Idiopathy

  ‘Jesus,’ said Nathan. ‘This is …’

  ‘You’re telling me,’ said Nathan’s father. ‘They cut your mother’s money shot for this.’

  In Angelica’s absence, and in the dead time before the weekend, Daniel fell into the sort of patterns he dimly recalled from his long-ago days of being single. He’d been a student then, of course, and he had to admit that in the intervening years many of the habits he’d once looked back on through a certain rose-coloured haze had, if he was honest, paled. There were, for example, only so many frozen pizzas a man could eat before a definite sense of bodily decay set in; and much as stocking the fridge with beer, chocolate bars and assorted snacks had seemed deliciously sinful when daydreamed about over a fruit smoothie and a bowl of Fairtrade granola, there came a point when the sight of all that badness was no longer exciting and was just, well, bad. Freedom, it seemed, was overrated, particularly if you had no idea what to do with it.

  He tried to recall the last time he’d been alone. There’d been the odd evening here and there, perhaps a weekend, but decent stretches of solitude had been rare. Katherine used to threaten to go away a lot but then rarely did, and Angelica rarely even threatened it, leading to those slightly odd conversations when Daniel tried to persuade her to go away while strenuously attempting not to appear to be persuading her to go away.

  ‘I really think you’ll enjoy it,’ he’d say of some rally or convention or godforsaken gathering of the dreadlocked clans. ‘You should go. I mean really. Go.’

  ‘Oh,’ she’d say vaguely. ‘I might, but you know, we have so little time together as it is.’

  ‘I know, darling, but I’m happy to share you with the world.’

  ‘Oh Daniel.’

  ‘Oh Angelica.’

  She wouldn’t go, of course, or worse, he’d end up going with her. Either way, he’d spend at least part of the time pining for exactly the sort of alone-time he knew he always squandered when he had it.

  The evenings dragged. He called Angelica. She texted a lot but on the phone was distracted and vague. She always said, Hang on, let me go somewhere quiet, then went somewhere categorically unquiet. She said it was going well. She said Sebastian was amazing. She felt they were Making a Difference. Daniel started picturing her and Sebastian together. It gave him a little twist in his gut. He imagined Sebastian letting his hair down, giving it a quick toss; slipping out of his knits and mumbling something wanky about worship. For some reason Daniel had a problem admitting he didn’t like people. He liked to think he was above it, or that, like anger, it was a response that was unjustly denied to him in his role as a martyr to the rational. But he didn’t like Sebastian and Sebastian didn’t like him, so perhaps it was time to start accepting things.

  He called his father, asked him how’s tricks.

  ‘I’m inundated,’ said his father. ‘Totally inundated.’

  Sometimes Daniel tried to be rational, sometimes he didn’t. Less and less, if he was honest.

  ‘It’s such a busy time, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh God, don’t even,’ said his father.

  ‘Are you managing to get a break at all?’

  ‘You’re kidding, aren’t you? They’re working me into the ground. Geoff’s away; Paul’s no good to anyone any more. I’m carrying the whole team.’

  ‘They’d be lost without you.’

  ‘Don’t I know it.’

  He thought about going to see the old man, but quickly realised he couldn’t face it. It struck him that his procrastination around going to see his father suggested he hadn’t actually developed nearly as much as he’d like to think, or at least not in the ways that now seemed important. He was too young for all this ageing, all this stuff.

  The larger the weekend loomed, the greater Daniel’s fears became. He woke twice in the night, tatters of a nameless shame still clinging to his skin. He remembered saying something stupid about how if Nathan needed help he would ask for it; remembered how easy it had been to let Nathan and whatever was going on with him simply vanish. He paced his house and felt embarrassed. He had never, he realised, entertained anyone. Angelica entertained people; Katherine either entertained them or horrified them; and Nathan had a way, if not of entertaining people directly, then at least of leading them towards people and places that would do the job, and procuring the necessary chemicals along the way. Indeed, Daniel and Katherine had always used Nathan for exactly that purpose: for escape; for fun; and now, in a development made no less disturbing by its predictability, the tables were horribly turned and Daniel, who had not, if he was honest, really made or maintained any friends at all since moving here, found himself thrust into the role of host and entertainer.

