Someone Else's Conflict Read Free Page B

for the car park. He hoped she’d see the purse.
    The bus finally carried him away and a calm began to settle over him. He’d be back, just as the busker had said he’d be back. It briefly occurred to him that it was something they had in common: elusiveness, the ability to disappear at any time if they chose. He wondered when the time would come to make that choice, and move on. His mother had always said he should come here to find his grandparents, his family. He had the address, but had always held back from following it up. The only other family he’d had contact with had let him down. Dumped him here, then disappeared. Why should they be any different? But something in him knew that he would not move on until he’d at least tried.
    Dusk was drawing down, brought on early by the heavy clouds, as the bus pulled in to Keighley where he had to get off and change. Or simply get off, he thought, if he was going to pay that call. He wandered along the soulless concourse, a chill wind blowing fast-food wrappers to the cacophonous accompaniment of rolling drink cans and the distant rumble of traffic. He looked at the numbers and names on the buses he passed, thinking that most were still as unfamiliar to him as the places of the faraway home he’d never known but had heard so much about. And there it was again, that nagging reminder. It had to be done; the longer he delayed, the worse it would be. But it was getting late, not the kind of time to make an unexpected social call. There was always the morning; he lingered long enough to let the next Bradford bus leave, telling himself he merely fancied a change of scene for the night and could see how he felt in the morning.
    The premature twilight had turned dark, the weird light accentuated by the jaded orange glow of the streetlights. The heavens opened as an extraordinary flash illuminated the early Saturday-night revellers dashing for cover. Neither the rain nor the explosive rumble that followed interrupted the studied cool of Vinko’s stride as he looked in his own time for shelter. He found a shop doorway at the top of a sloping street which offered a reasonable view of what promised to be a fine show. He briefly wondered if he’d be enjoying this as much if he’d experienced the same things his father had – but he’d never know so it didn’t matter. He took his phone from the pocket of his charity-shop leather jacket and quickly texted Ravi to say he wouldn’t be out with them that night, giving no reason and hoping his housemate would think he’d picked up a girl. The next lightning flash coincided perfectly with the moment he pressed Send. He grinned to himself as he leaned against the side of the plate-glass entranceway to watch the bonus entertainment, a prelude to his planned take-away followed by a few drinks and a good night’s clubbing.

Chapter 2
    Lightning slashed deep cuts across the bruised sky. The intervals between the flashing and the growling response grew smaller as Marilyn sat by the window. The angry colours were incredible – sometimes dark purple blue, sometimes pink, sometimes even green – like the end of the world. Like nothing she’d ever seen. She was trying to capture the mood with her camera, experimenting with different exposures to distract her attention from the innate fear she was unable to suppress. She’d had enough now and longed for it to end so she could move away from the window. Silly, she knew, but while she stayed in one place and kept her eye on it, she felt safe. Who knew what it would do while her back was turned?
    As she watched, she felt as if the anvil-head stormclouds were as enchanted by this moorland Yorkshire paradise as she was. They lingered for an age, before hurling a particularly fierce shaft that shook the land round about. She tensed, wondering what damage it had done, to her house or her neighbours’. Had anyone been hurt? The storm