Say Goodbye to the Boys by Mari Stead Jones Read Free Book Online Page A

‘Yeah, some Yank,’ I said, ‘up on Morwyn Hill. Car he was in caught fire.’ Why the hell were we talking about this?
    â€˜You heard about it, Philip? Where was I then?’ He shook his head. I remembered Laura sending me a cutting from the local paper about it. Oh shit – would he go for Emlyn again? Would there be a stick next time? ‘But Philip – you see he was burnt to death in pound notes,’ Mash went on eagerly. ‘He had this car and it was full of pound notes. Now – that’s a fact. Burnt to death in pound notes!’
    â€˜Oh Christ,’ Emlyn sighed. ‘Philip – I have to go. Got to get some air by myself.’ He slid along the seat then ducked his head as he went out. We heard the pad of his shoes on the deck above us, then silence. When I went out on deck he was walking in the black mud at the river’s edge, shoulders hunched.
    Mash said, ‘In pound notes, Philip. Burnt in pound notes.’
    â€˜Come on Mash,’ I said, knowing even then that it was hopeless, ‘what the fuck were you doing? Why did you go for him like that?’ And all he did was look at me, a flat, blank look. Was it possible for someone to be like that? ‘Oh come on,’ I said, ‘let’s get some work done.’
    We worked together all afternoon, and he broke into song every now and then. The day shone like a pearl. You could see the little town from the river, sleeping there among the sand hill. Nothing changed whilst I had been away. Except the people. I looked at Mash. Had he attacked me it would have made sense. I was the third man, never as close... Unless – it was a piercing thought – Emlyn had paid Lilian a visit and Mash had seen him or heard about it.
    â€˜Philip – did Emlyn fall?’ Mash squatting on the deck. ‘I must have fallen as well. Seen my elbow?’
    â€˜The fact of the matter,’ Laura said, ‘is the shop’s only just paying its way...’
    â€˜All right,’ I said, ‘I’ll get a job.’
    â€˜You write off for one of them grants for college. Like Mr Wilkins says...’
    We were having a mug of tea outside the shop and the conversation was about normal for that time of day. Across the Hall I could see the German at his stall, a crowd around him, one of the attractions – he was lately the enemy.
    â€˜Think about it,’ Laura advised. She was a good looking woman still, and lumbered with me.
    â€˜You marry Will Wilkins, that’s the solution.’
    â€˜Oh, get lost,’ she replied, embarrassed yet pleased. She lifted her feet and examined her shoes. ‘Are you trying to get rid of me, boy?’
    â€˜We could get rid of him, after he’s made his will...’
    â€˜Oh, terrible you are. Awful.’
    Ceri Price, who had been with me at school, walked up at that moment.
    â€˜I was telling him he’s awful,’ Laura said to her.
    â€˜He always was,’ Ceri said. A small, quiet girl at school, but most definitely blossoming now. ‘My father’s mad for a book of poems by Yeats – he gets these fancies.’ Her father was the local reporter, known as Price the Scoop. He was a poet too.
    I took Ceri into the shop, Laura giving me a knowing wink, and I learnt that she was studying the piano in London and term had just finished, and that’s why I hadn’t seen her around. I had a date for the pictures, outside the Regal at 7.30, in no time at all, and I rejoiced as I stood with Laura and watched her walk away.
    â€˜Hasn’t she got lovely eyes?’ Laura said. ‘And her hair – just like a film star.’ I didn’t correct her. Laura loved the pictures, but Will Wilkins wasn’t so keen. She liked a glass of stout too, but he was a strict teetotaller. ‘You wouldn’t really want me to marry again, would you?’
    â€˜Like that, is it?’
    She blushed like a young girl.