A Man Alone by David Siddall Read Free Book Online Page A

said anything and we’ve lived together five years,” she said. “I knew you were a soldier but…” Her voice trailed away. She took a breath and sat straighter in the chair. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
    “That was the whole point. If I lost myself then others might lose me too.”
    Josie shook herself. She stared at him as if she were in a dream and any minute might wake up. Her head ached. “This is too much,” she said. “It’s like the person I knew, it’s like John Doyle never existed and I’m seeing you for the first time.”
    Doyle stared at her.
    The penny dropped. “Fuck!” She ran a hand through her hair. “Your name isn’t Doyle is it? What else is there? What else don’t I know?”
    Doyle could see tears begin to crease the corners of her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall. Not now, not in front of him. He tried to comfort her and put his hands on her shoulders. She shrugged him away.
    “So, what is it?”
    Puzzled, Doyle shook his head.
    “Your name?”
    “John Doyle works just fine.”
    Josie snorted. “So it does.” She got up from the chair and turned her back on him. “I’m taking April to mum’s.”
    Doyle reached for her but she shied away.
    “It’s best. You can play with your guns or do what you want. But when we come back, I want things sorted.” She hesitated then turned to face him. “Or I want you out.”
    She pushed past him. Upstairs he could hear her calling April, telling her to hurry. A few minutes later they came down, a suitcase in Josie’s hand, a small holdall in April’s. He met their gaze, Josie’s steady and determined, April’s hard and angry. She was still pissed at him.
    They sat in silence until the taxi arrived. April got in first while Josie hung back. At the last moment, she wavered and looked at Doyle. “Be careful,” she said and brushed his mouth with her lips.
    Doyle tried to say something, to make it right. He opened his mouth, hesitated, and then it was too late. The last he saw was Josie’s face behind the taxi’s rain smeared window.
    He went inside and closed the door.
    Doyle sat in the armchair beneath the new window. His nostrils twitched, brick dust and fresh mortar reminding him of how close he had come to death. He closed his eyes and made himself breathe deep and even, bringing himself back to a level of calm. On the coffee table next to the settee, Josie had left a pack of cigarettes. Doyle hadn’t smoked for years, but he took one now, finished it, and immediately lit a second. He realized how much he had missed his forty-a-day habit. He should be angry with himself for succumbing, but all he could do was relish the nicotine and deep satisfying sensation of the smoke billowing through his lungs. He came to a decision. Not one he liked, but it was the right thing to do. For Josie and April, he reasoned, it was the right thing for them.
    He stubbed the cigarette in the ashtray and took out his wallet, flipped through the compartments until he found the Fortress Taxis card. For a moment he stared at the number on the back before he punched it into the phone.
    It rang twice.
    There was a sly bark of laughter as Wood answered and ID’d the caller.
    Doyle could almost see him smirking. “We need to talk.”
    “Too late,” said Wood. “I’ve always believed actions speak louder than words.”
    “You’re frightening my family.”
    “Fuck your family and fuck you.” Doyle heard his anger, the words forced through gritted teeth. “You should have thought about that before you fronted me.”
    “I did nothing but defend myself and you know that.”
    “You dissed me in front of my boys. And that my friend, is fatal.”
    “I always thought you had to earn respect?”
    “Oh I’ve earned it all right. When I walk through these streets people call me Mr. Wood. This is my place, I was born here and they respect me for who I am and what I’ve done. You?” Wood sneered. “You’re just some woolly-back twat who