BooksBarbecue
Back Bad Apples
Chapters (65)
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  2. 2
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  9. 9
  10. 10
  11. 11
  12. 12
  13. 13
  14. 14
  15. 15
  16. 16
  17. 17
  18. 18
  19. 19
  20. 20
  21. 21
  22. 22
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  25. 25
  26. 26
  27. 27
  28. 28
  29. 29
  30. 30
  31. 31
  32. 32
  33. 33
  34. 34
  35. 35
  36. 36
  37. 37
  38. 38
  39. 39
  40. 40
  41. 41
  42. 42
  43. 43
  44. 44
  45. 45
  46. 46
  47. 47
  48. 48
  49. 49
  50. 50
  51. 51
  52. 52
  53. 53
  54. 54
  55. 55
  56. 56
  57. 57
  58. 58
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  60. 60
  61. 61
  62. 62
  63. 63
  64. 64
  65. Acknowledgements

‘Sorry,’ I say again, tapping my head. ‘I’m terrible with faces.’ Actually I’m great with faces but she’s wearing a large orange hat and I’ve only ever seen her for ten minutes. ‘Is there someplace round here I can park?’

‘Not tonight. Town’s closed. You should leave as soon as you can.’

‘Just for an hour, then I’m heading onto Falun.’

‘Oh, that’s okay then, I guess. I thought you meant for the whole night. For an hour, sure, you can use my garage if you like.’

That’s not going to work but at least it’ll buy me some time. I can ask her for more locations.

‘That would be great.’

So she jumps in my truck. I was not expecting that, I was expecting an address or a number. We drive away together.

‘Nice van,’ she says, and then she puts on a Southern US accent. ‘Fancy.’

‘Where do you live?’

‘Just over there.’

We drive for literally three minutes to her house. I’d say something acidic about it but she’s helping me out so I swallow it down.

‘It’s Friday night and I never get to meet new people here,’ she says. ‘Quick drink before you drive off to Falun? What do you need to do in your hour here?’

What do I answer? What do I need to do? ‘A drink sounds fantastic if you don’t mind.’

Her eyes light up like there’s not many people her age in this town who want to drink with her. I’ll break my rule. Since returning to Gavrik I’ve only drunk on weekends. That method has worked out pretty well. I tried the same thing in London years ago and one time I started drinking on Saturday lunchtime and powered through till early Wednesday morning. That was quite a weekend.

She unlocks her front door and I notice she’s wearing a candy bracelet like the one Emil tried to give me. We go in.

It’s a bombsite. Clothes on the floor, food all over the table, carrier bags in the kitchen sink. Good for her. I’m instantly at peace in this place. She’s even messier than I am.

‘Martini or bag-in-box wine or a beer or…’ she inspects a bottle from behind her toaster, ‘bourbon?’

‘Mixers?’

She empties her Konsum carrier bags in front of me. Biscuits, tampons, Coke, milk, sliced ham, coffee granules, carrots. My kind of shopper.

‘Coke alright?’

‘Whisky and Coke. Just a single as I’m driving later,’ I lie. ‘Thank you.’

‘Anytime. I need a double, what with the week I’ve had and the night ahead, I need a strong frickin’ beverage.’

She mixes the drinks and I make some space for myself on the sofa.