Read Rebuilding Coventry for Free Online Page B

He hated slobbergobs and Derek Dakin had been talking
for ten minutes and forty seconds non-stop. Sly took this opportunity to study
Derek and the interior of the living-room. He made mental notes, later to be
inscribed into his notebook.
     
    1.         Furnishings and carpets: beige (also
curtains)
    2.         Wallpaper: beige (with cherry pattern)
    3.         Framed pictures of steam trains (seven)
    4.         Bookcase: box files, encyclopedias,
tortoise reference books
    5.         Ornaments: few; tortoise trophies on TV,
plus cup for third-year hurdles: winner, Coventry Lambert
    6.         Arrangement of dried grasses on small
table
    7.         Pets: cats (two); one with conjunctivitis
    8.         Children: (two); boy and girl (clean
types)
    9.         Husband: (one) boring fart
    10.       Proof that Coventry Dakin has been
domiciled at this address: pair of fluffy mules (size 6½) by the fireside
    11.       Wedding photo on bookcase: bride beautiful,
smiling; groom rat-faced, unsmiling
    12.       Brown plastic handbag, containing: child
benefit book, hairbrush, pkt clothes pegs, keys, bus tickets, two tampons
(regular size), one cat’s flea-collar
     
    Sly broke into Derek’s
consciousness by raising his voice and looking stern. ‘So what time was it when
you last saw your wife, Mr Dakin?’
    Derek
started to whimper and examine his fingernails; tears gathered in his eyes. Sly
mentally noted:
     
    13.       Husband:
possible poofter?
     
    Coventry’s children left
the room. They had never seen their father display extreme emotion before. The
sight of Derek’s distorted face, together with the undignified grunts heaving
from his chest, drove them into the hall. Sly shouted after them, ‘Don’t leave
the house, I shall need to talk to you next.’ Detective Inspector Sly offered
Derek no comfort; in his experience it only started them off again. Nor did he
loan his handkerchief; he never got them back.
    ‘It was
the word “wife” that set me off,’ Derek explained to Sly, as soon as he had
stopped gulping and sobbing. ‘A wife is a woman who wears an apron and has her
arms inside a mixing bowl. A wife is gentle and kind, and speaks loving words
to her family. A wife doesn’t murder her neighbour, and then run away from home.
…’
    Mary
and John Dakin sat at the bottom of the stairs. They looked like the
non-threatening type of teenagers to be found inside the pages of a Littlewoods
catalogue, usually pictured lounging on bales of hay, or beaming ecstatically
on clean motorbikes. They didn’t know what to think; nothing in their previous
experience had prepared them for the shock of being told that their mother was
a murderer. Neither of them knew what to say to each other. They listened to
the rumble of voices behind the living-room door in silence. The door opened;
Detective Inspector Sly stood there, imposing in his dark uniform. ‘Mary, be a
good girl and make your dad a cup of tea … plenty of sugar … he’s in
shock.’ Mary glanced into the living-room on her way to the kitchen. Derek was
shaking his body about; saliva hung from his mouth; his fingers twisted
together like mating snakes.
    ‘My
mother’s a murderer, and my father’s gone mad,’ thought Mary. She conjured up
the atmosphere in the house at breakfast-time that morning. It was normal… ordinary … average … conventional. It was dull … safe … nice
… there was NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT. John stared down at the hall carpet; he
was thinking that now he could never go back to sixth-form college where he was
doing A levels. Not unless he dyed his hair and took to wearing sunglasses
during the day. Worse, Coventry, his mother’s stupid name, would be in
the papers. He had told his friends at college that her name was Margaret.
    Inspector
Sly stood up; the interview with Derek was nearly over. Derek was howling like
an upset wolf. Sly