(The children's novel I am writing is over 32,ooo words long... so I am pleased with the progress... lots of surprises there... and so many dead bees.
And Port Brokeferry grows, too - and characters begin to reappear and interact... and it's still only Monday... the first day of our week there. Here's Blair again... the postman... and a wee sneaked glimpse into the secrets he knows. If you like any of these, you can let me know.)
MIDDAY MONDAY
Blair stops at ‘The Bobbing Boat’ for coffee and a bacon roll. They know him there. He is expected. Same time every morning. Same time for each of the six days they are open, give or take ten minutes. He sets the mail down on the counter. Circulars mostly and bills in brown envelopes. Then he takes a seat. His usual seat. Eileen brings his coffee and his roll – the bacon cooked until it is crisp enough it makes a noise when it breaks. A small sachet of brown sauce on the side of his plate. No words are exchanged.
Blair sits facing the window. He does not unstrap the bag of letters he still has to deliver. He takes his responsibilities very seriously. It’s a job he has done for years. Has a pride in doing it well. That’s why he keeps quiet too. He knows if he starts then there’ll be no stopping. All the secrets he has will spill out if once he starts talking. He sees things, you see. Doesn’t mean to. On his rounds. Small things mostly, but sometimes not so small. Like today. Like every day.
At ‘Christine Cuts Hair’, the shop closed, and Christine there. Cutting the hair of Lachlan Davie. Doesn’t mean much, except the lights were out. And they were laughing and touching each other. Christine in her underwear. Lachlan with his shirt off. That’s what Blair saw through the glass. Wouldn’t do to tell others any of what he saw them at.
He clears his throat as if about to say something. But he doesn’t. He checks his roll. Three slices of bacon. He tests the bacon. Snaps crisp. He tears open the sachet of sauce with his teeth and squeezes the contents over the top of the bacon. Eileen watches him from behind the counter. Guthrie watches Eileen. They still aren’t speaking.
Earlier Blair saw Mr Struan Courtald slip into the home of Mrs Alison McAllister. Not the first time he has seen that. About eleven o’clock. Sharon McAllister would be at her work in the Victoria Hotel. As he pressed the mail through the letterbox Blair saw Mr Struan Courtald kiss Mrs Alison McAllister on the cheek. At least he thought he did. On the cheek, but a kiss nevertheless.
Blair stirs his coffee and lifts the cup to his lips. He blows into the cup before drinking. Lips pursed like kissing is what Eileen thinks and turns away at the thought.
At number 42 he heard Kyle Downs having words with Susan Downs. A husband and wife thing. She was crying and he called her bitch and slammed a door. Blair didn’t mean to hear. He left the mail on the mat just inside the house and crept away, shutting the gate behind him without making a sound, without looking back.
He finishes his roll. Leaves money on the plate. Enough to pay for his breakfast and a little extra for the service. He departs the shop without a word.
Eileen keeps the money she collects in a jar behind the counter till the end of the week. Tips. Guthrie sometimes adds a wee bit silver from his own pocket, quietly, so Eileen doesn’t know, just enough to make it amount to something. Blair saw him do it once. There’s secrets there too.
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