The Fire by Robert White Read Free Book Online Page A

taking shape. I'd never felt so confident in my abilities and was looking forward to taking charge of training operations for our fledgling business.
    Rick and Des had been working hard on our premises. They had rented a modern unit located on the corner of Newton Street and Dale Street, immediately off Piccadilly, in the City's Northern Quarter. The area had become the hub for creative, media and marketing companies in Manchester. It was now home to RDL Close Protection Services.
    To my surprise, Rick had avoided employing builders and fitters, and the boys had gutted the place themselves. Des was teetering on a ladder, paint roller in hand as I stepped inside.
    "You've missed a bit," I shouted over the radio that blasted out the current number one America by Razorlight.
    Des dropped down the ladder with ease.
    "Hey, look who it is; how was Finland?"
    "Great, thanks. Anything I can do?"
    Rick appeared from behind a newly erected stud wall, nail gun in hand. "Coffee would be great."
    Des switched off the radio. "A beer would be better. Why don't we nip out for a swift one; catch up on Lauren's course, eh?"
    Rick smiled. I don't think I'd ever seen him as relaxed and happy.
    "Okay, why not, we're about done for the day anyway."
     
    There were numerous independent bars, restaurants and shops close by.
    I wanted to go to Dry Bar.
    Factory Records and New Order opened the historic venue in 1989. It was one of Manchester's prominent bars and live music establishments. Both Shaun Ryder and Liam Gallagher were infamously once banned from there and I had visited it several times with my old friend Jane and the girls from Leeds General, when we took trips to the city for nights out.
    Unsurprisingly, Des wasn't keen, so we opted for Odd Bar on Thomas Street; an unpretentious yet bohemian decorated place with a fantastic selection of beers, whiskies and music.
    Des was straight at the old vinyl jukebox pushing the ageing buttons.
    "Hey, Lauren, they've got Deacon Blue on here!"
    The Scot's easy manner made me feel right back at home, and for the next three hours we drank, ate and laughed.
    I'd drunk a little too much wine, Des, far too much Guinness and we were just about done. The Scot pulled his phone from his pocket to call cabs, when I noticed him staring at the screen.
    "Everything alright, Des?"
    The colour had drained from his face and he couldn't hide his obvious distress.
    "Aye, hen, I'm fine, just a blast from the past is all."
    Rick had been unusually chilled all evening. He'd finished three beers before settling for his Evian.
    "You don't look okay, pal."
    Des let out a deep sigh. It was if all his emotions had been locked inside his tough exterior, yet in that one moment, they had escaped for us all to witness.
    We waited in silence for him to speak.
    "It's Anne," he said quietly.
    "Anne... you mean ex-wife Anne?" I asked.
    He nodded slowly. "Aye...she's...she's no' well...cancer they say...she wants to see me like." 
    I put my arm around his shoulders.
    "Are you going? I mean, it's been a while and..."
    He shrugged me off, a mixture of irritation and hurt in his voice. "Of course I'm going, hen. She's my wife, isn't she?"
    Rick grabbed his oldest and only friend by the arm.
    "Hey... Lauren didn't mean anything there. You do what you have to do, mate. Nothing is wasting here; we can manage." He looked me in the eye and sent me an obvious message. "Can't we, Lauren?"
    I nodded too vigorously. "Sure, of course we can, Des, you take as much time as you like, mate."
    He stood, instant sobriety being bad tidings' bedfellow.
    "I'm away," he said. "I'll call you when I know a wee bit more like...erm....sorry."
    And he was gone.
    Rick and I sat in stunned silence. Minutes passed before he pushed his bottle of water away. To my surprise he said, "Let's have a proper drink."
    I was still a little numb when Rick returned from the bar with two glasses of single malt whisky. I'd never seen him drink to excess; the odd beer maybe. This