Tuesday 24 November 2015

The Street

For audio click here 
Cliff looked at the scrap of paper in his hand and then at the street sign. This was definitely the right place, but it didn’t look very promising, not very promising at all. A grimy, suburban street that the streetlights struggled to illuminate; it could have been anywhere from Lublin to Leeds.  A hedgehog scurried out from under a parked car and disappeared into the bushes. Cliff looked behind him to check the coast was clear and then continued, peering down drives to see house numbers. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance and then in a beat another returned the call. 
Cliff was exhausted. It’d been three days since he’d last slept in his own bed, two days since his last hot meal.  He longed for a hot shower and clean clothes, for meat and two veg with a nice cup of tea. But most of all he wanted crisp, clean sheets and a soft downy pillow to sink into. 
The road seemed eerie, too quiet, too dark. Despite his tiredness Cliff was on full alert, he might have been just a few steps from safety, but that didn’t mean he could let his guard down. K had told him not to knock the door if he thought there was anything suspicious.
The couple at number fifty-four would look after him; keep him safe until ‘the powers that be’ had figured out what to do with him. He checked his watch, 9.58; he’d been told to knock the door at 10 pm exactly. He quickened his pace; he was only at twenty, still another 16 houses to go. The wind rustled gently in the trees and the owls exchanged calls again. Cliff’s shoulders ached and his heart sped, he was nearly there; he could almost taste the tea. 
“Good evening,” a figure emerged as if from nowhere, a shiver ran down Cliff’s spine.
It’s just a dog walker, Cliff told himself, it’s just a dog walker, but there was no dog to be seen. 
“Good evening,” he replied, trying to look as cool as he could. The man looked him up and down carefully but walked past, Cliff let out his breath. He was at number 44 now, 5 more houses, 20 more steps. He checked over his shoulder, the non-dog walker hadn’t looked back.  He checked his watch, it was time. 
Up ahead another man had materialised, Cliff felt sweat drip off the backs of his knees. He instinctively looked around again to see the first man had turned and was retracing his steps. Cliff was the meat in the sandwich. 
He knew that this was it, it was over, he’d done his best, but now it was time to admit defeat. He walked on ignoring the safe house. He wondered if it would be better to be shot or arrested. 
“Good evening,” the man said walking straight past Cliff. Cliff didn’t respond. 
“Good evening,” he heard the man say to the non-dog walker.
“Nice Night,” came the reply. Cliff watched them and understood. He saw them look around furtively and then slip into the bushes together. 
Cliff almost laughed with relief and the absurdity of it all, and then with one last check he disappeared into the safety of number 54.

1 comment:

  1. I like many of your detective stories. The Street is one of them.

    ReplyDelete