Widows & Orphans Read Online Free PDF Page A

flies. ‘I saw you on the news insisting that you weren’t responsible for the fire.’
    ‘Best to clear the air.’
    ‘Some people might think it a smokescreen.’ Geoffrey guffawed. ‘No pun intended.’
    ‘Why would I burn down the pier? I’ve already got what I want. This just complicates things. Insurance claims. Emergency repairs.’
    ‘So it was fate?’
    ‘I don’t believe in fate, Duncan. Fate is the name that losers give to chance. And on Tuesday night chance took the form of Afghan asylum seekers.’
    ‘Oh, they’re Afghans now, are they? How’s that? Did they have Kabul stamped on their bedding?’
    ‘Is it my fault if my sources are more clued in than the
Mercury
’s?’
    A young librarian entered the room, stopping short at the sight of the men cheek by jowl beside four empty urinals. ‘Come on up,’ Geoffrey said, as if it were his private preserve. ‘No need to be shy. Just two old friends measuring their dicks – metaphorically.’ The librarian gave him an uneasy smile and made for the furthest urinal, where the steady patter showed that he shared none of Duncan’s reticence.
    ‘You and your lot should be grateful to me,’ Geoffrey said.
    ‘For what precisely?’ Duncan asked.
    ‘The Council survey found that, if they couldn’t come up with a buyer, the only option was to demolish the pier at a cost of four million quid. In other words, a lot more cuts to the day centres, youth clubs and, dare I say it, the libraries that the
Mercury
is always banging on about.’
    The librarian washed his hands and hurried out without drying them. Geoffrey followed him to the basins, where Duncan was surprised by how meticulously he soaped his hands.
    ‘I’ve been thinking about the difference between us,’ Geoffrey said.
    ‘I’m flattered.’
    ‘Why? You’re practically family.’ Duncan shuddered. ‘The distinction may be a little crude – a little binary – but I try to make people happy, whereas you try to improve them.’
    ‘Is that so?’
    ‘Take the motto on your masthead: you know, the one that sounds like the Pope.’
    ‘
Celeritas
et veritas
,’ Duncan said, concentrating on the water gushing from the tap.
    ‘What does it mean?’
    ‘You know what it means.’
    ‘Yes. But we’d both like it so much if you told me.’
    ‘Promptness and truth.’
    ‘Then why not say so? Do you never ask yourself why you’ve chosen a phrase that ninety-nine point nine per cent of readers don’t understand, that makes them think the paper’s not for them?’
    ‘We’ve used it since the very first issue. It’s tradition.’
    ‘Is that your answer to everything? You’re speaking a different language. Literally.’
    ‘It’s only three words.’
    ‘Is it?’ Geoffrey laughed as he tugged the recalcitrant roller towel. ‘One last piece of advice and then I’m off: book an appointment with your doctor.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘I can’t help noticing you’re having problems with Percy there. Sure sign of an enlarged prostate. Best get it checked out.’
    Geoffrey’s diagnosis was disproved the moment he walked out. Duncan felt a surge of relief, followed by anger at having allowed his old adversary to gain the upper hand. He returned to the Reference Section, which was busier than he expected, as if the exhibition had become the focus of communal grief at the destruction of the pier. He caught sight of Jamie in a huddle of larger boys, among them his stepbrother, Craig. Flouting the veto on public displays of affection, he walked over and ruffled his hair, causing Craig, whose own hair was spiky, to smirk.
    ‘Good to see you here, boys,’ Duncan said. ‘Do any of you have entries in the competition?’
    ‘For fuck’s sake, Dad!’ Jamie said, as Craig and his three companions sniggered.
    ‘Is the idea so inconceivable?’ Duncan asked.
    ‘What’s that mean then?’ one of the boys asked, playing dumb.
    ‘It’s like wearing a condom on your brain so that nothing can get through.