Stand by Me

by S. D. Robertson

  ‘I feel like a right idiot,’ Ben said. ‘Thank you for returning it. How did you—’

  ‘Find you?’

  He nodded.

  She winked, placing a scrawny hand – long, grubby fingernails and all – on his knee. ‘Like I said to Elliot here, just chance, isn’t it? What else?’

  Elliot was wondering what on earth to make of all of this when Sandie suddenly reached forward with those unpleasant claws of hers and grabbed one of each of his and Chloe’s hands. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she turned her face up to the padded ceiling of the car like some kind of eccentric medium.

  Ben shrugged, pulling a ‘don’t ask me’ face.

  ‘Poor thing,’ Sandie said to Chloe in a low, trance-like voice. ‘Don’t listen to those nasty words. You’ll be rid of them soon enough. Jealousy is an ugly worm capable of twisting even—’

  Elliot was about to pull his hand away and end this nonsense when Sandie took a sharp intake of breath, breaking off mid-sentence, as her head shot in his direction. Her eyes snapped open, the whites threaded with scores of tiny red blood vessels that Elliot was sure hadn’t been there before. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and a shiver ran down his spine, like an alarm had been triggered in his body.

  ‘You!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re—’

  ‘In a bit of a rush, yes,’ he said in a loud voice that stopped her in her tracks. Elliot feared what she’d been about to blurt out, getting the distinct impression that somehow she’d just discovered far more about him than he wanted her, let alone Ben and Chloe, to know. But how was that possible? Was she like him? No, he didn’t think that was it. So what then?

  He stared her down, taking control before things got out of hand. ‘We all appreciate you returning Ben’s wallet. It’s very good of you. But I need to get these two home as soon as possible. Is there somewhere nearby I can drop you off, or is here close enough?’

  Sandie’s eyes remained fixed on him; she looked ready to say more, but no further words came out. The expression on her face was strained and, looking down, Elliot noticed the knuckles of her hands, both now clamped on to his, were ghostly white, in sharp contrast to his tanned skin.

  Get out, he thought, his eyes guiding her towards the car door in a silent command. Leave us alone. There’s nothing here for you.

  ‘Yes, I’ll get out here,’ she said a moment later, her voice taking on an almost robotic tone. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No, thank you, Sandie,’ Elliot said. ‘Right, Ben?’

  ‘Definitely.’ Ben nodded, although his face was contorted with confusion. ‘Thanks a million for returning my wallet. And apologies again for my behaviour earlier.’

  Sandie showed no sign of having heard him. She didn’t even look at Ben as she let go of Elliot’s hand, reached for the door handle and climbed out of the car.

  Who or what are you? Elliot thought. And then the pain hit: a sudden vicious stabbing feeling in his chest. Elliot froze, squeezed his eyes shut and leaned into the steering wheel, gripping on to it like the edge of a cliff, fighting to keep his breathing steady. This had happened before and, assuming it followed the same pattern, Elliot hoped it would pass quickly. He didn’t have time to think about why it was happening or what it meant. He just wanted it to stop.

  He felt Chloe’s hand on his arm as she asked if he was all right.

  ‘Yep. Just give me a second. Indigestion.’

  The pain ended as abruptly as it had started. He snapped open his eyes and took a deep breath, shaking his upper body and exclaiming: ‘Okay, guys. Let’s make tracks.’

  As he pulled the car back on to the road, minus the extra passenger, Chloe said: ‘Well, she was weird. And boy did she need a shower.’

  Elliot looked at Sandie out of the rear-view mirror and felt a twinge of guilt. She was standing still in the car park, a confused look on her face.

  Meanwhile, Chloe was holding her right hand – the one Sandie had grabbed – out in front of her, turning it around and examining it. She wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t suppose anyone’s got any hand gel, do they?’

  ‘Sorry, no,’ Elliot said, almost in perfect sync with Ben. ‘By the way, I might need some help finding my way back. It’s been a while. Straight on for now, right?’

  ‘Um, yeah, I think so,’ Chloe said. ‘Ben?’

