Thorn In My Side (8 page)

Looking up as
the train pulled into York, he heaved a sigh of relief.
Good,
not long for home now.
He patted Tiny, whose behaviour had been
brilliant. Obligingly, the big dog had let anyone who cared to pat
him, and revelled in it.

The yellow
T-shirt family got off the train, the two smallest having fallen
asleep as they were closing in on Peterborough.
Thank God,
Mike had thought, as he’d watched their lids start to droop. Their
chattering had begun to get on his nerves.

Out of habit he
scanned the train again, his eyes flitting back to a passenger who
had held the newspaper up to his or her face for the whole journey.
Mike frowned as the train pulled away.

His curiosity
piquing as they neared Darlington, Mike got up and headed for the
toilet, his feet poised and his left hand clenched just in case an
undesirable hid behind the print. He managed as he came next to the
seat to take a look over the top of the newspaper.

'I knew it.' He
yanked the paper out of Smiler’s hands. 'What the hell do you think
you’re playing at?'

Smiler grinned
at him. 'Time for a change?'

Hiding his
pleasure at seeing him, Mike pointed back to his seat. 'Get over
there.'

Smiler did as
Mike told him. Grabbing his newspaper, and the remains of the can
of Diet Coke that he’d nursed for the whole journey, he moved to
Mike’s table. Hesitant at first when he saw the huge dog looking up
at him, gently he patted the dog’s head as he eased into the seat.
Tiny rested his head on the seat next to Smiler and watched
him.

'Shift,' Mike
said when he came back. 'I can’t bear to travel backwards. Bad for
the sinuses.'

'Er, who told
you that?'

'Move it.'

'OK, OK.'
Smiler hastily changed seats. 'Is, er... is he all right?' He
jerked his head in the direction of Tiny, who had turned round and,
still watching Smiler out of one eye, was resting his head on the
other seat.

When Smiler was
settled, Mike said, ' Actually, he’ll have your hand off as soon as
look at you. So don’t give him an excuse.' Smiler recoiled, and the
look on his face made Mike laugh.

'Just kidding,
he’s a great chap. Say hello to Tiny.'

'Tiny!!!'
At the sound of his name, Tiny wagged his tail and
snaked his tongue out to lick Smiler’s hand. 'You never said you
had a dog.''Never said I didn’t… Anyhow, it’s a long story. OK, so
what do you have to say for yourself?'

For a moment
Smiler just looked into Mike’s eyes, then he blurted quickly,
'First off, Mike, I’m sorry.' Smiler nodded. 'I didn’t think things
through before I blew. I should never have…' His voice trailed off
as he sighed.

'So you came
all the way up here to say that?'

When Smiler
didn’t answer, Mike went on, 'Well, for what it's worth, so am I.'
He touched the back of Smiler’s hand, the only contact Smiler would
allow from anyone. A nod and the hint of a smile let Mike know that
they were friends again.

'I’m not going
to take the huff again, Mike, honest, I know you can’t help but say
whatever’s on your mind like you always do.' Smiler shrugged.
'You’re a good man Mike. I just wish… I wish I’d met you a few
years ago.'

Mike swallowed
the lump in his throat, knowing how hard it was for Smiler to talk
about personal stuff, even though he could ramble on forever about
anything else.

'I only did
what anyone el----'

Smiler
stretched his hand across the table, his fingertips just touching
Mike’s hand. Interrupting him he said, 'No, Mike, if you hadn’t
helped me I would be worm food by now.'

Mike sighed. He
believed that everyone deserved a fair chance in this life. The
trouble was, countless thousands, perhaps millions, never got it.
'All right, let's just let it drop now, eh, kid, and agree to
disagree on the mumbo jumbo stuff. '

Smiler nodded,
sighed his relief. 'Yeah, OK… By the way, I had a dream.'

'Oh, bloody
hell.' Mike tutted, looked at the ceiling, then back at Smiler.
'Not the voices again.'

'No, listen,
Mike. You’re heading into danger, real, real danger, they told me.
It was black, all black, hard to see at first. There’s water
though, I know that much… A lot of water!'

Mike frowned at
him. 'Well, it would be wouldn’t it?'

'Sorry?’

