Chapter Nine Useless Lump #2
I can’t really fault that accusation. I did arrange at great expense to have my two best friends kidnapped in the worst attempt at desensitisation therapy ever committed.
I am truly humbled and grateful that they would want to have anything to do with me after that.
‘Meet you in an hour at The Miner’s?’ Jack says.
‘Er . . . yeah, sure,’ I agree.
Getting out will do me the world of good. And it’ll give me a chance to connect with two people I thought would want absolutely nothing more to do with me, after what I did.
My friends are very special people.
And very tolerant.
The pub is only half an hour’s walk from my house, so I take it as a good opportunity to clear my head a little.
I also construct what I think is a decent apology speech to deliver to Jack and Leo.
I was babbling a bit on the journey back in the limousine, and I doubt I made much sense.
I don’t think they wanted to hear much of what I had to say anyway.
It’s great that I’m going to get a second chance at it.
I’m walking up the steps to The Miner’s Arms when my phone rings. My heart leaps into my mouth. Oh God! It’ll be Annie! I haven’t seen her for three days, and she’ll be checking up on me. I don’t want to talk about all of it now!
I whip the phone out of my pocket to see that it is, in fact, an unknown number. I feel an unwelcome wave of relief pass over me. It’s probably a cold call.
But then it could be something to do with work, couldn’t it? I do still have the remnants of a bloody job, after all. Maybe this could be a new client? Maybe the dust has settled enough for people to be coming back?
I stand at the doors to the pub with the phone visibly shaking in my hand.
I should answer it. I should.
No. I shouldn’t.
Why the hell should I?
I don’t need to answer it. I don’t want to answer it.
I stare at the screen telling me an unknown caller is desperate to make my acquaintance, my hand continuing to tremble as I do so.
For some reason this sparks off another one of my hideous flashbacks.
The dark circles around his eyes. The look of fear on his face. The hitching gasps of breath . . .
The edges of a panic attack are now so familiar to me that I recognise them instantly.
I ram the phone back into my pocket, allowing it to continue ringing.
I then take a shaky step forward and open the pub door.
The waft of combined beer and chips that greets me does a great job of grounding me back in the reality of the moment.
The Miner’s Arms is to posh lunchtime eating what it also is to haute couture fashion – which suits me just fine.
I need the down-to-earth, simple familiarity of it today, perhaps more than ever before.
And I need to see my two best friends as well.
Who, if I’m lucky, I will find sat in our favourite booth by the window that looks out onto the beer garden.
And there they are. Both already with pints in front of them, and a third one in the spot I usually sit in.
A sigh of relief blooms in my chest and suffuses my entire being.
There is a great deal to be said for normality. People underrate it greatly, in my opinion.
Also, my phone has stopped ringing in my pocket, thank God.
The idea of answering it right now, when I just want a beer and a burger with chips, fills me with an unreasonable amount of horror and anxiety.
‘Afternoon,’ Jack says as I arrive at the booth and take my seat.
‘Afternoon,’ I repeat with a smile.
I notice that Leo looks a little nervous, but I just put that down to Leo being Leo. I can almost guarantee this meet-up was Jack’s idea.
‘How are you doing?’ Leo says, eyeing me up and down.
‘I’m tota— I’m okay,’ I tell him as I take off my jacket. ‘And I want to apologise to the two of you for what happened – again. I think my heart was in the right place, but I went completely overboard.’ I take a sip of my pint. It’s lovely. ‘It won’t happen again.’
Jack nods in appreciation. ‘Well, thanks for that. It was . . . a bit much.’
Leo looks like he wants to be sick.
‘I really am sorry,’ I repeat. ‘I understand now that you can’t just force these things. Your agoraphobia and Leo’s fear of violence aren’t going to be solved by big, silly confrontations like that.’
‘No,’ Leo says, his eyes hooded. ‘And neither is your PTSD.’
I stare at him for a second. ‘PTSD?’
‘Yes,’ Leo says flatly. ‘That’s what you’ve got.’
Jack holds out his hands. ‘Now, now. Let’s not get into any of that right now. I wanted us to just enjoy a nice lunch. All that stuff doesn’t matter for the minute.’
I smile again. ‘You’re absolutely right.’ I then raise my pint. ‘To a nice pub lunch and no
gasping for breath needing help dying in front of me
‘worrying about things we can’t do anything about right at the moment.’
Jack returns the smile and raises his pint as well. It takes Leo a moment to follow suit.
I take a long draught of my beer. ‘That can all come later. I’m sure there’s a much better way we can get to the bottom of what’s going on with all three of us.’
Both Jack and Leo’s pints stop in mid-air.
‘You what?’ Jack says.
