A Season For Everything, Matthew Fairman [the best books to read TXT] 📗

Everything on the table jumped. The glass tumbled sideways sending a flood of spilt beer fanning across the table and cascading over the edges.

'Shit, shit, shit'. Beaton stood up and and wiped at his beer soaked trousers with his bare hands. The dog continued to root around under the table between his legs. A large wagging tale visible standing up at the end of the table.

'Kaiser, get. Get out a there, get. Go on, off with you!'

The barman rushed at the table and heaved the great beast out by its collar. He gave the animal a swift kick and set about mopping up the mess. The dog ran behind the bar and through the adjoining door. The two men on the next table who had been watching this all taking place, began to laugh loudly.

'He's got a nose on him thats for sure' said the younger man.‘A right nose for trouble, hey mike you should have got a smaller dog or a bigger pub.’ They continued to laugh whilst the barman’s face blackened with suppressed rage beneath his knitted brows. He continued to soak up the beer with sodden balls of blue paper towel. Beaton standing in the corner silently like a scolded child, still holding the almost empty pint glass.

‘Why don't the two of you’s get the fuck home, that’ll make plenty more room in here, or maybe you fancy a kick up the arse too'. The two men laughed again and went back to talking amongst themselves. 'I'll get you another drink, I'm sorry about your trousers. That Kaiser's got a keen sense of smell and is stubborn as an ox to boot. If you go into the gents you'll find a hand dryer to dry off with, here take some of these.’ The barman handed Beaton a wad of paper towel.

'Thanks, It's fine. Honest, could I think I just have a glass of water instead.'

‘Right O, suit yerself, water it is.' Beaton could sense that the barman had already had quite enough of his new customer.

The toilets were cold and rank, the white tiles cracked and yellowing. The blue cakes that littered the metal urinal trough could not hide the overwhelming smell of piss. There was a single cubicle at the far end of the room with a single tiny sash window. Next to the sink was a hand dryer. He placed his hands beneath the chrome funnel and waited for the warm air to start. He lifted one leg up to get closer to the warmth, lifting the wet canvas away from his skin with one hand. The machine wasn't very powerful.

'This might take some time.'

Beaton noticed a condom machine next to the hand dryer. As he was reading the options available, one of the men from the table next to him walked in and started to piss loudly into the urinal.

'Feeling lucky, eh fella.’ Beaton had always hated idle chit chat and Idle chit chat was even worse when people tried to conduct it in public toilets.

'No, not lucky at all actually.'

'Never mind, never mind, your not the first person to have lost there drink to that stupid old dog, damn things a pest. If it wasn't for her fawning over the damn thing like a child, I'm sure Mike would have got rid of it years ago. That old heap of bones is bad for business. The dog I mean.’ The man winked and grinned. Beaton switched legs beneath the dryer and gave the other one a go.

'So that dog belongs to Mikes wife then?'

'Well it belonged to the boy, Jonathan was his name. He loved that dog. They were best of buddies. Ahh, sad, real sad it was.' The man had stopped pissing and after buttoning himself away, stood swaying in front of the sink. 'Just a little boy when he died, no parent should lose a child. It's unnatural is what it is.’The man staggered out of the toilets leaving Beaton stood on one leg holding his knee in the air. The sound of the hand dryer humming loudly.

Beaton went back to his chair. There was a glass of water with lemon waiting for him. The barman had gone. The men talked amongst themselves as before. The old man still read his newspaper, the couple remained coupled. Still standing he sipped at his water and pocketed the unopened bag of peanuts. He made his way to the door quickly and out into the street. The air felt cold on the damp patches around his crotch, the snow was still falling.

 

‘So it is Jonathan’s dog. The family hasn’t moved after all these years. All these years and still here, why were they still here, strange to meet again after all this time.’ It was a long walk home but he had his memories to keep him company.

