THE DOMINO BOYS (a psychological thriller) by D. M. Mitchell Read Free Book Online

ship headed out to foreign shores and seeing the last of England. Eventually he gave up the idea of ever doing anything creative. Until he heard about the plight of the OAPs and said he’d like to help. He ended up running the thing. Not that he regretted that. He was in his element. Like that first, faraway glimpse of England after a long period away, he thought.
    He chatted to a man and a woman who stood on the stage rehearsing their lines. Alfie felt chuffed that the OAPs were at last starting to attract people with talent. He then went through the lighting cues with one of the older members of the OAPs who used to be an electrician and had helped create a rather impressive bank of stage lights. Next he moved on to makeup, props, ticket sales, checked how the finishing touches to the sets were coming along and then went into one of the dressing rooms to sort through accounts.
    Through the open door he heard a commotion; heard Dickie squealing in distress and one of the actors on stage raising their voice. He dashed out immediately.
    ‘You leave the poor man alone!’ said the man, waving his rolled-up script like it was a cudgel. He turned to Alfie as he came rushing onto the stage. ‘They’re bothering Dickie,’ he said.
    Dickie Sugden was scrunched up on his chair as small as he could make himself, his hands on his head, whimpering. Two men stood on either side of him. One of them was Donnie Craddick. He was just finishing the last of Dickie’s crisps and tossed the empty bag at the stricken man. Dickie flinched as it floated down to his lap, and he brushed it away as if a rat had landed on him.
    Donnie slapped Dickie across the head. ‘Stop your blubbering, you retard,’ he said, and Dickie began to sob.
    ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ said Alfie. ‘Leave the man alone! Can’t you see you’re upsetting him?’
    ‘Well, well, well,’ said Donnie, strolling up to the foot of the stage, ‘if it isn’t Laurence Olivier…’
    ‘What are you doing here?’ said Alfie. ‘Get out.’
    ‘Last time I heard this was a public building,’ he said. Craddick smiled. ‘I like what you’ve done with the place, Alfie, old boy.’ He looked back to where Dickie was snivelling noisily. ‘Tell your pet monkey to shut up, eh, Alfie? He’s beginning to get on my nerves.’
    ‘It’s OK, Dickie,’ Alfie called out. ‘The nasty man’s leaving.’ He looked down at the young Craddick, his stomach turning as the young man looked straight on back with his father’s cruel eyes. ‘We don’t want any trouble here, Donnie.’
    ‘No trouble,’ said Donnie, mounting the steps to the stage, the other man following at his heels. He sauntered towards Alfie, his shoes clicking hollowly on the wooden boards. He turned to face an imaginary audience, held out his hands. ‘ What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculty! In action how like an angel! In apprehension how like God! ’ He took a mock bow and faced Alfie, his smile disappearing. ‘Does it surprise you, Alfie? Surprise you that I know a bit of Shakespeare? I’m no lumbering ignoramus like my father. He gave me a good education; the best other people’s money can buy.’
    ‘A parrot can repeat words, Donnie. You have to have a human heart to give them real emotion.’
    He clapped. ‘Fine riposte, Alfie.’ He looked about him. ‘Fine work. Fine work. Almost professional.’
    ‘What are you doing here, Donnie?’ said Alfie, giving a nod of assurance to the two rehearsing actors.
    ‘Social visit.’ He nodded at Dickie. ‘You spend a lot of time with the retard, don’t you?’
    ‘Don’t call him that. It’s cruel and you’ll upset him.’
    ‘Guess we don’t want to upset the chimp, do we?’ He laughed. The other guy laughed with him, like an echo.
    ‘You should know all about chimps,’ said Alfie glancing at Donnie’s companion, whose grin faded instantly.
    Donnie’s features darkened. ‘That was a fine stunt