‘I don’t want to let people down.’
‘Well,’ he says, throwing back the sheet, revealing the fact that he is wearing red and blue jersey boxer shorts and has solid rugby player legs, ‘give me thirty seconds and I’ll come with you.’
‘You don’t know where my phone is, do you?’ she asks.
‘No idea,’ he says, hauling himself out of bed and pulling on his trousers.
His hair is nuts. His beard is also nuts. She stifles a smile. ‘Are you going to, you know, check your reflection?’
‘Should I?’ He looks confused.
She thinks of the time and says, ‘No. You look fine. Let’s go and find our phones and get out of here.’
She puts her hand on the door handle and pushes it down. The door does not open. She pushes again. Again, it does not open. She pushes it four more times.
Then she turns to Miller and says, ‘It’s locked.’
40
CHELSEA, 1991
David kept Phin shut up in his room for a week after the night he pushed me in the river. A whole week. I was glad in some ways because I couldn’t bear to look Phin in the eye. He had pushed me in the river, but what I had done was much, much worse.
But mainly I just ached. I ached with remorse, with regret, with fury, with helplessness and with missing him. Phin’s meals were brought to him and he was allowed toilet visits twice a day, his father hovering outside the door with his arms folded across his stomach like a malevolent bouncer.
The atmosphere in the house during those days was ponderous and impossible to read. Everything emanated from David. He radiated a terrible dark energy and everyone avoided angering him further, including me.
One afternoon during Phin’s incarceration, I sat with Justin, sorting herbs with him. I glanced up at the back of the house towards Phin’s window.
‘Don’t you think it’s bad’, I said, ‘that David’s locking Phin up like that?’
He shrugged. ‘He could have killed you, mate. You could have died.’
‘Yeah, I know. But he didn’t. I didn’t. It’s just … wrong.’
‘Well, yeah, it’s probably not how I’d do things, but then I’m not a dad, I don’t know what it’s like to have kids. David’s just doing “his job”, I guess.’ He made quotes in the air as he said these words.
‘His job?’ I said. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you know, having ultimate control over absolutely everything.’
‘I hate him,’ I said, my voice breaking unexpectedly.
‘Yeah, well, that makes two of us.’
‘Why don’t you leave?’
He glanced first at me and then at the back door. ‘I intend to,’ he whispered. ‘But don’t tell a soul, OK?’
I nodded.
‘There’s a smallholding. In Wales. This woman I met at the market told me about it. They’re looking for someone to set up a herb garden. It’ll be like here, free board and lodging and all that. But no fucking dick-swinging overlords.’ He rolled his eyes towards the house again.
I smiled. Dick-swinging overlord. I liked it.
‘When are you going?’
‘Soon,’ he said. ‘Really soon.’ He looked up at me, quickly. ‘Want to come with?’