It had been three years since he had run away from home yet it seemed more like ten. So much had happened to Tony Richards since that fateful day. It had started off just like any other Monday. Getting up, watching TV with his breakfast perched on the arm of the sofa before going off to school more often than not later than he should and having to run for the bus, just a typical day, just like any other school day. However, it wasn’t to be a typical day for that particular day was going to end with death.
Tony drained the last dregs of the flat coke from the can and tossed it across the room to the bin. The aim was good but the height was wrong so it hit the lip of the bin and rebounded down to the floor with a series of metallic clangs as it hit and bounced across the black and white ceramic tiles of the almost empty cafe.
The floor complimented the walls with their stained and grubby appearance. At various points around the room with a few posters, many half torn containing pictures of a selection of food unlike anything you were likely to get served there. Up in the corner to the left of the door sat a spider’s web that seemed to be the final resting place of every fly that went within a mile radius of the place. Mounted on the wall behind the counter a large menu scribbled in white chalk on a large blackboard proudly showing off the achievements of a poor speller or a person that suffered from dyslexia and wrote wearing a boxing glove.
“I hope you ain’t thinking of leaving it there” said George Parry, the cafe owner.
“No George,” smirked Tony.
Tony got up from the table he was sitting at and took his denim jacket from the back of the chair. Inserting his arm into the sleeve he swung it around his thin body like a cape and put his other arm in adjusting the garment to fit properly the sleeves rode up to reveal that it was too a little small for him. Picking up his small black Puma rucksack he crossed to the bin to pick up the can and deposit it in the bin properly on route to the service counter. Reaching into the left pocket of his jeans he pulled out a copper coloured Yale key on a Liverpool FC key ring and placed it on the off white Formica counter.
George Mitchell the café owner finished rinsing a mug under the running cold water tap and placed it on the draining board. Turning off the tap he took hold of his apron to dry his hands as he looked up at the clock as the second hand completed yet another full circle to the top of the hour to be simultaneously joined there by the minute hand which jumped to attention on the twelve with a tiny click to show 12 o’clock.
“I guess you’re going now then.”
“Yeah, it’s a long journey and I want to be there before it gets dark” Tony said with a look on his face that clearly showed he wasn’t sure he really wanted to go.
“You don’t have to mate, you can stay here you know that.” George told him putting more emphasis on the last two words hoping that Tony had changed his mind and would stay.
“Yeah I know, but I have too. I need to face up to it and get it out of the way.”
With the slightest expulsion of a disappointed sigh George reached over to the keys of the cash register, pressed a button and the drawer shot open revealing a good mornings takings. Flipping up the metal retaining clip of the section that held the ten pound notes he quickly slid his thumb over the notes casing them to bunch up making a total of fifty pounds and removed them, using his middle finger to drop down the metal clip and pushed the drawer shut again.
“Here take this” he said stretching out his arm towards Tony.
“No I don’t.”
“Shut up and take it” George said with a more forceful tone in his voice.
Tony didn’t argue and just took the money. “Thanks George.”
“You have my number and you know where you can contact me if you need me. I’ll keep the room empty for three months so if you need it it’s there.” George raised his eyebrows slightly to make sure that Tony understood what he was being told as he put forward his hand. “Good luck mate!”
“George,” Tony’s voice cracked with a noticeable tremble on that first word to give away what he was feeling despite him wanting to hide it and sound confident.
“I don’t know how I can thank you. If it wasn’t for you taking me in and keeping an eye on me I don’t know what I would have done.”
George said nothing. All that needed to be said was conveyed by him gripping Tony’s hand firmer as he shook it. Releasing his grip Tony turned and headed for the door. Opening it he stopped in the doorway. He wanted to turn around but knew he couldn’t, he daren’t or he probably would change his mind. To add to the heavy heart the young boy already had, the dark imposing clouds decided to add it’s sixpennith worth to the proceedings and started to spit sorrowful tears of its own almost immediately turning them into a foreboding waterfall.
Zipping up his jacket to the top and carrying the rucksack in his left hand Tony exited the café giving the door a tug so it would shut behind him. Pulling the collar of his jacket up to cover his neck as he crossed the street Tony set off for the train station. Whichever path destiny had chosen for him, he was going to face it head on come what may.
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