To Kill a Grey Man

by D C Stansfield

  They stopped at a little coffee shop on the promenade and Olivia and Jonathan ordered cappuccino and Ben had an ice cream which he appeared to wear more than eat.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened?” she finally asked.

  “All I can say is this. My dad works for the British Government sometimes. Some unfinished business from the past came looking and we had to go away for a few days whilst he sorted it out.”

  “Is that true?” she said.

  “Mostly,” replied Jonathan. “But it is all over now and I promise you there is no more danger.”

  “Okay,” she said. “And no guns hidden in the shop?”

  “No,” he said. “Never again.”

  After their coffee they took the picnic down to the beach, spread an old tartan blanket down and watched the waves, ate their sandwiches and pork pies and chatted away happily. Once they had finished the picnic they took Ben and Tom down onto the sand to build sandcastles and paddle in the sea. As they played with the children they looked at each other often, the boy from university and the girl from the backstreets of London.

  As darkness began to fall and the weather got colder, they packed up. Olivia pushed Tom in his buggy and Ben walked beside Jonathan, holding his hand. As they approached the car, Olivia took one hand off the buggy and reached out to hold Jonathan’s other hand. He turned towards her and a big smile spread across his face. This time it did not annoy her at all.

  Across the street standing in a dark doorway, a shadow detached itself. On closer inspection you would have seen that it was a little old man in a shabby grey suit. He had his head down and a small smile played across his lips as he hurried away about his business. Anyone watching would have been hard picked to describe his features, ‘You know, ordinary’ they would have said, ‘Non-descript, a grey man’.

  The End