When Beggars Dye by Peter Hey

Author:Peter Hey [Hey, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Unknown
Published: 2018-03-11T00:00:00+00:00

Jane thanked the landlord and made her way towards the pub door. As she swung it open, she saw a white van parked outside. It was the one that had been there when she arrived, but it was now facing the other way and its hot engine was still ticking. The driver had just climbed out and had his back to her as he slammed the door with unnecessary force. He was a large, powerfully built man with long black hair, streaked with grey. Jane knew him immediately: it was the man she’d seen outside the churchyard, the man she’d felt had been watching her.

Jane froze briefly and then all reason, all control, abandoned her. She was consumed by one thought. A blind wildness entered her eyes.

She darted towards the man.

From behind the bar, the landlord saw what was happening and shouted after her. It was too late. She could hear nothing but a name, a childish term of endearment, screaming in her head.

Jane crossed the pub forecourt in under a second. She reached up and yanked sharply on the man’s shoulder. He spun round instantly as if forever on his guard. His raised fists were clenched and his back was arched like a boxer poised to lash out.

Seeing Jane, he checked himself but didn’t lower his hands. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?’ he spat.

The madness on Jane’s face receded almost immediately. ‘I’m sorry, really sorry. I thought you… I thought you were someone else.’

‘If you were a bloke you’d be on that floor with no fucking teeth by now. No-one lays their hands on me. No-one. And who? Who did you think I fucking was?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ mumbled Jane.

‘I said, “Who did you think I fucking was?”’

‘I thought… I thought you were my da… my father.’ Jane struggled to hold back tears.

The man dropped his arms to his side and the aggression in his tone began to soften. ‘I’m not your father,’ he said.

Jane’s own voice became lifeless and empty. ‘I know. I haven’t seen him since I was a really small girl, but I know you’re not him. I just remember how big he was. His hair. Like yours. But, no, you can’t be him. I’m sorry.’

What was left of the man’s anger seemed to quell. ‘You’re the bird with the green sports car. I saw you in front of the church a few days back.’

‘Yes, I remember.’

‘As it happens, you reminded me of my own girl. She was tall like you, same colouring, same build. Until that slimeball drug dealer got his paws on her. She was like a fucking skeleton last time she came to visit me.’ His expression became distant and regretful. ‘And now she is a fucking skeleton, six feet under. I should have been around to look after her, but I wasn’t. Shame on me. That drug dealer won’t be poisoning anyone else’s daughter, but it’s too late. Too late for me, too late for her.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Jane repeated for the third or fourth time.

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