Stand by Me

by S. D. Robertson

  They continued walking, Elliot pointing out classrooms he remembered studying particular lessons in along the way. They eventually reached the toilets, which were still in the same place but had now been divided into separate sections for boys and girls. They both had to go, but El was already waiting for her in the corridor when she came out.

  ‘Remember that time when Samo and his pals bog-washed me?’ he said.

  She wrinkled up her nose. ‘Was that here?’

  He nodded. ‘Bastard. Is he still local? Have you ever bumped into him or anything?’

  ‘No, I haven’t seen him in years.’ She laughed. ‘Why? Fancy a catch-up?’

  ‘No, thanks. Hey, you know what I said about reclaiming E.T.?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Look at this.’ He lifted up his T-shirt, giving her a tantalising glimpse of an extremely well-defined six-pack, and pointed to a small tattoo on his right side, just above his belt, displaying the very same initials in the blue-white colour and font from the movie.

  ‘No way. That’s amaz—’

  Lisa was interrupted by the sound of a gruff male voice bellowing: ‘Oi! What the hell’s going on?’

  She looked up to see a large bald man standing further down the corridor, frowning and pointing at them. ‘How did you two get in here?’ he demanded, proceeding to stride in their direction.

  Lisa grabbed El’s hand and threw him an anxious look. ‘Oops. That doesn’t sound good. What now?’

  ‘Don’t worry. Leave him to me.’

  ‘Cheers,’ Lisa said, clinking glasses with Elliot, who was sitting across from her on a small table by a window in the Royal Oak – the nearest pub to the school.

  ‘Do you remember the last time we were in here together?’ he asked.

  ‘A-level results day?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Wow. That feels so long ago, although at the same time it could almost be yesterday. Does that make sense?’

  Elliot chuckled. ‘I know what you mean. Have you been here much since?’

  She shook her head. ‘Maybe a handful of times. Get-togethers and so on. Isn’t there anyone else from school that you’d like to meet up with while you’re here? What about Neil Walsh?’

  ‘Last I heard he was living in Denmark.’

  ‘Oh, that’s right. Didn’t he marry a Danish girl he met at university?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Anyone else?’

  ‘I doubt I’ll have time. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be here …’

  His voice tailed off as he grabbed his chest and bent forward, making a growling noise and screwing his face up in pain.

  Lisa jumped to her feet, alarmed. ‘What’s happening? Are you all right? Do you need me to call an ambulance?’

  ‘No, no,’ he groaned, holding forward the palm of his right hand. ‘Please don’t. I’m okay. It’ll pass in a minute.’

  It felt like forever as Lisa was frozen in place, anxiously watching her friend suffer. She was on the verge of ignoring his plea and phoning for help when, sure enough, he let out a long sigh and sat back in his chair, his face unknotting itself and slowly returning to its usual calm state.

  His eyes silently scrutinised her before he spoke. ‘Sorry. That happens sometimes. Nothing to worry about. It’s a kind of, um, heartburn.’

  ‘It looked pretty extreme for heartburn. Are you sure—’

  ‘Honestly, don’t give it another thought. I’ve felt much worse pain.’

  Lisa sat back down but wasn’t convinced. ‘If you say so. Has it totally gone now?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You were talking about not being here much longer. Does that mean the business-side of your trip has gone well? Surely you can tell me that, at least. I’m sorry, Elliot, but it’s weird how secretive you are about it. Everything is all right, isn’t it? You’re not in trouble or anything?’

  ‘You don’t need to worry about me, Lise. You did more than your fair share of that when we were kids. I don’t have any specifics yet – truthfully – but it’s not going to be too much longer that I’m here, so let’s enjoy the time we have. Why don’t we spend the rest of the day together, just the two of us? We can do whatever you like.’

