EASTBOURNE MONDAY :
"I know exactly what to do with that," Mrs Brannigan smiled as I gave her the head shaped bag from Mr Apollyon.
Me and Old Reg just looked at each other. Mrs Brannigan was a jovial, red faced woman, but there was an edge to her that I could never quite make out. At her feet, as usual, sat the weird white faced boy. We have been coming here for a fair few years and the kid never seems to age, he just looked at you like he was wondering how you'd taste with chips.
"You two are in room 15 as always," Mrs Brannigan smiled.
"There's only 14 bleedin' rooms," Old Reg said being his usual stroppy self. "And we're always in 15, why's that?"
"You know what curiosity did to the cat," Mrs Brannigan grinned as if to end the conversation. Which it did.
The rooms at the boarding house are pretty basic and that's selling them short. Or as Old Rag always says: "This bleedin' place reminds me of The Scrubs in the 50's".
Later I watched Old Reg get ready to go out, all suited and booted and wearing aftershave that smelt like Brimstone for Men. He liked to hit the town first night.
"Feeling lucky?" I asked him.
"Luck don't come in to it.I'll tell you what, to these old birds of Eastbourne, I'm George bleedin' Clooney." Old Reg said straightening his tie and letting rip with a loud fart.
"Knock 'em dead George," I said as he left the room leaving a combination of Brimstone for Men and rotten eggs behind him.
I decided to go for a little evening stroll myself. As I wandered along Eastbourne pier, remembering it was used in that God awful Brighton Rock remake,I caught sight of Mrs Brannigan tipping something into the sea below. I kept my distance and as she continued large black birds started swarming around her. They certainly weren't gulls and too big for ravens, what the bloody hell were they? She waved her arms around, like she was conducting them and they swayed and weaved in time with her movements; then she started laughing like a loon so I edged away, in case she turned around.
I went back to my room unnerved, to say the least. I must've fallen asleep because I woke up to what sounded like scratching and whispering at my door. Old Reg hadn't come back, so he must've got lucky. Was that my name that was being said?
I went back to my room unnerved, to say the least. I must've fallen asleep because I woke up to what sounded like scratching and whispering at my door. Old Reg hadn't come back, so he must've got lucky. Was that my name that was being said?
TO BE CONTINUED
The Owner.
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