Liam "Buster" Keaton’s night out didn’t go quite as he had planned. He had dropped in at The Petrel intending just to put the day behind him and relax with a couple of pints, maybe have a chat with some of his neighbours. He was definitely not "on duty," as it were. The only thing was, he was the community officer for Magnolia Close and surrounding parts of the estate, a job he took very seriously and with some pride – he liked to think that he was in some way looking after his neighbours and was grateful for the opportunity to do so – but it did mean in effect that he was never really off-duty, in his mind. It was always in the back of his head that he had a certain responsibility to the people and place where he lived.
He was also aware that, while people always welcomed a policeman when something was the matter and that he might be able to help – a lost bike or a child late home – and that most of his neighbours were kindly disposed towards him, there were always some folk for whom the police represented some kind of threat. At very least they felt uncomfortable. He was used to this. The way some characters would not catch eyes with him, and would look away if he glanced in their direction. And they would never even think of engaging with him in conversation. It wasn’t everybody who was like this, but he was used to the ones who were.
"They sound happy," he remarked to Maddy, behind the bar and putting away glasses from the washer.
"Who?" For a moment, Maddy didn’t follow his drift – she herself was so used to customers gradually getting louder and more boisterous as the night went on, she tended to filter it out of her mind. This was not least because, given the choice, she would have been with them and having some fun herself, rather than stuck serving drinks and working. She, too, felt herself trapped by her duty at times. "Oh, Tricia, you mean? And her new house-mate."
"Seems like they are going to get along well." Buster took a long draw on his beer.
"Hmm." Maddy was non-committal. She knew that not all friendships lasted outside the halo of an evening’s drinks. "She seems to be getting her feet under the table, as they say."
Buster caught the note of caution in her voice, but chose not to remark on it. "Wasn’t that your Douglas just dashing off as I came in?"
"Yes. He said he had some – " she broke off. "He just wanted a quick one, one for the road."
Douglas was one of the characters with whom Buster would never get a chat out of. He was also aware, however, that Douglas’s erstwhile drinking partner was avoiding his gaze. He continued to study Benson Fairhurst even while carrying on talking to Maddy. Benson was not one of the types that habitually avoided eye-contact. But he was doing so tonight. "So who’s looking after your Bethanytonight?"
"Oh, don’t worry," said Maddy, as much as anything to reassure herself. "That nice Brooke Ames volunteered to baby-sit."
Buster digested this snippet of information also, and remained silent. Something was amiss here. He was reasonably sure he had seen Brooke hurrying across the car park just as he was pulling in. After some reflection, he said, "Maddy, would you mind keeping this under the counter till I get back?" He handed her the glass of beer. that, up till now, he had been enjoying, with a slight sigh of resignation. Never off duty, he thought to himself. "I just have to run a little errand."
"No problem," said Maddy. "Will you be wanting a top-up when you get back?"
"Better make it lemonade," he said. "I wouldn’t want to have to arrest myself for being over the limit."
Even as he was about to leave the bar, he was aware of the newcomers, Robert Farrah and fiancée, approaching him in that way people did when they wanted to ask a police-type question, rather than just say hello. It was something in the body language and, again, he was used to it and could spot it a mile off.
"Mr Keaton!", Robert Farrah began, cheerfully enough. "I was hoping we might run into you. There’s something that Nas and I wanted to ask you about."
There it was. Buster could always tell.
"I’m awfully sorry, Mr Farrah. I’ve just got to pop out for a moment." Buster always wanted to be helpful to everyone, but sometimes it was just not possible. Sometimes, one thing took priority over others. He nevertheless could sense the slight shrug of disappointment in Robert Farrah’s shoulders. He was a body-language expert. Whatever it was, he would have to get back to it later. He made a mental note – clearly something was up that was disturbing Mr Farrah’s peace of mind. But it would just have to wait.
Buster hurried out of the door before he was stopped by anybody else needing favours.
"Well! That was a bit disappointing," Robert said. "He was more helpful this afternoon."
Maddy said, "Don’t worry – he’s coming back. I’ve got his drink here."
"He did look he had something on his mind," Nasreen added. "I hope it wasn’t something too important. I suppose, being a policeman is one of those jobs that isn’t nine-to-five. How would you like it if pupils kept coming up to you when you went out for an evening."
"Don’t worry about him," said Maddy. "Takes himself very seriously sometimes. I think he just wants to feel important, like he’s the town sheriff. Anyway, welcome to Magnolia Close. Can I get you anything?"
Buster knocked on the door of number 25, Magnolia Close. He found himself waiting for some little time, and was already drawing his own conclusions about the reason for this, when The door opened and there stood Brooke Ames. For her part, she looked surprised.
"Mr Keaton. What’s up? Is something the matter?"
"Oh, no… no I don’t think so." Buster attempted to sound very relaxed about everything. He often found this helped those he dealt with relax also and sometimes drop their guard a little. "I just heard that you were doing a spot of baby-sitting and thought I’d swing by, make sure you were alright."
"Why shouldn’t I be?" Brooke answered, but without rancour. "Are you checking up on me?"
"Yes, I am in fact" he laughed. "Bad habit of mine, sticking my nose in other people’s business. Seriously though, a young lady in on her own – it’s part of my job, just to keep an eye out."
"But I’m not on my own. Mr Gormley’s here."
"Is he really?" said Buster, genuinely surprised. "I thought you were baby-sitting for him."
Behind her, Douglas Gormley appeared behind her from the living room. "Oh. Hello," said Douglas. Still wasn’t prepared to get into conversation.
"I was for a while, because Mr Gormley had to go out. But he’s back now, so I’ll be getting off."
"I’ll walk with you," Buster said. This was not just his being solicitous. There were a few questions he wanted to ask her.
"There’s no need." At the moment, Behind Douglas Gormley, Maxwell Fairhurst stepped out into the hall-way.
"I’ll see her home, Mr Keaton." Buster stepped aside as the two youngsters set off.
"Were you wanting anything else?" Douglas asked, when Buster appeared reluctant to leave.
"No," Buster sighed. "Oh, Just one thing – have you been to the local off-licence tonight?
"No. Why?"
"On the floor there. Isn’t that one of their carrier bags?"
"Must be an old one," said Douglas, closing the door.
End Of Episode 11
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