Dention and Homework

[flying_kiwifruit]

This is the prologue of a book my friend Gaylene is writing. She would appreciate any comments on it. I also have the first two chapters and if you would like me to put them uo also pls let me know.


Prologue
A boy of ten started for the stairs, listening intently to the shouts of the man and woman in the living room downstairs. The lights were on, but he had never felt more in the dark. All of a sudden the lights flicked off and the boy was standing in the living room, watching the man hold the woman back, trying to stop her from breathing.
The boy stood, his mouth gaping. The woman threw her arms out in front of her, trying to get her son to run away, to save himself, but the boy couldn't move. He was fixed on watching his mother's strangulation. The man looked up and sneered.
The boy had the handgun tightly clenched in his hands. He lifted his arms heavily and held the gun up, pointing it as well as he could. The man taunted him, yelling at him. He slid his left thumb along the top side and the click of the safety seemed to be as dangerous as the trigger to the man.
The man pulled the woman in front of him, gesturing for the boy to shoot. He yelled and the boy saw his mother was still alert. She was trying to call to him to run but he was stuck on the spot. He clasped his finger around the trigger and pulled back.
He reeled from the force of the gun, which had sent him backwards into the side of the stairs. He got gingerly to his feet and looked onwards to see his mother bleeding from the head. The man tossed her to the floor and stepped forward angrily.
The boy lifted the gun again and pulled back on the trigger as hard as he could, at least three consecutive times, shutting his eyes in fear. The sound of the gun firing frightened him and he dropped back against the side of the stairs.
A sudden image of the man forced its way into the boy's mind, shortly followed by the sight of his mother's dead body lying on the ground, her blood soaking into the carpet, her blue eyes wide open…
Connor Blair woke up in his cell, sweat streaming through his body and drenching his grey prisoner's singlet. He panted as the images of his dead mother floated through his conscious mind and filled his conscience with guilt.
Torchlight shone through the cell door and Connor dropped back into his damp bed, pulling his itchy woollen covers over his head. He didn't want anyone to see he had been crying.

 

[ThinkJesus]

That's a powerful prologue! I think it is very well written. I'd like to read those first few chapters.

 

[flying_kiwifruit]

