Read Online The Dead Beat by Doug Johnstone - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Doug Johnstone
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time do you finish at the paper tomorrow?’
‘Eight.’
‘Where’s the office?’
‘North Bridge.’
She nodded. ‘Why don’t you pop in here afterwards? I’m on from seven.’
‘Cool.’
They both had stupid grins on their faces.
‘See you tomorrow,’ he said.
She moved closer and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Yeah, see you tomorrow.’
He waved as he left the pub and she waved back, then she felt a tap on her shoulder.
It was Kurt. ‘Excuse me, have you got any Benylin?’
She stared at him. Cute, but not as cute as Ian. ‘No, sorry.’
He shrugged and scuffed away to ask the next table.
One to tell the grandkids.
19
Martha stood in the doorway of the kitchen looking at her mother’s back. Elaine was at the sink staring out the window. Outside was fresh and clear, sunlight slicing through the wires radiating from the telephone pole behind the shed.
Martha needed coffee and toast. She’d woken in Cal’s bed but he was gone. Cal was always gone, he would be at the gym or the pool or out for a run.
She was still in yesterday’s clothes. Mistake. She didn’t have many work clothes, so these would have to go in the wash straight away, ready for tomorrow. She slid out of the skirt and unbuttoned the blouse, walked into the kitchen and threw them in the laundry basket.
Elaine jumped when she realised Martha was there.
‘Put some clothes on, will you? This isn’t Spearmint Rhino.’
Something about standing there in her bra and pants felt defiant. Martha didn’t like her body but she didn’t want Elaine to know, wanted to show her mum what her daughter had become.
She poured some coffee. Radio 4 was on, Woman’s Hour . Martha hated Radio 4, especially Woman’s Hour . All those posh voices telling her what to think, reassuring her she was a worthy human being. Bullshit.
‘Elaine, when was the last time you listened to music?’
‘Don’t call me that, I’m your mum.’
‘Well?’
Elaine sighed. ‘I have no idea.’
‘What was it like before?’
‘Before what?’
‘Me and Cal.’
‘Blissfully quiet.’
‘Seriously.’
‘Seriously.’
Martha took a sip, scalded her lips, too hot.
‘Did you and Ian ever go to gigs?’
‘Where’s all this coming from, Martha?’
Martha scratched her arse.
‘You never talk about the past,’ she said.
‘What is there to talk about?’
‘The past.’ Martha did the voice of a spoilt teen. ‘Obviously.’
She didn’t know why she was digging away at this now.
Something in Elaine had closed down over the years. Martha knew it, Cal knew it, everyone knew it. All this stuff, the old music in Ian’s flat, everything that had happened with Gordon, meeting Billy, it suddenly made Martha want to open lines of communication again. They didn’t talk much, her and Elaine. They had never talked much that Martha could remember. It was as if Elaine had tried to become invisible, to blend into the background. She’d succeeded. Martha wanted to pull her into focus somehow.
‘You haven’t asked me about my first day in the office,’ she said.
This was poking at a scab. Elaine hadn’t wanted her to do it, didn’t want her to be in contact with Ian. Martha could understand, Elaine thought she was being replaced as the parental role model. Truth was, neither of them had been that over the years. Martha felt like she and Cal had raised themselves. Cal disagreed, as always. And anyway, Ian was dead now, so no chance of contact unless she got a ouija board out.
Elaine began sorting through the dirty clothes in the laundry basket. ‘How was your first day in the office then, dear?’
It was kind of a joke but not. That was Elaine’s way of dealing with conflict. What had happened to her, that she was unable to tackle the world head on, without sarcasm or jokes or cynicism?
‘Fine,’ Martha said. She thought about not mentioning it but she wanted to get a reaction, something meaningful. ‘Except a guy tried to kill himself while on
‘Eight.’
‘Where’s the office?’
‘North Bridge.’
She nodded. ‘Why don’t you pop in here afterwards? I’m on from seven.’
‘Cool.’
They both had stupid grins on their faces.
‘See you tomorrow,’ he said.
She moved closer and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Yeah, see you tomorrow.’
He waved as he left the pub and she waved back, then she felt a tap on her shoulder.
It was Kurt. ‘Excuse me, have you got any Benylin?’
She stared at him. Cute, but not as cute as Ian. ‘No, sorry.’
He shrugged and scuffed away to ask the next table.
One to tell the grandkids.
19
Martha stood in the doorway of the kitchen looking at her mother’s back. Elaine was at the sink staring out the window. Outside was fresh and clear, sunlight slicing through the wires radiating from the telephone pole behind the shed.
Martha needed coffee and toast. She’d woken in Cal’s bed but he was gone. Cal was always gone, he would be at the gym or the pool or out for a run.
She was still in yesterday’s clothes. Mistake. She didn’t have many work clothes, so these would have to go in the wash straight away, ready for tomorrow. She slid out of the skirt and unbuttoned the blouse, walked into the kitchen and threw them in the laundry basket.
Elaine jumped when she realised Martha was there.
‘Put some clothes on, will you? This isn’t Spearmint Rhino.’
Something about standing there in her bra and pants felt defiant. Martha didn’t like her body but she didn’t want Elaine to know, wanted to show her mum what her daughter had become.
She poured some coffee. Radio 4 was on, Woman’s Hour . Martha hated Radio 4, especially Woman’s Hour . All those posh voices telling her what to think, reassuring her she was a worthy human being. Bullshit.
‘Elaine, when was the last time you listened to music?’
‘Don’t call me that, I’m your mum.’
‘Well?’
Elaine sighed. ‘I have no idea.’
‘What was it like before?’
‘Before what?’
‘Me and Cal.’
‘Blissfully quiet.’
‘Seriously.’
‘Seriously.’
Martha took a sip, scalded her lips, too hot.
‘Did you and Ian ever go to gigs?’
‘Where’s all this coming from, Martha?’
Martha scratched her arse.
‘You never talk about the past,’ she said.
‘What is there to talk about?’
‘The past.’ Martha did the voice of a spoilt teen. ‘Obviously.’
She didn’t know why she was digging away at this now.
Something in Elaine had closed down over the years. Martha knew it, Cal knew it, everyone knew it. All this stuff, the old music in Ian’s flat, everything that had happened with Gordon, meeting Billy, it suddenly made Martha want to open lines of communication again. They didn’t talk much, her and Elaine. They had never talked much that Martha could remember. It was as if Elaine had tried to become invisible, to blend into the background. She’d succeeded. Martha wanted to pull her into focus somehow.
‘You haven’t asked me about my first day in the office,’ she said.
This was poking at a scab. Elaine hadn’t wanted her to do it, didn’t want her to be in contact with Ian. Martha could understand, Elaine thought she was being replaced as the parental role model. Truth was, neither of them had been that over the years. Martha felt like she and Cal had raised themselves. Cal disagreed, as always. And anyway, Ian was dead now, so no chance of contact unless she got a ouija board out.
Elaine began sorting through the dirty clothes in the laundry basket. ‘How was your first day in the office then, dear?’
It was kind of a joke but not. That was Elaine’s way of dealing with conflict. What had happened to her, that she was unable to tackle the world head on, without sarcasm or jokes or cynicism?
‘Fine,’ Martha said. She thought about not mentioning it but she wanted to get a reaction, something meaningful. ‘Except a guy tried to kill himself while on
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