  Elliot was still being as vague as hell about his business. However, in light of the fact that he wasn’t likely to be around for much longer, and not wanting to spoil what little time they had left together, Lisa decided not to push him on it. It really was fantastic to see him again after all these years; to witness how far he’d come from the timid, fragile boy she’d grown up with to the strong, confident man he was now. It was far more than his looks alone that had changed. He was so self-assured and comfortable in his own skin. Like Mike had also been once, before he’d had that ripped away from him.

  Elliot seemed to have developed an almost magical power of persuasion too. He’d become a real people person, something Lisa assumed came from running his own company. Whatever it was, the way he’d dealt with that angry caretaker who’d discovered them wandering the corridors at King George’s, or The Royal School as it now was, had been something to behold. One minute he’d been shouting at them, threatening to phone the police; the next – after a few calm words from El – he’d transformed into a pussycat, making small talk as he walked them back outside and even wishing them a nice day.

  Lisa couldn’t help wondering how things might have turned out differently had Elliot been that way when they’d first met. The whole ‘being stripped of his clothes thing’ would likely never have happened. So how would they have got to know each other? Would they still have become friends? Maybe they’d have even got romantically involved at some point.

  The Elliot sitting across from her now, with that six-pack she wouldn’t forget any time soon, was a real catch. It surprised her that he was still single; from the little he’d told her, she gathered this was due to him being married to his work. Clearly there had been relationships over the years, but not one that had stood the test of time or been more important to him than his business.

  Anyway, the idea of spending the rest of the day with Elliot was appealing. A part of her that she barely dared to acknowledge even found it somewhat arousing – as if it might lead to something happening between them. Not that she wanted that, of course. She was a happily married woman and mum. So why did she have to remind herself of this fact? And why had she dreamt last night of the two of them tearing each other’s clothes off before Elliot wrapped those big arms of his around her naked body and threw her across the kitchen table?

  ‘Hello?’

  She blinked away the illicit fantasy, only to see El’s deep blue eyes gazing across the table at her as he twirled a beer mat around in his fingers and tapped it on the table. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I was miles away. What did you say?’

  ‘I asked if there was anything you fancied doing together this afternoon. Or do you need to get home?’

  ‘Staying out sounds good. I’ve really enjoyed it so far today. It’s been fun doing something just the two of us, hasn’t it? Like old times.’

  Elliot nodded, grinning. ‘Yes, it really has.’

  ‘I’ll need to phone Mike first to make sure he doesn’t need the car for anything or have any other plans.’ She pulled her mobile out of her handbag. ‘One minute.’

  As Elliot got up to visit the men’s room, she dialled home. It rang for ages. She was about to hang up and try Mike’s mobile instead when Ben’s voice finally answered.

  ‘Hello, love. It’s Mum. How are you doing?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Is your father around?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘He didn’t tell you?’

  ‘Well, he said he was going out for a run, but that was ages ago. I’m not sure where he went got to.’

  ‘Have you tried his mobile?’

  ‘No point. He left it in the kitchen.’

  ‘Well, I�
�m sure he’ll be back soon. What about your sister?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s upset about something.’

  Lisa rolled her eyes. Where was Mike when she needed him? ‘What do you mean she’s upset?’

  ‘She went round to Saima’s house, for some reason, and she was in tears when she came back. Wouldn’t tell me why.’

  Lisa was glad to hear that her daughter had taken her advice for once and gone to see her old friend. But why had she come back in tears? Letting out a silent sigh, Lisa added: ‘Do you want to put her on the phone?’

  ‘Hang on.’

  ‘Everything all right?’ Elliot mouthed, returning to the table.

  She put her hand over the microphone. ‘Not really. Mike’s gone AWOL and Chloe’s in tears. No idea why. Ben’s gone to—’

  ‘Mum?’ Her son’s voice appeared on the line again.

  ‘Yes. Where’s Chloe?’

  ‘She won’t come to the phone.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I don’t know. She barely spoke to me.’

  ‘Does she seem okay?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘And still no sign of your dad?’

  ‘No – and that’s the other thing …’

  Lisa steeled herself for more bad news. ‘Go on.’

