Not Dead Yet

126

Freedom for Amis Smallbone, among other things, meant being able to enjoy some of life’s simple pleasures. One of them had always been sitting at a table under the Arches on the seafront, right by the beach, staring out at the sea and the Palace Pier and the passing totty.

By night, this area was rich pickings for the network of drug dealers he once controlled, but on a fine summer morning it was mostly tourists promenading along, enjoying the views, the beach, the bars, cafes, shops and other seaside attractions.

And there were few things he enjoyed more than his first coffee of the day with the Argus newspaper. Especially when an endless procession of skimpily dressed girls were strutting past at eye level.

With his cigarette in his mouth, smoke curling up between his eyes, he flicked through the pages, aware he still had years to catch up on in this town. He saw an interview with the Chief Constable talking about cuts he was having to make and read the piece with little sympathy. There was talk of a new hospital. A bunch of drug dealers in Crawley, a couple of whom he knew, had been arrested in a raid the police had been working on for ten months.

His eyes widened a little and he read this story carefully. Could be a business opportunity had opened up there. Then he reached one of the pages that always interested him the most. YOUR ANNOUNCEMENTS.

He went straight to the DEATHS, and scanned down the column. He never ever missed this column, because he liked to know who he had outlived, and who he didn’t have to worry about any more.

But today there was a very special entry.

She liked Gatwick Airport; it was much more convenient for Brighton than Heathrow and easyJet had direct flights to Munich.

Holding hands with her ten-year-old son, after security she walked into the duty-free shopping area. Immediately the boy dragged her into Dixons, where she bought him an upgrade for his latest computer gaming machine, which made him happy.

The one good thing that had happened in the past decade was her careful investing of her windfall inheritance from her aunt, enabling her to escape from her relationship with the increasingly insane control freak Hans-Jürgen. She was now a wealthy woman. Well, wealth was all relative, but she had enough to buy the house, if she decided, and to buy things for her son without having to consider the cost.

Emerging from Dixons, she made straight for the WH Smith news and bookstore.

‘Just want to get some papers, in case they don’t have them on the plane.’ Then in German she asked her son if he would like something to read on the flight to Munich. ‘Mochste Du etwas zum lesen?’

He shrugged indifferently, engrossed in the instructions on the game upgrade.

Straight away, she grabbed a copy of the Argus from the rack, and flicked it open, scanning the pages eagerly.