Page 3 of The Devil's Dilemma

I had travel plans, needed to sort out passports, and stash Grandpa somewhere safe. I wouldn’t have him brought into this. If there was even a whiff of suspicion, it’d finish the old man off. Maybe I was being selfish not to take him with me, but I had a plan, and at his age, he couldn’t travel.

No, the best I could do for him was to move him into a home. A big fancy one where they didn’t ask questions but would keep me updated. I’d already started getting fresh papers. He needed to be as invisible as me.

Now I knew which casino we were hitting and that the owner had a reputation, I couldn’t risk leaving Grandpa to suffer the consequences.

Unease skittered across my skin, but I shoved it down. I had to keep my eyes on the prize. There was no time to go over it more. I had to leave.

“If there’s nothing else.” I stood and dropped my empty bottle in the bin.

“Nah, you get off, mate. Say hello to Stan.” We bumped fists, and I left them to it. I walked home and pulled my collar up against the cold and rain.

“Grandpa.” I opened the door, shrugged out of my coat, and hung it on the rack. Water dripped onto the floor. I should wipe that up. I didn’t need him falling again. But first I wanted to speak to Grandpa.

“In the kitchen.” His once firm voice was now frail and quiet, making it difficult to hear.

He sat at the kitchen table, looking fragile, a mug of tea in front of him, hardly touched.

“You want another?” I poured the cold drink down the sink and put the kettle on.

“That’d be good, Austin. Where’ve you been? With those boys again? They’re nothing but trouble, always have been.”

“They’re my friends, Grandpa.”

“Pah. Friends, my arse. They’d leave you dead and dying if it suited them. I hope you’re not getting yourself into anything you can’t get out of.”

I sighed. How many times did I have to listen to this bollocks? He’d always hated them, but I guessed he had every right to.

“Pie and chips okay for tea?” I ignored his usual warnings, yanked open the freezer door, and took out a couple of chicken pies and some frozen chips. At least when he moved into a home, they’d feed him decent food. Not the shit he ate here. As much as I tried to get him to eat better, he insisted the carers brought him what he wanted.

Normally pie and chips.

“You’re a good boy, Austin.” If only he knew the truth.

“Remember the story you used to tell me when I was little? The one about The Magic Shop.”

“What you wanna know about that for? It was just a story.”

I placed a mug of hot tea in front of him and sipped my own, watching him closely.

“Humour me. I’m interested.”

He pulled the red plaid blanket farther onto his lap and cupped his mug.

“I heard of it when I was a lad, but there was talk of a magic shop that could give you anything you wanted. The Owner would look at you and instantly know what you needed. It’s just an urban legend, though. The tales have been told for years. No way it’s still around.”

“Did you ever visit it? Is that how you know about it?”

“It’s a story, son. Ain’t no truth in it.” But the twinkle in his eye said otherwise.

Funny, but I didn’t believe him.

“Where could I find it?”

“Huh? Weren’t you listening? There’s no such shop.”

“You know, for an old man, you’re shit at lying.”

A sly smile appeared on his face, and I knew then the rumours or urban legend or whatever you wanted to call it, were true. I just needed to find that shop.

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