Chapter 43 #2
‘He was always a fairly hands-off parent, so I took to using my mum’s maiden name when I was a teenager to piss him off and I get my looks off her side.
Probably I would have mentioned it after you came to see me the day he died.
It would have explained why I was in such a state, but before I could tell you, you told me he was an arsehole and that all landlords are pricks and shitty people. ’
I did say that, didn’t I?
‘This won’t paint me in the best light, but I’d fancied you for a while – I’d looked at your passport pic on the system when we started talking about the light switch and thought you were stunning – you know how unlikely meeting people you fancy in Hamilton is.
If I told you Colin was my dad after what you said, or invited you to my place only for you to realise it was your friend’s old flat, I knew that would kill what I wanted to happen, so I didn’t mention it and I asked Brian to shut up about it, which he did.
Anyway, that is not the point. The point is I know you killed him and everyone else they’re pinning on Brian. ’
That’s a lot of information to process, but the detail that stands out, and which I choose to jump on first, is the detail that casts doubt onto their theory.
‘If I killed Colin, how did the police prove he did it to himself?’ The problem here being that Gavin is not wrong; I did also kill Colin.
Sort of. A few flicks of the fuse box while I waited for the kettle to boil just to see what would happen, a little bit of Russian roulette with Colin’s life, and I won.
Or he won. I’m not sure if the point of Russian roulette is to experience the thrill of continuing to live or the obliteration of existence.
At this moment of revelation, the latter doesn’t sound so bad to be honest. Maybe I did Colin a favour.
‘I don’t know how you did it, but it doesn’t matter. He was a shite dad, he was more valuable to me dead than alive.’
Gavin crawls over to me from their side of the table, holds me even though I don’t want to be held.
They stoke my hair, shush into it as if I were a restless baby when I’m making no sound.
I allow myself to ease into their love. I wanted a partner who would support me, someone to love all of me, and Gavin does, even the most awful part.
Imagine someone loving you so much they accept you’re a murderer.
Sitting with the information for a second, I realise there must be a catch.
What kind of weirdo is fine with having a partner who kills as a hobby?
‘When did you figure it out?’
‘The night I saw the hammer and the notebook. Brian’s a dick, but he’s bright. When he said you were “the change” it planted a seed, but I ignored all the clues until I saw the hammer.’
I break us apart. ‘And you’re OK with this? Why is me being a murderer not repulsive to you?’
‘There are things about me that could be viewed as disgusting, too, but when you love someone, have a soul connection with them, then nothing they do could change that feeling.’
‘Even murder? Multiple murders?’
Gavin takes my hand, traces the lines on my palm with their index finger, a fortune teller. ‘Are you telling me there are secrets I could share with you about myself that would stop you loving me?’
The romantic answer is, ‘No.’ The real one is, ‘Yes, plenty of things, probably. The head estate agent flat-stealing stuff is testing me already, to be honest.’ The fact that Gavin is wholly uninterested in discussing my crimes convinces me they’re about to confess one of their own.
I don’t want to hear it. I look over to the telly, which is showing the local weather report; an extremely cheerful woman is pointing at lots of symbols for cloudy across the region. No rain, that’ll be nice.
‘Jem, it wasn’t only my dad who was a landlord.
I am, too. Go Holdings is me, although it’s only two properties at the moment, but it’ll grow much larger with the addition of Colin’s portfolio.
Those times I had to dash off, it was to sort problems at the flats.
I know if I can love you fully aware of what you’ve done, you can love me for being a landlord. ’
Oh Jesus. ‘Why didn’t you move into one of those when you needed a place to stay?’
‘My tenants had just moved in when I split with my ex and I needed the rent to cover my expenses. It wasn’t ideal having to ask my dad for help, but he was desperate for us to reconnect.
I guess on a subconscious level I was hoping the landlording would bring us closer together, and when he offered me one of his flats I wasn’t in a position to say no.
I didn’t know Amara was getting evicted.
I couldn’t foresee it would all work out how it did. ’
Words fail me at this stage. It’s taken me my whole life to experience true love and it’s from a landlord.
