The Takeaway Man

4

Eddie heard him before he saw him. The sound of his car always preceded his arrival.

Damien drove an old 1994 Vauxhall Cavalier. It was white with a faded red bonnet. The car squealed like a stuck pig, and putrid black fumes exploded from the exhaust.

Eddie groaned when he heard it. He wished the boy would get a new car. He even offered to buy him one. But Damien always refused, saying it done the job. Eddie felt for the boy. Damien didn't care what other people thought about him and didn't seem to worry about the social implications of driving around in a shitty car. Eddie shouldered the shame.

Damien stepped into the kebab shop wearing the same as he always did. A t-shirt and pair of jeans, even though it was freezing outside. He didn't say hello. He never did, and Eddie was used to it now.

Damien put the pizza delivery bag on the counter. Eddie was cleaning out the fryer. It was late. The shop was now closed. He'd sent Charlotte home about eleven. It was quiet.

'I think I've met a girl,' Damien said.

Eddie stopped what he was doing. Damien was talking. A rare thing. Eddie wiped down his hands and turned to face him.

'Tea?' He asked.

In the backroom. Orders and other paperwork pinned to the walls. A small fridge. A filthy microwave. The boiling kettle. Eddie already had two cups set out. Damien took a seat. Eddie made the tea.

'Where did you meet?' He asked Damien.

Eddie was always careful when talking to Damien. He saw it almost as an art form. You had to ask the right questions. You had to wait until Damien initiated the conversation to start with. Damien would let you know when the conversation was over.

'Cafe,' Damien said. 'Last night.'

'One of your walks?' Eddie asked, handing Damien a cup. Milk. No sugar.

Damien nodded. Eddie took a sip from his own cup, burning his tongue. He waited. That was another trick when talking to Damien. Be patient. Eddie watched him. His hands were wrapped around the cup, cradling it gently. Damien blew at his tea trying to cool it down. Eddie was amazed at how vulnerable he looked. His hunched shoulders. His dark eyes looking down. The way he held the cup like a child.

Eddie found it hard to believe that this was the same guy who'd come into his shop two years ago. The same guy who'd slammed that drunk into the wall. The Damien he was sitting with now looked like he wouldn't hurt a fly.

But, that was the unnerving part. Eddie knew. He knew there was something about Damien. He could see it prowling behind those dark eyes. He could hear it in the silence that followed Damien around. Eddie, although he wouldn't admit it, was afraid of Damien.

'She was reading,' Damien said. 'I hope she got home okay.'

'What's her name?'

Damien shrugged. 'I don't know.'

'I'm sure she'll be alright,' Eddie said.

Damien nodded, blowing his tea again. He was frowning. Eddie could sense a question sitting behind Damien's teeth.

'Do you think she'll go back there?' He asked.

'Only one way to find out.'

Damien nodded, his eyes narrowing. He placed his cup on the table and stood.

'Thanks for the tea,' he said.

Eddie understood. The conversation was over.