Papercuts #8: Dog Day Mid-Afternoon by Colin Bateman

Author:Colin Bateman [Bateman, Colin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781784973773
Publisher: Head of Zeus Ltd.

She stood hesitantly and began to move slowly down the stairs, leaning on a chipped wooden bannister for support. As she reached the bottom and Patrick pulled her into the body of the shop she let out a little yelp. Patrick moved the gun from covering Rob to resting it against her neck.

‘What’ve you been doing up there, who’ve you been talking to...?’

‘Nothing! No one!’

‘Where’s your phone?’

‘My bag was down here!’ She pointed behind the counter. ‘Look, it’s in there...’

There was a brown leather handbag resting behind a stool. Patrick looked at it and shook his head. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Lisa...’

‘Well, listen, Lisa, you sit the fuck down there...’ and he indicated the wall opposite, beneath one of the windows, ‘and if you move a muscle I’ll fucking shoot you. Because that’s what it’s come to. Did you see what happened? Did you see the cops shoot your dad?’

‘He’s not my... and no, I was upstairs, I just heard a shot and—’

‘Well, it wasn’t me.’ He swung round, pointing the gun at Rob once again. ‘But this stuck-up shit doesn’t want to put that in his precious paper.’

‘I’m just trying to—’

‘Well, tell you what – if you won’t do it for your own life, how about you do it for this wee doll’s? For sweet little Lisa here?’ The gun ranged back. ‘Eh, how’s about that, then?’

He said it like Jimmy Savile said it.

Abject fear from Lisa, her eyes huge and wet.

‘Patrick, there’s no need to—’

‘There’s every fucking need! Now, write what I told you to write!’

Rob nodded slowly. ‘I’ll write it. Okay. But just listen to me. I know what I’m talking about, I know what will fly and what won’t, that’s what I’ve told you again and again. If we just make it about you blaming the police, then it won’t get printed, not in a million years. But if we make it about you, what drove you to this...’

‘Nothing drove—’

‘Are you married?’

‘What the fuck...’

‘Kids? Do you have kids?’

‘Yes! Three!’

‘Then that’s what we use, you did this for them. You were driven to it. Patrick, come on, you’re not stupid, they’re going to throw the book at you for this. But at least we can make your case. Maybe you’re Robin Hood, robbing from the rich to give to the poor...’

‘I am the fucking poor!’

‘Well, there you go! Desperate times call for desperate measures...’

Patrick tapped the barrel of the gun against his cheek. He shook his head. He sighed. ‘Fuck sake,’ he said, ‘it shouldn’t have come to this.’

‘You can still walk out. I’ll walk out with you.’

‘No, not now, not till I have my say.’

‘Then, have it. Your words, mate, but I write them in a way that people really understand what happened. Then we can all walk out of this.’

Patrick snorted. ‘You know something?’ Rob shook his head. ‘Stamps are really fucking expensive. That’s what this is about.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I was applying for jobs, needed some stamps, I was like 5p short and that oul’ fucker wouldn’t let me off with it.

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