Murder Path (Fallen Angels book 3)
“‘It’s a long time since I’ve fed the ducks in this park. Tends to be something you do with littlun’s rather than as a grown man.’ The old man observed pointedly, in a whispered, gravelly voice.
Strange smiled back, throwing some more bread onto the ground. ‘Just waiting for the kids to arrive, taking the opportunity to relive memories.’ he answered, not elaborating further.
‘When you get to my age, the memories are all that you’ve got. I remember playing in this park as a kid. Ther...e used to be a long wooden rocking horse where that see-saw is now. We would come here every Sunday, from the care home, and I would see the same family, with their dad, playing on it religiously. There were three daughters and a son. They often dressed in home made clothes. Once they all had purple cowboy check material matching outfits, the girls all in dresses, the boy in a shirt the same, wearing shorts, all lined up in a row, riding the rocking horse. Their dad was a man I’d see around Morpeth, putting up the market stalls, working in the bookies, doing odd-jobs here and there. They always seemed to be such a happy family. I envied them when I was younger. Looking back, years later, I wondered where their mum was, and realised that perhaps they weren’t the normal family I thought they were. I think mum and dad were probably divorced, and that Sunday afternoon was his time with the kids. It made me realise that the thing I had been searching for all my life –to be part of a normal family-, didn’t really exist. More importantly, it made me realise that normal is not what makes you happy. Being a part of a family and having their love, no matter what the social make up of that family, is what is important. Most of my life, I didn’t think I had a family. Recently I’ve found out I am part of the most bizarre family in the world. It tells me I have its love, but so far it hasn’t showed me that. So far, all it has tried to do is kill me.’ the old man reminisced, looking longingly out over the gently flowing river.MoreLess
Strange smiled back, throwing some more bread onto the ground. ‘Just waiting for the kids to arrive, taking the opportunity to relive memories.’ he answered, not elaborating further.
‘When you get to my age, the memories are all that you’ve got. I remember playing in this park as a kid. Ther...e used to be a long wooden rocking horse where that see-saw is now. We would come here every Sunday, from the care home, and I would see the same family, with their dad, playing on it religiously. There were three daughters and a son. They often dressed in home made clothes. Once they all had purple cowboy check material matching outfits, the girls all in dresses, the boy in a shirt the same, wearing shorts, all lined up in a row, riding the rocking horse. Their dad was a man I’d see around Morpeth, putting up the market stalls, working in the bookies, doing odd-jobs here and there. They always seemed to be such a happy family. I envied them when I was younger. Looking back, years later, I wondered where their mum was, and realised that perhaps they weren’t the normal family I thought they were. I think mum and dad were probably divorced, and that Sunday afternoon was his time with the kids. It made me realise that the thing I had been searching for all my life –to be part of a normal family-, didn’t really exist. More importantly, it made me realise that normal is not what makes you happy. Being a part of a family and having their love, no matter what the social make up of that family, is what is important. Most of my life, I didn’t think I had a family. Recently I’ve found out I am part of the most bizarre family in the world. It tells me I have its love, but so far it hasn’t showed me that. So far, all it has tried to do is kill me.’ the old man reminisced, looking longingly out over the gently flowing river.MoreLess
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