Behindlings

Doc was still busy reading Hondo, but he’d noticed. He closed the book, pushed it away, waved at Hooch, then did a finger-walking motion with his left hand. He seemed unperturbed by Dennis’s inconstancy. Hooch nodded, throwing his own book down onto the table and strolling off to grab his coat from the back of his chair.

Jo was watching Eileen, as she carefully assisted Patty in filling out his form. She glanced furtively around her, grabbed Utah Blaine, stood up –the book still in her hand –and slid it slowly –almost distractedly –down the fabric above her pocket. Good… good… The book was sliding in. It was slipping in, it was almost… it was very nearly…

Damn

She was just about home-free, when something stopped her. Or someone –

Shoes

– the bloody Geordie, of all people –had suddenly materialised behind her, his plump, dirty hand had slipped around her wrist and firmly wrested the book from her fingers.

‘That’s no way to go about things,’ he whispered softly, (his breath on her neck, the scratch of damp mohair on her wrist), ‘not in a small community like this. The Behindlings have a code of… well…’

He spoke louder, ‘I’m getting a couple of these out on loan. You can always borrow one later if you feel the need.’

He was already holding the hardback Hondo Doc’d been inspecting. He reached down and picked up Hooch’s paperback too. With Utah Blaine that made three books altogether.

Jo gave the paperback up without argument. She yanked a blue, knitted hat out of her pocket (as if this was actually all that she’d been intending to do in the first place) and pulled it over her head. ‘You know what?’ she asked, adjusting it around her ears. Shoes simply grinned at her.

‘I’d love a peek at Hondo when you’ve finished with it.’

‘Of course you would,’ Shoes continued to grin, stupidly (was he stupid? He seemed stupid) as he carried the three books with him up to the counter.

Eileen was still busy with the boy and his form, but she turned, very obligingly, to help him with them.

‘It’s me again, remember?’ Shoes beamed, handing three brand new library cards over. Pushing the books towards her.

‘So that’s what he was doing first thing,’ Doc muttered, pulling on his jacket as he strode past, ‘the canny bugger.’

Eileen took the books and reached over to grab her stamp. Her back was turned for the briefest of instants, but that was all it took Patty, up on his toes, his arm swinging over the counter, his fingers feeling, blindly, then clutching, then… then…

He scrabbled.

Jesus. Eileen was obviously going to…

Jo kicked her chair. Very quickly. The small chair. Turned it over. Made a huge clattering racket. Attracted everyone’s attention. Pulled an agonised expression. Mimed sorry. Shrugged. Bent over. Righted the tiny chair again. Shoved it under the table with a firm, four-footed, rubber-padded squeak. Collected her six clues from the table-top, shoved them into her pocket, clamped her hands together. Strode towards the door; following Doc, following Hooch.

Just as she was pushing the door open, Patty jinked in speedily ahead of her, shooting through, chuckling, making her gasp at his guile, at his bare-faced…