This is a short story I wrote a while back after getting into a serious Jam period (a British New-Wave/Punk/Mod band in the 80's). It's based on the song of the same name. Hope you enjoy it. If you do I stronly recomend you look for the song.


And any Jam or Paul Weller fans out there, I hope I do the song justice.

Cheers,
PaperSmile.

Twenty to midnight in London. The street lights shone dimly through the fog lighting up the pavement below. A red double decker bus drove past, barely visable. The street itself was lined by take-aways and resturaunts. A man emerged from one, a small package in his hands and a newspaper under his arm. He opened it and removed a fork before beginning to eat the curry it contained. He stopped in a pool of light, checked his watch, then moved off down the street.

David Watts was a simple man. He had dark brown hair and eyes. He was tall and well built, though his age was beginning to tell. He wore a brown suit, with a white shirt. His top button was undone, and his checked tie pulled down slightly. He had a wife, two kids and a nice house, but nothing flashy. He drove a Honda Civic, which he'd bought new, two years ago. He sat down on a bench and unrolled his paper. 'Top banker dies in car accident'. David read the article, a feeling of detached pity causing him to pause from eating his curry. 'Edward Jones, a top banker, was killed yesterday in a tragic car accindent. Mr Jones was run down...' and so it continued. David looked at his watch again. Ten to midnight. He stood, collected his belongings, and walked to the Tube station.

***

David Watts moved briskly towards the ticket machine, balancing the paper and curry in the crook of his arm while taking his wallet out. He put the curry on the floor and paid for his ticket. He glanced at the walls while his ticket printed. 'Jesus Saves!' was painted on the wall, probably by some atheist nutter. He took his ticket, and bent to pick up the curry when he heard a voice behind him.
"Hey, Boy!" David stood and turned. Two men stood before him, skin heads, wearing leather bomber jackets covered in Nazi symbols and slogans. Their army-issue boots were dulled and muddy, but the steel caps shone like the sun.
"Hey, boy, got 'ne money?" The larger of the two stepped forward, almost nose to nose with David. He could smell the man now. Pubs, and too many right-wing meetings.
"I've only got shrapnel," he indicated the loose change in his hand, "and a curry. Please, just take it. My wife's waiting for me." The two men chuckled. The bigger man turned to look at his friend, then spun round and hit David in the face. The second man ran over and kicked him in the stomach. As they rumaged through his jacket David looked to the walls, almost sobbing in pain. The jangle of keys. 'Jesus Saves'. The world began to spin. The two men stood, a glint of metal in the smaller's hand. David Watts's eyes dulled, and his tears stopped. Big Ben rang out.

***

Mrs. Watts kissed her two children goodnight before rushing them upstairs, their late-night now over. She smiled as they chased each other to their room, then she turned and walked back intot the kitchen. She glanced at the clock. Ten past midnight. She took out the cutlery and lay it out on the table. David would be back soon. She smiled at the memory of their eight years together.

The wine stood in the centre of the table, the cork lying beside it. Mrs. Watts was sat at the table, patiently awaiting the arrival of her husband. She glanced once more at the clock. He was late. A bell rang in the kitchen, indicating that the food was ready. She leapt to her feet and ran to the oven. As she took the trays out there was a scratching at the door, the sound of a key in a lock. Beaming from ear to ear Angeline Watts ran down the hall to greet her husband. The door opened.

Angeline screamed.


"And I’m down in the tube station at midnight
The wine will be flat and the curry’s gone cold
I’m down in the tube station at midnight
Don’t want to go down in a tube station at midnight"