wages.
The
Gazette’s
in-depth investigation revealed the contents of Frannie Hatton’s Facebook page, and they printed the only photo that did not feature an obscene gesture or an illegal substance. It was an old picture of Frannie as a blurry bridesmaid, in a dress so pink and sleeves so puffed that she looked like a gay quarterback.
The same photo appeared on posters that the police put up in public places and on lamp posts, so that people who’d never known the victim almost felt as though they had, and started to refer to her as ‘Frannie’ instead of ‘that girl’.
People left bouquets and little teddy bears in the lay-by, and the regulars at the Patch & Parrot, who felt guilty that none of them had ever offered her a ride home, started a collection on the bar to help her mother with the funeral expenses.
All in all, dying was very improving for Frannie Hatton.
18
RUBY COULD TELL Daddy was in a good mood, just by the way he opened the front door.
‘That’s a twenty-quid fish!’ he said as he dropped the dogfish on the draining board.
‘It’s like a
whale
,’ she enthused. She’d seen bigger, but having Daddy in a good mood again changed everything: everything
did
seem better than it was before.
The dogfish had bitten Daddy as he took it off the hook, but he didn’t even care. ‘Been bitten by worse!’ he said and put some salt on it so it wouldn’t go manky. Then they measured the fish with Ruby’s school ruler. Twenty-seven inches! A lot of that was tail, but even so. Then he let her feel its skin – smooth one way, rough the other – and touch its sharky little teeth with her finger until she shivered with dread, and they both laughed.
She got a chair to kneel on so she could watch him gut the fish. The insides were such a dark red they were almost black. Daddy scooped them down the cut-off foot of one of Mummy’s old tights, all the way to the toe, then knotted the top and put it in the freezer. Ruby knew that the next time he went out on the Gore, he would dangle it in the water and, as it thawed, blood and juice would leak from it and attract more dogfish, and eels too.
Daddy wrapped the rest of the fish in plastic and put it in the fridge. Then he started to wash down the drainer and the sink. Without looking at her, he said, ‘Can you keep a secret, Rubes?’
‘Yes,’ she said instantly, because she wanted to hear one.
‘Cross your heart?’
She crossed her heart. ‘And hope to die,’ she said. ‘What
is
it?’
Daddy stood very still. He glanced towards the kitchen door as if someone might be there, spying on them. Ruby looked too, as the atmosphere thickened in the dingy little kitchen, and she drew closer to Daddy to hear the secret.
When he spoke it was in a low voice, only just above a whisper.
‘The Gunslingers are getting up a posse.’
That was all he needed to say. Ruby’s mouth fell open and she felt almost dizzy, as foreign-familiar images flooded her brain. A hot place, with a wide sky that smelled like summer. Cowboys firing their guns in the air, legs flapping, spurs digging, manes flying; dust clouds and small boys swirling in their wake. A posse was fearless and fast. A posse was the law. When a bad man came to town, a posse hunted him down and made him pay. A posse never gave up. The thought of Daddy on a posse was completely thrilling.
‘We’re going to catch the man who killed that girl,’ Daddy went on in hushed tones.
‘What girl?’ said Ruby, matching his whisper.
‘That girl. Frannie something.’
‘Oh yeah.’ Ruby remembered vaguely; there was a poster on the shop door next to the one about the Leper Parade. ‘What will you do when you catch him?’
‘Well, we’re
supposed
to call the police.’ Daddy shrugged. ‘But who knows?’ He did the cowboy accent. ‘Blood’s running pretty high, Miss Ruby.’ He made a finger gun and drew a bead on her with narrowed eyes, then blew the tip.
She stared at his fingertip, enthralled
The
Gazette’s
in-depth investigation revealed the contents of Frannie Hatton’s Facebook page, and they printed the only photo that did not feature an obscene gesture or an illegal substance. It was an old picture of Frannie as a blurry bridesmaid, in a dress so pink and sleeves so puffed that she looked like a gay quarterback.
The same photo appeared on posters that the police put up in public places and on lamp posts, so that people who’d never known the victim almost felt as though they had, and started to refer to her as ‘Frannie’ instead of ‘that girl’.
People left bouquets and little teddy bears in the lay-by, and the regulars at the Patch & Parrot, who felt guilty that none of them had ever offered her a ride home, started a collection on the bar to help her mother with the funeral expenses.
All in all, dying was very improving for Frannie Hatton.
18
RUBY COULD TELL Daddy was in a good mood, just by the way he opened the front door.
‘That’s a twenty-quid fish!’ he said as he dropped the dogfish on the draining board.
‘It’s like a
whale
,’ she enthused. She’d seen bigger, but having Daddy in a good mood again changed everything: everything
did
seem better than it was before.
The dogfish had bitten Daddy as he took it off the hook, but he didn’t even care. ‘Been bitten by worse!’ he said and put some salt on it so it wouldn’t go manky. Then they measured the fish with Ruby’s school ruler. Twenty-seven inches! A lot of that was tail, but even so. Then he let her feel its skin – smooth one way, rough the other – and touch its sharky little teeth with her finger until she shivered with dread, and they both laughed.
She got a chair to kneel on so she could watch him gut the fish. The insides were such a dark red they were almost black. Daddy scooped them down the cut-off foot of one of Mummy’s old tights, all the way to the toe, then knotted the top and put it in the freezer. Ruby knew that the next time he went out on the Gore, he would dangle it in the water and, as it thawed, blood and juice would leak from it and attract more dogfish, and eels too.
Daddy wrapped the rest of the fish in plastic and put it in the fridge. Then he started to wash down the drainer and the sink. Without looking at her, he said, ‘Can you keep a secret, Rubes?’
‘Yes,’ she said instantly, because she wanted to hear one.
‘Cross your heart?’
She crossed her heart. ‘And hope to die,’ she said. ‘What
is
it?’
Daddy stood very still. He glanced towards the kitchen door as if someone might be there, spying on them. Ruby looked too, as the atmosphere thickened in the dingy little kitchen, and she drew closer to Daddy to hear the secret.
When he spoke it was in a low voice, only just above a whisper.
‘The Gunslingers are getting up a posse.’
That was all he needed to say. Ruby’s mouth fell open and she felt almost dizzy, as foreign-familiar images flooded her brain. A hot place, with a wide sky that smelled like summer. Cowboys firing their guns in the air, legs flapping, spurs digging, manes flying; dust clouds and small boys swirling in their wake. A posse was fearless and fast. A posse was the law. When a bad man came to town, a posse hunted him down and made him pay. A posse never gave up. The thought of Daddy on a posse was completely thrilling.
‘We’re going to catch the man who killed that girl,’ Daddy went on in hushed tones.
‘What girl?’ said Ruby, matching his whisper.
‘That girl. Frannie something.’
‘Oh yeah.’ Ruby remembered vaguely; there was a poster on the shop door next to the one about the Leper Parade. ‘What will you do when you catch him?’
‘Well, we’re
supposed
to call the police.’ Daddy shrugged. ‘But who knows?’ He did the cowboy accent. ‘Blood’s running pretty high, Miss Ruby.’ He made a finger gun and drew a bead on her with narrowed eyes, then blew the tip.
She stared at his fingertip, enthralled
Similar Books