OK here it is

chapter one​

The white iron door slid open crustily and heavily, as though it had been opened only once before. A tall boy of fifteen sat on the edge of his small single bed. The other boys in the ward crowded around the hall, some merely peering through the window in their doors. It was not often someone was released.
The boy stood as two men in grey uniforms entered and pushed him against the wall opposite the door, making him spread his arms and legs as he was searched. One of the men, Lowden, was a skinny Maori man in his thirties with black hair and a light brown skin coated in tattoos, frisked him down while the other, Jackson, a well built, stocky pakeha man also with black hair and in his thirties, stood back at the cell door, watching and waiting. When the men were satisfied, they thrust him out of the cell. His blue sweatpants and grey shirt were dirty, having not been washed in almost a week. The dirt from his work in the yard was still on the seat of his pants.
Connor Blair walked out into the fresh, free air he had longed for since the first month of imprisonment. He'd changed completely, his appearance and his personality having got a revamp in the five years that had been stolen. His arms were part covered by the sleeves of his grey shirt. Under the sleeves, imprinted on his sun kissed arms were several black markings, tattoos to show his identity and traits. His hair was no longer healthy and tidy. It was shaved at the back, and the top of it was a thick cut, floppy mess. A mix of brown and black, with a few streaks of blonde; Connor's natural colour was just weird.
He let the warden unlock his handcuffs before they shared a look of grateful farewell and Connor was escorted into the back of a truck. The road was soft and silent. Connor had missed one thing about freedom: music. On the inside, the only music they had was the rap battles the cellblocks hosted from time to time. As he rode in the back, he thought about the last songs he had heard.
'Ride's over sunshine.' A man tapped on the truck door and opened it, letting blinding light into the cavernous hold. Connor squinted, moving quickly and quietly out of the double doors and onto the suburban street. A sign a few metres away told him they were parked outside of the Kawerau Police station.
'What are we doing here?' he asked casually.
'We have to let them know that you're moving into the area,' one of the wardens explained. He handed him a duffel bag of clothes. 'And we have to organise your parole and Periodic Detention.'
'I do know what PD is,' Connor spat, but with less vigour than he usually did.
They led him into the building and to the counter. The wardens handed over Connor's papers and a female sergeant led them to the cell block.
'You can get changed over there,' she said pointing to the men's toilets.
'Thanks,' he replied stiffly, strolling over to the men's room, the second warden at his side. He found an empty cubicle and unzipped the duffel bag while the warden held the door open. He found inside clothes of a regular teenage boy: jeans, clean pairs of boxers, tee shirts, hooded sweatshirts and the likes. He changed quickly, relaxed even while the man watched him change. As soon as the navy hoody was over his body, the warden pulled him out of the cubicle and shoved him out through the bathroom door, grabbing the duffel bag from the tiled floor. Connor made his way back on his own accord to the officer and warden, who was now joined by his lawyer, Mr. Deacon.
'Everything seems to be in order,' he was saying. 'But where's my client?'
'Here,' Connor interjected sternly.
The officer met his eye with not so much as a glimpse of encouragement.
'I hope I don't have to see you again,' he said coldly.
'So do I,' Connor replied in the same tone. The papers were signed and the wardens took Connor back to the parking lot, where they let him into a white Toyota. He slid into the backseat and relaxed. He was free. Well, almost. Jackson slid in next to him, and pulled on his seatbelt. He looked and saw Connor hadn't.
'Put it on,' he told him sternly. Connor smirked. 'Put on your seatbelt.'
'Are you going to make me?' Connor said with a laugh.
Jackson reached over Connor's chest, grabbed the safety belt and pulled it over, pushing it into the clicker. 'Was that clear enough for you?' he asked, smiling at his scowling detainee. Connor settled back as the other warder opened the driver's side door and got in, pulling on his own safety belt and pushing the metal clip into the clicker next to his seat. He started the car, which whined shortly before the engine turned over and began to sing as it should. Connor had almost forgotten how soothing the sound of an engine could be, and within the first five minutes of the trip, he'd fallen asleep.
He was woken shortly after and peered around the car. Jackson watched him and pointed out the window. 'Welcome to your home sweet home.'
Connor turned around and looked out the window, seeing at first a bunch of old vintage homes, with petite gardens and well kept lawns. Then he realised where the man was pointing and looked across to see a section with unkempt turf and an overgrown garden complete with climbing rose bed of weeds.
The car pulled slowly against the curb and he kept watch. From where he sat in the backseat, Connor could see a cheery old wooden railway house, with a white roof atop its pale yellow body. The deep wood front door had a small wooden deck in front of it, on which was a pair of deck chairs.
The second warden, the one who'd driven them from the station, opened the door on Connor's left. Connor moved to get out quickly, before anyone shoved him onto the path or the front lawn.
When he first got out, the sunlight hit his eyes so fiercely he had to blink until they had adjusted enough for him to see. He let the guards lead him up to the path to the house. Jackson took out a set of keys and unlocked the front door. He pushed it open and stepped back, gesturing for Connor to go in first. Connor stepped forward, over the threshold and placed a foot on the worn carpet. A sudden wave of familiarity swept over him, as though he'd been there before. He looked around the room he was standing in. At one end were a couple of couches and an armchair, and straight in front of him was the hall. On his left, next to the TV, was a bookcase with photo albums and framed portraits.
'Welcome home,' said an Irish voice from his left. He turned to see a man in a pastel yellow polo shirt and black trousers rounding the corner from the kitchen to the living room. His black hair was combed back softly and his moustache moved as his spoke. 'It's been a long time Connor. You do recognise who I am don't you?'
Connor tried to swallow the nervous lump in his throat but it bobbed up and down like a buoy. He nodded. This was his father's brother, Brayden.
'Your uncle has agreed to let you stay here with him,' Jackson told him. 'He'll make sure that you get back on track.'
'Sure,' Connor murmured. He had his eyes still on Brayden, who was just standing there at the other end of the lounge.
Brayden cleared his throat. 'Perhaps you have bags in the car?'
'Nope. This is it.' In his right hand Connor held the only bag he had, the one given to him at the station.
'Well, you travel lightly don't you?' he chuckled. He stopped quickly. 'So, I guess it's time for the grand tour.'
'We'll leave you to it,' Lowden said. Connor looked to him over his shoulder. 'You'll be hearing from us soon though.' He handed a manila envelope to Connor, gave an offhanded smile and stepped back out the door. Jackson pat Connor shortly on the back, then followed his fellow warden out, pulling the door shut behind him.
Connor looked at the envelope, then to the floor. Brayden walked over and cleared his throat again. 'My you've grown since the last time I saw you,' he stated with a nervous laugh.
Connor stared blankly into space. 'I was six months old.'
Brayden got the hint. 'Well, your room's straight ahead,' he explained, gesturing down the hall. 'Bathroom's left of it, toilet next to that. If you're hungry, there's food in the fridge so help yourself.'
'Thanks,' Connor murmured. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Brayden walked through a door on Connor's right and disappeared. Connor sighed, walking down the hall. The door was open and he stepped through, sitting his bag down on the desk. He sat himself on the bed and opened the envelope, pulling out a set of papers, including his PD timetable and his parole papers. He flicked through them, coming to a copy of an enrolment sheet, already filled out and accepted. His gut dropped. He had to go to school.

