Shadow of the Castle by Matthew Macleod

Author:Matthew Macleod [Macleod, Matthew]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: PublishNation
Published: 2016-12-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Grant had left for the pub with plenty of time in hand and was ambling down Pilton Drive with his hands in his pocket. Depending on which side of the street you were on or which postcode you happened to have the house prices around here could fluctuate wildly. It used to be that no one ever chose to live down here but that was changing. All the new builds springing up were appealing to the young professionals and slowly changing the face and reputation of the area. It still retained aspects of its character from before while developing a glossy facade – that was the way he saw it anyway.

Somehow he'd got to thinking about Rab and how much disaster seemed to follow along in his wake. No matter how many promises of good behaviour were made or threats issued by Grant, both veiled and blatant, there always seemed to be some form of carnage occurring whenever he was around. It had gotten to such an extent that anytime there was a reasonable length of time passing without incident, Grant could feel himself become more and more anxious as the weight of the inevitable unknown that would shatter the peace built. It was like the sun rising in the morning: – no matter how much you thought it just might not happen this time it always turned out the same way and you felt you had no right whatsoever to even be surprised. There was the time he'd gotten too bevvied and thrown his pint in the face of a local hard case with head tattoos and a bad attitude. Or the time he'd gotten too stoned before a gig and threatened the security when they wouldn't let him in because he was blatantly mangled. The time he'd taken too much acid and just wanted to sit in the hall cupboard with the door open for a couple of hours. And these were just the ones that the two of them could recall with at least a hint of amusement. Grant stood by the one mantra he felt like he had repeated over and over so many times that it should have lost its meaning by now but he somehow had to keep making himself believe it – He's not a bad guy really.

The Fluke was at the foot of Pilton Drive (technically on Granton Road) and its normal clientele consisted of locals of all ages and professions. Come five o clock there were painters finished for the day, plasterers stopping in for “one” on the way home and all others in-between. During the daytime, the older generation held court, watching the horse racing and nipping back and forward from the bookies in between races to put money on or collect winnings. They played “pitchy” against the bar while the barmaid pretended not to notice. There was a swathe of guys that Grant had gone to school with that drank in there on the regular so he was always guaranteed a bit of chat and a game or two of pool.

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