Can I help you?
Like young men do, all tough.
Hi, you’ll say. Listen, I’m sorry to bother you. I’m sure you’re busy.
I am, yes.
I want to talk to you about Frances.
Who?
Frances. I’m, well, I’m a close friend of hers. We met briefly in the pub the other day, you and me. She introduced us.
Oh yes.
You’re Patrick, aren’t you? You run a delivery company? She spoke to you about trying to develop it online?
That’s right.
Sorry. This is delicate, but it’s important. Do you have a minute?
Now?
If possible.
You’ll get a waft of smoker’s air.
OK. Come in.
And you’ll see why they went to hers. There’ll be a sparse bright kitchen at the rear of the flat, and what must be a bathroom and a bedroom, but the rest will be dismal. Packing boxes everywhere and milky little windows gathering what light they can from above ground. It’ll be like some lower mammal’s burrow, an ashtray and a laptop on the rug showing where he nests. Perhaps ashamed, perhaps seeing you looking, he will take the centre of the leather sofa and hang his arms off his knees to display how big and relaxed he is. The armchair will be yours.
OK, you’ll say, like you’re nervous. I’m not sure how well you and Frances know each other?
Not at all, really.
OK. Well, basically, she’s quite a complicated person. She’s been hurt a lot.
Uh-huh.
He knows how that goes.
The truth is I’m not just a close friend of hers, I’m also kind of her boyfriend. We don’t live together, but we’ve been seeing each other for nearly a year.
Right.
He’ll look tense.
So before I go any further, I need to say that I know you two spent the night together on Thursday, and that it’s OK with me. I expect you didn’t know about the situation between us. And she’s not exactly … Well, that’s what I want to talk to you about.
He won’t move or speak.
I’m not here to make trouble. I’m here because I’m worried about her, and because there’s something that you need to know. Do you and Frances plan to see each other again?
We didn’t make any plans.
He’ll light a cigarette.
Sure, you’ll say. And actually, it’s none of my business really. The thing is that over the past year, well, over the past two really, anyway for a long time, she has been getting kind of obsessed with having a baby. She really wants to have a baby. We have talked about it a lot. I’m not totally against the idea, but I am definitely against doing it now. There are various reasons for that. Our relationship needs to be more stable, mainly. She doesn’t agree, but I don’t think she’s really listening. She came off the pill a few months ago, which I said was a bad idea. So that was a worry. I don’t know if you discussed it? She won’t talk to me about it at all. She’s acting like everything is fine, but I can see that things aren’t right. She’ll say she’s going somewhere in the evening, but when I call she’ll be somewhere else. Or like, I might suggest coming round to hers, just in a casual way, and she’ll be violently against it, saying she is having a girls’ night in or something, which isn’t like her. Obviously I started to wonder if she was seeing someone else, or other people, and of course I had an idea why she might do that. Can I ask? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but can I ask, did you and she use any contraception?
He’ll stare, smoking and thinking, then say he doesn’t know.
I’m afraid that doesn’t surprise me. Look, I’m sorry. This must be a shock, but I thought you had a right to know, especially if this was going to continue.
OK, well, you’ve done it now. You’ve told me.
He’ll stare at your cheek.
What happened to your face?
Oh, I fell off a chair. Look, you probably want to get rid of me, and I don’t enjoy coming here, but we need to talk about this.
She’s not going to be pregnant, mate.
Probably not. I agree with you. But I don’t think it’s a long shot. From what I can tell she may have chosen Thursday quite carefully.
I don’t think so. She was in the pub because she’d just finished some big meeting at her office. She went and yelled at her boss when he went past.
That meeting was a month ago.
What?
That big meeting. It happened a month ago. The one about the email and the investigation and all that? Is that what she was talking about? Well it’s true, but it wasn’t on Thursday. That was five weeks ago or something. She’s been off work for ages, and really not been herself. I thought she might be hanging around the office again, maybe keeping tabs on Will, which is why I followed her to the pub.
But I spoke to her. She didn’t approach me.
You think she doesn’t know how to get approached? You think you’re the first man who tried?
He’ll say nothing.
If things, you know, I mean if Thursday was a deliberate day for her, and if it has gone how she hoped, then we have a problem. I see her a lot so I might be able to find out. And I might be able to convince her to reverse it, if I agree to have a child with her myself, or maybe just move in. That might be her plan. But we’ll need to work together. Can I make tea or something? This is a lot to take in.
I’ll make tea, he’ll say.
You’ll join him in the kitchen.
I mean it’s definitely possible I’m being paranoid about all this. Actually, you’ll laugh, I hope I am! My own friends say I’m crazy to stay with her, but I think this has been building for a long time, since long before we met. I’m trying to get her to start counselling. Once she has a new career I think that will help. Then maybe we can settle down. She often says that’s what she wants, for us to get married, but when we talk we end up back on babies again. Did she seem strange to you?
Not really. I mean she shouted at that guy, but who can blame her?
No, sure. He’s been exploiting her for a while, and losing her job was a big shock. Although I do wonder what really went on. I only have her word for most of it, and as you’ve seen she’s a good liar.