Over the weekend, Connor was visited by Jackson and Lowden separately to make sure he was adjusting. They seemed pretty happy with his progress and didn't hesitate to pull him up when he began to debate the topic of going to school.
'You're going to school,' Jackson told him.
'No.'
'You're going to school,' he repeated.
'No.'
'You're going to school and that's it,' Jackson told him angrily.
Connor looked at him slowly. 'No.'
'Look, it isn't my doing,'Jackson stated. 'It's part of the law. You're under sixteen, you have to be in school. And you might need Lowden around for a while longer.'
'I can take care of myself,' he growled.
Jackson squinted. 'It's not about that. It has to do with your transition.'
'Oh, stuff the transition,' Connor said openly. 'I don't need either of you two looking after me.'
'You start on Thursday,' Jackson continued, ignoring his complaints. 'Lowden will pick you up. If you're lucky he'll only be around for the first couple of weeks. If you're lucky.' He got up from the table and Connor took him to the door. 'Oh,' Jackson said, turning at the door, 'where's your uncle? He should be here with you.'
'He's gone out,' Connor said shortly.
'For how long?'
'I'll know that when he gets back.'
Jackson watched him. 'He didn't tell you where he was going?'
'Out. Aren't you supposed to be leaving?'
Jackson looked him over then turned and walked out to his car. Connor waited for him to back out and drive off before he shut the door and went back to his room.

Lowden arrived and woke him on Thursday morning. He purposely dragged himself out of bed, showered and got dressed. He didn't have a uniform so he pulled on a pair of jeans, a tee shirt, hoody and his leather jacket.
'What's taking so long?' Lowden asked, knocking on the bedroom door.

 

[flying_kiwifruit]

