Maxwell's Chain by M.J. Trow Read Free Book Online Page B

vets. What next? A stripper?’
    Hall walked into the lobby and made for the lift. The sight of Donald’s face brightening at the thought of a stripper would stay with him for days. As would the tongue-lashing Astley was giving Donald as Henry Hall left the building.

    The nice thing about a Friday was that the next day was always Saturday. And this week proved to be no exception. Jacquie being on duty, hard at work at the crime face, unravelling the skein that Maxwell and Bill had uncovered, Maxwell was on shopping and amusing Nolan duty. With the boy strapped securely into his buggy, only his eyes visible in the Laplander cap his dad had fitted, they meandered round the town centre. Leighford in the middle of winter was a little like Byzantium just before it fellto the Turks or Magdeburg after Wallenstein (or was it Tilley?) sacked it. The rock shops were closed for the duration, as were those that sold T-shirts, which would not now be printed-while-you-wait until late May at the earliest. Mr L’s Baguettes had gone to that great bakery in the sky. And three more charity shops were under new management. Yep, just like Byzantium.
    None of this mattered to Nolan, who had been given the shopping list to look after, and for some reason he had eaten it, just loving that old biro taste. Because of this, Maxwell now had in his shopping bag a bottle of Southern Comfort (without which no self-respecting Head of Sixth Form could be), a bag of doughnuts (which were on special offer) and a cuddly toy version of Nolan’s latest TV addiction – ‘collect the set’ (the financial death knell of parents everywhere). This would all have serious repercussions later, as the list had been for a small brown loaf, half a dozen free-range eggs and a chicken, although Jacquie didn’t specify which came first. Never mind, thought Maxwell. Close enough.
    And if Saturday was a nice thing, Saturday morning was the nicest bit. There were no kids in town to negotiate; they didn’t surface until well into the afternoon, when exasperated parents kicked them out. Maxwell could browse the shops tillNolan got cranky and then they could go home, via the park for a little light swinging. There’d be no shouts of…
    ‘Sir!’
    ‘Take no notice,’ Maxwell urged Nolan. Over the years, he’d preferred the ‘straight ahead’ look. ‘They probably don’t mean me, anyway.’
    ‘Sir! Mr Maxwell!’
    ‘Oh, poo, Nole. They’ve got me…unless of course, it’s that other Mr Maxwell, my doppelgänger,’ Maxwell muttered, turning round with a smile as big as the great indoors. ‘Hellooo…Oh,’ his smile broadened and fixed. ‘Hello, gentlemen. What a surprise. I thought you two were on a trip up the Limpopo or something similar.’
    The two lads in question grinned. ‘No, Mr Maxwell,’ one of them said. ‘We’ve been working in Nigeria for two months, digging wells.’
    Maxwell could believe it. These were Old Highenas of recent origin and life in the great outdoors had seen them fill out, pick up some muscle and street cred since they padded the corridors of Leighford High.
    ‘I knew it was something to do with water,’ the Great Man agreed. ‘Was it fun? Well digging?’
    The bigger, dark-haired one answered for them both. ‘It was OK,’ he said. ‘No women, but otherwise OK.’
    His smaller, blond, more handsome companion said, ‘Actually, Mr Maxwell, it was a real eye-opener. I’m really glad we went. I’ll appreciate uni much more, now I know a bit about life on the larger scale.’
    ‘Well said, Nick,’ Maxwell said, patting him on the arm. Even as he did so, he could hardly believe that here was one of His Own, not a year out of school yet, and he had already forgotten that you could not fool Mad Max, not even for a moment. ‘Back for long, are you?’
    ‘Well, Mr Maxwell,’ said Nick, ‘I’m off to London for a bit, staying with my sister. I’m going to Goldsmith’s, anyway, so it will be nice to learn my way around.