Darkmans by Nicola Barker Read Free Book Online Page A

automatically started to unfasten the buckle.
    ‘I’ll take mine off, too,’ Beede said, unfastening his own.
    The German pulled his belt free, passed it over, then tentatively sniffed at the arm of his jacket. ‘ Urgh! ’ he croaked. ‘What on earth have I been doing? I smell disgusting , and look – look – I have horse hair simply everywhere …’
    He began frantically patting and slapping at the fabric, but after a couple of seconds he froze – mid-slap – as something terrible dawned on him. ‘Oh Christ, ’ he gasped. ‘Oh Jesus Christ – the car. Where’s the car? What on earth have I done with it?’
    Beede had buckled the two belts together. He whispered soothingly into the mare’s ear and then looped them around her neck. She was a sweet filly. She nodded a couple of times as he pulled the leather tighter.
    On the second nod – and completely without warning – the German sprang back with a loud yell. The horse took fright and reared up. Beede clung on, resolutely.
    ‘Hey, hey …’ he hissed (managing – rather miraculously – to rein in both the horse and his temper), ‘just calm down, Dory. She won’t hurt anybody. She’s worn out. Let’s try and hold this situation together, shall we?’
    ‘But I hate horses,’ the German whimpered, hugging himself, tightly (the way a frightened girl might), and gazing up at the horse with a look of sheer, unadulterated terror. ‘I absolutely…I…I loathe them…’
    ‘That’s fine,’ Beede interrupted, ‘ I’ll lead the horse, see?’
    Beede led the horse two steps forward. ‘The horse is fine. Everything’s fine. There’s no need to panic. Everything’s just fine here.’
    But the German was still panicking. ‘Oh God, ’ he wailed, ‘if I’ve lost the car they’ll sack me for sure. Then where will we be?’
    ‘You won’t have lost it,’ Beede said determinedly.
    ‘Why?’ He grew instantly suspicious. ‘How do you know? How can you be sure? Were you there?’
    ‘No. No , I was here, ’ Beede pointed towards the French Connection, ‘I was in the restaurant. I was having a coffee with my son. My son is called Kane. He’s still inside, actually.’
    As he pointed, Beede glanced over towards the window where Kane had stood previously. The window was empty. ‘ Coffee? ’ The German peered over towards the window, scowling – ‘ Coffee? ’ – but then something powerful suddenly seemed to strike him – a revelation – ‘But of course! ’ he gasped. ‘ Kaffee… kaff… kaff… Koffee. Coffee. I remember that. I know that. I know kaffee…’
    He put a tentative – almost fearful – hand up to his own chin and gently explored it with the tips of his fingers. Then he smiled (it was a brilliant smile), then he gazed at Beede, almost in wonder.
    ‘ Beede, ’ he said, rolling the name around in his mouth like a boiled toffee. Then he clutched at his stomach (as if the memory had just jabbed him there), leaned sharply forward and took a quick, rasping gulp of air –
    Oh God –
    Oh God
    Just to be…to be…to be…
    He stared around him, quite amazed –
    Where?
    ‘Of course,’ Beede smiled back, clearly relieved by this sudden show of progress (tastes and smells, he found, were often the key), ‘of course you remember…’
    He placed a reassuring hand on to the German’s broad shoulder. ‘Now – deep breath, deep breath – are you ready? Shall we get the hell out of here?’
    Kelly Broad was sitting on a high wall, chewing ferociously on a piece of celery. She was passably pretty and alarmingly thin with artificially tinted burgundy hair –
    Because I’m worth it
    Her face was hard (but with an enviable bone-structure), her ‘look’ was urban – hooded top (hood worn up), combat mini-skirt and a pair of modern, slightly scuffed, silver trainers (the kind astronauts wore – devoutly – whenever they went jogging above the atmosphere). No socks (not even the ones you could buy which made it look like