How many sugars?
None.
He’ll drop two in his.
GHB is famous among pharmacologists for the steepness of its dose-response curve, meaning there’s only a narrow ledge between not noticing and hospital. Obviously you’ll have tried a small amount on yourself. You’ll have found it salty, fast-acting then fast-fading, a fun variation on alcohol’s vague glide. You’ll also have spent a long time studying dosages and decided that the important thing in this instance, more important than the risk of overdose, is the rapidity and strength of the effect, so you’ll have prepared two triple helpings. That should do it, even with a body mass like Patrick’s. You’ll have one vial in your right pocket with the cap unscrewed.
What’s your name again?
You’ll lie and he’ll spoon out the bags, fetch milk from the fridge and fold his cigarette into a foil tray, splitting the stuffing. You’ll take your mug back into the lounge. His has some cartoon on it you can’t read. Yours is paisley-patterned.
So you want me to back off, he’ll say. Is that what this is?
You’ll have to be careful sitting now that the vial’s open, or it will spill down your leg.
Sorry?
You’ve come to tell me that Frances is your girlfriend and you want me to fuck off. That’s basically what you’re saying.
No. No. That isn’t it. I just want to look after her, and I kind of assume you don’t want to have a baby with someone you just met?
But you and her, you are together? Seriously?
Yes. This is not an easy time for us, but yes, just about.
I mean, this is none of my business or anything, but if I were you I’d be angrier right now. I’d want to fucking hurt me.
This’ll feel threatening
even in the hypothetical. His capacity and his willingness to hurt, that will be clear. You’ll be meek.
Well, you’ll say. I feel differently. Sorry, but it’s true.
Don’t apologise, mate. It’s me who should be sorry.
You didn’t know. I can’t blame you. And Frances is having a hard time.
Hard time or not, don’t you think there might be other reasons why she’s putting herself about?
Such as?
He’ll sip his tea, and you’ll regret your words. A timid Like what? would have been better. Or a plain What do you mean? By comparison Such as? sounds arch, sceptical, a blood-heater, tactical goading, a proffered chin.
I mean maybe if you stood up for yourself a bit more? Could you do that? Maybe she wants to see you be a man? Maybe that’s why she’s got a bit vivacious?
He’ll give you an implying stare.
Maybe, he’ll say. That’s all I’m saying.
You might be right. Is that how she was with you?
Mate, it was how it always is.
He gulps more tea. From the inclination of the cup you guess he’s about half done.
May I ask, you said you were in logistics?
That’s right.
Do you have a card?
What?
A business card.
Er … yeah. But what’s that got to do with this?
Sorry, it’s stupid, but there’s this guy I know. He’s a fruit wholesaler and he’s always looking for drivers at short notice. Do you deliver fruit?
Fruit? Fuck, I deliver anything.
Good, it’s just a thought. Would you mind me giving him your card, if you’ve got one?
Seriously?
He’ll laugh, stand up, and go to the bedroom. You’ll take the vial out of your pocket and tip it into his drink. Some of it will stream down the cup wall, so you’ll swill the whole thing round, trying to get it all into that last inch where you hope his sugar will disguise the saltiness. He’ll return to find you staring at a movie poster on the wall, a little stack in his hands, still laughing.
Give these to whoever you like.
Thanks, you’ll say. So listen, I need to know everything you remember about your time with Frances.
Why?
I don’t know. I mean I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I need to hear everything you remember, in case some of it is helpful when I talk to her.
Listen, mate. He’ll drain his tea. You’ll blink. Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you and her, and I don’t want to know. Me and her, it was just one of those things. I wasn’t planning on seeing her again. I don’t think I’ve got her number. So for now, let’s leave it at that, eh? I’m not going to go into it all. If she gets pregnant, and you can prove it’s mine, well, then we’ll talk.
But that’s what I mean. If she gets pregnant, no one will be able to prove anything without her agreeing to it, and even then we might have to wait for the baby to be born. I could maybe talk her into a termination if I knew a bit more about Thursday.
Why? What difference will that make?
I don’t know. Maybe none. But we need all the help we can get.
This isn’t we, OK? You don’t want Frances to have another guy’s kid. That’s fine. But seriously, I’m not getting involved.
And it’ll be true. He won’t talk, about this or anything. You’ll appraise the cards he’s given you, their lettering, their print quality, and he’ll just laugh. When you start on about the difficulty of running a small business, he’ll become solemn and stand. You’ll tell him how much you love the movie on his poster, but he’ll make it clear he only likes it passingly and start giving you looks. You’ll become angry. You’ll want to start early, but instead you’ll put your head in your hands and pretend you’re hiding sadness.
Sorry. It’s just. This whole thing …
His answer will be to touch the door handle.
She’s not going to be pregnant, mate. Chances must be one in a thousand. It took some courage coming round, but please, I’ve got stuff to do.
At this point you’ll almost feel as though you could start crying.
Of course, you’ll say. Sorry. Just give me a moment.
