The Lover's Children novel Chapter 116

HARKNESS

I wait.

Asleep?

Perhaps.

The rest of the kindred slump and stoop. A breeze ruffles water flowing smoothly under the bridge. A steady drip-drip from the arched brickwork above makes faint echoes as it drops, then ripples, into the river, overlain by the distant rumble of traffic over the new bridge where car lights and street-lamps dazzle against the darkness here.

Silently, I stand, leaning over my meths-drinking friend. His breathing is steady and even.

A brief foray into a nearby rubble heap produces half a brick.

He lies, mouth gaping open, face slack, clutching his bottled treasure.

Only a matter of time anyway…

I stoop and his eyes flick open. “Whatsh?”

“Your bottle. You didn't put the top on. You were going to lose it.”

“Oh. Rightshhh.” He struggles up toward a sitting position and as his gaze turns down to the bottle, I swing. At the last moment, he looks up, yellow glints of eyes suddenly wide. “No!” The brick smashes into his temple and he goes down without even a whimper.

Shame really… I'd have liked a bit of a scream. On the other hand, the kindred haven't moved.

For good measure, I hit him again, mushing up his face a bit to be sure he's not just unconscious.

Humming, taking the time to be careful, I strip the coat off him. Don't want his blood spoiling it. It's a good fit. I shrug it around, rolling my shoulders a bit. Not perfect. But pretty good.

Wasted on him...

Pity it's picked up some of his body odour.

Have to wash it somewhere…

Hang it in the rain somewhere… let it air wash…

Pockets?

Hmmm…

Surprise, surprise. A few coins.

For good measure, I check his shoes, but they're not as good as what I'm already wearing.

The kindred haven't stirred, so I stroll past, tossing the brick into the river.

Much warmer, I stroll off to find another place to sleep. And shoes.

*****

In the park, I retreat into some shrubs, tugging the coat around myself, setting up to watch and wait.

A figure strolls through the gates, takes a bench, his back to me, stuffing something into his mouth.

What's he eating?

Hamburger?

Something savoury carries on the breeze. He folds up a slice, stuffing it into his mouth. As he takes a bite, strings of cheese stretch, escaping the base. Winding them around a finger, he sucks it clean.

Pizza.

Anchovies...

Olives…

Garlic…

And he's only had one slice from the box.

But we're right on the path here. And he's under a street lamp.

Pretty big too…

Looks young and fit…

My mouth runs and my stomach grumbles.

The breeze whirls, changing direction. He pauses, pizza held midway to his mouth, nose raised to the air. After a moment he stoops, lifting first one foot, then the other, inspecting the soles of his shoes.

He looks right and left, then Hmmphs. Putting the slice back in the box, he closes it up, dumps the lot in a trashcan, strides back to the gate and out.

As he disappears from view, I dart forward out of hiding, hooking the box out of the trash. As I lift the lid, fragrant steam washes up, carrying the scent of oregano and onions.

The anchovies are piquant and succulent. And there's plenty of them.

*****

KLEMPNER

The nurse checks some reading or other on the monitor, clucks, apparently satisfied, and adds a note to the clipboard at the bottom of my bed. “How are you feeling now, Mr Waterman?”

“Bored. How long befo…”

She Tuts, cutting me short. “That wasn’t quite what I meant. However, if you’re feeling enough like yourself to be bored, would you like some visitors? We’ve been stopping anyone but your immediate family coming in so far.”

“Visitors? Who else would want to visit me?”

She raises her brows, “In fact, there’s quite a queue that would like to see you. We’ve been keeping them away so far.”

“We’re not talking about the press, are we? I don’t want…”

“No.” She fires the word like a bullet. “They have been sent on their way, although you might find them at the exit when you leave. I’m afraid we can’t do anything about them once they’re off hospital property. However, a good number of your friends have called by, asking after you and when they can visit.”

“But I don’t have any frie…”

“Don’t talk nonsense, Mr Waterman. After what you did out there, half the City wants to shake your hand.”

Well, ain’t that just peachy…

*****

Stanton calls by again, with another thick wallet of documents. “How are you doing, Larry? Feeling any better?”

“Well enough to be bored. Not well enough to do anything useful for more than half an hour.” I wave vaguely at the boxes of files already stacked by the bed. “I keep trying to work through them, but my concentration’s blown.”