An Explosive Time (The Celtic Cousins' Adventures) by Julia Hughes Page B

bodies flooding through the double main doors, Crombie slipped through. Once down the steps onto the pavement it seemed churlish to refuse, especially as Ricky kept tight hold of his elbow, urging him to hurry before the PC brigade chased after them.
     
    A couple of heads turned as they entered the Pontefract Pub, then they were dismissed. One of the benefits of middle age; you became invisible. As his eyes adjusted from the sunlight to the pinkish artificial glow, Crombie saw the pub’s clientele were mainly huddled around circular tables raised on chrome pedestals. Thankfully half a dozen or so upholstered benches against the walls were provided for old fogies who needed to take the weight off their feet, and Ricky pointed towards a vacant bench, heading for the bar. Edging between the bench and low slung coffee table which still managed to catch his shins, Crombie sat down, uncomfortably low to the ground, consoling himself that they wouldn’t be staying long. On the bench diagonally opposite two overweight women, one brunette one blonde preened themselves.  
    Nudging Crombie’s knee, as he placed two pints on the table, Ricky winked settling himself on the bench next to Crombie with a practiced shuffle.
    Crombie laughed at the notion, shaking his head just as the blonde one looked over in their direction, and her friendly glance turned into a glower.
     
    They avoided talking shop, contenting themselves with criticising the kids slumping over the mushroom like tables with their jeans halfway down their backsides, showing the top half of their underwear; in the case of the males brightly coloured boxers. Rickie speculated on the comfort of the girls’ thongs and both admitted bewilderment on why anyone would want to show off such unattractive flesh and dodgy tattoo designs.
    ‘Must be freezing their arses off.’ Ricky grinned at his own quip, indicating Crombie’s rapidly emptying glass said ‘Same again?’
    Instead of declining Crombie felt obliged to say ‘I’ll get this one, but then I’ve gotta go.’ The two women of his own age were being chatted up by men young enough to be their nephews at least, the blonde one tossed her head as Crombie passed, and trilled with laughter at a remark by one of the men, who seemed gratified that someone actually found him amusing.
    Levering himself into a space at the bar, Crombie propped an elbow on the chest high surface, holding a fiver up for the attention of one of the bar keeps. At the far end of the bar, he witnessed a curious incident.
     
    The majority of drinkers were under thirty and held out strips of plastic ready to pay for their drinks. Nothing unusual in that, more and more Crombie found himself in the minority, paying in cold hard cash. What was unusual was the furtive action taking place at the end of the bar. A trio of older men huddled close, shoulders hunched and heads lowered, but there was no mistaking the actions of their hands, and Crombie counted silently with them, so engrossed the skinny youth behind the bar had to ask him twice for his order. Realising he was staring, Crombie averted his gaze, pretending to read the upside labels of the spirit bottles behind the bar, but using the burnished cooper lining the wall to continue counting. Apart from taking a natural interest in large amounts of money changing hands, Crombie was trying to think where he’d seen the faces of the two men receiving the money.
     
    ‘Crombie you wanna stop staring at the Lampton Boys?’ Ricky materialised at his shoulder to whisper a warning. Raising his voice he added ‘Get us a couple of packets of crisps.’ The barman thought Rick was addressing him, looking bored he said ‘Sorry mate, no crisps, only pork scratchings. Youwannapack?’
    ‘No, no worries. Thanks mate.’ Giving Crombie another warning nudge, Ricky picked up his pint and led the way back to their table.
     
    All business done, the Lampton Boys made their exit, rolling their way towards the