I’m met with a roar of approval.
“Before we do that, let me introduce you to two very special ladies who’ll be looking after you.”
I introduce them to an equally excited Emma, and a mildly embarrassed Gabrielle. She’s much nearer their age, and I suspect I’ve probably said something she’d consider lame.
“There’s just one thing I need to do before you head up to your rooms,” I continue. “As you’re our very first guests, I’d like to mark our official opening.”
Gabrielle and Emma take my prompt and circulate with trays of orange squash. Once everyone has a plastic cup, I take the final one myself.
“Who knows what a toast is?” I ask.
A girl at the front raises her hand.
“Yes young lady.”
“It’s cooked bread, innit?” she asks hesitantly.
“Um, yes it is, but it’s also something we do when we want to mark a special occasion. So, I’m going to say a few words, and then you’re going to raise your cups like this.”
I raise my cup to demonstrate.
“And then you’re going to give me a huge cheer. Okay?”
I’m met with plenty of nods and a few giggles.
I clear my throat and they fall silent. “Right, boys and girls. It’s with great pleasure, and a huge amount of pride, that I officially welcome you to Clement House.”
Twenty-four plastic cups are raised and a raucous cheer breaks out.
I glance down at the second picture on the reception desk and quietly offer a more personal toast.
“To you, big man. God speed.”
FORTY MILES AWAY...
The train pulled into a station he last visited eighteen months ago. Desperation had brought him back.
Over the last six months Clement had lived in three different bedsits across London, and worked a dozen cash-in-hand jobs. He’d met hundreds of people and yet, the voice remained stubbornly silent. He was tired of waiting and now committed to finding his own answers.
He hauled a rucksack over his shoulder and made his way from the platform to the station exit.
Some of his fellow passengers were greeted by loved ones. There was nobody to greet Clement and he cast an envious eye over a young couple in mid embrace — a cruel reminder of a life he once lived.
He set off towards the town centre; trying hard to ignore the pangs of loneliness chasing after him.
As he walked, he’d catch the occasional stranger staring at him. The young, the old, and every age in-between — they knew he didn’t fit in here almost as much as he did. In London, people rarely paid him any attention but here in a suburban commuter town, Clement’s size and attire made him an oddity. A returned glare was usually enough to shift their attention elsewhere.
Five minutes later he turned into a quiet backstreet; away from the judgemental eyes of the locals.
His final destination lay fifty yards up the road on the left. His pace quickened until he reached a row of three shops, all closed down. He passed a newsagent, a bridal shop, and finally, he stopped outside the property where he hoped to find answers — Baxter’s Books.
Across the street, hidden from view, someone watched with interest as Clement disappeared up the alleyway next to the shop.
That someone smiled, and paused for a moment before following the big man.
THE END
BEFORE YOU GO...
I genuinely hope you enjoyed reading Clement’s latest adventure. If you did, and have a few minutes spare, I would be eternally grateful if you could leave a review on Amazon. If you’re feeling particularly generous, a mention on Facebook or a Tweet would be equally appreciated. I know it’s a pain, but it’s the only way us indie authors can compete with the big publishing houses.
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FORTY MILES AWAY . . .
Wrong'un (Clement Book 2) Page 32