'Hard to bloody
well see, if it was all black! How many times have I told you, all
this crap is just your imagination working overtime… That and the
shit still rattling around in your brain… You should write flaming
fiction. Look.' He opened his newspaper and pointed at the woman in
red. 'She’s all over the friggin’ place. You couldn’t help but see
her… And the only water in Durham is the bloody River Wear, and I
can’t remember a time when it’s burst its banks.'

Smiler looked
at the advert and shrugged. He’d seen the poster all over the place
this morning and had made the connection, thinking that the poster
must have been easy to spot from the place where Mike had been in
danger. It proved a point to him, but he knew Mike would see it
differently.

Looking Mike in
the eye, he went on adamantly, 'Pretty soon you will be involved
with something way too dangerous. And it won’t be in Durham… Oh,
and the Wear did burst its banks, one night in November 1967. That
was before you were born, though. It’s all on record.'

'Well, I needed
to know that.' Mike gritted his teeth. Sometimes he felt like
strangling the kid. 'And in case you hadn’t noticed, danger comes
with the flaming job, Smiler, or haven’t you realised yet I’m a
fucking copper? Danger’s the name of the game. It says so on the
contract.'

Smiler’s lip
twitched, then he said, 'Duh… Of course I know that, but I couldn’t
let you go into this frightening business without knowing the
danger.'

'Knowing what,
for God’s sake?' Mike demanded, going on without giving Smiler a
chance to answer. 'You see, that’s half the problem, you never seem
to know what, do you? And guess bloody what else, Smiler, there’s
danger everywhere. You’re in danger crossing the bloody roads,
man.'

Smiler sat back
and frowned. 'You saved my life Mike. In some cultures, that makes
you responsible for it.'

'Yeah, does it
now?

Smiler nodded
solemnly.

'OK, let’s just
make sure you don’t let me down and turn into an axe murderer or
worse, ‘cos I’ll have you.'

He was rewarded
with a half-smile, before going on, 'And if it’s my life that’s in
danger, kid, how the hell does that involve you and the half-dozen
passengers you carry around in your head?'

'Cos I’ll be
with you.'

'No you won’t,
sunshine, trust me. You’re on the next train back to London.'

Smiler crossed
his arms. 'No way, mate. Too hairy down there now.'

'What do you
mean?'

'You should
know, Mike, there’s some new shit just hit the streets.' Smiler
looked at him in earnest, pleased that he had something concrete to
tell him. 'Oh yeah, and it’s coming from the north.'

This tied in
with what Mike was working on. Frowning, he asked, 'So what do you
know about this new gear?'

Briefly Smiler
told Mike about his encounter with Snakes and the yellow tablets.
'And that’s all really, I er… I threw it at him and ran like hell.'
Smiler put his head down, ashamed to admit that he’d run.

'No, no,
Smiler. Trust me, you did the right thing.'

'No I didn’t. I
should have found out more.'

'You’re too
vulnerable at the moment, mate, to take risks like that. You really
did do the right thing… I’m proud of you.'

Smiler lifted
his head, his eyes shining. His words full of awe, he said,
'Honest, you really mean it? You’re proud of me?'

Nodding, Mike
said, 'I am, kid. It took some guts to walk away.'They both became
quiet as the train pulled into Durham and they were greeted with
the magnificent sight of the castle and the cathedral.

'Wow,' Smiler
said.

'Yeah, always
gets me like that. You should see it on a night when it’s lit up,
from here the view is fantastic… I know I’m home when I see
it.'

Spotting the
trolley attendant making her way up the aisle, Mike asked, 'Want a
fresh can?'

'Oh, yes
please.' Smiler nodded vigorously.

'Crisps, choc
bar?'

He nodded
again.

A minute later,
fresh can of pop in hand, and after a long thirsty swallow, he
said. 'Did you know that the castle was begun in 1072 as a defence
mound by William the Conqueror? Then various bishops over the years
added to it. The cathedral was begun in 1093, took around forty
years to build, and really was built as a shrine to St Cuthbert.
It’s also the best preserved Norman building, probably in the whole
world.'

Mike continued
to stare at the castle and cathedral as they pulled away.
What
the hell can I say to that?

Plus Mike
wasn’t always sure if Smiler was spouting the facts to him, or
trying to educate the passengers in his head. It was eerie the way
Smiler spoke when he recounted anything he’d read.

