The Thief of Broken Toys

The Thief of Broken Toys by Tim Lebbon Read Free Book Online Page B

Book: The Thief of Broken Toys by Tim Lebbon Read Free Book Online
Authors: Tim Lebbon
Tags: Horror
had done little to
lessen it, however. For the first time today,
Ray felt without blame.
    â€œMorning, Rachel,” he said, entering the
shop.
    â€œRay! Nice to see you.” And then the
question that must always come. “How are
you?”
    â€œI’m doing okay,” he said, smiling. Rachel
smiled back. She was an attractive woman,
and for years the two of them had conducted
what he thought of as distant flirting. But not
for some time. He glanced to the rear of the
shop where Margaret the owner was unloading
loaves from their oven, then back at Rachel.
“How’re your buns today?” he asked.
    â€œEr . . .” she averted her eyes, and he
thought,
Shit, fool, that’s just clumsy
. He was
the grieving father, the village’s figure of
unbearable, inconceivable sadness. He had a
front to project.
    â€œSoft today, actually,” she said quietly.
    â€œThen I’ll take four.” They exchanged
smiles again and he felt better.
Better than
ever
, he thought. “How’s Ollie? I hear he’s been
poorly.”
    Rachel’s son Ollie and Toby had gone
to school together. They’d been friends.
Sometimes Ray would drive them both to
school when he knew Rachel had to start
work early at the bakery. It had always been a
friendship of convenience; Rachel was distant
and preoccupied. Not cold, as Elizabeth had
suggested, but complex. Ray saw a lot going on
in there.
    â€œHe’s better!” she said. She shook her head,
frowning. “One day he’s still in bed, and the
doctors . . . they’re just confused. And then
last night he woke up, and that was it. Sat up,
wanted ice cream, started complaining when I
told him it was bedtime.”
    â€œHa!” Ray said, genuinely pleased for her.
“You can tell they’re well again when they
start protesting.”
    â€œYeah, right,” Rachel said, then her gaze
flitted away again in discomfort.
    â€œTell him I say hi,” Ray said.
    Rachel nodded. Frowned.
    â€œWhat?” Ray asked.
    â€œHe still doesn’t quite . . . understand.
About Toby.”
    â€œNone of us do,” he said. “But that’s okay.”
He handed her a five pound note, and nodded
at the lifeboat collection box when she offered
his change. “Rachel . . . you’ve lived here a long
time.”
    â€œAll my life.”
    â€œIs there an old man living up on the moors,
above the cliffs?”
    â€œYou mean on your side of the village?”
    â€œYes. Up the coastal path. Only I was up
there last night — ”
    â€œIn the storm?”
    â€œYeah. I like walking in the dark, it . . .
Anyway, I was there and I met an old guy.
Really old, like ancient.”
And he said things he
couldn’t have known
, Ray thought, but he did
not go that far.
    â€œThere’s nothing up there that I know of,
not close anyway. Once you get on the moors,
you can walk back as far as the main road.
But the going’s tough, and I don’t know of any
buildings there. Caravan, maybe? Perhaps he’s
a traveller?”
    â€œPerhaps,” Ray said. He took the bag of
bread and cakes she handed over the counter,
and just for a second their fingers touched.
And then the sun welcomed him outside once
more.
    Need someone to share your cakes with
, he
thought, but he walked away, and the first
sadness of the day descended. Previously,
through all the grief of losing his boy,
Elizabeth’s departure had seemed like just
another facet of his new life, not a loss.
    He’d seen her yesterday, in the pub with
the fisherman. And he had vowed to move on.
Today, things had started to feel different.
    All because of him
, he thought, but the idea
was ridiculous. He’d met some mad coot
walking in the storm, a weird old sod who
was probably losing his marbles. And then the
next day when the storm cleared and the sky
brightened and he felt good, he attributed it
to a midnight, rain-swept meeting. “All in

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