Ten past two. As he tried to rise he yelled out in pain as his broken fingers pressed against the mattress. He swallowed two more of the tablets with a cup of tea, switched on the immersion heater and studied himself in the mirror. The lump on his head was tender. But at least his vision was clear and the wound only ached when he touched it. A few days and it would be gone. He gazed at the fingers, useless and bound. They were a different matter. Carter had done his work well. The scars would remind him for the rest of his life. He bathed, shaved and dressed. At quarter to five he started the car, the sense of anticipation rising in his stomach. Another half hour and Carla would be home. He could already picture her, skin brown from the sun, climbing down lazily from the train, happy to be back. And to see him again. He parked and walked into the station. It was a cauldron of noise, voices, engines and the stink of coal and smoke all gathered under the glass ceiling, dimming the light.
What do You think about Dark Briggate Blues (2014)?
