Doctor Who_ Nightshade - Mark Gatiss [2]
draughty hall of his little house, he wearily ran a hand Except, perhaps, on bleak days like this one.
through his thinning hair and rattled the walking sticks
‘Afternoon, Jack.’
which cluttered the umbrella stand.
Jack nodded his hello to the landlord, Lawrence Yeadon,
‘Are you listening to me?’
who stood drying glasses behind the long mahogany bar.
Win’s voice stabbed at him like a needle. Jack kept his Lawrence tossed the teatowel on to his shoulder and rheumy old eyes fixed on the umbrella stand. Had it always grinned. He was always grinning. Or whistling.
been like this? Dreary days. Arguments. Going to the pub.
‘Filthy weather,’ he said cheerily. Jack grunted and looked Coming back. Apologies. Another argument. Bed. Silence.
Lawrence up and down, noting with disapproval the Jack looked at Win’s angry, pinched face as she continued younger man’s turtleneck sweater and fashionably to berate him in a shrill monotone. Mouth like a horse’s exaggerated sideburns. Silly bugger was too old to be back side, he thought idly. Win’s grey eyes flashed following trends.
dangerously.
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DOCTOR WHO: NIGHTSHADE
DOCTOR WHO: NIGHTSHADE
Back in the days when the colliery was still open, Jack had that he’d first seen Win. She and her mother had just arrived been a good friend of young Lawrence, especially after he’d in Crook Marsham and moved into the old Shackleton married such a pretty young lass as Mrs Cockayne’s eldest house on Faraday Street. Win was such a beautiful woman and produced a son, Robin. But his wife’s untimely death in those days. Lovely thick auburn hair and soft, soft skin had left such a profound impression on Lawrence that he that seemed to shine...
had virtually withdrawn from village life, becoming sullen
‘Can I get you girls a drink?’ Jack had asked in a nervous and uncommunicative. However, after some years (much to voice. Win and her new friend Veronica Railton giggled into everyone’s relief), he pulled himself together, got the their hands. They were already feeling rather daring having tenancy of the pub with little bother and married a lovely gone into the pub unchaperoned. Jack looked down at the widow from York called Betty Harper.
oversized uniform he’d been given and suddenly felt a fool.
These days, Lawrence was all sweetness and light. He and His army haircut was horribly severe and he felt self-Betty had recently returned from a holiday in Jersey and conscious about his sticky-out ears. Veronica peered at him were already planning their next excursion, rumoured to be from behind her thick spectacles. Win’s big eyes looked him a cruise on the new Queen Elizabeth II.
up and down. She was wearing that red dress which her Lawrence grinned at Jack. The old man turned away mother had made for her. It was always her favourite.
thoughtfully. There was something about Lawrence which
‘Well?’ said Jack. Veronica giggled again but Win held his nagged at him. Perhaps he was just a bit too eager and gaze. ‘There’s something about a man in uniform,’ she’d cheerful to be true. And there had been a lot of gossip said quietly.
recently about how ill Betty was looking.
Always had spirit that one. So beautiful. So beautiful...
Jack shrugged off these thoughts, turned back to the bar, Jack Prudhoe shook himself out of his reverie and took ordered a pint of mild and asked after Betty.
another sip of his pint, leaving a creamy semicircle on his
‘Oh fine, fine,’ said Lawrence, a little too quickly.
upper lip. His eyes strayed to the tatty Christmas Jack sat down at a table and closed his eyes, listening to decorations which Betty Yeadon had put across the bar only the gentle crackling of the fire. He was grateful that the the other day.
recently installed jukebox (one of Lawrence’s efforts to His mind began to drift again. He and Win saying their
‘liven the place up a bit’) had fallen silent. Honestly, the farewells just before he was posted. Endless laughter and drivel people listened to nowadays. You couldn’t tell the chatter. Going