The kid was
always right, though. Never in his life had he known anybody soak
up facts like Smiler. He’d used reading as a way to escape from the
living hell he’d been born into, spending most of his time, when
not earning on the streets, in the library. He’d devoured every
single word he came across, and frequently spewed them right back
out to anyone who cared to listen and just as frequently to those
who didn’t.

They were
nearly at Newcastle when Mike’s phone rang. 'Yes, this is Mike,' he
said, then went quiet as his frown got deeper. 'OK,' he replied a
few minutes later, 'I’ll stay on till Berwick… Right, got it.' He
snapped his phone shut and, still frowning, tapped his fingers on
the table.

Getting Mike’s
attention by doing a little tapping of his own, Smiler raised his
eyebrows in a question.

'OK, here’s
what we do. Instead of getting off at Newcastle, we’re going on to
Berwick on Tweed… It seems that a young woman’s been found dead in
the flat she shared with her boyfriend, in the middle of town.'

Smiler
shivered, and said quickly, 'She’s got black hair, Mike. I know she
has… Bet you anything you want to bet. That her hair’s black.'

'Stop it right
now, Smiler. See, this is what I mean, you go off half- cocked and
there’s what, a one in three or four chances that she’s got black
hair? Now if you said she has pink hair with tartan patches and
silver trim on the ends, and it turns out she has, then I might
start to believe.'

Smiler shrugged
as Mike went on. 'I have an Aunt May, she lives on Holy Island and
takes lodgers in. I often pop up for the odd weekend. It’s where I
grew up, with Aunt May. Sometime today we’ll get you settled.
That’s if she’s not full up with tourists. Until then you’ll have
to hang around outside the hospital, or wait in the car,
whatever.'

'I can look
after myself, you know,' Smiler mumbled, staring at the magnificent
coastline as the train headed further north. 'Whatever you might
think.'

Mike sighed.
'Smiler, it might not have sounded like it, but I really am happy
to see you.'

This seemed to
please Smiler. Although he brought his head to the front and kept
it down, Mike could see the glimmer of a smile.

'Are you
really?' Smiler asked quietly.

And the truth
was, Mike really was glad to see him. Smiler had grown on him like
a second skin
, though,
he thought,
how the hell I’m
going to explain him, God only knows.

He nodded, and
relaxing, Smiler tore the wrapper off his chocolate bar and settled
back in his seat.

'Oh, one more
question,' Mike said, 'How did you know which train I would be
on?'

'Rita.'

'Rita!' Mike
laughed.

'Apparently she
trawled the whole of London looking for me. She found me at five
o'clock this morning.'

'Ha, well, it’s
true what they say then, isn’t it… One good turn deserves
another.'

'Oh yeah,
you’re definitely her hero.'

'Well, there
you go. Us heroes can’t be picky,' Mike replied, and laughed as he
picked his newspaper up. As he turned to the page he had been
reading, Smiler put his hand on the paper. 'One other thing,
Mike.'

Mike frowned.
He could tell by Smiler’s tone of voice that he was not going to
like what was coming next. 'Go on.'

'For the last
few days there’s been what I can only call a countdown number in my
head.'

'A countdown
number?'

'Yes… It
started a few days ago, this huge burning number, number five. Then
yesterday number four… And today it changed and jumped to number
three.' He sighed. 'I think it’s a countdown. I think it means you
have three days left.'

'Three days
left for what?' Mike couldn’t help it – he shivered inside.
Listening to Smiler was like listening to an age-old prophet of
doom.

'To save a lot
of people. Rita thinks the same.'

'What…
Rita?'

Smiler nodded
solemnly. 'Yeah, Rita. She sees things as well.'

Mike shook his
head. 'God help us all.'

Jill Patterson
stood with her hands on her hips, her lips pursed and her brow
furrowed. She was staring down at the body on her mortuary slab.
She was puzzled, to say the least. Never before had she ever seen
anything like this. Something was nagging at her though, right in
the corner, scrunched up where she couldn’t get hold of it, like
someone’s name you half-remember that keeps slipping away and
disappearing back into the mist.

Recently moved
from Birmingham to Holy Island, Jill was a thirty- five-year-old
divorced mother of two girls. A petite natural redhead, with large
green eyes that could wither any opponent who cared to take her on.
Especially a man. She would go more than the extra mile to prove
her point against a man.