Kitabı oku: «Stand By Me», sayfa 4
CHAPTER 6
THEN
Friday, 9 August 1991
Elliot had butterflies in his stomach as he opened the low wrought-iron gate at the top of the driveway. He half expected Boris, his best mate Christopher’s pet Jack Russell, to fly around the corner from the back garden to greet him with barks and licks. But of course he didn’t, because they no longer lived here. They’d moved away. Now this house, which he’d visited countless times before, belonged to a different family. Weird.
Walking into the unknown in a familiar setting was part of the reason he was nervous. There was also the fact that the new occupant he’d come to visit was Lisa. He’d yet to see her close up with his glasses on, but he was pretty sure she was gorgeous: the kind of girl he wouldn’t usually dare to approach. He’d thought of little else since she’d rescued him yesterday.
Elliot pushed his old glasses up on his nose, wishing they fitted as well as the new ones he no longer had. He reached up and rapped three times on the shiny brass knocker. He remembered Christopher’s dad replacing it and repainting the white door. ‘It’s the little things that help sell houses,’ he’d told Elliot, who’d hoped his efforts would fail, so his friend could stay.
Rather than Lisa, the door was answered by a slim woman around his mum’s age with long and luscious wavy red hair, hazel eyes and a warm smile.
‘Hello. Can I help you?’
‘Um, yes. I’m here to see Lisa. We met yesterday. My name’s Elliot Turner.’
He offered her his right hand, having swung his left – holding a plastic bag containing Lisa’s clothes and flip-flops – behind his back.
‘Nice to meet you, Elliot,’ she replied, graciously accepting his handshake. ‘I’m Mrs Benson, Lisa’s mother. I didn’t know that she’d already made a friend. How nice. Do you also live in the village?’
He nodded as Lisa appeared in the hallway behind her.
‘Thanks, Mum,’ Lisa said. ‘I’ll take it from here.’
‘Of course,’ Mrs Benson replied, backing away. ‘But don’t leave your new friend on the doorstep. I’m sure he’d like to come in, wouldn’t you, Elliot? The house is a mess, but—’
‘Muuum!’
Mrs Benson held up her hands. ‘Sorry, I’m cramping your style, aren’t I? I’ll make myself scarce.’ She disappeared into the kitchen.
Elliot handed the plastic bag through the open door to Lisa, glad to see her in focus this time, looking amazing. Tall and slim, dressed in denim shorts and a pink T-shirt, she had the same beautiful hazel eyes as her mum but with long, straight auburn hair. Way out of his league. ‘Your things, as promised.’
‘Great, thanks.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Sorry about Mum. Would you like to come in?’
‘Sure, if that’s okay.’
‘Of course. Anything to get me away from unpacking.’
It was strange walking through Christopher’s old home, seeing how much everything had already changed. Thanks to the different furniture and so on, it was like entering another house.
As he followed Lisa up the stairs, he wondered whether or not she’d moved into Christopher’s old bedroom, where he’d spent so much time. It turned out she had – and that was the weirdest thing of all. Gone were the Star Wars posters and memorabilia; the stack of comics and books; the noticeboard covered in photos from the school trip to London; Herbie the giant gorilla won on a coconut shy. In their place were Madonna and Prince posters; a pink radio-cassette player; a large pile of Smash Hits and Jackie magazines; and a dressing table covered with brushes, combs, hairclips and beauty products.
‘So this is my room,’ Lisa said, leading him inside and dropping the bag of her returned items in a corner. ‘It’s obviously not finished yet. A lot of my stuff is still in boxes. I can’t wait to get this old carpet changed and to have the awful green walls painted, but … what’s up?’
‘Sorry?’
‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘No, I, um—’
She held a hand up to her mouth. ‘Oops. I totally forgot that your friend used to live here. This used to be his bedroom, didn’t it?’
Elliot nodded.
‘Wow. That must be weird. Were you here a lot?’
‘Loads.’
‘Was he the one responsible for the lovely green walls?’
Elliot threw her a wonky grin. ‘Yep. He used to be mad keen on the Incredible Hulk.’
‘That explains a lot. I nearly let my little brother have this room, even though it’s the biggest, because of the awful colour. Now he insists on calling it the Bogey Room to wind me up.’
Elliot, who had stopped noticing the garish colour long ago, couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I suppose it’s not the best colour in the world, is it? It seemed like a good idea to Christopher at the time, although in his defence, it was a few years ago. What colour will you change it to?’