'Mind your own,' Connor called back. He picked up the duffel bag on his desk, tossed in his medication from his drawer. He pulled the door open.
'Ready princess?' Lowden asked jokingly. Connor stared as though Lowden was insane. 'Alright, the car's out front.'
Connor squeezed past him into the hall and walked toward the front door.
'Have a good day,' Brayden said from his armchair. Connor turned, looked, then walked outside to wait by the car. The doors were unlocked, so he pulled his open and chucked his bag on the floor before he sat down and dragged the safety belt across his chest. Lowden walked down the front path, taking his time. Finally he got in, but he didn't start the car.
'What are you waiting for?' Connor asked him, staring blankly at the gear stick. Lowden reached across and opened the glove compartment, taking a couple sheets of paper and dropping them on his prisoner's lap.
'Your list of contacts,' he said, putting the keys into the ignition, 'your release mail, nearest family and relatives, and your temporary paper license.'
Connor looked through them with interest and picked up the license curiously as the engine turned over and the familiar rumble broke the silence. 'Score,' he mumbled under his breath.
'You got 34 from 35,' Lowden explained, driving away from the house.
Connor folded it to fit into a small pocket of his bag. The rest of the pages he just dropped into the main pocket. He hadn't noticed how far away Brayden's house was from the main part of town; he wasn't at all interested in exploring either. There were kids all over the footpath, children and older walking along with bags hung off their shoulders as they walked to the centre of the town. Connor felt his mouth open in horror and he slipped down in his seat. They were all in uniform.
'You alright there?' Lowden asked, watching the road.
'Not really.'
Lowden laughed. 'Nervous?'
'Not really.'
'You do know it's okay to have more than two words to every sentence right?'
'Not really.'
It took almost fifteen minutes, but they finally parked across the road from the high school. Swallowing his throat lump, he got out and pulled his bag onto his shoulder before they marched across the road. It was, for a country school, quite large. Most of the students lived nearby on farms, and so there weren't many buses to and from the school, just a couple that ran the services for the kids in Kawerau and the ones who lived on the outskirts of Inuwai. By the time the pair strolled through the gate, there were kids already swarming the place. Lowden yanked at the boy's hood, jerking him back a couple of steps,and led him through the classrooms to the administration office.
'Hi there,' the secretary greeted them, almost as bright and cheery as the woman from the Briscoe's ads. She was mature, and in her thirties. Her blonde hair fell past her shoulders and Connor saw she wasn't in a uniform.
When neither of them, said anything, Lowden took over. 'He's a new entrant. Connor Blair.'
'Right,' she said. She stepped away, then returned shortly with a handful of papers. 'Could you sign these please Mr. Blair?'
Connor almost froze. He pat his pocket. 'Oh, look, I haven't got a pen,' he smirked, turning away. 'Guess we'll have to go home.'
Lowden stood in front of him and held up a biro. 'Sign the forms kid.'
With a dirty look, Connor took the pen and scribbled angrily into the spaces provided. Signing at the bottom of each sheet, he dropped the pen on the counter and turned around again. 'Happy?'
'Very,' Lowden grinned.
The secretary handed a sheet of paper to him with a smile. 'Welcome to Inuwai High, Mr. Blair,' she greeted.
Whoopee, he thought glumly.
The bell rung and Lowden led him out to the grounds. 'Do you have any idea where we're going?' Connor asked curiously.
'Pretty much,' was the response. Lowden took him forcefully by the arm, leading him across the school. He stopped outside a class just like the rest, except this one had Y11 at the top of the door.
'After you,' Lowden offered courteously, gesturing to the door. With a lopsided sneer, Connor stepped up and opened the door.
He looked around, knowing his casual clothes were against the grain of forest sweaters, grey polos and black trousers. He quickly studied the man standing before the class. He was well into his life, with short white hair and a white goatee to boot. His blue eyes in combination with his smile asked the courtesy to at least fake a smile back.
The man shook hands with Lowden and introduced himself. He was English, his accent gave it away. Connor glanced to his sides as he sat down, taking in the faces of the kids he would have to spend every morning with.
'I'm Mr. Poults,' the man explained, 'but everyone calls me Pots.' He turned back to Lowden, who was still standing beside him. 'So how long are you going to be with Blair?'
'A couple of weeks,' Lowden explained. 'After that, he should be able to look after himself. Should.'
The bell rang through the room and everybody, including Connor, leapt naturally to their feet as they moved to the door, their bags and satchels returning swiftly to their backs and sides. Connor was pushed out of the way by a boy, he didn't see who, but he shoved right back, making Lowden smack him hard on the back of the head. When the doorway was empty, Connor walked out to the grass, pulling out the timetable he'd been given earlier.
'English,' he said to Lowden with a fake smile.
'Well I'm glad you're looking forward to it,' Lowden said, 'coz it's on the other side of the school.'
Connor took a tighter grip on his bag strap. 'Wonderful,' he breathed.

