Read Online The Black Path by Paul Burston - Free Book Online Page B

them over to a corner banquet where they sit staring up at the video screens above the bar.
    ‘Send your texts to this number!’ the screens read, followed by an offer to ‘spice things up with a £5 curry special.’
    Helen watches as the text messages start to appear.
    ‘Holly and Carol out on the prowl,’ says one.
    ‘Kyle is the birthday boy tonight. Show him some love!’ says another.
    Someone goes past in a white T-shirt with a familiar green logo that should read ‘Paramedic’ but instead says ‘Paralytic’. Another boy’s T-shirt reads: ‘You Look Like I Need A Drink’.
    ‘Get him!’ says Angela. ‘He’s got a jaw you could dig roads with. Never mind a drink. What he needs is a plastic surgeon!’
    Helen laughs. She can’t remember the last time she felt so relaxed.
    A familiar song comes on – ‘I Gotta Feeling’ by The Black Eyed Peas. The crowd roars its approval and she grins and throws out her arms, swept up in the optimism of the lyrics. Then Angela and Kath are hauling her onto the dance floor and everyone is singing along, assuring her that tonight will be a good, good night.
    A blue light flashes outside the window. The first of the police riot vans has arrived.
    By the time the crowd at The Phoenix starts to thin out and Angela suggests that they move on to The Railway Inn, Helen has forgotten all about work and Owen, and everything seems hysterically funny.
    Angela’s text on the video screen above the bar is funny. ‘Kath and Ange on the lash,’ it reads. ‘Up for fun and looking lush!’
    The riot vans lined up outside are funny, but not as funny as the community drugs van parked outside the chip shop.
    ‘Quick, Kath!’ Angela says. ‘Go and ask if they’ve got any coke!’
    The glass crunching underfoot is also funny. ‘I feel like I’m walking on broken glass,’ Kath warbles. She turns and frowns. ‘Who sang that?’
    ‘You did,’ Angela replies, and they both fall about laughing.
    People lurch by, voices raised, faces looming into view. But Helen isn’t focussed on them. She’s being pulled along in the wake of Angela and Kath, like something floating out to sea. She pictures herself buoyed up over deep dark water and realises that she isn’t afraid.
    The Railway is heaving. Gangs of drunken rugby boys throw themselves around the dance floor. Helen watches as a group of middle-aged women circle the men like vultures, flapping their arms and making strange pecking motions with their necks in an approximation of dancing.
    ‘C’mon!’ says Angela. ‘Let’s show them how it’s done!’
    She grabs Helen’s hand and leads her onto the dance floor, bumping and grinding like a girl in an R&B video. At one point, she stumbles backwards and collides with one of the older women.
    ‘Sorry!’ Angela says, and pulls a face.
    Helen giggles.
    The woman scowls. ‘What are you laughing at?’
    But Helen isn’t paying attention. Someone else has caught Angela’s eye – a cute blond boy in a tight T-shirt. He has a broad smile and a tan, and one arm is supporting his friend, who can barely stand up and is swaying out of time with the music. Angela dances over towards them and boldly runs her fingers down the side of the blond boy’s face and onto his chest. He says something in her ear and pushes her hand away. She shrugs, yawns dramatically and dances her way back towards Helen.
    ‘Blondie said not tonight,’ Angela says. ‘His mate has just joined the army. It’s their last big night out together, apparently.’ She sees the look on Helen’s face and changes the subject. ‘C’mon, let’s go to the bar.’
    No sooner has Angela ordered a round than Kath groans. ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’
    ‘Perfect timing!’ Angela says. ‘Helen, stay and watch the drinks. I’ll take her outside for some fresh air. We won’t be long.’
    Helen nods, though she’s starting to feel a little nauseous herself. She leans against the bar and tries to focus.
    ‘Are