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"I brought you..." Lindsay trails off and just goes in his bag to bring out
Valentine's little knitted toy monkey, laying it on the table like a peace offering. "I
wanted to give it back, I thought... I don't know, you probably miss it or... something. It's
yours. I didn't know if this was going to be... shit. Weird or... whatever. Awkward. Even
if we never meet up again I wanted to give it back, but... I mean, I don't know, it's up to
you, but... you know, if you want. I'm in London for a bit doing this work, if you want
to... this, anything, coffee, pub, whatever. God, I hate saying this, you'll get so bloody
smug - it's too quiet. Everything's too quiet and sensible without you there mucking it all
up and getting in my way. I should've phoned or something years ago, I never meant to
leave it so long, just... life. Gets in the way. I know we're... I know it's been..." God, now
who's rambling like an idiot to fill up the silence? "Friends," he settles on, sounding like a
half-strangled moron. "If you want."
The monkey sits there between them like something awful, a declaration of war or
a massive barrier, a raggedy old knitted Great Wall - at least until Valentine reaches out
to take it, and then it's an olive branch. Years ago, when he was very tired or he got upset
over something, Lindsay would let him bring it into the bed, and he's holding it now like
he held it then, with his hand around its body, its gangly limbs slotting perfectly into
place between his fingers. The newer stitches stand out like they're neon, from where
Valentine had to sew its arm back on after the fight with Ty.
Lindsay realises Valentine's about to cry, and feels sick and inexplicably terrified.
"Don't."
"What?"
"You know what."
"Sorry." He squeezes his eyes shut and cuddles Dory close to him, hiding his face
against the top of her head. She twists round to try and see the monkey he's clutching
behind her back; after a few seconds he lifts his head back up, perfectly calm, and shows
her. "Remember I told you about Mister Bollo?"
She looks unconvinced. "He ain't so nice as Rab."
"Spose not. Rab's only a baby, Mister Bollo's twenty-six, he's a proper old git
now."
"Oh." Then she completely ignores it, sucking on her rabbit's ear again instead
and looking round the room at people, fidgety and restless on Valentine's lap.
"She's bored. We should probably go."
"Alright."
"Thank you for the drinks."
"Yeah."
Valentine picks a bit of fluff off the monkey's nose, gently rubs its faded ear
between his thumb and first finger like he used to do in his sleep. Lindsay's not sure if he
even knows he ever did that. "Thank you for looking after him. I weren't sure you would.
I... god, I don't know. Thank you."
"It wasn't difficult, it's not like it eats much..."
"Don't take the piss, I'm being serious. It's... you know how much he means to...
oh fucking hell, shut up, Pip, shut up shut up." He stands abruptly and puts Dory back in
his chair. "Just one more minute, honey." Then to Lindsay: "Hug."
"What the hell for?"
"Cos that's what friends do."
This is probably the fucking worst thing Valentine could ever ever ask of him and
the idiot doesn't even know. Lindsay gets up and hugs him tight, hoping it'll be less
hideous if it's on his own terms, if he gets to direct how close it is, how long it goes on
for, where their hands go... nice idea, but it collapses on on itself the second Valentine
touches him. He can feel warm breath against his neck, smell that same kids' cherry
shampoo he still uses, and he almost almost slips his hand up into Valentine's long hair to
rest at the back of his neck like he always used to do, but he stops himself.
"I'll phone you," Valentine says. The words come in a soft breath right against
Lindsay's ear, and he suppresses a shiver. "We could... I don't even know. It's your
birthday soon, ain't it? We could do something."
"It's Thursday. You and Olly can come round if you like, I'm having some people
over for dinner. If you want."
"Yeah. Okay, cool, that sounds ace. I mean, he's meant to be working but I'll see
if he can swap nights with someone."
"You've got my number now, just... whatever. Phone. Yeah."
"Yeah. I will. Alright." He finally moves away and gives Lindsay that familiar old
massive smile. "It's really good seeing you again. You ain't changed at all."
Something a bit wry and bitter creeps into Lindsay's voice when he replies. "I
have a bit."
"Alright. Then I can't wait to hear what you been up to. So, see you on Thursday,
yeah?"
Lindsay just nods. He watches Valentine swing Dory up onto his hip again, leans
back in his chair to watch them through the window for as long as he can. Valentine's still
got that stupid little monkey in his hand, completely shameless, not bothered at all that
anybody might see him with it.
They disappear out of view, and Lindsay finishes his cooling coffee wondering
whether it might have been better to stay in Canada after all.
 11.
The party's a bit fucking horrible. It shouldn't be. It should be fun, it's a party,
there's good drink and a nice house and Lindsay's a brilliant cook and he likes meeting
new people, going over and over their names in his head so he doesn't forget, Amy-Giles-
John-Susan-Stephen-Andrew, but he just can't relax. He hung out his bedroom window to
smoke a couple of joints before he came out, hoping it'd calm him down a bit, but it's just
made him ravenous and paranoid. Lindsay's friends won't stop giving him snotty looks.
They're all too clever. It's not like there's anything wrong with being clever, but they all
seem the kind of people who use big words on purpose because they know it's
intimidating for the pretty Cockney rockstar man in nailpaint who looks as out of place in
a beautiful Georgian house in Dulwich as a platypus would.
He gets annoyed with it before long. As if it makes them something special just
because they got their degrees in Cambridge or wherever. He's forgotten their names
already but one of the women, Susan or Amy, actually laughs at him when the subject
comes up.
"So where did you get your degree?" she asks, smirking gently behind her wine [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]