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She gave a little laugh. And it’s pathetic, but I was so grateful for it, I started crying.
‘Let’s do pizza and wine next Friday, eh?’ There was a catch in her voice.
‘You’re on,’ I managed, but only just.
I was about to ring off when I heard her voice, small and trembling, from the speaker. ‘Mum? Mum, are you still there?’
I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m still here.
‘Did you need something?’
‘No, I… Mum? I just… love you.’
I closed my eyes, covered the phone with my hand and took a great gulp of air. When I thought I could last the seconds, I took my hand away. ‘Love you too, love,’ I whispered. ‘Have a good night.’
I rang off. My hands were on my knees. My hair had come out of its clip and was stuck to my forehead. The bottom of my nose was raw. I pushed at my face with my hands. I didn’t bother with a tissue or even the hem of my T-shirt. Tears were an inconvenience but I knew there’d be no stopping them, not today. Katie was off out. Mark would be making small talk with boring Roy surrounded by men in cashmere jumpers, or over at my best friend’s house stroking her hair and telling her he didn’t know what he’d do without her. There was no rush for me to get back. To anywhere. Ever. I wanted out. I wanted to press the ejector seat on life but didn’t know how to do it. It was like murder, a question of practicalities. Timing. Nerve. Opportunity.
Was that what I’d been doing these last months? Was that what I’d done? Tried to kill myself by proxy? See how far my high-scoring empathy could take me in someone else’s death? Had I been trying to remove the last possible boundary? Skin dissolving. Drops. Water. Cohesion.
I was water. They were drops. A man was drowned in the canal. Cells from him would have floated into the water, become part of the water, indistinguishable from the water.
I tested the flex of the office phone. I wrapped it round my neck and pulled, making myself choke. The flex loosened. I couldn’t. It wasn’t fair on my family. I was trapped, buried alive.
I dug out my tissues and cleaned myself up, ran my fingers through my hair and put my clip back in because… because what else was I going to do?
I walked through the pitch-black lounge of the pub. One foot in front of the other, out of the front door. It was all I could think of doing.
‘Hiya,’ said a voice.
I looked down to see that beautiful smile. A young person who saw me.
‘Ian. What are you doing still here?’
‘My film premiere was cancelled.’
A laugh escaped me. My heart hurt just to look at him, to see him smile and joke. Seconds passed, became a minute.
‘You look pissed off,’ he said and shivered.
I looked at him, really looked at him. His face was pale, his hair matted, and his sleeping bag looked dirty. He looked no more than twenty years old, twenty-five tops.
‘You’re cold,’ I said. ‘You’re hungry. There’s a stack of food in the kitchen. How about I microwave something for you?’
He smiled. ‘That’d be really great, ta.’
I rolled up the shutter and unlocked the pub again. ‘Let’s get you fed and warm at least.’
He followed me through to the kitchen carrying his sleeping bag and a holdall, thanking me all the way.
No sooner were we both inside than I noticed how badly he smelled. Poor lad. I wondered if he realised.
‘There’s a shower upstairs,’ I said. ‘It runs nice and hot – it’ll warm you up. How does that sound?’
Now that we were indoors, his teeth looked whiter against his grubby face.
‘That sounds amazing.’
‘Come on then, I’ll take you up.’ I led the way up to the staff quarters. I think even then I was thinking I could let him sleep in the bed up there, even if it was for just one night. No one need ever know.
