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Page iChild’s Play
Claire Craig

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Page ii

Better English Language Teaching (BELT)PO Box 250
Glebe, NSW 2037
Australia
www.betterelt.com© 2002 Claire Craig
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in aretrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means,electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise
without the prior written permission of the Copyright holder.
Printed by McPherson’s Printing Group,
Australia
ISBN: 1 74077 099 4
For Marie and P.J. Craig
Publisher: Lesley McFadzean
Managing Editor: Claire Craig
Designer: Melanie Feddersen
Editor: Martin Ford
Typesetter: Bob Reyes

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contents
Chapter 1

I see his name1

Chapter 2

Nothing is the same

6

Chapter 3

The voice on the phone

11

Chapter 4

Don’t be late

15

Chapter 5

A bad heart

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characters
Steph Park: a 25-year-old English woman whoworks for a publishing company in London
Sheila: Steph’s assistant at the publishingcompany
John: one of Steph’s authorsFrankie Leech: he lived across the road from
Steph when they were children
William Leech: Frankie’s little brotherCentral London
CamdenIslington
St. John’s
Wood

Regent’s Park
Bloomsbury
Marylebone

Gardens

Knightsbridge
Earl’sCourt

Tower ofTrafalgar
T
LondonWaterloo
SquareLondonBridgeSt.. James
Jame ’s
BridgeWestminster
Park
Bridge Southwark Tower
Buckingham
uckingha
BridgeLambeth
Pal
PalaceBelgravia
Chelsea

Battersea

BridgeLambeth

riv T

esham

Kensington

HydePark

City Whitechapel

R

Notting
Hill
Kensington
ensington

CoventSoho Garden
Mayfair

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I see his nameI

leave the house quickly this morning. I amlate. Again. No time for breakfast. No timefor coffee. My hair is wet. I don’t have time todry it. I walk to the train station at Islington
quickly.
I have a meeting at 9 o’clock with an author.
He is a difficult author. I work for a publishingcompany in Bloomsbury. We publish books on
how to do things. There are books that tell people
how to change their lives, how to grow flowers, or
how to meet the love of their lives.
The author I am meeting writes books about
making money. Everyone wants to know how tomake money. This author makes lots of money forus. He likes to hear how important he is, and it is
my job to tell him. Again and again.
I buy a newspaper at the station. There is aphotograph of me on page six. Below the1

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photograph is a report about how many books
I sell. I like to read about myself. I like to knowthat I am good at my job. I like other people toknow it too.
I watch the train come into the station. It is acold, clear day.
I see a man on the other side of the platform.
He sees me too. Then, he walks away quickly.
I watch him go. He looks back at me, just once.
He is too far away. I don’t see his face.
I pull my coat around me. A cold wind blows
through the station.
I think I know that man. He looks familiar.
Too familiar.
No. It isn’t him. It can’t be!
The doors of the train open.
I get on the train. I take a big breath. I lookaround. It is alright. Everything is the same.
There are lots of people on the train. People
going to work. Children going to school. I smellclean clothes and expensive perfume. Some people
smile at each other.
I see the same people every day. They are
happy in the morning and tired at night. I sit at
the back of the train. Next to a woman with a large
bag and a young girl who writes in a book. She
draws big fat words on the page.
2

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I read the newspaper.
PUBLISHER OF BEST SELLERS says theheadline. The piece about me is short. It says I ama big star in the publishing world. I smile. I hope
my boss reads it.
I turn the pages of the newspaper.
Then, I see his name. The name of the man atthe train station.
It is eight o’clock in the morning.
I like to know what the time is whenimportant things happen. Then, when I think
about them I can say, “this happened at . . .”I always remember important moments likethis. I think that life is like music. There are someloud notes and some soft notes. Loud notes areimportant things. Soft notes are things thathappen every day.
This is a loud note. The loudest note in mylife for 15 years.
It is just a few words in the newspaper. It isamong births, deaths, and marriages. I don’t readthem often. But today I do.
There it is. His name. In black words.
After all these years.
It makes me feel cold.
FRANCIS GORDON LEECH.
3