  Her brother looked around in all directions before confirming: ‘Yes, straight on. But I think you need to take a right before that big, weird-looking glass building up ahead. If there’s a sign for the M60, then it’s definitely that way.’

  Not bad for a kid still too young to drive, Elliot thought.

  Meanwhile, Chloe twisted round in her seat and stared at her brother. She looked about to say something when Ben beat her to it.

  ‘Is it weird driving here, compared to Australia, Elliot?’

  ‘It’s not bad, to be fair,’ he replied. ‘We also drive on the left there, although our cars tend to be a lot bigger and they’re usually automatics. It took me a while to get to grips with the stick shift on the way here. Isn’t that right, Chloe?’

  ‘No comment,’ she said with a coy smile. ‘Anyway, stop trying to shift the attention away from yourself, Ben.’

  ‘What do you mean? It was you and Elliot that Sandie was saying stuff to. What was all that about a jealous worm or something?’

  ‘Er, hello!’ Chloe snapped back. ‘She was your weird friend – and you’re the reason we’re here in the first place. Have you forgotten about the whole “come and rescue me” thing? What happened? We know about you losing your wallet now, but that can’t be it. You were really upset when I got your text earlier and phoned you back. Why were you even here in the first place? Who were you meeting?’

  This is going to be interesting, Elliot thought.

  CHAPTER 23

  NOW

  Monday, 23 July 2018

  ‘Well?’ Chloe said, staring at Ben, waiting for a reply.

  She looked across at Elliot, behind the wheel, and nudged him with her elbow.

  ‘Ouch. What was that for?’ he said. ‘I’m driving here, love. It’s not a good idea to start poking me.’

  ‘It was a nudge.’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, that’s all right then.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to back me up?’

  ‘Oh, right. I see.’ Elliot looked at Ben through the rear-view mirror. ‘Come on, mate. She’s right. Spill the beans. I’m going to need something if you want me to keep this hush-hush. By rights, I ought to tell your mum and dad.’

  That got Ben’s attention. ‘No, please don’t.’

  The mere thought of his parents finding out what he’d been up to turned Ben’s stomach. But telling Chloe and Elliot was little more appealing.

  The secret to telling a believable lie was rooting it in the truth. He’d read that somewhere.

  Digging his nails into the fabric of the car seat, Ben racked his brains for a plausible explanation for how he’d got himself into such a mess. But even as he started to speak, sticking to the facts initially as he told them how he’d used up all his phone credit, all he could picture in his mind was the ugly and embarrassing truth of what had actually happened earlier.

  Ben flicked the Vs at the bus – and that bloody con artist who’d stolen his wallet – as it pulled away down the road.

  No sooner had he got off the double decker than she’d appeared at the upstairs window, near where they’d been sitting together, gleefully waving his wallet at him. So that was what she’d meant by the strange parting comment about seeing her again sooner than expected.

  That woman had some nerve! She obviously took great delight in pickpocketing her unsuspecting victims, lulling them into thinking she was harmless and then pouncing. He figured that must have been why she’d sat down next to him in the first place, when he’d appeared to be asleep and thus an easy target.

  So at what moment had she swiped it? It could have been when she’d stood up to let him out, what with all the clampin
g her hands on his and asking the time. Or maybe it was earlier: perhaps when his eyes had still been shut, or the first occasion he’d pulled his phone out to tell her the time.

  He had tried running after the bus for a few seconds, only to realise he didn’t have a chance of ever catching up. Instead he’d unleashed his fury with a string of expletives, which had turned more than a few heads, plus the only hand gesture that had felt appropriate in the circumstances.

  Not that any of this made him feel any better.

  Dammit. How had he been so stupid as to fall for her trickery? He’d actually felt sorry for the woman, mistaking her cunning act for genuine loneliness. He’d thought that by talking to her – listening to her prattle on – he’d been doing his good deed for the day. Now she had all his money.

  Then it struck him: his student ID card was in there too, plus his return bus ticket and – shit – his bank card. How had he not thought of that straight away? He’d have to cancel that, wouldn’t he? Brilliant. How on earth did that work?