A kid came over to him at lunch. 'Excuse me,' he started, but Connor stopped him by lifting his left hand, the middle finger raised and the thumb loosely at the side.
Connor bit his tongue, ignoring the boy until he gave up and walked away. Lowden was walking back from the canteen, his tattooed arms clearing a path through the staring teenagers.
'What was that about?' he asked, sitting down.
'Nothing,' Connor said.
'It didn't look like nothing,' Lowden said, handing the pie over.
'It was nothing,' answered Connor coldly.
'Alright then,' said Lowden doubtfully. 'Eat your pie, it's getting cold.'
Connor felt someone's eyes watching him. He looked around cautiously, expecting the boy to be watching from afar. He couldn't shake the feeling; looking up slowly to the admin office, he caught the perp. A young woman, and although he couldn't see her properly because of the glare, he knew she had locked eyes with him. She turned away and into a pair of double doors.
'What's that place up there?' Connor asked. Lowden looked up.
'I think that's the staff room,' he explained, 'but you're not allowed in there, needless to say.' He bit into a salad roll. 'We haven't talked before have we?'
Connor chewed a bite of pie. 'So?'
'I just want to get to know you.'
'Yeah, whatever,' said Connor, staring at his pie.
'So,' asked Lowden, 'are you English?'
'No, I'm Irish,' Connor corrected him. 'What are you, my stupid social worker now?'
'You really haven't got any friends have you?' pressured Lowden.
'It's the best way to be,' Connor murmured, staring down at the pavement.
Lowden kept starting conversations, but Connor shut them down with simple "yeses" or "noes", or smart-aleck replies; by now half the school was watching them. So between bites, he stared down as many of the student population as he could.
'The bell's about to ring,' Lowden said at last. He handed the bag to Connor, just as the bell rang through the grounds, signalling last period. The boy snatched it and slid the strap over his left shoulder.
'So, what's next?' Lowden asked as he gathered their rubbish to put in the bright orange rubbish bins that were scattered all over the school.
Looking at his timetable, Connor groaned. 'Math. My favourite subject.'
Once again, Lowden led the way, Connor dawdling behind him, across the courtyard to the math room, labelled M6. Connor found himself a seat at the back and slumped down.
He had sat at the back of the class all day, not because of embarrassment from Lowden tagging along everywhere, but because he had this fear - no, he didn't fear anything - this idea that he was so far behind academically to the rest of the class.
Lowden followed him along the narrow aisle sideways, sitting down at a neighbouring.
'Now class, what did we learn last week?' asked the man at the front of the room. Connor growled softly; that had been an attempt to point out that he was new. A girl's hand shot into the air not even a second later. Connor barely heard her as she answered easily. The man turned to the whiteboard and began scribbling exercise after exercise from the page he held in his left hand.
There was a forest green book on the desk, which Connor seized slowly, turned to the page on the board and looked through the equations, confusion appearing but vanishing as the cogs turned in his head. But instead of settling down to work as the rest of the class had, he put the book down and sat there, looking pleasantly bored and waiting for the class bell to ring so he could leave.
Lowden punched his arm lightly. 'Get a move on.'
'I haven't got a book,' the boy whispered back. Thankfully, they were two rows behind anybody else and the class was too busy with their calculators and pens to notice.
'Use your folder,' Lowden told him. 'I know you've got paper in there.'
Scowling, Connor took his folder and pen from his bag and began putting the answers onto his paper. Once the teacher, Mr. Milner, had walked around the class twice, avoiding the new student, he felt it was time to check how the boy was doing.

 

[flying_kiwifruit]

'How are you going there Blair?' he asked, looking over Connor's shoulder and starting to read the page. 'Coping alright?'
Connor snapped his folder shut and glancing at Milner side on. 'What's that supposed to mean?' he growled.
'Nothing,' said Milner, surprised. 'I just wanted to see if you were getting them right. The answers are in the back when you're finished.'
'Bit stupid really, seeing that I could easily cheat.'
'That's why I'm trusting all of you not to.' He held out his hand. 'Can I see your work please?'
'No,' snarled Connor shortly. A few of the other students turned around in their seats, but Connor was in no mood to pay them any attention.
'Excuse me?'
'I said, no,' he snapped, standing to his full height, almost taller than the teacher. His left hand was pressed downward on the cover of his folder.
'Give him your folder,' growled Lowden, also standing.
Connor's lips contorted and he turned his head stiffly to his warden. 'So you're on his side then?'
'I'm not on anybody's side -'
'I already knew that.' Angrily, the boy took his hand off his folder, lifted the cover with a flick of his wrist, and, snatching his bag from beside the leg of his desk with his other hand, stormed out of the room, overturning an empty desk as he left. Milner let him go; he was more interested in the folder.
'I'm sorry,' said Lowden quickly, itching to walk out and follow his companion. 'I'll see he apologises -'
'No need,' said Milner, looking to the book from which Connor had been reading from. 'This is the wrong book, a year above, but these -' he pointed to the page in the folder '- are all correct.' He took the book from the desk and flicked it open to the back. 'This is an older version. All of the answers have been removed,' he explained, 'and the only copy in this room is in the bottom drawer of my desk.' He put the book down and turned his attention back to the folder, lifting the binder arm up to open the rings, then, peeling the sheet of refill from the pad, he held it up. 'Do you mind if I take this?'
Lowden didn't know what to say. 'Nah, go ahead.' He took the folder back. 'I'll go catch up to him.'
'Er, Mr. Lowden,' called Milner quickly. 'Could you bring Mr. Blair to the Dean's Office tomorrow before registration? We should get the Dean to sort this out.'
Lowden moved back in, knowing all of the students were watching them by now. 'Surely we don't need to involve him? I mean, it's the kid's first day. It's a bit rougher than most but still…'
'Don't worry,' Milner assured him. 'This has no relation to his behaviour.'

