The drive down to Bristol was easier than Jack had
expected, with the November weather being kinder than of late and the infamous
M6/M5 interchange pretty much the quietest he had ever seen it due, Jack
surmised, to the time of day. Thanks to the meeting with Alan Parkinson, Jack
was turning onto the M5 an hour later than he had anticipated but he estimated
that he might pull back twenty or more minutes as a result of the lower traffic
density. By the time he reached the Strensham services, north of Evesham, he
had clawed back even more and had decided to reward himself with a much needed
comfort break.
Jack was generally reluctant to stop on any journey,
regardless of the distance or the time it took, except when the family were on
board. As a consequence his colleagues tended to avoid travelling to
conferences or meetings with Jack behind the wheel. But it wasn’t just the need
to relieve his bladder that caused Jack to pull over, it was the need to vent
his conscience as well. The drive down from Manchester had given him plenty of
time to think about his conversation with Alan, and the disparate events he now
associated with John Staples. He reckoned that Alan deserved to be given the
information that Jack had, crazy though most of it seemed. He also figured that
John would have mentioned some of the discussions and the notebook to Alan in
the course of conversation, and it might look strange in retrospect if Jack
hadn’t mentioned the passage from the book should it transpire that John had
been up to something. Oddly, despite not feeling any great obligation to the
maintenance fitter who had barely caught his notice until this week, and
certainly not because Jack believed a word of what John had written, he felt
faintly bothered about his decision to reveal all to Alan; possibly because
really all he was doing was protecting his own back, and that wasn’t a trait
Jack had, generally.
Sat back in his car, Jack punched the mobile phone keys
with his thumb, whilst holding Alan’s business card up to the light. After
about six rings Jack was transferred to voicemail, inviting him to leave a
message. His initial instinct was to hang up, but after a pause he decided to
leave a message that wouldn’t be compromising if picked up by someone else.
‘Alan - Jack Howells. Reference our conversation this
morning, I think I may have some more information that could be of use to you.
I seem to remember that you mentioned you live a mile or so from me, well
there’s a pub near you called the ‘Green Man’, I sometimes drop by there on my
way home. I’ll be in tonight about eight. If you can’t make it, call me at my
work number tomorrow.’ Breathing deeply, Jack started the car and continued his
journey.
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Copyright Ray Sullivan 2011
The characters, places and events described in this novel are fictitious and any resemblance to persons, places or events, past or present, is coincidence. All rights reserved
Parallel Lives is published in paperback and as an eBook
Why not take a look at my books and read up on my Biog here
Want to see what B L O'Feld is up to? Take a look at his website here
Worried/Interested in the secretive world of DLFs? Take a look at this website dedicated to DLFs here, if you dare!
Why not take a look at my books and read up on my Biog here
Want to see what B L O'Feld is up to? Take a look at his website here
Worried/Interested in the secretive world of DLFs? Take a look at this website dedicated to DLFs here, if you dare!
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