Doctor Who_ The Hollow Men - Keith Topping [22]
„I used to play with her in your front garden, don‟t you remember?‟
„Well, yes,‟ said Denman, „but there‟s quite a difference in age between you...‟
„It would have been nice to have seen her, that‟s all,‟ said Rebecca. „Anyway, the bonds of Hexen Bridge are hard to break. You of all people should know that. I mean, here you are.‟
„Seemed rude not to come,‟ said Denman bluntly. He quickly glanced over to the other side of the room, and Rebecca followed his gaze. „Your boyfriend seems to be moving in exalted circles these days,‟ he continued.
„Oh, Trevor‟s not my boyfriend any more,‟ said Rebecca hurriedly. „Not since he went off to Oxford when I was seventeen. We lost touch for a long time. And, a lot of things can happen to two people in “a long time”, can‟t they?‟
Denman nodded, and Rebecca found herself staring across the room at Trevor. He‟d seemed so like his old self when they‟d met earlier, but she knew that, paradoxically, he was a quite different man now. There was a deeper melancholy that she couldn‟t quite fathom. Of course, those summer days down by the river had been laced with their own teenage sadnesses, but nothing like this.
She remembered the little wicker basket that her mother dutifully packed for them, full of cheese sandwiches, fairy cakes, and strawberry lemonade. With a shiver she recalled Trevor letting her hair down and clumsily unbuttoning her blouse. Then there was the time Trevor had tried to climb the old wooden bridge and ended up falling into the river, and he‟d had to wear her sweater to cover his dignity while the soaked clothes dried on the riverbank. They had been two poets, inspired by the beauty all around them. And now...
Now, he was a man who worked with dangerous people, and she... She was talking to a policeman.
Rebecca glanced at Denman, but his eyes hadn‟t moved from the group. His expression had darkened, like a black thundercloud on a summer‟s day.
„You must excuse me,‟ Denman said. „I think it‟s time I...‟
One of the men glanced around, and appeared to notice Denman for the first time. He seemed amused, made a brief apology to Trevor and the swaggering Hatch, and strolled towards Rebecca and Denman.
„What brings you down to these parts, Sergeant?‟ asked the man in a thick Liverpudlian accent. He looked about forty and was beginning to lose some of his blond hair. He was thin, almost gaunt in appearance, wearing a collarless white shirt and a waistcoat from which clanked a chain containing his car keys. The impression was that of extreme wealth but a complete lack of social grace. A rich vulgarian.
Denman didn‟t even attempt to correct him, clearly used to the insult. „“Down” is about right,‟ he snapped.
„I didn‟t think you‟d be caught dead in Hexen Bridge again.‟
„But here I am.‟
The man from Liverpool nodded, and looked at Rebecca.
„Aye, it‟s the vicar‟s daughter, innit? Trevor‟s bird?‟
Rebecca returned her attention to her drink. Her mother had always said that if you ignore people like that then they might just go away.
„I see your taste in friends hasn‟t changed,‟ said Denman, nodding towards the group.
„Matty Hatch and Phil Burridge were the only friends I had when I was in this crap-hole,‟ said the man angrily. „And you spent all your time trying to stop us breathing.‟
„Just doing my job,‟ replied Denman.
„And loving it, too.‟ The man smiled. „Though I didn‟t expect you to follow me back down here.‟
„I‟d follow you to hell, Shanks.‟
Without further comment the man turned and stalked back to his friends. Denman shook his head, sadly. „Kenny Shanks,‟ he explained. „A thug from the first day I set eyes on him. I‟ve spent most of my life trying to put that piece of scum away from society. Here and in the „Pool.‟
Rebecca finished off her glass of wine. „I don‟t like him.‟
„Nobody in their right mind would like Shanks,‟ said Denman.
„And then there was that terrible business with Michael Forster,‟ said the former headmaster. The man, mumbling his words through a mouthful of champagne and oysters, seemed to have recognised