Bad News

Part 4

Chapter Six

Lincoln woke surprisingly late on Sunday morning. Connor was gone, his bed made up. He lay in his bed and listened for sounds from the house but there were none. After a few minutes, he got up and dressed and made his way downstairs.

On the kitchen counter was a note: "Gone to church. Will be back around 1pm. Help yourself to breakfast, love Sam."

After an hour of TV, Lincoln felt restless. Shrugging on his jacket, he decided to take a walk around the village.

Hartley was a small village with a couple of hundred people living in it. At the end of Oakley Crescent, which was now his road, was the main road into Hartley. He followed it along for about 10 minutes until he came to the village centre. There was a war memorial fountain in the middle of the square, with a post office and newsagents opposite. On the other side of the road stood the church, and Lincoln recognised Sam's car parked along the road.

Feeling hungry now, he headed to the newsagents. He opened the door and scanned the shop. An old man stood behind the counter, his white hair unruly atop his wrinkled brow. He looked up from his book and smiled at Lincoln. Lincoln nodded back. Grabbing a bar of chocolate he went up to the counter. The man put his glasses on and punched some numbers into the till.

"That will be 60p, please"

As Lincoln dug into his pockets, the man spoke: "Now I know pretty much everyone in Hartley, but I have never met you. You must be new."

"Yeah" said Lincoln, handing over the change. He wasn't used to having personal conversations at newsagents.

"Oh you must be Sam's son! You are the spit of him. Lincoln, isn't it?" said the man.

"Er, yeah"

"He was telling me that he was expecting you any day now" The man smiled warmly. "I'm Mr Cassidy. I used to teach your Dad when he was at school."

Not knowing how to reply to this, Lincoln simply nodded.

"Say hello to your father for me" said Mr Cassidy, as Lincoln left the shop.

Lincoln continued his walk until he came to a wooded area. It was obviously a series of trails used by walkers and people with dogs. He walked down one of the worn tracks and found a bench in the middle. He planted himself down and tore into the chocolate.

He saw it was almost 1pm but he was in no rush to go back there. It crossed his mind that perhaps he should have left a note but then decided that he didn't care if Sam worried. He pulled out a pack of menthol cigarettes, Montgomery's, and lit one up. He had never liked real cigarettes after living with his chain smoking stepfather, but menthols he liked. Since Luca had found him in the derelict house he had avoided marijuana but still smoked these. He thought it was a good compromise.