‘I’m not sure, but Mum and Dad have promised they’ll get a decorator in soon.’ She sat down on her bed, the duvet cover all pink and white stripes, and pointed towards a cream beanbag on the floor near the window. ‘Have a seat.’
‘Cool,’ Elliot said, glad of an alternative to standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. ‘So you didn’t tell your mum about yesterday?’
Lisa shook her head, reaching into a pocket of her shorts, pulling out a bobble and tying back her long hair. ‘I thought it best not to say anything, since you said you didn’t want to tell your parents.’
‘Yeah, there’s only my mum, actually. My dad died when I was little.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘That’s okay.’
‘What was his name?’
‘Gary.’
She nodded. ‘How old were you when it happened?’
‘Four.’ Elliot was impressed. Most kids got embarrassed when they found out and changed the subject.
‘No way. What happened?’
‘He was killed in a motorbike crash.’
‘How awful. Do you remember it?’
‘A bit. But it’s more what happened afterwards: people visiting a lot; Mum crying all the time. Suddenly everything was so different.’
‘Sorry, do you mind me asking this stuff? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I’m so nosey sometimes – and we barely know each other. Mum reckons I’ll be a journalist when I grow up.’
Elliot laughed. ‘I don’t mind. It’s nice to talk about him sometimes. It makes him seem more real. The truth is I don’t have many memories, because I was so young. Most of what I know about him is stuff Mum’s told me.’
‘Do you have any brothers and sisters?’
‘No, it’s just the two of us. That’s probably the reason she worries about me a lot, which is why I don’t tell her everything.’
‘Did she believe you about losing your glasses?’
Elliot wrinkled his nose. ‘Yes, but she was mad. She made me turn my bedroom upside down, looking for them.’
‘Your old ones don’t look so bad.’
‘Well, apart from the paperclip holding the right arm in place and the fact that they’re always slipping down my nose. So you have a brother?’
‘Yes, Jamie.’ She sighed, shaking her head. ‘He’s eight – and incredibly annoying. He’s not here at the moment. Dad’s off work today; they’ve gone to the DIY shop.’
‘Your dad the fake policeman?’
Lisa blushed. ‘That’s him.’
‘What does he really do?’
‘He sells BMWs. He’s been promoted to manage his own dealership. That’s why we moved here.’
‘Cool. What about your mum?’
‘She’s a primary school teacher.’
Elliot nodded. ‘Mine’s a nurse. So you didn’t want to move?’
‘No, it’s a nightmare.’
Lisa explained how they came from Nottingham, where she’d lived in the same house right through primary school. Her parents had sprung this on her during her final year and, before she knew it, the move to Aldham was upon them. She hadn’t wanted to leave her friends behind; now she was dreading starting secondary school not knowing anyone. ‘To make matters worse, it’s a private girls’ school,’ she said. ‘Mum and Dad made me do this entrance exam. It’s not even that close. I’ll have to get a bus.’
Elliot sat up on the beanbag. ‘Hang on. It’s not Queen Anne’s, is it?’
‘That’s right.’ Lisa said, raising an eyebrow. ‘In Westwich. How did you guess?’
‘Because I’m going to King George’s, the boys’ school next door. We’ll be on the same bus.’
A little later, Elliot grinned down at Lisa from the treetop. ‘I told you it would be fun.’
She was perched a few branches lower down the ancient oak. He could tell she was enjoying herself from the exhilarated look on her face whenever she stared up at him, but she seemed like she was concentrating too hard to say much.
‘You’ve really never done this before?’ he asked.
‘Nope.’
‘Well, I think you might be a natural tree climber, in that case. Don’t stop there, though. There’s room for both of us up here. Come on, the view is excellent.’
Elliot loved climbing this tree. It was in a large field behind his house. He’d been doing so for years and could scale the branches in no time. He so enjoyed being up here among the leaves, watching the world below. It rarely failed to put into perspective whatever troubles he had in his day-to-day life. Even the biggest, meanest bullies looked tiny from such a height.
Earlier, when the two of them were chatting in Lisa’s bedroom, she’d complained that there was nothing to do in Aldham compared to the urban life she used to lead. Elliot, who’d hardly spent any time in the city apart from the odd boring shopping trip with his mum, had only ever known life in this quiet village surrounded by hills and countryside. And he’d always found plenty to keep himself occupied. He and Christopher had never been bored, thanks to their bicycles, two overactive imaginations and more nature-packed open spaces than they knew what to do with. So when he looked at Lisa like she was crazy and she challenged him to prove his point, bringing her to this huge tree had been the obvious next step.