  He managed to figure this out after getting a number off the Internet and phoning the bank up on his mobile, which luckily hadn’t also been swiped. Unfortunately, thanks to spending a long time waiting in a queue to get through, he managed to drain what was left of the pay-as-you-go credit on his phone, leaving barely enough to send a couple of texts.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ he shouted, smacking the palm of his free hand on to the wooden bench where he’d sat down; only just stopping himself from hurling his mobile into the distance. This was exactly the reason he needed a contract, like all of his friends. But would Mum and Dad listen? Of course not. They wouldn’t even let him get an iPhone. He had to make do with a damn Android.

  What was he supposed to do now? No money. No phone credit. He was screwed. The bank had also said something about reporting the theft to the police, but stuff that. What was he supposed to do: ring 999?

  ‘Are you okay, lad?’ an elderly passer-by asked him, his eyes squinting with concern. ‘You look—’

  ‘I’m fine,’ he snapped, still smarting from his last run-in with a stranger. ‘Leave me alone.’

  And although he didn’t retract his words, the look of shock – maybe even hurt – that he saw as the old man took a step backwards and continued on his way, jolted Ben to his senses. He had a friend nearby, who was no doubt wondering where he’d got to; there was no need to panic.

  He knew where he was going. He’d memorised the directions after looking at a map online at home.

  After a few tiring minutes of weaving through city folk, all of whom appeared to be in a rush, Ben turned into a quieter side street, and another, until he found himself at the entrance of the apartment block that was his destination.

  It looked the same as it had online: a grand converted warehouse, eight storeys tall, with a suitably majestic arched entrance. The heavy wooden outer doors were open but, as he’d been forewarned, the glass ones inside were locked, requiring him to be buzzed in.

  He pressed the silver button for apartment twenty-three and, a moment later, a familiar voice answered. ‘Hello?’

  ‘It’s me – Ben.’

  ‘Oh, at last. I was worried something had happened to you. Come on up. It’s the sixth floor. Best take the lift.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  A buzzing noise and he was in. The empty lift was waiting and, as it rose, Ben adjusted his hair in the mirror and did his best to smooth out the creases in his T-shirt. His heart was pounding as he sniffed his armpits, glad to still smell his deodorant, before noticing the camera above him and hoping no one was watching.

  ‘It’s going to be fine,’ he told himself under his breath as the silver doors slid open and he found himself in an empty corridor facing apartment number twenty-one. The door of number twenty-three was ajar when he got there; hoping he didn’t look half as nervous as he felt, Ben knocked and walked inside. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Come in, Ben,’ a voice called from somewhere out of sight. ‘Grab a seat. Make yourself at home. I’ve just got out of the shower. I’ll be with you in a minute.’

  This seemed odd to Ben, considering his late arrival, but he was too busy being impressed by the roomy loft-style apartment with its wooden floors, exposed beams and large cityscape windows. It was immaculate. Everything in the open-plan space, from the pair of brown leather couches and huge TV to the classy kitchen area, looked brand new.

  ‘Great place,’ he called, staring out of the window at the sprawling rooftops of central Manchester.

  ‘Thanks,’ the reply came. ‘Put some music on, if you like. There’s an iPad with Spotify on top of the hi-fi. They’re already connected up.’

  ‘Great. Will do.’

  ‘What took you so long to get here from the bus? I thought you might be having second thoughts.’

  ‘No, nothing like that. I had a bit of a nightmare, to be honest. I’ll tell you all about it later.’

  ‘Sounds intriguing. With you in a minute.’

  Ben walked over to the stereo, on a neat but solid-looking oak unit near a window, and raised an eyebrow at the brand – B&O – as were the enormous floor-standing speakers.

  Ben had expected a nice place, but nothing like this. It was a long way from his bland family home in Aldham. He could picture himself living somewhere similar one day, but he’d have to land himself a decent job first.

  He picked up the iPad and, taking it back to the nearest couch, started scrolling through. What to go for? This felt like a test. He decided the best bet was to choose a saved playlist, but before he could pick one, he heard footsteps behind him.

