The Swap Read Online Free Page B

hunched in a suit that could only belong to a retired teacher, grey and stained by a thousand chalk accidents. Mr Simes. Harvey tried to remember if he had been taught by Mr Simes at all. Perhaps he could go over and join in the conversation, mention algebra, for instance, or fractions. He didn't remember much else from maths and he didn't think he'd ever had Mr Simes. Once he would have known without having to think. Bleeder was animated now, waving his arms. People in the group were glancing round; looks of vague surprise that anyone could talk excitedly about anything at a reunion seemed to flicker across polite smiles.
    What is he doing? Harvey wondered. What is going on?
    But whatever it was ended and Bleeder at once moved away towards the door. Harvey saw that the old man was tempted to follow him. He made a move in the same direction as Bleeder's departing back, but then stopped as if uncertain. At that moment one of the group by the bar came over to the teacher. 'So still doing sums for a living, Simmo?' he asked loudly and got a small laugh from the crowd. Harvey shook his head, he'd done all the get-the-teacher-back stuff years ago. He turned and saw Bleeder stopped in the doorway, he was having to squeeze past someone that Harvey didn't recognise but wished he did. She was red-headed and nicely rounded with a clever, pretty face covered in freckles. She wore a long patchworked dress and her hair was tied back under purple silk. He noticed that much as he moved quickly to follow Bleeder. And as he passed her the woman spoke: 'I'm sorry, am I in the right place? I'm looking for Class of 1986.'
    'Er, yeah.' Harvey liked her voice, it was sort of husky and mellow at the same time, like Mariella Frostrup after a Lemsip. 'It's in here, are you a graduate?'
    'No, not me.' She smiled and he liked that too. 'My husband,' – damn – 'is Jeff Cooper, I don't know if you know him?' Harvey did. Big heavy fucker with a tattoo, liked rugby – of course – one of Bleeder's most persistent tormentors in the old days.
    'Yeah. I think he's down by the bar.'
    'That would be Jeff.' And her voice carried just enough weariness and even disgust for Harvey to feel suddenly happier. He glanced out into the hallway and found Bleeder was still there, looking at the inevitable stand of old photographs: always the same pictures.
    'I'm not sure it'll be much fun if you weren't at Trehendricks,' Harvey said kindly. 'It's a bit of a sad bunch getting nostalgic. I can't say I go for it myself,' he added quickly.
    'Oh, I don't know.' She smiled again. 'I think there's something rather sweet about doing it. Our past is who we are isn't it?' Harvey nodded thoughtfully, it certainly was for him. There were times when he thought that was all he was.
    'Mmm, scary thought,' he said. She smiled dutifully and he wished he'd said something more intelligent, so he tried again: 'I guess I'm never sure whether I'm trying to get away from all this or get back to it, you know?' He wasn't sure what he meant actually, but she reacted and looked him in the eye for a moment.
    'Yes, I do. And I feel very much like that a lot of the time. Recently especially . . .' She looked over Harvey's shoulder into the hall without enthusiasm. Harvey turned and found that Jeff Cooper was standing just behind him.
    'Chatting up my wife, Briscow?' He stabbed Harvey in both ribs with his fingers. Harvey managed not to squeal.
    'Trying to,' he said through his wince, 'but you're interrupting.'
    Cooper laughed at that. 'Cheeky fucker,' he said and attempted another dig but Harvey blocked with his elbows.
    'He was very kindly helping me,' she said, giving Harvey a rueful, almost fraternal smile.
    'Yes, you left her stranded in the hallway, Jeff,' said Harvey, 'and I was being gallant, in case you know what that means. The least you can do now is introduce us.'
    'If you like.' Cooper moved gracelessly round and took his wife by the arm. 'Maisie, this is Harvey Briscow; Harvey Briscow,