A Casual Temptation: Crime never pays.... or does it? by Stephen Barrett

Author:Stephen Barrett [Barrett, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-10T00:00:00+00:00

26

It must be 3 a.m. when the place finally closes and Carl boots out the last punters. Some of the staff get together for a quick drink as Carl pays the staff their day’s wage. It seems a normal thing in the pub business down here. Carl pours drinks and sets a beer in front of me on the bar. He takes some money from the till and hands it to me for my work. I decline and tell him to give it to Milly, my first day’s rent. They both laugh, but I notice Milly doesn’t hesitate long before pocketing the money.

It was 4 a.m. when we got to Milly’s flat. I’m too tired to notice much of the streets we walked, but we have a lively chat on the way, and after climbing what feels like a small Mount Everest to me, up five floors to her flat under the roof, she unlocks the door and shows me in.

There isn’t much in the way of furniture, and what’s there is old and mismatched. But I don’t care; I’m too knackered and I’m just grateful to have a roof over my head and hopefully a soft bed. The room Milly leads me into is big and the bed, which stands directly beneath a skylight, is queen-sized and irresistibly inviting. I head in that direction, bang my head on one of the prominent rafters and collapse on the bed. I hear Milly laughing by the door. She gives me some instructions, but I’m struggling to get out of the backpack and my jacket and off with my shoes before I hit the pillow and am gone.

I awake, still dressed in my jeans and shirt. I need a second to realise where I am and with a bolt of panic, I sit up searching for my backpack. The panic subsides as quickly as it rises; my backpack is lying next to the bed under the skylight. I lie back, the sun’s up and through the skylight, I can see it’s a fine morning. It’s bright outside. I rub my eyes to get them to focus and check the time. 11 a.m. Seven hours of sleep, then, that’s all. I groan and lie back, slowly coming back to life.

I take stock of my new home. The room is pleasant enough, albeit worn and old. The skylight provides the only source of daylight, but it’s big and the room is bathed in light. It’ll be unbearable in summer under the roof and with a skylight so large. Several posters are stuck to the sloping walls, some of groups I’ve never heard of and some old movie posters. There are plenty of photos, too, Blu-tacked to the sloped walls and to the knee wall, which runs the length of the room where the roof slopes down to the eaves. Photos of smiling young people on beaches, climbing mountains or on ski slopes. On the wall next to the bed is an assortment of photos showing a brunette, arm in arm, with an athletic-looking surfer type.

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