Read Online Outside Chance by Lyndon Stacey - Free Book Online Page B

its way for Ben. ‘All right, go! Go on. Go – go!’
    Finding himself abruptly unsupported, Ben staggered slightly, tripped over the table leg, and would have fallen if he hadn’t managed to catch hold of a neighbouring table at the critical moment.
    â€˜You all right, mate?’ Someone had arrived to help, slipping his hand under Ben’s arm to steady him. ‘I should sit down for a minute, if I were you.’
    Ben thought that was an excellent idea, and did so.
    â€˜You all right?’ the man repeated.
    Ben nodded. Broadly speaking, he was. He’d have a few bruises and his throat felt sore but it could have been a lot worse. If his escape bid had failed and Mal had discovered that the wallet containing his money and credit cards wasn’t in his back pocket, after all, but in the inside pocket of his jacket, he might well have been in real trouble.
    Rubbing his bruised back, he straightened up and found that several more people had emerged from the pub and a small crowd had gathered, one of whom was the young lad he’d rescued.
    â€˜That was pretty impressive,’ someone said approvingly, and there was a general murmur of agreement. ‘For once those Jones boys didn’t get it all their own way.’
    Ben shook his head. ‘I don’t think I’d have had much chance if you lot hadn’t appeared,’ he said, his voice husky. ‘But you know them, do you?’
    â€˜Yeah. Three of them are brothers: Mal, Kevin and Leroy Jones. I don’t know the skinny one but they’re always together, and always causing trouble. They get away with it most of the time, too, ’cos no one wants to report it. Things happen to people that get on the wrong side of that lot, if you know what I mean.’
    â€˜That’s Billy Larkin,’ someone called out. ‘The skinny one with the spots. He lives down our road.’
    â€˜Well,
I’ll
damn well report it!’ Ben said without hesitation.
    A couple of people cheered and someone said, ‘Good on yer!’
    The man who’d spoken first carried a dishcloth over his shoulder and Ben assumed he was the barman or pub landlord. His next words confirmed this.
    â€˜Come on in and I’ll get you a drink. On the house, of course. You can phone the police from there.’
    Ben fell in readily with this plan and, waving away offers of help, rose to his feet, a little shakily, to join the general movement back into the pub.
    â€˜Um, I just wanted to say thanks.’
    Ben turned and found by his side the young lad with the ALSA leaflets, still clutching both those and the collecting box. Incredibly, he’d almost forgotten the boy whose plight had been the start of it all.
    â€˜
I
should thank
you
for fetching help,’ he said. ‘Are you OK?’
    â€˜A bit shaky,’ the lad admitted.
    â€˜That makes two of us. But how come you were out here on your own? Where are the others?’
    â€˜We’re here.’ A voice spoke up from behind Ben as he ducked to enter the low doorway. ‘We only popped in for a minute . . . It was just unfortunate . . .’
    The speaker was one of two hippyish individuals; the sort that make protesting a way of life, whether it be
against
road building or
for
the rights of obscure minorities. Ben thought one was probably male and the other female, but he couldn’t be sure. He favoured them both with a withering look. ‘Yeah. It was
very
unfortunate.’
    Inside the pub a seat was found for him, and coffee and a cordless phone were produced. Benavailed himself of all three, suggesting to the police that if they cared to come out to the pub they might find any number of witnesses to the Jones brothers’ latest offence, and, after some hesitation, they agreed. It appeared that some of these potential witnesses had had their ears carefully tuned in to his conversation because within a few moments of the end of the