Ahead of his Time by Adrian Cousins (children's books read aloud .txt) 📕

there were a few different pieces of furniture, it appeared the landlord had made little effort to spruce the place up after Carol’s body was removed and the flat closed up. That was the day I dropped David Colney to his death, three floors above my head. I glanced up at the ceiling as if I had x-ray eyes and could see the very spot where I stood on that roof.

Jess closed the door and stroked my arm as she looked up at me. “This is really nice. Thanks for coming around; d’you wanna cuppa?

“I’ll have coffee if you have it,” I replied, as we moved into the kitchen.

A lit cigarette lay in the ashtray on the windowsill, the bluish curling smoke wisped up and entangled with the aerial of the transistor radio. “Evening listeners, this is Mark Lawrence, here on Radio Caroline. How long has this been going on — ha well, since four o’clock. Here’s Ace, and yes, you guessed it—How long has this been going on.”

This song was always a particular favourite. However, the radio’s fuzzy reception was horrific as the music came out of the speaker in waves. I leant up against the sink and pushed the aerial in a different direction.

“Push it against the glass. It seems to pick it up better,” said Jess, as she watched me randomly trying to restore the signal before the song ended. I did miss the ability to just pull up a song whenever you wanted. In this era, unless you had the record, your only hope to hear a particular song was to catch it on the radio. Although I thought it made you appreciate it more when you did. As expected, my efforts were to no avail, and alas, the song ended in hisses and crackles. I couldn't remember when digital radio started, but I was aware I had a long wait.

“You okay, Jess?”

She turned and handed me my coffee. I grabbed the mug but kept my eyes on hers, which were red and puffy with fresh tears welling up to replace the previously dried ones. We’d only met once, and although she was my daughter – but not my daughter – I felt the bond that presumably other Jason would have if he was standing where I was. I placed my cup on the pot-marked, rusty draining board, pulled her in close and hugged her. The tears flowed as she sobbed.

After a long minute, she pulled away and fished out a scrunched-up piece of toilet paper which she’d stuffed up the sleeve of her heavy-knit white jumper. She wiped her eyes, looked up at me and smiled. “Ha, sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“You wanna talk about it?” I said, as I reached over to retrieve my coffee.

Jess waved the piece of toilet paper in the air. “No, it’s just me. I seem to be teary at the moment.”

“Can I ask why Paul Colney was here?”

Jess shot a concerned look at me and narrowed her eyes. “How d’you know him?”

“I don’t. But I’ve come across him a couple of times. I hope I’m not talking out of turn, but he’s not the sort you want to be associated with.”

Jess grabbed the brown, Whitbread-branded metal ashtray from the windowsill. The cigarette had burnt down to the filter, leaving a fragile cigarette-shaped tube of ash precariously balancing on the edge. She placed it on the table next to a packet of Camel cigarettes and eased herself down onto the metal-framed chair; the red leatherette seat was cracked and split, causing the hessian filling to poke out of the sides. I stayed standing by the sink, sipping my coffee, giving her time to collect her thoughts. Paul Colney could only have been here for two reasons, selling drugs, or Jess and Paul were in a relationship – both reasons didn’t bear thinking about.

She lit her cigarette and lobbed the lighter onto the table, which skidded across the chipped Formica top and landed on the lino floor.

“Sorry,” she said, as she blew the smoke to the ceiling.

This encounter seemed so reminiscent of the last time I saw Carol when I stood in the exact same spot. At least this time, the sink didn’t smell. I bent down, retrieved the lighter and placed it on the table. Jess nodded a thank you.

“Paul Colney, you’re not … you know … seeing him are you?”

She shot me a surprised look, “Good God, no!”

Relieved, I let out a long sigh. Although now concerned if she wasn’t seeing that thug, was she a customer?

“Do you know Paul Colney has a twin brother?” asked Jess.

“Yes, Patrick.”

She nodded and laid her left hand on her tummy. “Patrick is the father of my child. You may not be aware, but earlier today he was sentenced to twelve years for attempted murder.” She looked at her cigarette as she gently twisted the end in the ashtray forming a hot glowing pointed end.

“Oh, right.” I said, now not sure what to say. I was concerned she was in a relationship with Paul, but this was no better. Patrick and Paul were both evil thugs, and one of them I believed to be a vile rapist. If not now, definitely in the future.

“Patrick isn’t like Paul. He’s a loving man. I know he’s no angel, but he does love me, and he’ll love our child.”

“Jess, he stabbed a man and nearly killed him. Look, I don’t know him, but most normal people don’t go around stabbing folk.”

Jess wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I know, I know.” She nodded. “But honestly, he really isn’t like the rest of his family.”

I plucked out my cigarettes from my jacket pocket and joined Jess at the table, snatching up the other chair that appeared to be in a similar condition to the one she was slumped in. Based on the pasting I’d received last year from the brothers, I wasn’t sure I could agree with Jess about Patrick’s character,