You’ll get a tissue out of your jacket pocket, blow your nose and check your watch. Six minutes will have passed. It should take between five and ten.
You haven’t asked, you’ll say, how I know that you and Frances slept together.
This will surprise him.
I thought … Well, it was obvious in the pub, wasn’t it?
But his hand will drop from the door.
Look, you won’t like this, but there’s something else I need to say. It’s a confession really. A while ago, as I said, I was getting worried about her behaviour. I didn’t know what else to do.
Do what? What did you do?
I installed bugs around her house.
You what? What do you mean bugs?
Recording devices, and transmitters. Audio and video. I hid them in several places. They’re still there. It feels like my house really, so it wasn’t a big deal, but I thought I ought to tell you.
Bullshit.
It’s true. Do you want to hear?
No.
But you’ll produce your phone and press play and he’ll have to listen.
Them in the hall. Dull thumps.
I think that’s Frances going round the house, you’ll say.
My housemate. I wasn’t sure if she’d be in.
It’ll be like her voice burns him, the way he starts.
This bit’s quiet, you’ll say. Listen carefully.
I live alone.
You’ll return to the centre of the room and he’ll retake his place on the sofa. Sighs and gasps will come from your phone, some of them his.
What is this? Why do you have this? Get out.
Will this sound slurred? Your reply will be,
Just listen.
There’ll be a rustle and a soft smack.
That was either her bag or your jacket, I think. It sounds heavy, like leather.
You’ll point to his jacket hanging behind the door.
His eyes will close. He’ll lean back, but remain upright.
Patrick?
The hissing of fabrics. The clicking of buttons. His breath and hers.
You press pause.
Patrick?
You feel required to act surprised. You are surprised.
Patrick? Are you OK?
He is leaning, and the lean moves, then he’s floorbound. His head strikes the armrest on the way down.
Patrick?
He lies supine, one knee up, the foot caught under the sofa. You tap his chin. You tap it harder. He is breathing gently. You slide his feet together and fizz the ankles tight with a cable tie. You add another. Feeling bold, you remove his watch and bind his wrists behind his back. You push the armchair to the edge of the room and drag him to the middle. The joined shaft of his legs you lift and use like a tiller to steer him into place. You tape his mouth shut. You hold the back of his head while the roll sings around his beard just getting the earlobes. You add vertical loops like thick helmet straps to restrain the jaw.
You look at him trussed there. You can’t believe it. But you don’t know how much time you have, so on go your gloves. Out come your wipes. You try to remember all the things you’ve touched around the flat and get them clean. There haven’t been many things, you don’t think, but you clean some three times. You’re very thorough about the mug-washing especially. In the end you put both mugs aside to throw away.
He hasn’t moved. You put the door on the latch and go out to collect your things, wiping the bell button on your return. Still he breathes. You pull on overalls and shoe covers and a cap and a mask, which for now you let hang around your throat. Everything except the shoe covers is white. They are blue. You look like a collector of evidence or a hero in a contaminated zone.
You decide to add more bindings to the wrists and ankles. Afterwa
rds you rope them together into a hogtie, leaving him at the side of the room in the recovery position, more or less. He is very heavy. You push the rest of the furniture and boxes against the walls to make an area of about four square metres where you lay your tarpaulin. It is too large for the space, so you drape it over the furniture and fold it along the edges, a noisy task. This done, you drag Patrick back to the centre, and arrange your tools on the crackling ground. You just have to tolerate the heat inside your overalls.
In the shower you fill the parasol stand with water, but this makes it too heavy to carry, so you empty some out and heave it back into the lounge. There you refill it in instalments with his kettle. You think you hear a groan, and freeze. There is no more. You tie his ankle ligatures to the stand with rope, your fingers quickening. In his pockets you find his keys and phone. You sit with him, thinking about Frances.
His eyes open. He looks at you, and at your tools. You say,
Hi Patrick. I put something in your tea which made you sleep. When you’re ready, please nod to show you understand me. Your mouth is taped shut.
What you think is him beginning to nod is in fact him retching. You only understand when vomit comes through his nose, at which you leap forwards and try to lift him to a sitting position so that he can swallow, all while he flexes every which way like a hooked fish. You can’t pull the tape off his mouth because you’ve put so much on, and he’d certainly scream, if only from the pain of his beard being torn out. It might also be hard to put the tape back, so close to the teeth. Nor do you want vomit everywhere. So you just hold him. It’s hard work, but he slowly settles. He snorts loudly to clear his nose. You do your best to wipe him clean. You also change your overalls, which have become torn.
Patrick, you say. Hey Patrick. It’s OK. Calm down. You’ll probably feel quite strange for a few minutes, but it will pass. Take a moment. Hey, listen. Listen! Your wrists and ankles are bound with plastic cable ties. You won’t be able to break free, but if you struggle they will hurt.
He struggles anyway. Only experience subdues him. No doubt you’d be the same. You let him settle again.
OK. I need the code to your phone. Using your fingers, please show me the first digit. If it’s zero, show me ten fingers.
He hesitates then complies, and it is zero.
Consent Page 13