Mirror Man by Jacques Kat (ereader for textbooks txt) 📗

ask again, John. Were you following that man over there?’ He pointed to The Coalman, who was now disappearing around a corner blissfully unaware of what had been taking place and probably thankful PC Williams had stopped to talk to me instead of him.

I nodded my head.

‘I was out working the late shift last night; I really don’t need this today,’ PC Williams sighed. I guessed he’d been patrolling at the mine.

I paused to choose my words again.

‘I’m not hurting anyone, and it isn’t a crime,’ I said, rubbing the back of my neck. I didn’t like where this conversation was heading. I didn’t like confrontation. The only things that eased my mind in these situations were reflections, cleaning, or repairing watches. I carried a small cigarette case with a mirror in it in the front left pocket of my Harrington jacket. My grandad had given it to me for these such instances, but I thought better of retrieving it on this occasion. Instead, I twiddled my fingers and hands as though I was washing them, but without soap and water.

I could sense PC Williams considering what I’d said, and I could hear his rough hands stroking the stubble on his chin. He couldn’t arrest me, that I was sure of. I hadn’t committed a crime; there was no law against walking down the street. But I knew what else he would be thinking—John-Michael is just plain strange.

PC Williams sighed again. ‘Why aren’t you at work today?’ he asked.

‘Mr Phillips said he had an important meeting, and I wasn’t needed until this afternoon.’

‘A meeting with who?’ he asked, his surprise evident in the rise of his voice.

‘I don’t know, officer,’ I said, shuffling my feet. I knew it was odd for Claude’s Antiques to be closed, but Mr Phillips said he would throw an extra fiver in my wage packet this week for the inconvenience. Though it was hardly an inconvenience to me; it meant I got extra time doing my hobbies. ‘He hasn’t shared any details of the business with me yet. I just repair the watches and clocks and go home. I’m supposed to learn soon, though.’

‘Has he been acting strange lately?’ PC Williams asked.

I bit my lip at that word. It was funny he was asking me if my boss had been acting strange when everyone thought I was the strange one in town.

I couldn’t exactly be sure of what he meant by strange, either; what’s strange to one person might be totally normal to another.

‘Well, define strange?’ I said.

‘Closing early, meetings, odd phone calls, secrecy…’ the constable rattled off.

I hummed and shrugged. ‘I’m not sure.’

Though, I was sure. I just wasn’t certain if it was my place to tell PC Williams. What if he told Mr Phillips, and I was sacked due to my lack of discretion? Plus, Mum always said not to tell tales. No, I couldn’t tell him.

Really, Mr Phillips had been different these past few weeks, ever since his last house clearance. I’d heard raised voices in the shop and on the phone, but whenever I’d popped my head out to investigate, the person had either left or Mr Phillips hung up the phone. He’d also been in and out of his office, checking his safe more regularly, and a couple of times I found him asleep at his desk and he’d forgotten to lock up.

I heard PC Williams scratch his chin again. ‘Alright. Get in the car, and I’ll take you home.’

I exhaled loudly, thankful the interrogation was over, and climbed into the back of the car. I was pleased in one way; at least now I could look at the officer through the rear-view mirror. The constable got in and immediately eyed me through the mirror as I knew he would.

‘What we going to do about you,’ PC Williams said.

It didn’t sound like a question, but I couldn’t be sure.

I chose not to reply and looked at the officer’s eyes in the mirror; they were a cloudy-blue colour with flecks of green and rimmed red due to lack of sleep. I recognised the familiar effect from my own eyes; I found it hard to sleep at times because my brain often didn’t shut down at night.

I kept my eyes steadfast on the rear-view mirror, but shifted a little as the air remained silent for too long. ‘You know… I’m not hurting anyone,’ I said, repeating my earlier statement. ‘I’m only minding my own business.’

‘Doesn’t look that way to me. If you end up following any of them ruffians and they spot you, you’ll be in for a kicking.’

Visions of thugs and gangsters coming at me with their fists and legs flailing about flew through my mind. I would be careful and make sure his warning never happened.

‘They won’t spot me. I always have my head down and keep to myself,’ I said. The townsfolk had spotted me following others on the odd occasion, but I would usually dive into an alleyway or shop doorway if I thought I’d been noticed. But nobody ever said anything to me. In fact, no one really spoke to me at all.

‘Oh really?’ the constable asked, drumming his hairy fingers on the battered steering wheel. ‘Really?’ he repeated. ‘What about the last time I took you home, aye?’

‘Oh…,’ I mumbled. ‘That was… unfortunate.’

The incident PC Williams was speaking of happened last year in the summer of eighty-three. I’d been following a woman when I accidentally tripped over a loose flagstone and went hurtling through the air towards her. I reached out to grab something to stop myself from hitting the pavement, and I ended up grabbing her skirt and pulling it down. She called me words that I’d only heard on The Sweeney, causing a massive scene.

Unluckily for me, PC Williams had been nearby. I’d had a tough time explaining the incident when I got home. Mum was so angry, she clipped me round the ear, and Grandad shook his head and disappeared into his office