Life in the Land Read Online Free Page A

caused a bubble of bile to burn in Robert’s chest, and he knew there was no way he could blame it on the beer. “Dad didn’t mention they were having trouble last time I phoned home.”
    “And when was that?” asked Steven.
    Robert shrugged. “It’s been a couple of months,” he admitted.
    “Yeah, well, it’s only been a week since Flinty spoke to your dad—he’s not what you’d call a gregarious bloke.”
    The thought of Mike brought back a slew of memories he refused to dwell over, and stamping down on the rush of regret, he drained his bottle and stood up. “Sorry, I gotta go. Said I’d meet a friend.”
    Robert grabbed his coat and headed out of the bar, not giving his family the chance to question him. He emerged into the city, the streets comprising of rows of bars and takeaway places. It was already dark, and when he checked his watch, he realized it was nearly eleven. Given the time, Robert knew exactly where he wanted to go. He wanted to lose himself for a few hours, to clear his head both from thoughts of rescues and the memories that had left him feeling more unsettled than expected.
    Heading off the high street, he took the next left, and was shoulder barged out of the way by a teenager in a hoodie, who grunted an insincere apology without looking back. Robert was glad he’d grown into his tall frame and was no longer the beanpole his dad used to call him. The kid would’ve probably sent the old Bobby flying before giving him a mouthful for getting in the way and having the gall to share the same pavement.
    The neon lights of Club Nirvana beckoned, its garish orange sign reflecting across the wet pavement and making the front of the club glow in an almost unworldly manner. Being a Thursday night and relatively early for the hard-core clubbers, it wasn’t a surprise to see there was no queue at the door, which would’ve been unheard of on a Saturday night.
    He hurried across the road after a cursory glance to check for traffic and bounded up the steps to the club. At the payment window, he flashed his membership card and handed over a five-pound note to Lulu, a green-haired drag queen with electric-blue lips and more mascara than a Max Factor counter.
    Lulu grinned when she spotted Robert. “Roberto, my sweet,” he said in a voice ravaged by cigarettes. “Not like you to visit us on a school night.”
    “It’s been a long day.”
    “I get you, hun. Some days need vodka and pretty boys in hot pants.”
    Robert laughed and accepted the change Lulu handed him. “Bring ’em on.”
    He headed into the club, Lulu’s filthy cackle drowned out by the blare of music as he climbed the stairs to the main room. Robert figured the rest of the city must’ve been in the same reflective mood, as the club was much busier than he had expected it to be. The dance floor had a respectable number of men grinding and swaying along with the heavy bass. He caught the barman’s eye and bought a beer, avoiding the temptation of the cheap and lurid cocktails. He found a spot by the wall with a view of the dance floor and the entrance, an ideal vantage point to identify a likely companion for a spot of mutual stress relief. The club was gearing up for a weekend of themed events, already partly decorated in readiness for the “Ride ’Em Cowboy” Friday night special, although there were a few too many Stetsons about for Robert’s taste.
    There were at least three young men who matched his usual type on the dance floor and another leaning against the bar on his own. The man at the bar had a compact build, not overly muscular but with an allusion to strength, and his dirty blond hair fell over his eyes, which, if Robert were really lucky, would turn out to be blue. Robert didn’t dare dwell on the reason for his particular taste in men; he didn’t want to overthink things tonight, wanting instead anonymity and an easy path to forgetfulness.
    Robert pushed himself off the wall, and with a lazy saunter, made his