 

Wednesday 21st

 

Beaton awoke in the cold grey dawn with an aching in his belly. He had not set his alarm clock again but he knew that it was still early. He fixed himself a plate of eggs and washed it down with several cups of coffee. He went to the phone by the kitchen door, picked it up and dialled. The last phone call had been yesterday. It was his office number. He returned the receiver to the cradle and walked over to the kitchen sink. Outside it was snowing still, it had settled about and inch or so. He took a pencil from a cup on the window sill and sat back down at the kitchen table. On a scrap of paper he began to write out a list. Out in the hallway, by the coat stand, was a low wooden coal scuttle with brass fittings that was now used for storing shoes. Opening up the wooden door at the front, Beaton reached in a pulled out an old blue canvas rucksack with leather straps. He untied the string around its neck and emptied its contents back into the metal drawer inside the wooden box. The bag had been filled with old tins of shoe polish, shammy leathers and brushes. Back in the kitchen he found some cans of soup and a tin of sardines and put them in the bag. In a draw by the cooker he found a box of safety matches and a flashlight. He switched it on. Nothing happened. Unscrewing the cap at the base of the handle, he removed the large cylindrical batteries, a green and white crust had oozed from the contact points and dried there. He threw the batteries to the back of the drawer and added torch to the contents of the bag. He opened the cutlery draw and removed a sharp knife and a tin opener.

From the window sill he took a small pad of paper and a pen. He went upstairs to his bedroom and started to rummage around at the back of the cupboard. He pulled out an old brown woollen blanket, the sort of thing that looked as if it was only good now for lining the boot of a car. He spread it out onto the bed and dumped the contents of the bag on top of it. Taking the four corners of the blanket he gathered together the miscellany of objects in a tight bundle and forced it back into the canvas bag. He put on thick woollen socks and squeezed his feet into a pair of stout leather hiking boots. He dusted of an old pair of his fathers pigskin driving gloves and put them into the pocket of his duffle coat. In the other pocket he found his navy blue knitted hat. He pulled it down over his ears, checked that he had his wallet on him and swung the bag over his shoulder. He stood like this for a few minutes in the centre of the room, thinking. Back downstairs in the kitchen he made a thermos of coffee and put it in the bag with the rest of his things. After checking over in his mind that there was nothing that he might had forgotten he closed the front door behind him. The latch clicked into place with the assured spring loaded sound of mechanical finality. It was this sound that reminded him that he had forgotten to take his keys from the nightstand table. He patted himself down hopefully but he knew already that they were still sitting in the dish upstairs where he had left them last night.

'Oh well' He thought. 'I will have to work that one out later.'

He was glad to be away from the house again, he couldn't help feeling unwelcome there during the daytime. He took the bus into town and rode it all the way to the main station. He had forgotten that it would be christmas day in only a weeks time and he was surprised how busy the high street was for a weekday morning.

It was the second time that she had seem him in as many days and both times purely by chance and in two very different locations. She had first encountered him on the previous afternoon whilst walking Kaiser in the quarry. The man was lying on his back looking up at the falling rain and he appeared to be laughing. It was the very same spot where they had found Jonathan lying. On his back on the cold cold ground, his face wet with the rain. The second time she saw him, he was walking down the high street carrying a rucksack. He moved through the crowd with purpose, he looked as if he was deep in thought.

'Strange that I should see him twice now when I had never seen him at all before. As well, to see him lying in that exact same spot.' She decided to follow him, she realised it was a strange thing to do but she decided that it couldn't hurt to follow him for a short distance at least. It was the memory of Jonathan lying still on the quarry floor that spurned her on to do it. No one would know, the streets were busy with christmas shoppers. The man weaved his way through the throng. It was not so easy to keep up with him. It was snowing and the umbrellas made it difficult at times to keep a clear view of where he was. A navy blue wooly hat bobbing in and out from view. She saw the man turn and enter a hardware store so she followed him in. The shop was not very busy at all. She saw him talking to a man behind the counter who pointed to the back of the store. The man moved off in that direction. She started to feel a little uncomfortable now that she was away from the crowds on the high street

'Can I help you madame?' She stumbled over the words in her mouth.

'Err, no, ah… not really. Just browsing, just having a look around.' As soon as she had said it she realised how ridiculous it sounded. She hurried on past the clerk down one of the aisles 'Just browsing, you idiot. Good job your not a detective.’

The shop smelt of freshly cut pine. The aisle was filled with boxes of screws and nails. Great spools of fencing chain. One wall contained a variety of door handles in various styles. She picked up a box of drill bits and pretended to read the packaging. The man was just around the corner at the end of the aisle. He was choosing some batteries from a rack. In his other hand he carried a large roll of blue rope.

The rope, that blue rope.' she thought 'Its the same blue rope, the same rope he used.’

Emma backed away and walked to the front of the store. She went to go out through the door and into the street when an alarm went off. She looked down and saw the drill bits still in her hand. She