Sunday

The congregation filed out. Grey hairs and suits. Alex looked at the faces. Same faces every Sunday for fifty years. Look the same, but like they sat too near the fire and they melted just a little bit. A few faces missing. More than a few, but what can you do. That’s the way it goes.

He checked his watch.

12:15.

Too early for a roll call of the dead.

Malky bumped into him.

“How’s it going Alex, me and you the last of the survivors?”

Malky had one strand of hair that went round his head like spaghetti.

“Where’s Betty, not seen much of you too recently, you alright?”

“Aye you know us pal, barely get a minute between the clubs and the work we’ve been doing, you know raising money, since Jon died.”

Alex put his hand on his shoulder. “Yous have done well, I’ll be coming down to help again this week.”

He dropped his arm as Betty appeared from the crowd. “Alex how are you,” she smiled and they hugged. “Good to see you.”

“I’m doing alright, just saying how well yous have done.”

She looked a little embarrassed but smiled.

“Thanks Alex, see you later Alex.”

He smiled.

“Aye of course.”

Malky nodded and they wandered off to speak to the minister.

Alex turned and made his way down to the street.

It was still quiet. Always was quiet for a Sunday. It made him laugh how they had the church, the police station, and then the court house. All lined up. Just need the pub now.

He cut through the park. Sun shining. It was quiet enough you could hear the birds sing. He saw Francine coming along the way, her dog bounding about her. She spotted him and made her way over in a beeline.

“Alex pal, you just back from the church?”

“Aye Frankie, how are you.”

The dog bounded over and started sniffing Alex’s shoes. He reached down and petted her.

“You alright, Honey?”

Frankie laughed. “Oh that’s not Honey. Honey died last year. Well, actually this is Honey, but not that Honey, this is Honey Two.”

“Er, aye, alright Frankie.”

They both started laughing.

“It’s just easier, you know.”

He laughed. “You’re the George Foreman of Kirkentoun.”

She looked puzzled. “Is that not the boxer? Fought Ali?”

Alex smiled. “Aye, that’s right. And the grill, remember. He called all his kids George cause he got punched in the head so often.”

She started laughing. “Listen, I better get going. Good to see you, Alex.”

She put her hand on his arm and smiled. “See you soon, eh.”

And she was gone, moving quickly after Honey.

He cut down the path, past the tennis courts and round the corner.

Same pub. Same table.

Pint waiting.

Alex smiled.

“Alright pal, you didn’t make the church.”

Davey grinned. “Funny you get older and you don’t care so much for that shite. You’d think it would be the other way around.”

Alex laughed as he took off his coat and sat down.

“What time’s kick off?”


(c) Paul Andrew Sneddon