Free Die Hard Mod by Charlie McQuaker Page A

of yore.
    The good weather had drawn people outdoors so Steve had no problem getting a window seat in the café. He pulled a Bukowski paperback out of his back pocket and supped his cappuccino. Jeanie had never arrived on time for any of their meetings in the past so he was expecting to be waiting for a while.
    After twenty minutes or so, he was getting quite engrossed with Bukowski’s drunken escapades when there was a rap on the window. Jeanie flashed him a killer smile. She had her hair tied back in a pony-tail and was wearing a Breton shirt and navy blue ski-pants. A simple type of retro chic that put Steve in mind of Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face . She breezed in and pecked him on the cheek.
    ‘Sorry I’m a wee bit late darlin’. You want another coffee?’
    She brought back two cappuccinos and slinked into the seat next to Steve.
    ‘So how’s my favourite Mod? Bet you’re enjoying seeing your compadres in all their finery?’
    ‘Yeah, makes me feel the loss of my scooter a bit more deeply though… fuckin’ Trevor and Donzo …’
    She stroked his arm and smiled sympathetically.
    ‘There there, darlin’. Sure it won’t be long before you’ve got another cool set of wheels. I’ve got nice memories of our wee excursions together… remember that weekend in Portstewart?’
    Six times in one night. It was Steve’s all-time shagging record.
    ‘Yeah, how could I forget?’
    As Steve recalled possibly the top selection from his wank jukebox, a trio of fat daytrippers in Chelsea shirts with loud cockney accents barged into the cafe.
    ‘I’m fakkin’ dyin’ for some chips… oi, Gaz, you get ‘em… I’ve been gettin’ the beers in all fakkin’ afternoon, you tight-arsed slag.’
    Jeanie grimaced.
    ‘I think this is our cue to leave, darlin’. I’m not enjoying the ambience any more. Let’s go for a stroll in the sun, eh?’
    Back in the sunshine, the young Mods Steve had been observing earlier were getting interviewed by a presenter that he recognised from a BBC 2 arts programme. Steve and Jeanie quickly shuffled out of the way when they realised they were within range of the cameraman’s lens. Jeanie linked arms with Steve and led him along the pavement towards Brighton Marina.
    ‘There’s a lovely walk if we keep going along this way, darlin’… the tourists don’t know about the undercliff path so we’ll be able to avoid the riff-raff.’
    Steve wondered what Jeanie was on about when an Asda supermarket and an ugly expanse of concrete came into view but once they got beyond that and walked alongside dramatic white cliffs with a dazzling sea to their right, he could see what she meant.
    A pair of laughing kids holding fishing nets skipped along as a purposeful-looking lycra-clad cyclist flew past in the opposite direction. With the sun in her face, Jeanie looked content. Steve began to wonder why the chaos and drama in her life never seemed to cause her any concern. When she turned to look at him, she noticed the questioning look in his eyes.
    ‘Penny for ‘em, darlin’.’
    Steve kicked a stone along the path as he walked.
    ‘Ach I was just wonderin’ why you always seem no nonchalant about everythin’… it’s like whatever shite happens, ye don’t have a care in the world.’
    Jeanie stopped walking and unlinked her arm from Steve’s.
    ‘Well I just thought we were having a perfectly pleasant stroll in the sun. Why should I be bothered about anything?’
    Steve tried to hold Jeanie’s hand again but she withdrew it from his grasp.
    ‘Look Jeanie, I didn’t mean to bug ye, it’s just that I find you pretty hard to figure out sometimes. And ye might as well know, I know about you and Cubitt… I showed a friend your photo and he knew who you were.’
    An elderly couple had just walked past and Jeanie waited until they were out of earshot before replying to Steve.
    ‘How fucking dare you.’
    ‘Look, I couldn’t just pretend that …’
    ‘I said how fucking dare you, Steve.