"Baldwin, Barry - Party Time" - читать интересную книгу автора (Baldwin Barry)

When he got back up the yard to his own house, the back door was closed on the half-sneck, and he couldn't help making a lot of noise pushing and shoving to force it open. As Charlie almost fell through into the kitchen, he was greeted by the opposite sound of his father crashing down the stairs. He was only wearing a string vest on top, and his trousers seemed to have been buttoned up wrong.

"What the bloody hell are you doing back this soon?'

"The party's done."

"What do you mean, the party's done? It's nowhere near six o'clock yet."

"It IS done. They're washing up."

Before his father could answer, a voice called down from upstairs, "What's happening, Walt?"

"Nothing. You stop where you are."

"What's Mrs Watson doing in the bedroom?"

"She came in to help me with something, not that it's any of your business. It's going to be a surprise for your mother, so don't go blabbing to her about it, unless you want to feel the back of my hand. Now clear off and don't let me catch you back anywhere near here before six."

Charlie cleared off, glad that at any rate he'd escaped a clout, though not very far, just to the earth lavatory at the top of the yard where he perched on the splintery seat and wondered why his father should have fetched in Mrs Watson of all people to help him with anything, he knew his mother couldn't stand her, and had he been expecting Billy Watson as well?

People weren't all that surprised when Billy Watson was found dead as a door nail. Not with his poor little ticker the way it had been, but it was a shame he hadn't gone in a better place than where he was found, he must have known he was in a bad way and crawled in there, you could tell it from his eyes.

Billy Watson was hardly in the ground when Charlie's father ran off. They never saw him again. Not that Charlie minded, at least not at first, and his mother didn't seem very upset, particularly after the man she just called her friend from school started calling round.

Mrs Watson was gone as well. Tony offered Charlie a share of Billy Watson's toys and things which he said she'd given him on the QT, though he could have kept them all without Charlie being any the wiser. Charlie was tempted by the complete set of Churchman's Cigarette Cards which he had been trying to collect for ages, but he knew he better hadn't. With the money he stole from his mother's purse he bought some flowers to put on Billy Watson's grave, which made people say what a nice little lad he was.

Charlie never spoke to Tony again, let alone go to play at the pub. It had some very steep stone steps down to the cellar and, now that she was paying more attention to her friend from school than to him, he didn't know when his mother might become like Mrs Watson and start to have funny ideas. There was nothing wrong with his heart as far as he knew, but as his father had been fond of saying, there's more than one way to skin a rabbit, and Charlie didn't want to end up like Billy Watson with that sickly smell in the air on the floor of Ann's granny's woodshed from where Tony had waved him in to carry on their game as he was sneaking out from the party.


BARRY BALDWIN grew up in the North of England in the time and place of this story. In 1962, he emigrated to Australia, re-moving in 1965 to Canada, where he retired in 1997 as Professor Emeritus of Classics at the University of Calgary. Nowadays, he writes articles and short stories for magazines and newspapers. His mysteries have appeared in Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, Murderous Intent, Shots, and others. He has been a Arthur Ellis and Anthony Award short story finalist. More stories are forthcoming in Ellery Queen and Blue Murder.

Copyright (c) 2001 Barry Baldwin


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