  By the time Thursday came around, Daniel knew what he needed to do. He needed, quite urgently, to buy some drugs.

  He mulled it over at work, wondering initially about Ecstasy, but then coming to the conclusion that sitting in a room getting off his face on E might not be Nathan’s idea of a good time. Indeed, E hadn’t been Nathan’s idea of a good time for a long time, now that Daniel thought about it. Towards the end (a phrase Daniel realised he needed to stop using, given that it clearly wasn’t the end), Nathan had graduated from the largely unalloyed pleasures of Ecstasy and acid, through the more utilitarian amphetamines, to the total vortex of entertainment offered by ketamine and a cocktail of downers, suggesting that a good time, whatever that might have been, was not only no longer Nathan’s goal but may actually have been something against which he sought to quarantine himself. Daniel had never understood the impulse. He was down enough day to day; why part with money for the experience? In a way, this both compounded and reflected the widening differences between them: Daniel struggling upwards; Nathan kicking out for the depths.

  The obvious option was to get some weed. This was, he thought, the simplest solution to everything. Old friends, getting gently stoned, listening to some classic albums. How could that possibly fail?

  The difficulty, of course, was that although Daniel thought of being stoned as a social experience, what he had never really appreciated at the time was that it was a product of social experience too, since, much as getting stoned loosened you up and allowed you to meet people, you still needed to know at least some people in order to get hold of the stuff in the first place.

  His contacts list was woeful. Everyone in his BlackBerry was either a colleague, one of Angelica’s friends, or some professional or other working with his father. He felt a mild sense of panic. The idea had relieved so much of his tension with such rapidity that any consideration of abandoning the plan now seemed impossible. It was vital, he thought, that he get his hands on some weed for the weekend. If he didn’t, no one would have a good time, and they would blame him, and the whole thing would be such an unmitigated disaster that he felt slightly breathless just thinking about it.

  He put his feet up on his desk and considered his options. He could, he thought, ask around the office. He was fairly sure, for example, that both Jenssen and Meyer would have their sources. Indeed, given their background in organic crop research and the eco-warrior counterculture, they had probably reared their own strain. But still, there was something decidedly unprofessional about asking them, or really anyone with whom he worked.

  Another option was to spend the evening in the rougher areas of town and hope for the best. Drive out to some estate somewhere and cruise up to one of those little knots of lads you saw swigging cider at isolated bus stops. Alright chaps, he’d say. No, not chaps. Chaps sounded awful, like something out of Biggles. Lads, maybe? Geezers? Alright geezers? That wasn’t bad. He’d breeze up with his hands in his pockets and sort of sniff and look about him, then ask if anyone knew where he might be able to, what was the phrase, score? He was stuck in another decade entirely. How could you get so out of date in so few years?

  This was ridiculous. He wasn’t going to drive to a rough area. He didn’t even know any rough areas. And if he did know one, and did drive to it, he w
as going to drive right through it and not look back.

  He swivelled in his chair. Outside, in the car park, the much-reduced demonstration now consisted entirely, in Sebastian’s absence, of three shifty-looking lads in Doc Martens, none of whom Daniel recognised, easing their weight from foot to foot and holding each end of a large banner in rotation so one of them could have a break to blow on his hands. It was a fairly foolish option, Daniel thought, but it was better than no option at all.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ said Daniel, striding out carrying three cups of fresh coffee. ‘You looked cold so I thought I’d furnish you with some refreshments.’

  ‘Furnish us?’ said the one not holding the banner, who had a threadbare ginger beard and what appeared to be a piece of copper piping through his earlobe. ‘What do you think we are? A room?’

  The banner-bearers laughed, but were also eyeing the coffee.

  ‘I don’t see why we can’t all be friends,’ said Daniel. Why, he wondered, why did he say such unbelievably stupid things?

  ‘Is that filter coffee?’ said one. ‘Cos I won’t drink instant.’

  ‘And I won’t drink anything Nestlé,’ said the third, ‘or anything that isn’t Fairtrade.’

