Read Online The Book of the Crowman by Joseph D'Lacey - Free Book Online Page A

Gordon’s stomach tighten. Even so, something made him want to tell them. Something like instinct. He needed any assistance he could get but he usually saved this part of the inevitable conversation for Green Men only. As Cooky had shown him and as he’d done on hundreds of occasions since, Gordon stroked the outside of his eye three times. If Denise noticed it, she gave no inkling. He made the gesture again but she still didn’t respond.
    “I’ll take any help I can get,” he said in the end.
    “Who is it? Family? An old flame?”
    Gordon blushed. Could she sense there was no flame, that there never had been? Was that mockery in her tone?
    “Sorry,” said Denise. “It’s not meant to be an interrogation.”
    “No, it’s fine. I’m just not used to talking about it. People are… you know how people can be. I’ve been on the road three years now. Folks you can trust are in the minority.”
    “The world was like that before all this,” said Denise.
    “I know. But it matters more now. Things are tough for everyone. If we worked together, helped each other out just a little, things would be better for everyone. Seems even crazier to be selfish now.”
    “People are too busy staying alive to help each other out.”
    “If that’s true, Denise, no one’s going to make it through the dark times and out into the light.”
    Denise looked over at her daughter, colouring by candlelight from her imagination and memory. If Flora had heard what they were saying it seemed not to have made any impression on her. When Denise looked back at Gordon, however, the earlier flash of warning had become a threat.
    He inclined his head a fraction to show he understood.
    “So,” she said, making an effort to get the conversation back onto safe ground. “Who is this someone you’re tracking down? Maybe I can ask around.”
    Gordon prepared himself for the swift descent through the hatch and back down the stairs to the street, one hand already reaching for his rucksack, his eyes roving to make sure he hadn’t left anything lying around. Everything was secure and stowed. He took a last look at the young mother and her little girl, a last look before their feelings towards him changed.
    “I’m looking for the Crowman.”
    Flora stopped colouring and looked not at Gordon but at her mother. Something must have passed between them but he was unable to read it.
    “Mummy says the Crowman’s not real. But I’ve seen him.”
    Flora transformed from a kid doing some colouring into a small adult with a mission. Gordon glanced at Denise, ready for her to go into meltdown over this new topic. He gripped the straps of his rucksack, preparing to dart out if she reached for the shotgun. She didn’t move. Nor did she attempt to stop Gordon or Flora from discussing this particular taboo. All the power of motherhood had drained from her. Gordon took the opportunity to probe for more.
    “I’ve never seen him,” he said. “But he’s real. I know he is.”
    I’m seconds from being kicked through that trapdoor. But she knows something. She definitely knows something.
    “I know he is too,” said Flora. “He visits me in my dreams and sometimes he lands on the roof or down in the street so I can see him.”
    “What does he look like, Flora?”
    “He’s an angel. A black angel.”
    Not looking at Denise for permission because it would waste precious moments, Gordon pressed on.
    “Could you… draw him for me?”
    Flora dug into her cloth bag and withdrew a sheaf of papers, scrolled and secured with a rubber band.
    “I draw him all the time,” she said, handing Gordon the scroll.
    With great care he removed the elastic band and opened out the curls of paper. Silence expanded once more in the attic. Denise was tight-lipped but made no move to stop the exchange. Flora’s face was anxious.
    “It’s his face I have trouble with. It changes. Sometimes he’s an old man and sometimes he’s a little boy. Sometimes he just looks exactly