Wooden box man

by Beth

Kate and Tony were soaking wet from standing in the rain. Tony’s team had lost, but he grinned from ear to ear when Kate took his arm and they filed out of the stadium. The crowds of football fans were thinning as they descended the steps into the warm belly of the underground. Scarfs and wisps of hair trailed on the currents of hot air that rose up around them and as they wove their way through the tunnels they caught the echoes of devotedly sung football songs. They sat together on the carpeted seats hardly noticing the wet dog smell of all the bodies packed tightly into the tube as it trundled off into the darkness.

Two stops to go and Kate laughed at something that Tony said a little too loudly. She looked about self-consciously, but no-one was looking at her. The eyes of fellow passengers were darting about from one another to the man sat next to Tony. Kate glanced over at him. The man was pallid and balding, he looked worn, as if he hadn’t surfaced for a while. A murmuring that Kate hadn’t noticed before was getting louder and louder. The man was talking to a wooden box on his lap, as if having an argument that he wasn’t winning. As the man slowly slid the lid off the box people gasped and tried to skitter away from him like frightened horses. The carriage was packed so tightly there wasn’t anywhere to go. Couples gripped hands tighter, people shifted from foot to foot or crossed their arms over bags on their laps to hold them closer. A woman sat opposite Kate chipped harder and harder at the nail varnish on her left index finger, all the while staring at the man and his box. Kate glimpsed the gleaming hatchet inside and froze. Tony squeezed her knee. He turned to the man and calmly said ‘Alright, good game today, you see it?’ The man continued murmuring to the box. ‘Though we were totally robbed’. The man glanced up scowling. Tony lifted his chin slightly to give the man clear view of the gold cockerel emblem on the scarf around his neck. It was only then that Kate noticed the same emblem tattooed on the man’s forearm. Tony continued to talk in a level tone about the detail of the game with a casualness he couldn’t have felt. The man’s murmuring eventually lapsed into silence. He gave a slight nod of agreement to a comment Tony made about the ref. As they pulled in to the station people were stepping over each other to get off the tube in a panic. Tony stood up slowly and said ‘well this is us…nice to talk to you.’ The man looked Tony in the eye. All of Kate’s muscles tensed, Tony motioned her to leave, as if facing down a bull. Just at that second the doors of the carriage slid open and 4 police appeared in front of them. Kate took Tony’s hand and pulled him out on to the platform.

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