out of three, so can they.’
‘Depends who else is involved at their end,’ Scouse observed. ‘And fuck knows what our lot are up to. They might have wanted to protect their tout at first, but not later. That’d put Player Three in the frame, thinking he was safe when he wasn’t. And leaving them as they fell . . . that’s well out of order. Is that a PR opportunity or what?’
‘What about the rest of the weapons?’ said Phil. ‘Did we leave them as a trap? Or does someone just need Mike McGuire keeping alive?’
‘Ours not to reason why,’ Tommy added.
Scouse patted Rick on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about it, lad. It’s a bastard not knowing, but you get used to it. Believe it or not, sometimes they tell you too much, and that’s even worse. Tommy probably knows more than he’s letting on. And look what a sad twat he is.’
Although he laughed along with everyone else Rick couldn’t let the subject go. ‘Who is this Mike McGuire? How come he’s above suspicion?’
‘You’ll have seen his dad painted on walls and houses,’ Phil said. ‘He was a big local hero, until he got taken out by a big loyalist hero.’
‘Aye,’ Tommy agreed. ‘Then he became a big local martyr. When wee Michael grew up, he took out the big loyalist hero. He’s been a star ever since. Those weapons will have been for a job of his. We’ll read about it when we catch up with the papers.’
‘That puts him above suspicion, does it?’
Tommy swigged down more Tennent’s. ‘Normally I’d say anyone can be turned. But there are exceptions. Like McGuire. Peace will never come into it for him. He won’t have a clue what to do if all this ever ends. Come to that, neither will I.’
‘You don’t have a clue at the best of times,’ said Phil, getting to his feet.
‘Fuck you.’ Tommy threw his crunched up can, narrowly missing Phil’s nose.
‘Enough,’ said Scouse. ‘Showers then out for a proper drink. Last ready buys first.’
* * *
Geoff didn’t hurry himself, finishing his glass of wine as well as the lasagne before going to lend a hand. To his surprise he met Penny coming down the bottom flight of stairs.
‘Is everything okay?’
‘Couldn’t be better,’ she said, still completely at ease, not at all in need of rescue. ‘The girls just want night-night kisses from you. I’ll tidy up their crayons in the meantime.’
‘Who won the colouring competition?’
‘I declared it a draw. They both did very well.’
Jamie was snoring away in his attic bedroom, as advertised. Geoff ruffled his hair then went to see his oldest daughter. Sandy was in bed, deeply engrossed in Five Go To Mystery Moor. ‘Auntie Penny’s really nice,’ she said. ‘I wish she looked after us every night.’ G
eoff gave her a kiss and switched off her lamp, leaving her reading by torchlight.
Becky was busy settling Winnie-the-Pooh, Piglet and the rest of the gang down for the night. ‘Is Auntie Penny your girlfriend?’ she asked. ‘I wish she was. She winked when she said Sandy’s pictures were as good as mine. We know mine are best really.’
When he got back downstairs Auntie Penny was in the lounge, looking at video titles.
‘I give in,’ he said. ‘How do you do it? You’ve got them eating out of your hand.’
‘As I said, I’ve got a cousin with children . . . kids, I mean. I’ve looked after them a lot. And I do it my granny’s way, not my cousin’s way. Kids don’t need TV and junk food all the time.’ Her cheeks flushed again, making her even prettier. ‘Not that I’m suggesting that’s what you do with yours.’
‘I try not to.’ Geoff sighed. ‘Although it’s not as easy as you make it seem. But never mind that. Let’s have some more wine.’ He saw hesitation in her face. ‘Sorry, I’ve forgotten the time. You’ll have much better things to be doing.’
‘I absolutely do not. I was just thinking about drinking and driving. You’d better not fill my glass right to the top.’
They drifted back into the kitchen, which was still spotless. Geoff’s plate must have washed itself and climbed back into its cupboard. The range looked cleaner than it had this morning too, come to think about it.
‘You never answered my question. When did you get here?’
‘About five, I think, after we’d been shopping. And please . . .’ Penny held up a restraining hand, ‘don’t mention money again. You’ll only embarrass me.’
‘You took them shopping as well? When did you get to Auntie Sue’s?’
‘Four o’clock. I rang and arranged it first. Your auntie was glad of the extra time.’ She looked at Geoff over the rim of her glass. ‘We had a good old heart-to-heart.’
‘Now why does that make me nervous?’
‘I honestly couldn’t say. Perhaps you’ve got a guilty conscience?’
They sipped wine and smiled at each other a while.
‘I never expected such a big house,’ Penny said eventually. ‘Was it like this when you moved in? Or did you buy next door?’
‘It was already knocked two-into-one. We made lots of changes. And I’ve made a few more since . . .’ he shrugged.
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