I wipe my mouth. ‘Like I said . . . trying to force things was stupid. Next time, we’ll take it much easier. We’ll go slower.’
‘Next time?’ Leo repeats, voice very low.
I nod. ‘Yeah. I’m sure we can come up with something much better.’
‘There isn’t going to be a next time, Charlie,’ Jack tells me. ‘We’re not trying any more hare-brained schemes.’
‘Absolutely not,’ agrees Leo.
‘We had three goes at it, and all of them ended badly,’ Jack continues. ‘Me and Leo don’t need any more interventions. No more Shenanigans.’
‘That’s right, we don’t.’
I take on an apologetic expression. ‘Okay, okay. I get it. You’re both done.’
‘Yes, we are,’ Jack reiterates.
‘That’s fine. That’s honestly fine,’ I say. ‘Like we said, let’s just enjoy lunch and forget about all that stuff.’
This mollifies the both of them, which I’m very pleased about.
Of course I’m not going to suggest any more ‘hare-brained schemes’, as Jack puts it.
. . . the next thing we try will be much more thought out, and I won’t bring it up for a good long while. Not until they are ready again.
But I have no doubt I can convince them to try something else. Eventually.
I deliberately move the conversation topic on to something a lot more bland and unlikely to rile my friends up. I know how to handle them.
And the next two hours or so are rather fabulous.
We consume a couple of pints each, eat the finest burger and chips The Miner’s Arms can come up with (which would get a resolute 5 or 6 out of 10 in any restaurant review), and generally have the kind of good old-fashioned time of it we have had on so many occasions in here in the past.
I am gently riding on a wave of contentment as the afternoon wears on. I don’t drink that much these days, so two pints is enough to give me a pleasant, fuzzy feeling, which co-ordinates well with the full stomach I now have.
In fact, my mood is such that I feel I can go home and call Annie to see if she wants to come over.
Jack insists all three of us get an Uber together when we leave. He even offers to pay for it, which is both surprising and gratifying. He even springs for one of the big, posh UberXLs.
I don’t quite know why he feels we need such a big vehicle, but I’m not complaining. The idea of walking home for half an hour on my full stomach is not one that fills me with much joy. The giant Uber is much more preferable.
Once we’re inside, with Leo sat opposite Jack and me, facing us, the Uber drives away from The Miner’s Arms.
In completely the opposite direction to my house.
‘Er . . . we’re going the wrong way!’ I call out to the Uber driver, who is a friendly-looking Asian chap with a clipped beard.
‘No, no,’ Jack remarks. ‘It’s fine. Carry on, mate!’ he calls out to the driver.
‘Oh . . . are we dropping Leo off first?’ I ask him. That doesn’t make any sense, though. Leo lives much further out than me.
‘No, no,’ Jack says. ‘We’re just taking a little detour somewhere.’
My ears go flat.
Well, they don’t . . . because only dog’s ears can do that. But rest assured, if I was a dog, my ears would be going flat. I might also be looking for the nearest ankle to bite . . .
‘What’s going on here?’ I ask suspiciously.
‘Nothing, nothing,’ Jack says, in the breeziest voice imaginable. ‘We just thought we’d . . . go somewhere else before dropping you off at your place.’
‘Where?’
‘Somewhere nice,’ Leo tells me. ‘Somewhere we think you need to see.’
‘What kind of somewhere?’ My contented buzz has completely disappeared.
Jack rests a hand on my shoulder. ‘Somewhere where you can . . . you know . . . have a nice chat with someone.’
‘What kind of someone?’
‘Well . . . you know . . . a doctor type of person.’
Oh, my God!
‘Oh, my God!’ I exclaim angrily. ‘Oi! Driver! Stop the bloody car, I’m getting out!’
‘Don’t stop!’ commands Jack. ‘Keep going and I’ll add twenty quid to your fee!’
‘You bastard!’ I snarl at him.
‘Calm down, mate. We’re just worried about you. We’re all worried about you.’
‘All?’
‘Yes,’ says Leo, shifting back in his seat slightly. ‘Annie called Jack this morning and—’
‘Oh, for crying out loud!’
I am incensed.
How dare they do this?
How bloody dare my two best friends try to force me into doing something I don’t want to do! And how dare Annie put them up to it!
‘I don’t need to see a bloody doctor!’ I snap, and try to get out of the seat, my hand reaching for the sliding car door.
Jack pushes me back down. Hard.
Now . . .
It should be noted here that Jack easily outweighs me by two stone, and is a good three inches taller.
I have never actually had cause to get into a fight with him, but I have a sneaking suspicion, if I did, I would lose.
Jack was once a heavy metaller, and would think nothing of spending an evening in a mosh pit surrounded by like-minded individuals, beating seven shades of tar out of one another for the purposes of enjoyment.