Heartland by Anthony Cartwright Read Free Book Online Page B

an expression he probably used in court, just looking and looking.
    What yer fuckin lookin at? One of the girls stuck her face towards his, her face twisting, trying to work up a frenzy. It was just after ten on a Sunday morning, the sound of helicopters overhead.
    The whistle blew and blew again. The ref came across in front of Rob, a couple of their players walking towards the touchline. It could have all gone off already. Mark Stanley, the ref, the only bloke who could take charge of this game, got right in front of Zubair.
    Get on with it please, player.
    Mark was big, mixed race, hair almost an Afro, fifty now if he was a day, worked for the Youth Service, used to get in the paper with his karate, wouldn’t take any messing. Mark had been refereeing on the park since Rob was in the juniors. He’d reffed Rob’s first proper match, now he was reffing his last one.
    Zubair turned and took the throw. The girl was still saying, You fuckin prick, you fuckin prick, but nobody was joining in, at least for now. Zubair threw it for Tayubdown the line. Kyle was there, or in the way at least, and the ball hit him, his standing leg, as he tried to kick it, and the ball bounced inside.
    Rob was on to it, someone on his shoulder, and he saw, or maybe thought he saw or sensed or just knew, that Glenn’s red hair was making a diagonal run into the space that Zubair was never going to get back to, not with that belly, not these days.
    Rob struck it, laces, pinged it on a line between their penalty box and the touchline. Too good. Too much on it. Glenn curved his run, but it was away from him and ran on and the defender was across, seeing it out of play.
    Glenn turned and put his hands above his head, clapped Rob. Rob put his thumb up.
    Less just read this bit an then yer con play Gulf Strike.
    Rob was trying to get Andre to do some reading with him in the library.
    I wanna play now.
    Come on, Andre, eh? Just a bit more. Yer know the rule. We’ll do our reading an then yer con goo on the computer.
    Lerrus goo on now, Rob.
    No, less just finish this, come on.
    Andre swung on his chair, looking at the computers on the other side of the library.
    Fuck this shit, man.
    Come on, no swearing. Less read this page.
    Rob spread the paper on the desk in front of him and pretended to read that morning’s
Daily Mirror
. Andre pulled the chair up next to him.
    Would yer gi her one, Rob?
    Andre nodded at a picture of a celebrity Rob had never heard of wearing a bikini and dark glasses on a yacht somewhere very sunny.
    Her’s a nice-looking girl, arr.
    Her’s got nice tits.
    Come on, which un dyer wanna read?
    Andre pointed at a story.
    Goo on then.
    Workers at a pub in …
    Liverpool.
    â€¦ got more than they …
    Sahnd it aht.
    Bar … bar … brought …
    Bargained for.
    When they … catched …
    When they cleaned.
    â€¦ up a load of old pipes in the … car.
    In the cellar. Yer know what a cellar is? A room underneath a house. Underneath the ground. A cellar. Pubs have em to keep the beer in.
    Andre grinned. I like beer.
    An me, carry on, come on. What was in the cellar?
    A snake.
    Yome looking at the picture. Less read it.
    One of the …
    Pipes. Yow’ve just read that. Yow ay concentrating.
    â€¦ was a … live!
    One o the pipes was alive! Busty bar manager, Carleen Doherty, 24, was shocked to discover her boyfriend Tony’s pet python, Tyson, had slithered downstairs for a nap. Can yer see, mate, look, there was a snake hiding in all the pipes.
    Woss busty mean?
    Means yow’ve got big tits.
    Is Miss Quereishi busty?
    I shouldn’t say that to her face.
    Yow like Miss Quereishi, doh yer, Rob?
    What yow on abaht? Who’s tode yer that?
    I con tell.
    Me and Miss Quereishi went to school together, did yer know that? We was in the same class as each other for a bit at William Perry.
    Andre didn’t look that interested.
    Andre and Chelsey were both right about Miss