  ‘He was pretty upset when he went out. He pretended not to be, but you know Dad. He’s not very good at hiding that stuff.’

  Lisa massaged her temples as Ben recounted what had happened with the laptop.

  By the time he’d finished, there was only one thing left for Lisa to say: ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

  CHAPTER 31

  NOW

  Wednesday, 25 July 2018

  Mike hadn’t intended to end up in the pub. Or maybe he had. Why else had he taken his wallet with him on a run?

  He had done some running first, at least. Enough to make him sweat and to feel it in his knees and heels: typical weak spots for a man of his age carrying a few too many pounds. He’d be forty next February and it was all downhill from there, right? Even his bladder was showing its age, requiring him to visit the toilet far too frequently when he was drinking pints, as he was now.

  This was already his third visit to the gents, nauseating urinal cake smell and all. He splashed some water over his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror. What a bloody waste of space. Who was he kidding? He was never going to write a successful screenplay. It was pie in the sky. He couldn’t even bang out a plot synopsis without breaking his laptop.

  So what the hell was he going to do with his life? Teaching was out; he’d never get another driving job after the last disaster. What options did he have?

  Continuing to rely on his wife being the sole breadwinner was out of the question. It wasn’t like he was even any good at being the one at home. Lisa still did most of the cooking and cleaning, which had been the source of plenty of arguments in recent times. Understandably. So why didn’t he pull his weight more? Goodness knows. That awful term ‘house husband’ certainly didn’t help. It never failed to make him feel utterly worthless and miserable. And once a black mood set in, he often found himself crippled. Hours could pass by while he stared at a wall, lost in a battle of mental self-torture.

  This wasn’t something he was able to explain to Lisa. How could he, when he didn’t understand it himself? It was like part of him had been lost – and he had no clue how to find it again.

  Plus, he had a good idea what she’d say if he did tell her. After Liam Hornby’s charges against him had been dropped and the focus shifted away from the battle to clear his name, she’d suggested he ought to see a therapist or counsellor to help him move on from the trauma.

  ‘He’s the one who needs help, not me,’ had been Mike’s reply. He wasn’t good at talking about such things to his own family, so the idea of telling them to a total stranger – a ‘shrink’ no less – terrified him.

  But somehow he needed to get his life back together. Things couldn’t go on like this. Money was tight at home. Everyone was feeling it – and it was his fault. This year it was a missed summer holiday. What next? What would happen when the kids wanted to go to university? He had responsibilities.

  He’d been a catch at university, when he and Lisa had got together as postgrads studying to become teachers. Being a year older than her – literally a man of the world following his globetrotting gap year – she’d looked up to him. He’d been her rock when she’d unexpectedly got pregnant while still on the course, standing by her and proposing, rather than running scared.

  He’d supported his new family by working as a teacher while Lisa took time off to have Ben and then, almost four years later, to have Chloe. Eventually, once he became a deputy head, his salary had grown, giving them extra financial freedom and, potentially, a head teacher’s pay packet one day in the future. But that had all changed. Instead, he’d become the opposite of a catch: a release, a let go, a loser.

  He’d left himself wide open to someone like Elliot waltzing in and sweeping Lisa off her feet. Maybe that was happening right now, at this very moment, while the two of them were off together visiting their old schools. He could be on the brink of losing everything.

  Mike knew that getting drunk wouldn’t help – not in the long term. If anything, it would only make matters worse. And yet, for the time being, it would numb the pain. And that was what Mike needed today.

  ‘Could I get another pint and a shot of whisky, please, Alan?’ he said to the burly landlord of the Swan, who was tending bar. The only other staff member working at this quiet time was a frail-looking, elderly chap called Edgar, dressed in jeans and the same black pub-branded polo shirt as his boss. He was currently making his way around the pub, wiping down tables and rearranging beer mats.

  ‘Whisky?’ Alan replied, raising a bushy eyebrow. ‘Celebrating something, are we?’