  ‘Close your eyes, Ben.’

  ‘What? Why?’ he replied, almost turning around but managing to resist the urge.

  ‘Please. Just for a minute. It’ll be fun.’

  Ben felt a bead of sweat trickle down his lower back. Nodded. And closed his eyes.

  He heard the footsteps again, walking past and in front of him, and then a loud creak of the floorboards that made him gasp and almost open his eyes.

  ‘Sorry. Only me. Almost there.’ The voice came from right in front of him now. He could hear breathing that wasn’t his own. He could smell a mixture of things: toothpaste, shower gel, deodorant and a zingy, citrus-style fragrance. Underneath all that, subtle but still noticeable, was a hint of cigarettes. Not great, but not the end of the world.

  ‘Okay. Now before you open your eyes, I need to say something.’

  Ben felt his heartbeat quicken. ‘Like what?’

  ‘We’ve had a great time messaging each other and chatting on the phone, haven’t we?’

  ‘Yes, of course. You know we have. That’s why I’m here. Can I open them now? This is getting weird.’

  He felt a warm hand press gently on to his own, which was resting next to his leg on the cool leather of the couch. ‘Please, a moment longer. I need to tell you something. I—’

  Ben couldn’t handle this. After everything he’d been through on the bus, he wasn’t in the mood. It didn’t feel right.

  He opened his eyes and his jaw hit the floor.

  There was a strange man kneeling in front of him who he’d never cast eyes on before in his life. He was small and skinny; pale and balding, with the remains of his ash-blond hair cropped short.

  Ben jumped to his feet, knocking the man’s hand away. He felt like he was about to throw up. ‘What the—’

  ‘Wait,’ the man pleaded, remaining on his knees and holding his hands together in front of his face like he was praying. ‘It’s me, Henry. I know I don’t look like you expect, but everything else is—’

  A shiver ran down Ben’s spine. ‘Don’t look like I expect? I thought you were seventeen! That you lived here with your dad. But you’re … old.’

  ‘I’m only thirty; people say I look younger.’

  ‘Only? That’s twice my age. Bloody hell! What are you: some kind of paedo? Have you been grooming me? Oh God, I can’t believe this is happening.’

  ‘No, Ben. Yo
u’ve got me all wrong. That’s not it at all. Come on, you know me. You recognise my voice, right? I’m everything you thought I was – just … not physically.’

  Ben’s mind was racing. His thoughts were in a whirl. He ran a hand through his hair, no longer caring about messing it up. He needed to feel something – anything – to try to ground himself. To get to grips with what the hell was going on.

  He and Henry – if that was even his real name – had been chatting online for weeks. They’d spoken on the phone countless times. But they’d never actually seen each other in person until now. They’d not even had a video chat. Henry had told him he felt uncomfortable talking to a camera and, although Ben had found that odd initially, they’d been getting on so well, he’d accepted it – brushed his concerns under the carpet like some kind of idiot.

  What terrified Ben most of all was how much he’d told this man. Henry was literally the only person who knew his actual identity that was aware of the biggest secret in Ben’s life: the fact that he was gay.

  He’d known this for some time now. And although he’d been open about it to others online – even done intimate things via camera with them – that had been anonymous. He’d never shown his face or given his real name.

  Meanwhile, in his real day-to-day life, with his family at home and his friends at school, he’d never uttered a word or given a deliberate hint to anyone about it. He hadn’t known how to or dared to even try, for fear of what the reaction might be.

  At first Ben hadn’t been a hundred per cent sure that he was gay. He’d hoped it was just a phase that he was going through. Now, although he still felt a long way from having the confidence to come out, there was no longer any doubt in his mind – and a lot of that was down to Henry.

  Their relationship had been different to all the others. Despite meeting on a gay chat room, things had never got overtly sexual between them, as they had so quickly with other guys. It had never been about the thrill and release with them. There’d been plenty of flirtation, but it hadn’t ever gone further. Something deeper had developed: a close bond – a friendship – that Ben had convinced himself might be something more. He’d even toyed with the L word in the privacy of his own mind.