Underdog by Euan Leckie Read Free Book Online Page B

edges of the large cardboard box he found them in were crusted with blood. He selected the largest ones he could find and filled the bags. As he turned to leave, Tom noticed four pig heads, lined up along the shelf above the door. In the murky light, it looked as if they were sleeping. The skin on the back of Tom’s neck began to tighten as he imagined their eyes opening, their mouths coming alive and squealing at him.
    ‘Tom!’
    Startled by the sound of Sam’s voice, Tom darted out of the coldroom, letting the door swing shut with a thud. The shop doorbell rang.
    ‘Give that a quick rinse,’ said Sam, handing him the sausage-meat strainer before going to serve the customer.
    The strainer was filthy, its stainless-steel mesh caked and blocked with a mix of fresh and dried meat, the inside coated in a layer of white grease. Tom took it to the basins and warmed some fat, straining it through with hot water to flush out the worst of the detritus. When it was washed and dried he placed it next to the sausage machine, then went to get a fresh apron and a clean shirt. As he stepped through the fly curtain, Sam was serving a big, menacing-looking man dressed in jeans and a grimy leather jacket. The two men were deep in hushed conversation, stopping mid-sentence when Tom joined them. The moment’s silence made Tom feel as though he had stumbled in on something he shouldn’t have. Sam finished wrapping the package, then handed it over to the customer, who took it without paying.
    ‘Cheers. See you next time?’
    The man fixed his gaze on Tom and raised a large hand to scratch the stubble on his chin. The way he stared made Tom look away.
    ‘We'll see,’ Sam replied.
    The man turned and left without another word.
    ‘You ready, then, Tom?’ Sam asked, tutting as he gave him a quick inspection. ‘You’re not even dressed, lad. Get a new shirt and apron on.’
    ‘I’m just doing it,’ said Tom, taking them from the cupboard beneath the tills.
    He carried the clothes into the back room and got changed. The shirt was newly washed and ironed. It smelt fresh and felt crisp against his skin. Picking up his dirty things from the floor, he threw them into the wash bin before tying his apron and changing his shoes.
    Tom glanced at Kevin chopping away at the cutting blocks. ‘I was meant to give them a going-over.’
    ‘It’s okay. Don’t think anyone’ll know.’ Kevin cut another steak from the huge rib of beef laid out on the unclean surface. ‘As long as they cook them through.’
    He wrapped the steaks and handed them over. Tom gathered up the bunched sausages Sam had prepared and headed back into the shop.
    ‘Everything for the order’s ready.’
    He laid out the meat for Sam, who set to work bagging it up with other assorted cuts from the counter. The bags were stamped with Fenton’s Family Butchers in solid blue type along the bottom, and a line-drawing caricature of Sam printed above.
    ‘It’s all going to The Two Feathers. Bus from Mickering Street.’ Sam bagged the last package. ‘They’ll be expecting you. Now, get a move on. No later than half-past.’
    ***
    It was so bright outside, Tom was forced to squint as he made his way down the high street. The shops were busy, pedestrians crowding the pavement. A car horn blasted; the traffic was hardly moving.
    It didn’t take long for Tom’s feet to start aching. The black shoes provided him for deliveries were too tight, constricting the flow of blood to his toes. He felt like taking them off and stuffing them in one of the bags. As he passed the sports shop, he glanced at the trainers in the window display, stopping to get a better look. The white ones were best.
    He carried on, head down to shield the sun from his eyes. It was baking, and the bags in his hands seemed to be getting heavier with each step. Passing the bookmakers at the corner, he turned off, relieved to see the bus stop was no more than a hundred yards away. A girl stood there on her own,