‘Fill my glass and pay attention. You won’t have heard this tale.’ Barney was the pub bore, but he was also the local schoolmaster and demanded to be listened to.
He lowered himself into an overstuffed chair and whether we liked it or not he was going to give us a story from the newspaper.
‘Some months ago, a man called Steer left his home in Battersea, south London, with only the vaguest word that he was travelling to Surrey.
‘The very next day a drowned body was taken from the river Thames. It was a tremendous shock. What could possibly have happened? The police took the wife to see the body. She thought it to be beyond doubt and identified it as Steer.
‘The features and heavy build were similar to her husband. Steer had once lost an eye, one of his toes was crushed and he had a mark above the eye where a bone had been removed.
‘Officialdom was satisfied. The family grieved and Steer’s death was legally registered. An inquest said only that he died of drowning. Nothing was speculated about how he might have ended in the water.
‘A coin collection was made among friends and a memorial stone of sorts was put up in the cemetery.
‘Such a sad story. Except,’ and here Barney drained his glass and held it aloft for a companion to refill, ‘this very afternoon Steer returned home saying he had been in Surrey working as a gardener,’ he guffawed.
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 