Back Catalogue by Howard Mellowes

Author:Howard Mellowes [Mellowes, Howard]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Discursive Tales
Published: 2014-05-16T23:00:00+00:00

Part 3

Devil child’s

got you beguiled,

She’ll rob you blind,

take you from behind,

And you’d never realise

that you’re kissing the killer.

(from Kissing the Killer, by Steve Strongbow.

Lyrics reproduced by kind permission of Palomino Publishing Ltd.)

1.

Stuart collected his bag from the security scanner and slipped on his shoes, relieved that he had chosen a pair of socks without holes that morning. He picked up his keys and change, buckled his belt, and looked around. It was years since he had flown anywhere, probably not since the last holiday he and Deirdre had taken in Majorca. Deirdre always liked the sun, he remembered. Maybe that was why she went to live in Florida.

He spotted The John Bull pub almost at once. He had plenty of time for a pint before his flight, possibly enough for two. But he hesitated. That was where he was supposed to meet Barry, after all. He wished Barry was there too. What did he have to go and get himself killed for? Stupid sod!

What would Faye say, he wondered? Don’t be so daft, probably. She would tell him, very gently, that he was allowed to be sad about Barry, but not to let it spoil his life. And she would be right. She always was, he was beginning to realise.

He settled himself at the bar and ordered a beer, trying not to flinch at the exorbitant price. He imagined himself back in The Carpenters Arms, perched on his usual stool, drinking Fred’s finest ale rather than this overpriced muck, watching Faye’s deft movements as she went about her work, and waiting for her to catch his eye and smile. God, what a beautiful smile she had!

A muffled tannoy announcement brought him back to reality with a bump. Then he realised that the bump was caused by a tow-haired youth catching the back of the bar stool with his roller bag. “Entschuldigung!” the youth mumbled, as he attempted to manoeuvre the bag in the confined space.

Stuart thought about the previous evening. A week ago he would have been disappointed, embarrassed, ashamed of what had happened – or rather, what hadn’t happened. But to his surprise he found he didn’t much care. Miranda was Miranda, unfathomable and unattainable. And that would never ever change. He would never break through Miranda’s carapace, not even after a hundred nights of passion. Sooner or later it would end in tears, he knew. And they would all be his. He would have some wonderful memories, but the price would be far too high. No, it was better this way. For sure.

What would Barry have made of the idea? Stuart remembered the soft smile on Barry’s face, that day at Pembroke Grange, when he first heard Miranda’s voice. Barry always insisted that he had moved on, but it was clear that he still had a soft spot for Miranda. Stuart wondered whether Yvette realised.

And anyway, who on earth would want to kill Barry? Not Miranda. He was convinced of that. But if not her, then who? What

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