Connor didn't really know exactly where he lived. He remembered a few things from the drive this morning. The signpost into the road said "McKinley Drive; no exit". The letter box had said 12. All the useless information he could barely recall now meant he could get back there and run off before Lowden sent him packing back to prison.
He looked down the nearest streets, trying to find a familiar tree, house, mailbox or something that he could base his next move on.
Stuff it,' he scowled, kicking an empty cigarette box across the pavement. He strode forcefully towards the town; maybe he could get directions out of this hick town.
A car pulled up next to him. 'Why aren't you in class?'
He turned expecting Lowden to be at the wheel. But instead the chick who'd been eyeing him at lunch was driving next to him. She was gorgeous, pale tan skin, short, chin length, dark chocolate brown hair, rippled at the ends. The cobalt jacket she had on was unzipped, baring her light blue crew neck which made it easier to appreciate her - beauty. She was the picture of perfection. And her silver Cefiro wasn't bad either.
'Who said I was a uniform?' he asked sharply, sticking his hands in his hoody pocket. He felt a little scruffy wearing a navy hoody, leather jacket and denim jeans. Not to even mention his rugged shoes.
She stared at him. 'I saw you.'
'And I saw you. So what are you doing, running away?'
'I assumed that was more your plan,' she smirked.
He smiled. She was quick. 'I got let out early.'
'Anyone I could check that with?' she asked sceptically.
'Milner should confirm it,' he told her. He stopped, staring at the signpost. Did he need to go down here?
She smiled at his confusion. 'Need a ride?'
'No thanks, I'm not allowed to get into cars with seatbelts.' He scratched his chin, trying to remember the turns. Why didn't he pay more attention? Instead, he chose to walk ahead, hoping it would lead him home - sooner or later.
'Where are you going?' she called from her seat as he walked away.
'Home,' he called back.
'It's not that way,' she said. Connor froze. The magic words.
Without saying anything else, he walked around the front of the car, pulled open the passenger door and got in. He sniffed unnecessarily. 'So you live close to the school?'
'Yeah,' she grinned, turning down the road he was unsure about. 'Have you been here long?'
'Longer than a fly.'
'Well aren't you just a snippy little boy today.'
'Just today? You definitely haven't known me long.'
'I don't know you at all,' she pointed out.
'That sounds good, let's keep it like that.' He looked her over, noticing the ring on her finger as she changed gear. 'Who's the lucky fella?'
'My husband? Oh, he's a local.'
'Farm boy? You could do a lot better.'
She glanced at him. 'There's nothing better than love.'
He snorted, almost gagging at the corniness. 'Don't mind me if I die from clichés.'
Shaking her head, she pulled away from the intersection. 'So is that guy your dad?'
Connor shut his mouth. She didn't know anything about him, she was a clean slate - well, maybe. She knew where he lived at least. 'Uh, no, not really.'
'Just showing you around?'
'Something like that. He more-or-less just holds my hand.'
She giggled. 'Cute.'
They were getting closer and closer to Connor's road. He was starting to remember trees, fences and power poles.
'How long is he gonna hold the reigns?'
'A couple weeks. Then he can go back to hell.' She seemed to quieten at this. Connor spied the sign close ahead. 'You can stop here,' he said.
'Oh, no, it's fine, I'll drop you -'
'No, I'd rather walk,' he told her. She slowed down, pulling to the side of the road. 'Thanks,' he said, releasing his seatbelt. He grabbed his bag and jumped out, shutting the door. 'Much appreciated. It was nice to meet you Miss.'
'Same here,' she replied, frowning. 'So, what was your name?'
He smiled. 'Connor. And yours?'
'I'm Mrs. Stevens.'
His smile faded a little. 'Thank you very much Mrs. Stevens. Well I best be going. See you later.'
'Bye,' she called, watching him walk away, crossing the road and disappearing down the beaten road.