01-Killing the Beasts by Chris Simms

Author:Chris Simms [Simms, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Richmond ePublishing
Published: 2014-07-21T04:00:00+00:00

Sly gazed down at the motionless spider crouched in the corner of its glass home. The way its legs were bunched up – knee joints higher than its body – reminded Sly of the eight roof struts encircling the newly completed Commonwealth Games stadium, Manchester City's new ground once the Games were over and the stupid running track had been ripped out so another tier of seats could be added. He clenched a fist in triumph – finally the Blues would have a stadium to match their status in the city. Something newer and better than those bastard Reds at Old Trafford.

Slamming his front door shut behind him, he looked around the courtyard. The snotty couple were sitting in the sun on one of the benches at the side of the Zen garden, Sunday papers spread out across their laps. Next to the bench were two cups and a pot of fresh coffee, curls of steam catching in the sunlight.

He yawned loudly to intrude on the peaceful atmosphere, snorted and then trudged over to them. They tried to ignore his presence, but once he was behind them he leaned over the girl's shoulder and remarked, 'Dirty slag. 'Manchester accent deliberately made heavier.

Her head whipped round. 'I beg your pa—'

'That bird.' He pointed to the photo of the reality game show hostess in the paper on her knee. 'You can just tell she is.' He looked at the man sitting on the bench. 'Bet you'd give her one, though you can't admit it. Not with your missus sat here, right?' He laughed loudly and carried on his way, imagining the couple shaking with suppressed anger.

He slid into his car, put on a pair of sunglasses, lowered the windows and pressed play on the CD player. The Stone Roses started booming out and he smiled at memories of nights spent in the Hacienda, so out of his tree he could hardly speak.

The drive to his grandma's little terraced house didn't take long. As he got out of his car he could see her in the front window waiting for him, coat already on. He walked her round to the passenger seat and helped her in, then they drove back into the centre of town, parking in the NCP near Affleck's Palace.

With her arm linked through his, they walked to the top of Market Street, the old lady pausing to look across into Piccadilly Gardens.

'It's all changed so much,' she said, with more wonder than regret in her voice. 'Lewis's has gone. 'She stared across the street at the art deco front of the old family-run department store. Now bright red TK Maxx signs were above the doors. 'Used to take you there as a little boy. Me and your grandad would go to the dances on the top floor.'

'What dances were those?'

'Ballroom dances. There's a sprung wooden floor up there, you know.'

He shook his head, 'No Gran, I didn't.'

'What's that bloody great thing?' she asked, pointing across the gardens to the grey concrete wall.

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