Carnforth's Creation Read Free

loud swearing came from inside.Eleanor guessed that the campbed had collapsed. She verified this hunch before rapping on the door.
    The young man who let her in, stood staring at her with a grin that could have been apologetic, but might just as well have been insulting.
    ‘I’m Roy,’ he announced. ‘Just passing by?’
    There was an insolent knowingness about him that she did not care for. It reminded her of the way some young taxi-drivers and hotel doormen looked her up and down. There was a sweet distinctive aroma in the air, which she supposed to be marijuana.
    ‘No,’ she replied gravely. ‘I wasn’t just passing by.’
    ‘Pity you couldn’t have chosen another day,’ he muttered, kicking at a greasy sleeping-bag. ‘This isn’t our normal scene.’
    In his American combat jacket he might have been an N.C.O. standing up for his defeated men. But Eleanor felt little sympathy; whatever wounds they suffered from were clearly self-inflicted. The man with the bottle thrust it at her.
    ‘Wansome?’
    ‘No thank you.’
    ‘I’ll getcher a glass. No bother.’
    Getting up, he tripped over the up-ended campbed and dropped the bottle.
    ‘Fuckanshitanassoles,’ he shrieked, as his heel came down heavily on a piece of broken glass.
    ‘One of those days,’ murmured Roy. ‘Nice weather outside … so if you’ve got something you want to say, why don’t we …?’
    ‘Don’t stand there bleeding on me, man,’ choked the man with the wrinkled cigarette, kicking ineffectively at the one with the beard. The girl shifted her weight on to her left buttock and gasped as she saw blood oozing from the sock.
    ‘Can’t do nothing, Gary. He’s hurt really bad.’ She rose, casting about for something to use as a bandage. Her gaze rested on Eleanor’s boots, then jerked upwards, via jodphurs and hacking jacket, to a face she seemed to recall. A red flush spread across the girl’s moon face, as Eleanor’s eyes met hers.As a lazy hand stroked her inside thigh, she moaned, ‘You won’t say nothing to my dad, will you. Lady Carnforth?’
    ‘Watch where you tread,’ suggested Eleanor.
    For a few seconds Linda tried to stretch her T-shirt enough to cover her pubic hair, but merely split the seam under her arm, and finally fled into the kitchen. With relief Eleanor noticed that, while she had been involved with Linda Mudge, Roy had found a length of cloth and was binding up his colleague’s heel.
    ‘Probably needs stitches,’ he said, in a tone implying that an amputation would not surprise him. He smiled. ‘Lady Carnforth are we? So Paul’s yer ’usband.’ He finished knot ting the improvised bandage and rocked back on his haunches. ‘You’re going to tell us to split … right?’
    ‘If you mean “get out”,’ replied Eleanor, ‘Yes.’
    ‘Only thing is – your feller said we could stay three weeks.’
    ‘Well maybe “my feller” didn’t know you’d be getting mixed up with the police,’ said Eleanor, fighting the rush of anger that was making her tremble. Roy scratched his curly hair.
    ‘You could be wrong there. Like I reckon he knew we’d blow it here. Then he comes in nice and gentle and picks up the pieces.’ He leant against the wall. ‘Me being one of the pieces …’ Eleanor advanced menacingly.
    ‘Are you aware that the police came to see me this morning ?’
    ‘Now you tell me.’
    ‘And you’re stupid enough to be using drugs and seducing a girl of fifteen, when at any moment …’
    ‘Cool it. She didn’t bring ’er birth certificate.’
    ‘Only ’er cap,’ leered the one with the bandaged heel.
    ‘He’s not very civilized, but I’m working on him,’ Roy assured Eleanor. He pulled a long face. ‘So when do you want us out by? I’ve had this place up to here.’ He indicated a point near the bridge of his nose.
    ‘What about noon?’
    ‘You hear that?’ shouted Roy.
    ‘Rhymes with moon and coon,’ said the one who had been lying next to Linda. ‘Boy, am I