‘Are you sure that branch is strong enough to hold us both?’ Lisa asked as she edged her way upwards.
‘Definitely. I’ve been up here loads of times with Christopher and he’s taller than you. We used to call it the crow’s nest when we were younger, like the lookout point on a boat. We’d pretend to be out at sea, checking to make sure there were no pirates on the horizon.’
‘Okay, here goes.’ She took a deep breath and then, arms quivering, she climbed the final few metres, following her new friend’s instructions on the best route to take. Her left foot slipped at one point, causing her to let out a little scream, but Elliot reached down to steady her, offering calming words. Soon she sat down next to him, one leg on either side of the branch, and let out a long sigh of relief. ‘Done it. Wow. That was a bit scary.’
Elliot winked. ‘You did brilliantly, especially considering the lack of trees in Nottingham. Did they cut them all down after Robin Hood, then?’
This made Lisa giggle.
‘Now you know what you were missing out on. Look, you can see both of our houses from here.’ Elliot pointed to give Lisa her bearings.
‘Oh yeah. Hey, look: you can see my mum in the kitchen. Gosh, I hope she doesn’t spot us. She’d have a heart attack. Does your mum know that you come up here?’
Elliot nodded. ‘She used to panic and tell me not to, but I’ve been doing it so long now that she doesn’t think anything of it any more.’
‘It is a bit dangerous.’
‘Only if you fall, which we’re not going to.’
‘I guess.’
Elliot felt happier than he had in ages: more than he’d ever thought possible in light of Christopher moving away. It was great to be up here with a new friend and, after needing her help yesterday, he was glad to be the one in charge now – the guide.
Elliot definitely fancied Lisa. Who wouldn’t? Not that he expected her to be interested in someone like him: short and fat with glasses. There were lots of better-looking boys. That was one reason why he’d never had a girlfriend. But he liked spending time with Lisa – and it was more than her looks. He’d happily settle for being her friend, he decided.
The way she looked and her confidence reminded him of the popular girls from his class at Aldham Primary, who’d all either ignored him or laughed when the popular boys had made fun of him. Perhaps that was what Lisa had been like in Nottingham. Maybe she’d only stay friends with him until someone better came along.
And yet Elliot had a feeling that Lisa wouldn’t ever behave that way. Look at what she’d done for him yesterday: the effort she’d made to rescue a stranger. And it was so nice the way she’d asked him about his dad earlier when most people would have been too embarrassed to continue. He couldn’t imagine any of the popular girls he knew climbing this tree. No, he hoped that she was different and they could keep hanging out together this summer. He was really glad they’d be going to neighbouring schools in September.
‘Hey, look,’ Lisa said, snapping him out of his thoughts. ‘Two kids are over there in the field. I think they’re coming this way.’
Elliot followed her gaze and his heart sank. Why, of all people, did it have to be them?
‘We’d better go,’ he said.
‘What? I’ve only just got up here. I don’t think I’m ready to—’
‘Please? I really don’t want them to see me.’
‘Those kids? Why not?’
‘I’ll explain in a minute. Let’s get down to the ground first.’ Elliot had already started descending the tree. The last thing he wanted was to leave Lisa behind, but he needed her to grasp the sense of urgency.
‘Wait for me,’ she said, panic raising the pitch of her voice.
Elliot did his best to reassure her. ‘I will. I’m not going to leave you, but we don’t have long. Do the opposite of what you did on the way up, okay? Otherwise, copy me.’
‘I can’t see you to do that,’ she replied. ‘Slow down.’
Reaching one of the larger branches, he stopped to check on her progress. Thankfully, she wasn’t as far behind as he’d feared. ‘That’s it. You’re doing a great job. I’ll wait here, so we can do the last bit together.’
‘Thanks.’
Elliot looked over to where Lisa had spotted the kids. ‘Dammit,’ he said under his breath. They were heading this way and making speedy progress.
‘There you are,’ Lisa said, joining him at last on the large branch. ‘What on earth is the—’
‘Please, not now. You first; I’ll follow.’
‘Oh, I get it. It’s them, isn’t it? The ones who took your stuff yesterday.’
Elliot sighed. ‘Fine, yes it is. Can we go now?’
