04 The Killing Parade by T.G. Reid

Author:T.G. Reid
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9798841817772
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: 2022-11-10T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-THREE

Tommy Torley spooned out a dollop of mashed potato, and with his knife began to work around the mound, sculpting it into a mini mountain on his plate. Turning the blade, he sliced the top off of the mountain and looked up. His wife and two girls were staring across the kitchen table at him.

“What?” he asked. “It’s Close Encounters.”

“God’s sake, just go,” Tommy’s long-suffering wife said.

“Honestly, love, I’m fine really,” Tommy replied.

“Are you serious? I’d rather you go than watch you sit there behaving like a raving lunatic.”

“Dad, it’s okay,” Carol, the youngest of Tommy’s teenage daughters said.

“Are you sure? I mean, we’re only a few days away and it’s the tenth year. I’m feeling it a wee bit, you know?”

“You don’t have to explain, you have our approval,” Tommy’s wife said. “But I say this every year.” She looked round at the girls. “It’s not the winning, it’s the losing that always counts.” They all said in unison.

“Aye, I know I shouldn’t take it so seriously, but I think I have a really good shot at winning this year.”

They all shook their heads, and the girls resumed eating their mince and tattie dinner.

Tommy jumped up. “I won’t be long, just need to make a few last-minute adjustments.”

On the doorstep, his wife pulled him back into the house.

“An hour and no more, okay? Yesterday you woke me up and I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“Okay love, I promise. It’s done really. I just need to steady my nerves.”

His wife kissed him on the cheek, and he dashed down the garden path.

At the warehouse, he fiddled with the lock, but the key wouldn’t turn.

“Blood thing,” he said.

While he was very grateful for the free use of the old disused store his sponsor, Belshaw Engineering, had granted him, the place was absolutely hanging, and for months he’d worried about break-ins or worse, some rival espionage.

Glancing up and down the alleyway, he yanked at the bolt mechanism and the whole unit detached from the frame. He pulled at the double doors and they swung open with a loud rusty scream.

“There you are,” he said with a beaming smile, and hit the light switch.

A long row of fluorescent tubes flickered to life to reveal the full splendour of his pride and joy—a 3-tonne flatbed trailer, transformed into a spectacular parade float. On top, and looming over him as though about to topple, was an enormous sculpture made out of a tangle of bike frames, wheels, and handlebars and shaped into an impressive multi-coloured steel horse rearing up on its hind legs.

Along the side of the float, there were more bikes of all shapes and sizes with multi-coloured glittery streamers attached to the handlebars and seats. He nodded in appreciation of all the months of sweat and toil he’d put in to get to this point.

While Belshaw and a few of his regular team had helped him construct the sculpture, this year the whole concept and design was entirely his, and he was confident

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