  ‘I’m lactose intolerant actually,’ said the first one, distractedly pushing his little finger through his copper piping.

  ‘These are black Fairtrade cafetière coffees,’ said Daniel, ‘from my very own cafetière.’

  ‘Where do we stand on this, Archie?’ said the second banner-bearer, whose end of the banner had dropped somewhat during the exchange.

  ‘We’ve got our own coffee, thanks,’ said Archie, who was clearly the de facto leader.

  ‘No we don’t,’ said the first banner-bearer, who had now lowered his end of the banner even further than his compatriot.

  ‘Shut up, William,’ said Archie. ‘We have the means of production of coffee, that’s what counts.’

  ‘Do we?’ said William.

  ‘Well we have the means of procurement,’ said Archie.

  ‘Hold on,’ said the third member of the group, wedging his pole down the front of his trousers so as to leave his hands free to gesticulate. ‘This bloke’s offering free coffee.’

  ‘But we don’t need his free coffee,’ said Archie.

  ‘But where are we going to purchase coffee,’ said William. ‘Cos, like, the nearest option is a Costa, and they’re kind of multinational.’

  Archie acknowledged this point with a cock of the head. ‘But he’s more multinational,’ he said, pointing at Daniel.

  ‘I’m not multinational,’ said Daniel.

  ‘He’s not profiting from the coffee,’ said the third member, adjusting his banner-pole as if to prevent chafing.

  ‘But we’re unclear as to source, Henry,’ said Archie.

  ‘He just told us the bloody source,’ said William.

  ‘That’s unconfirmed,’ said Archie.

  ‘Look,’ said Henry. ‘I’m fucking freezing and I don’t want to pay three bloody quid in Costa when I can just as easily have a free coffee right now.’

  ‘Plus,’ said William, tucking his banner-pole under his arm, ‘I find when I’m in Costa it’s not just a coffee, is it?’

  ‘It’s never just a coffee,’ said Henry bitterly. ‘You always think it’s just a coffee but then actually it’s a coffee, an avocado wrap, a detox drink and a date bar.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said William. ‘And before you know it you’re ten quid deep.’

  ‘Those motherfuckers,’ said Daniel. ‘This coffee’s getting cold, by the way.’

  ‘Fuck it,’ said Henry, ‘I’m having a coffee.’

  ‘Me too,’ said William.

  ‘I think we’ve established that to do so is ethical,’ said Archie.

  They stood sipping their coffees, the banner momentarily abandoned on the floor.

  ‘So,’ said Daniel. ‘Missing Sebastian much?’

  They looked at him oddly.

  ‘We’re not in love with him,’ said Archie.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Henry. ‘We can spend time apart.’

  ‘I meant more in terms of the organisation,’ said Daniel.

  ‘We have no fixed centre of power,’ said Archie, ‘so we’re able to adapt to the needs of any given situation.’

  ‘Re-forming like Voltron,’ said William, nodding seriously.

  ‘Impressive,’ said Daniel. ‘How’s the coffee?’

  ‘That’s good coffee,’ said William.

  ‘Good body,’ said Archie. ‘Do you grind fresh?’

  ‘I buy it freshly ground,’ said Daniel.

  ‘Does make a difference,’ said Henry.

  ‘I must get a grinder,’ said William. ‘I mean, don’t get me wrong, I make good coffee, but I think grinding’s the next step.’

  Archie nodded. ‘It’s another bloody appliance though, isn’t it?’

  ‘Don’t get me started,’ said Henry. ‘You should see our fucking worktop. Half the time I can’t even carve out the space for a sandwich. I keep saying to Trix: Trix, can we get rid of some of these bloody machines? But she’s like, nah.’

  There was a reflective silence during which Daniel became increasingly edgy as he weighed the various options for introducing the subject of drugs into the conversation.

  ‘So,’ he said finally. ‘Has Sebastian got you working the weekend, too?’

  ‘Nah,’ said William. ‘No point. No one here.’

  ‘If a tree falls in the forest and all that,’ said Archie.