‘I can’t believe I didn’t guess straight away.’
‘Please, Lisa. They’ll be here any minute.’
‘Why are you running away from them?’
‘Do you really need to ask that? You saw what they did to me yesterday.’
‘Yes, but I wasn’t with you then. And now we have a chance to get back your stuff.’
Elliot couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Lisa was crazy if she thought she could make any difference to the situation. The boys heading this way were Johnny and Carl, two of the three who’d stitched him up yesterday – and the worst two at that. The biggest, toughest lads in his year, they’d been in his class right through primary school and he couldn’t remember a time when they’d not picked on him, usually for being fat or clever. They loved to dole out ‘punishments’ like nipple twisters and wedgies. Nothing original – they weren’t bright enough for that – which explained why they also used to find it so hilarious to say that he and Christopher were gay.
The only reason he’d gone along with them yesterday – foolishly buying their claims of wanting to bury the hatchet ahead of secondary school – had been because they were with Peter. Another Aldham Primary classmate, he and Elliot had been good friends in their infant years, often visiting each other’s houses. They’d grown apart as they got older, developing different friends and interests, but Peter had never been nasty to him. He’d not been especially friendly with Johnny and Carl either. So seeing him with them had been a surprise and, feeling lonely in Christopher’s absence, Elliot had decided to take a leap of faith and go with them. Big mistake.
Johnny and Carl were the ones who actually stripped him, who jeered at how he looked in his underwear, joking that he needed a bra for his ‘boobies’. Peter stood to one side, looking awkward. But he didn’t do anything to stop them. He didn’t say a word. Then Johnny turned to him and asked why he wasn’t getting involved, suggesting it was because he and Elliot used to be ‘bum chums’. That was when Peter stepped forward and pulled Elliot’s glasses off his face.
‘Don’t, Peter,’ he pleaded. ‘Please. They’re new. You know I can’t see a thing without them.’
But his former friend didn’t listen. Instead he dropped the glasses on the floor, stamped on them countless times and then threw them into the distance. In his semi-blinded state, Elliot didn’t have a clue where they ended up. What would be the point in looking, anyway? Peter had wrecked them.
Johnny and Carl seemed as impressed by Peter’s actions as Elliot was aggrieved. The three of them left together, as thick as thieves, which was exactly what they were, since they took Elliot’s clothes and shoes with them.
Once he was sure they’d gone, Elliot allowed himself to cry. He wept big fat tears. And then he pulled himself together, hid behind a bush and waited for help to come, as it eventually did in the form of Lisa. His one small consolation was that he hadn’t broken down in front of the boys. He’d come close, but the shock of Peter’s betrayal had actually hardened his resolve not to give them the satisfaction.
‘I said that now we have a chance to get back your stuff,’ Lisa repeated. Her voice returned Elliot to the present, away from yesterday’s painful memory, still red raw in his mind. ‘How about instead of running away, we try something else?’
‘I don’t think that’s—’
‘Hey, you two!’ Lisa shouted before he could stop her.
‘What are you doing?’ Elliot growled.
She winked. ‘Trust me.’ Then she stood tall on the branch and waved vigorously in Johnny and Carl’s direction, shouting: ‘Up here!’ When they eventually twigged where the voice was coming from, she continued: ‘Stay there, please. I need to speak to you urgently. Well, my father does. He’s a police inspector. We’ve recently moved to the village and he’s very unhappy about what happened to Elliot yesterday. You two will be in big trouble if he catches up with you.’
Soon, as Elliot looked on in utter bewilderment, she was asking which of them was the faster runner. Johnny said it was Carl and his friend nodded in agreement.
‘Right. How about this, then?’ she said. ‘I’ll race Carl across the field and back and, if he wins, I’ll let you off the hook. It was me who told my dad it was you. Elliot didn’t say anything, not wanting to be a grass. That means I could easily change my mind. I could tell my father I’ve made a mistake, simple as that. And do you know what? I’m still prepared to do so even if I win. But then it’ll be on the condition that you both apologise to my good friend Elliot, return his stuff today and promise to leave him alone from now on.’
They took the deal. Elliot didn’t have a clue what Lisa was up to. However, she’d done such a good job of pulling the wool over the boys’ eyes so far, using her hypnotic status as the attractive new girl to maximum advantage, that he had no intention of interfering.