  ‘Quite the opposite. Don’t ask.’

  ‘Oh dear. Any particular brand?’

  ‘Honestly, I don’t care, as long as it burns on the way down.’

  Mike had lost track of how long he’d been in the pub, slumped on a bar stool, when the two cocky young idiots came in.

  From what he overheard, they were decorators who’d finished a job locally; still in their paint-covered work gear, they took up a spot on the opposite side of the bar to where he was seated. They both looked to be in their mid-twenties.

  ‘I’ll have whatever that bloke’s on,’ the shorter of the two, who was barrel-chested with spiky ginger hair, said to Alan with an unpleasant grin, nudging his pal and pointing at Mike.

  He was feeling pretty hammered by that stage: drunk enough to block out the smell of bleach and stale beer. The comment didn’t particularly bother him, although he knew that was the intention. In a bid to clear the air, Mike raised his pint glass in their direction and said: ‘Cheers, lads.’

  He thought that would be it, but after getting their drinks, they moved along the bar and stood next to him.

  ‘All right, buddy,’ the taller one said. ‘How’s it going?’ He had shaved brown hair with a white patch the size of a golf ball just off centre; his face reminded Mike of a rat.

  ‘Fine. You?’

  ‘What was that?’ Ginger snapped. He was the one closest to Mike and he reached out to pat his back in a patronising way. ‘You’re slurring your words, buddy.’

  ‘I said I was fine.’

  ‘Nope,’ he said, winking at Ratface. ‘Still not getting that. How much have you had?’

  Alan was changing spirit bottles at the other end of the bar, leaving Mike alone with the two wise guys. There had been a few other drinkers in earlier, but they’d all gone. Mike considered moving – finding a table in a quiet corner – but his pint was already half empty, meaning he’d have to return to the bar soon anyway. Besides, he’d been here first.

  ‘Very funny,’ he said, staring straight ahead. ‘You should be a comedian.’

  ‘What was that?’ Ginger replied, patting h
is back again but harder this time. ‘Still can’t understand a word you’re saying.’

  Mike sighed and took a swig from his pint.

  ‘Do I recognise you from somewhere?’ Ratface asked him next.

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘Eh?’ Ginger piped up, shrugging dramatically. ‘It’s like he’s speaking a foreign language.’

  ‘Ignore my pal,’ Ratface said. ‘He never knows when to let things lie. Seriously, though, I’m sure I recognise you from somewhere. I never forget a face. We haven’t done a job for you, have we?’

  Not bloody likely, Mike thought; he said he didn’t think so.

  ‘It’ll come to me in a minute … You’re not on TV or anything like that, are you?’

  In his booze-numbed state, Mike couldn’t tell if this guy was taking the piss or not. Was he winding him up in a more subtle way than his pal, or was he serious about recognising him?

  He simply shook his head and went to visit the gents – again – where Edgar was almost done mopping the floor and warned him to be careful not to slip.

  When he returned, he was glad to see that the two lads had abandoned the bar for a nearby fruit machine. Great. Hopefully they’d leave him alone now.

  Alan, who had moved on to drying glasses with a tea towel, nodded at him as he sat back down on his bar stool. Then Mike noticed that his drink was gone.

  ‘What happened to my pint?’ he asked the landlord.

  ‘It was empty, Mike, so I took it away. Can I get you another?’

  He nodded, puzzled. There had definitely been beer left in that glass. One of those two idiots must have either poured it into a drip tray or drunk it. Bastards. He glanced over and caught Ginger sneering at him: that annoying grin again, just begging to be wiped off his face. This confirmed his suspicions. But now that they’d moved away, and hopefully grown bored of winding him up, he couldn’t see any point in saying anything.

  Instead, he hoped that they gambled away all their money and left. Of course that didn’t happen. No sooner had he thought it than the pair of them let out a loud cheer followed by the clunking, chinking sound of coins pouring out of the bottom of the fruit machine.