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69
Two months earlier
Phin pulls the bolt back on the door of his flat. It’s late and he’s really not in the mood for making small talk with someone called Jeff. The flat is a mess, and he doesn’t really want to show it to him. He sighs heavily and says, ‘Hold on.’
Then suddenly there is a foot inside his door and a tall man pushes him bodily into the hallway. The man has dyed blond hair and wild eyes. His breath smells of old wine and old food. His pale eyes are manic.
‘What the fuck?’ says Phin. ‘Dude. What the fuck?’
The man turns and slides the bolt across, and Phin tries to get around him to unlock it. ‘Seriously, dude. Get the fuck out of here.’
His heart scrambles in his chest. He’d had a weird feeling about the note from ‘Jeff’ he’d found pinioned under his door knockerearlier. There’d been something unsettling about it and he’d felt slightly unsafe ever since and now he thinks he might well be about to die.
The guy barrels himself against Phin, down the hallway and into the living room and on to the sofa, where he pins him down by his shoulders, flicks his hair out of his eyes, breathes his rancid breath into Phin’s face and says, ‘Hello, old boy.’
Phin stares at the man who has come here to kill him, and then recognition dawns.
‘Henry,’ he says. ‘Fucking hell. What the fuck.’
‘Fuck me, Phin. You look so different.’
‘Henry. You look—’
‘Yes. I know. I look like you. Crazy, eh? Can you believe it? What sort of sad loser spends his whole adult life pretending to be someone he was in love with when he was a child? You know, I even call myself Phin sometimes. Isn’t that pathetic?’
Phin nods, then shakes his head, then says, ‘Yes. That is pretty fucked up. What are you doing here? What do you want?’
‘Oh, Phin. That is an excellent question. Truly. And you know, I’m not sure I can answer it. I just – I just had to come. I mean. You disappeared. You left me. And ever since you left me I’ve been – lonely.’
‘Lonely?’
‘Yes. Lonely. Pretending to be you has just made me feel closer to you. Less alone.’
Henry finally unpins Phin’s shoulders and flops heavily on to the sofa next to him. He breathes out loudly and then turns to Phin and says, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry for what?’
‘Sorry for being me.’
‘Why are you sorry for being you?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Because I made everything twice as bad as it already was for you in that house. Because I’m just heavy, aren’t I? I’m a deadweight. I know I am.’
‘Well, Henry, I haven’t seen you for twenty-odd years so I can’t say you’ve been dragging me down.’
‘Oh, get me a drink, will you? I really need a drink.’
‘I don’t have any.’
‘Ah. No. Of course you don’t. You never needed crutches, did you? You were always enough for you.’
‘Well, that’s total and utter bollocks.’
Henry stares at Phin questioningly.
‘Do you really think that?’ says Phin.
‘I don’t think it. I know it.’