  ‘Got much planned?’ said Daniel.

  ‘Probably just keep it chilled,’ said Henry. ‘What about you?’

  ‘Your other half’s away, isn’t she?’ said Archie with a smirk that Daniel chose to ignore.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Daniel. ‘I was thinking it would be a good opportunity to get the boys round, you know?’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ said Archie. ‘Good call.’

  ‘Actually,’ said Daniel, ‘there was something I was going to ask you chaps about.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ said Archie, narrowing his eyes.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Daniel, looking from side to side in the universally acknowledged manner of a man about to negotiate a drugs deal. ‘It’s just, well, my man’s fallen through, you know what I’m saying?’

  ‘Not really,’ said William.

  ‘Your man?’ said Henry. ‘What man?’

  ‘You know,’ said Daniel. ‘As in, waiting for the man?’

  Blank looks.

  ‘My dealer,’ said Daniel.

  ‘Oh,’ said Archie with a smirk. ‘And you think for some reason, based I’m sure on a whole number of conclusions you’ve drawn based on your prejudices about our appearance and political persuasions, that we might be able to help.’

  ‘Well, basically,’ said Daniel. ‘Yes.’

  ‘What are you looking for?’ said Henry.

  ‘Henry,’ said Archie.

  ‘What?’ said Henry.

  ‘What have you got?’ said Daniel, before realising that, much as it was wise to conceal his intentions from wider view, concealing them from the person he was trying to communicate them to was going to be somewhat counterproductive.

  ‘No one’s got anything,’ said Archie.

  ‘But they might have,’ said Henry, tapping the side of his nose.

  ‘Or they might not,’ said Archie.

  ‘Right,’ said Henry. ‘Absolutely. But equally they might have.’

  Refreshed by his success, and now reframing the weekend in his mind as a sort of blokey reminiscence session, he called Katherine as soon as he got home.

  ‘Hi,’ he said.

  ‘Hi,’ said Katherine. She sounded edgy, he thought, as if she were awaiting some sort of verdict. He wondered if he had, again, misjudged his opening syllable. He told her it was just a quick call, then immediately regretted it.

  ‘Great,’ she said. ‘I always love it when people open with that.’

  ‘What?’ said Daniel, knowing exactly what.
>
  ‘Just a quick call. Like, don’t get comfortable in this conversation because it’s not going to last long.’

  ‘I think it’s more like, don’t worry, this isn’t going to take up too much of your time.’

  ‘Why don’t you let me be the judge of how much of my time I want to invest in this conversation, and when I’ve run out of time I’ll let you know. How about that?’

  Daniel examined his fingernails, then flipped his hand over to look at his palm. Periodically he wondered if one of the lines was his Katherine line.

  ‘Like I said, this doesn’t really need to be a whole big thing.’

  ‘OK, right, I give up. You obviously want to converse entirely in bullet points and have me take it down in shorthand or something. Go ahead.’

  He could hear her lighting a cigarette: the spark of the lighter followed by the damp lip-smack of her inhalation.

  ‘I was just calling to say I spoke to Nathan.’

  ‘Bravo,’ she drawled.

  ‘If you’re going to be sarcastic about everything then I may have to just send you an email.’

  ‘Sorry. Go on.’

  ‘Right. So I phoned Nathan and, well, he’s not that well.’

  ‘Duh.’

  ‘Right. As I said before …’

  ‘Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. Please continue.’

  Daniel had put some thought into how he was going to phrase this, but in the event all of that thought seemed to dissipate into an insubstantial notion of saying it and backing away.

  ‘I mean, he’s sort of better now, is the gist, but at one point he was really very seriously unwell and he, ah, I’m not sure really, if he tried to kill himself, or if he cut himself or something, but anyway, he hurt himself in some way, and he’s been away ever since getting some sort of treatment.’

  ‘What sort of treatment?’

  ‘The psychiatric sort.’

  There was a long pause.

  ‘Fuck,’ said Katherine.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Do we know why he … you know?’

  ‘I didn’t ask.’

  ‘You didn’t ask?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, isn’t it sort of an obvious question?’