It turned out she was one heck of a fast runner. She easily beat Carl in the race and, after he and Johnny gave Elliot a reluctant apology, to his surprise that evening they also returned his clothes and shoes. No such luck with his glasses, but they’d been so badly damaged, there wouldn’t have been any point in getting them back. Plus that was down to Peter, rather than them, which was a fight for another day.
CHAPTER 7
NOW
Saturday, 21 July 2018
Mike came round gradually. For a moment or two there was a blissful nothing. No dreams, no reality, no real thoughts. Just a calm feeling of being half-asleep, half-awake; comfortable in his own bed. Then reality started to trickle in. It began with a dull pain in his head and a vague sickness in his stomach. Next he realised he was on top of the quilt rather than underneath it, which was unusual. Plus he was wearing a shirt, despite usually sleeping in just boxer shorts. And how come he could smell wine?
He opened his eyes and looked down to see, as feared, that he was still wearing the shirt Lisa had thrown red wine all over in the restaurant. Shit. The uncomfortable scene replayed in his mind. He remembered feeling shocked, embarrassed, furious as she left him there alone – all the staff and other diners watching him, like he was in a freak show. Had he really shouted out loud for everyone to stop bloody staring? Things got sketchy from that point. He hadn’t stayed in the restaurant for long afterwards, he didn’t think. He had vague memories of being in a couple of other bars, talking to whoever would listen. Did one of them have pole dancers or was that a dream? And how had he got home? He had no memory at all of making that journey or of getting into bed.
Mike looked over at Lisa, who was lying in a foetal position under the quilt, facing away from him on the far side of the bed. At least she was there. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? Hopefully that meant he hadn’t said or done anything too stupid last night. Because God, he’d been furious at her.
Now, with the alcohol no longer raging through his veins, he felt stupid more than angry. He’d been a drunken pig. He could even understand why Lisa had done what she did. What a disaster of an evening. Not exactly the romantic night out he’d planned. He’d got carried away on the booze, as usual, and … oh no.
Mike leapt up from the bed and ran to the toilet to be sick. After he was done, his throat sore and dry, he washed his face in the sink and swilled his mouth out with some water before taking a drink. He could see in the mirror that his shirt was ruined. It looked like it had been soaked in blood. He considered shoving it in the dustbin, but since it had been a gift from Lisa, he dropped it into the washing basket instead. Better to let her make the decision to throw it away.
‘Lisa?’ he whispered, returning to the bedroom.
There was no answer, so he slipped on his dressing gown and tiptoed out of there, gently closing the door behind him. Leaving Lisa to sleep was a good idea, especially if he wanted things between them to be okay again any time soon.
Mike was surprised to find two used tumblers resting in the kitchen sink. They both smelled of Baileys, which turned his stomach in its current state. Had he and Lisa had a drink together when he’d got back? He racked his brains, but there was nothing there.
After swallowing a couple of painkillers to ease the thumping headache that had developed since he rose, Mike headed to the lounge and sprawled on the couch. He felt horrendous. And once he was horizontal, he couldn’t even muster the energy to get back up to turn on the TV. This was why he preferred to leave devices in standby, so you could turn them on with the remote, but Lisa was far too energy conscious for that. And these days, thanks to him no longer having a job, it was also a matter of saving money, so it wasn’t even like he could argue against it.
As awful as Mike felt, he didn’t think he’d be able to fall back to sleep. He was wrong.
‘What am I going to do with you, Liam?’
The boy continued to stare out of the window, as if he was alone in the room and hadn’t been asked a question. So Mike walked over to it and shut the blinds; cut off the view of the school playground.
‘I asked you a question, Liam. It’s polite to answer.’
‘Go screw yourself.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You heard.’
Mike could feel himself getting riled by this boy again. He’d been sent to his office countless times before. The head was currently away at a conference, so there was no passing him along on this occasion. As the primary school’s deputy head teacher, the buck stopped with him today.
Liam Hornby was easily the school’s most troublesome pupil. He was in Year Six now, which at least meant he’d no longer be their problem by the end of the school year. But it was only October, which meant months more of this nonsense ahead. He’d joined the school halfway through Year Five, after his parents had moved to the area, and he’d been a pain in the neck from the word go. But despite numerous incidents with other pupils and staff members in that time, he’d never quite done enough to allow them to get rid of him, like he knew just how far he could push the boundaries.