Not any old landlord, either. Colin’s nepo baby, second-generation landlord.
Gavin is a nice person. They care for me, are considerate, love me for who I am, and yet and yet and yet…
Maybe they are one of the nice ones? No, they don’t exist, do they? I know that. I’ve always known that.
‘I can’t deny it’ll take some getting used to for you. When I started putting all the bits together of what you were up to, it took me a while to get my head around it, and now I completely embrace your full self. I love all of you.’
‘How did you come to accept it?’ What I am hoping for in response are top tips on how to accept that the person you love is actually a cretin.
‘When I thought about it, I understood that, whether you knew it or not, everything you were doing was making all my dreams come true. Accepting me for who I am, gifting me the job I deserve with Brian out the way, being the reason I’m inheriting all my dad’s properties.
My life is immeasurably better, and it’s all because of you.
I will protect you and this secret forever.
When Diane was in the office and you were out at your interview, I shared a few stories about Brian being unhinged while she waited for him.
This morning, in among the business chat, I told Leanne a few details about Brian obsessively talking about violent retribution towards people in the property community who hadn’t given him enough respect.
I will do everything I can to make sure we are never parted, Jem. ’
They pull me into their shoulder for another suffocating cuddle. I wonder if it’s too early to send Amara the SOS message we discussed at the meeting. This certainly feels as if an emergency is in progress.
We continue to embrace for what, by anyone’s measure I would say, is too long.
Gavin’s force never wavers from being tight; my arms remain limp around them throughout.
A landlord is not someone who deserves cuddles, is not someone I long to have around me, on me, in me.
My mind races, unsure how the hell I get out of this thing I wanted more than anything less than half an hour ago.
My mouth is arid. I break us apart to get a drink, take a sip from the beer, which is sour from what this celebration has become.
The bottle becomes an item of interest to look at that is not Gavin’s face.
An idea: I could smash it against the coffee table, push the jagged edge of the broken glass into their throat.
Watch their blood drain out until they are no longer a landlord but return to being a person I used to love who is dead and that will be sad, but not as sad as continuing down this path.
I won’t do it, though, of course. The clean-up would be too extensive.
The blood of a tall, broad person would surely be too much for this old place and would leak into the flat below. So not that. But maybe something else.
Not wanting to indulge Gavin with more of my touch, more of my being than I already have, I urge them to return to their food, saying we should finish it while it’s still warm.
I shift bits of rice to and fro on my plate with a fork, which if wielded in the right manner could go through their chest, explode their heart.
But no, it’s too soon. Things have to settle before there’s a believable accident, a convincing random attack.
‘I have a great idea, by the way.’ They wipe their mouth with the back of their hand. ‘How about I move in here officially and you won’t have to pay rent? All my other tenants can cover our expenses and I’ll get the bathroom light fixed once and for all, too.’
Well at least the light will work; my unattainable dream shall be realised.
Which is something. I only wish I’d set my sights higher.
Actually, that’s not true, I had ambitions to punish landlords, to be loved, to be in charge of my own destiny, and I’ve hit them all, haven’t I?
There’s a solution to this Gavin issue and I’ll find one that fits, but I should be proud of myself for how far I’ve come.
I can sort this out like I did everything else.
For now, all I need to do is enjoy my delicious meal.
As I chew, wise words from Malcolm come to me.
On an episode of his podcast he was talking about how he overcame a brief but intense addiction to energy drinks, and what got him through the ordeal was the saying, ‘It will all work out in the end, and if it hasn’t worked out then it isn’t the end,’ and I find solace in the sentiment. It will all work out in the end.
Brian caught, Malcolm punished, as many landlords as I can get away with killing dead, my love moving in with me.
All those conclusions certainly give this evening the feeling of it being the end, though, don’t they?
I swallow down my rubbery paneer; my throat constricts like something is sticking in it, like I’m choking.
This is then, maybe, one of those times where it has not worked out but is in fact, nonetheless, the end.