BooksBarbecue
Back The Game
Chapters (68)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. NOW
  4. One
  5. BEFORE
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. NOW
  26. Twenty-One
  27. BEFORE
  28. Twenty-Two
  29. Twenty-Three
  30. Twenty-Four
  31. Twenty-Five
  32. Twenty-Six
  33. Twenty-Seven
  34. Twenty-Eight
  35. Twenty-Nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-One
  38. Thirty-Two
  39. Thirty-three
  40. Thirty-Four
  41. Thirty-Five
  42. Thirty-Six
  43. Thirty-Seven
  44. Thirty-Eight
  45. NOW
  46. Thirty-Nine
  47. BEFORE
  48. Forty
  49. Forty-One
  50. Forty-Two
  51. Forty-three
  52. Forty-Four
  53. Forty-Five
  54. Forty-Six
  55. Forty-Seven
  56. Forty-Eight
  57. Forty-Nine
  58. Fifty
  59. Fifty-One
  60. NOW
  61. Fifty-Two
  62. Fifty-Three
  63. Fifty-Four
  64. Fifty-Five
  65. AFTER
  66. Fifty-Six
  67. Acknowledgements
  68. About the Author

There was a moment when Mark thought he’d pushed it too hard, even though he’d only asked a simple question. That’s all it could take in a place like this – one bad word, one wrong look.

‘I never did anything bad to her,’ Barry said, a look of anger sweeping across his face, gone in a second. ‘Nothing like as bad as she told your lot anyway. We had some arguments, me and her. Some doozies. She could give as good as she got, that Julie. What happened to me was never talked about – it was always what happened to her. She always came running back, though.’

‘Until the last time,’ Mark said, watching as Barry’s face darkened yet again, before the fresh pint was plonked in front of him on the bar. A curled fist went round it and Barry supped greedily.

‘Yeah, until the last time,’ Barry replied, wiping a grimy sleeve across his bearded face. Mark wondered where he’d been for the past decade, as his son and daughters grew older, became adults. Whether he’d been waiting in this pub, for someone like him to come along and tell him how his kids were doing.

‘I tried for a bit,’ Barry continued, patting his pockets and eventually finding what he was looking for – a pouch of tobacco, which he opened and began rolling a cigarette. ‘Used to have them round to this little flat I had back when I moved out. Tiny place it was and she wouldn’t let me put some sleeping bags down so they could sleep over. Not my fault, that. They would have loved it, I reckon. Would’ve been like they were camping. That bint wasn’t having any of it. She hated me by that point, even though she still loved me as well. I could tell, when I would drop them off – there was always a part of her that wanted me to just walk through that door like nothing had happened and take over the house again. She needed it, but I wasn’t going to give it to her. Not anymore. Bet she’s still waiting for me to come back. She could never cope without me.’

She seems to have done fine without you, Mark thought. ‘Do you keep in touch with any of that side of the family? Ever had any run-ins with them perhaps?’