Liam’s parents were much the same. When contacted, one or both of them would come into school eventually; often after cancelling a couple of times first. Then they’d be apologetic, pledging to take their son to task, but Mike could tell it was an act. Behind the facade, they didn’t care. You developed an intuition for these things after years of teaching. They said and did what was required to keep Liam at school. They knew exactly how disruptive their son was but did nothing about it. Why? No clue. They seemed normal enough. They lived in one of the nicer parts of the catchment area and both had jobs. Some people didn’t deserve to have kids. Had they taught him the foul language, Mike wondered, or was it something he’d picked up from being allowed to watch the wrong things on TV?
‘Language like that is unacceptable, Liam. I won’t tolerate it.’ Mike tried to maintain a poker face; to hide his shock at what the kid had just said to him.
‘Dunno what you mean. Can’t prove it.’
Mike took a deep breath and fought to stay calm as he looked across his desk at Liam, who was tall for his age and overweight, making him quite an imposing presence for an eleven-year-old. Maybe this time they’d be able to get rid of him. A temporary exclusion was on the cards at the very least. ‘Well, I can prove the reason you’re here,’ he said. ‘Half the school witnessed you attacking poor Joshua with the stinging nettles at break time. He’s in so much pain he’s had to go home. Why would you do something so nasty to him? Where did you even get the nettles from?’
Liam looked up at him with dead, psycho eyes and a grin to match. ‘What’s a stinging nettle? I just chased him with some leaves. It was a game. A bit of fun.’
‘Don’t give me that, Liam. You knew exactly what you were doing. I asked you where the nettles came from. Well?’
The only answer he received was a shrug, accompanied by a smug look of defiance. For some reason it really got under Mike’s skin. He felt himself getting angry. It wasn’t the first time this kid had wound him up in this way. His blatant lack of respect was infuriating. And yet Mike knew it was his job to stay calm, or at least to appear that way. Liam was trying to goad him and if he realised he was succeeding, it would only make him worse.
Joshua Banks, the boy who’d been attacked, was no angel. He’d been in Mike’s office on several occasions too, although he was much easier to handle than Liam. At least he was able to acknowledge when he’d done something wrong. Mike had no idea how the attack had come to pass. Joshua, who’d suffered nettle stings all over his arms, face and torso, had been too distressed to explain. And there was zero chance of getting a confession out of Liam.
Mike couldn’t get over the nastiness of the incident, which he was convinced was premeditated. Since he was unaware of any nettles growing in the school grounds, he could only assume that Liam had brought them with him from outside, presumably hidden in his bag. Wearing gloves to handle them, he’d also made a point of shoving the plants inside Joshua’s T-shirt.
‘What do we have to do to get through to you?’ he asked, as calmly as he could manage. ‘Why are you so determined to cause trouble at every opportunity? It’s not for my good that you come to school, Liam. It’s for your own. You’re the one—’
Mike stopped mid-sentence when he saw Liam, the little shit, leaning back in his chair and yawning. What the hell was the point?
‘You’re a—’
It was the sound of his desk phone ringing that stopped him this time, although he was glad of the interruption. He’d almost said something he would have later regretted.
‘Hello?’
It was Beth in the school office on the line, wanting to know if he had the key for the safe. He did and, although she offered to come and get it, he said that he would take it through to her instead. He liked the idea of getting a moment away from Liam. It seemed like a good way to cool down; to put things into perspective.
‘Stay where you are,’ he told the boy. ‘And don’t touch anything. I’ll be back to deal with you in a moment.’
It was a stupid move, leaving him alone in his office like that. Mike was already thinking so as he headed back there a couple of minutes later. But it didn’t prepare him for what he found – what happened and the terrible path it led him down – when he opened that door.
Mike woke with a start, a gasp for air, jolting upright on the couch as his eyes sprang open. His muscles were clenched and his body covered in sweat, eyes darting wildly around the room as he took in where he was – and where he wasn’t.
A dream, thank God. An awful memory: the start of his downfall, his undoing, haunting him as it so often did.
He lowered himself back on to the sofa and, as his hands kneaded the soft cushions, he took a series of slow, deep breaths. He focused on one spot of the swirling pattern in the ceiling above him, which had been wallpapered then painted white to hide the cracks. He stared upwards trailing the curves of the embossed lines with his eyes. And he fought to wipe his mind clean of all other thoughts. He fought to forget, or at least to compartmentalise, this recalled moment. But God it was vivid – so raw, so fresh – like he’d just lived it again.