Thief of Mind

by Ben Thomas

  “Red or white sir?” A waiter enquired of me.

  “White please.” He filled up my glass.

  “You still playing rugby?” an eager Darren asked.

  “No, not anymore. How about you?” Judging by Darren’s ears, which resembled the cauliflowers on tonight’s menu, I probably had no need to ask the question.

  “Yeah, with Vagas. I’m captain of the fourth team this year. We’ve got a good chance of promotion. Hey, you should come down to training; we could do with a new fly half.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I resorted to my default non-committal response.

  The waiters arrived to serve our meals, which allowed a pause in my interrogation. I took the opportunity to reverse roles and asked my friends what they’d been up to in the intervening years. They didn’t need a second invitation and were certainly not as reserved as me, and I was really happy to listen as I tucked into my beef fillet and calmed my nerves with my second glass of white wine.

  Though I had missed out on so much of their lives it felt natural and comfortable being in their company. This might have been a reunion for me, but evidently not for them, as they all regularly met up and had been doing so since leaving school. I managed to avoid too many more questions as the stage was shared in turn by each of them. As I had deduced, Lou and Dave were married to each other and had been for five years. I hadn’t seen that one coming. Dave was a stay at home dad and his eyes at once heavy with tiredness and light with delight backed up his assertion of how it was exhausting but the best job in the world. Lou was a partner in a major law firm.

  Darren was a PE teacher now, having spent two years coaching rugby in Japan. He had followed his heart home when he fell in love with one of Bobby’s work colleagues and was due to get married next year.

  Pete was a dentist, with Bobby’s dazzling white teeth as evidence of his skills. He was married to a lady called Rachel and they had two children together, aged eight and ten. The youngest had been born with cerebral palsy. Pete, like Dave and Lou, was flushed with pride as he spoke about his children. He also told me about all the events he had completed for cerebral palsy charities. He had run marathons all over the world, even in the desert, he’d swum the English Channel, and his next challenge was to row across the Atlantic. My charity efforts totalled being too scared to cancel some direct debits in case the charities would think bad of me. This was having only signed up to them in the first place because I thought the charities would think bad of me if I didn’t. Darren teased him about all the money the group had been obliged to sponsor him over the years and added that he would have doubled it if Pete had asked him to sponsor him to have his mole removed. I knew he’d had a mole. To much doubting from the table Pete claimed it was on medical advice he’d had it removed, but Bobby was certain it was for cosmetic purposes.

  Ryan was ‘temporarily’ living back at his parents in order to help him ‘get back on his feet’ after a divorce. Turns out the divorce happened six years ago and he’d been with his mum and dad since then. Having his tea cooked every night and his laundry done for him was proving too attractive a proposition for Ryan to make him want to ‘get back on his feet’ and move out. The fact that he lived rent free meant he was able to work part time as a writer and spend all his time, by all accounts, travelling and partying.

  Al ran his own architect’s firm and had offices all over the UK. He was married to Ruth, who was expecting their first child. He had always been one of the best athletes at school, but nevertheless it was a surprise to me to find out that he was an Olympian, representing Britain in the race walking in Beijing. I felt a bit guilty about not knowing this. Apparently all the guys had had a party to watch him compete on TV and had cheered him on to twenty-eighth place, which was an incredible achievement.

  “Even more exhilarating than watching Usain Bolt,” mocked Dave, but his pride in our mate was clear.

  Helen had been quiet all night; she was content to let the others do the talking. I caught her staring at me a couple of times, understandably really as it had been so long since she had seen me. She didn’t appear in tune with the mood of the table; she looked as if something was burdening her. She did explain that she worked in journalism and Lou expressed loudly, ‘Oh don’t bother asking Helen about her love life. It’s always been a drama, ever since she used to go out with you, Toby.’ It was a long, long time ago that Helen and I dated. I judged from Lou’s comment that unlike me, Helen’s relationship with me hadn’t been her last.

  Before I knew it, the waiters were clearing away our desert dishes and topping up our wine glasses. I was having a good time. It felt amazing to be with my friends again. It did feel that someone was missing and I wondered what had happened to him, but I didn’t have to wonder much longer as the compere announced:

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage our host and the founder of the Silverdale Foundation: Kevin Flannagan.”

  Kevin Flannagan was not only the founder of the Silverdale Foundation but also my former best friend.

  “Someone’s doing very well for themselves,” whispered Bobby as he pointed out Kev, who was getting to his feet at a table right at the front of the room by the stage. “He’s one of the partners in a massive Private Equity fund. Got his fingers in a lot of pies. He’s too important to sit with us. He’s almost as elusive as you.”

  Kev made his way to the stage. He had a presence about him. He was looking lean and strong with his tailor-fitted suit demonstrating that he looked after himself. He was about six foot, the same height as me, his hair styled with a side parting which hit the right balance between cool and sophisticated, a look I’d always found impossible to pull off. His skin was unblemished. He was always the best looking lad in our year at school and, in my opinion, the best looking man in this room.

  “Thank you, everybody. It’s good to see so many of you here, and good to see so many familiar faces, and some surprises too.” I’m sure Kev briefly looked at me as he said that.

  He knows what you’ve done. Don’t think the words. Don’t let death come into your mind. You’ve thought it now. You need to cancel it. You need to make this right.

  I started to do my internal chanting and I noticed I was tapping my chest. That was exactly what Jez said I did. I was finding it hard to concentrate on what Kev was saying as his speech was being drowned out by the chanting in my head. I noticed Lou look at me quizzically. She had noticed my tapping. I sat on my hands.

  Kev was talking about his charity and its cause. It was a cancer charity, of course, and he was explaining how his driving force and inspiration was the memory of his mum, who lost her fight against cancer when we were eighteen.

  The cancer you caused. You killed his mum. He knows it and he will tell everyone. Don’t admit it. You’re going to admit it, you’re going to tell everyone. You thought it when Lou was looking at you. She heard you think it, she saw you think it. She knows you did it.

  I glanced over to Lou, and she was concentrating on Kev. She didn’t look like she had just heard appalling news like me killing Kev’s mum. I hadn’t said it out loud. I knew I hadn’t.

  You have, you will. Don’t let it happen.

  I started biting my tongue again, hard, very hard. I had to make certain not to say anything. My foot was tapping dementedly, heat was burning through my skin, my back was already damp and perspiration was tickling my brow. I couldn’t wipe it because I was sat on my hands. I surveyed the table, judging the looks on my friends’ faces to see if they were reacting to anything I might possibly have said out loud.

  Don’t think the words. DON’T.

  As I took in Lou and Dave, he roared the words unavoidably into my head.

  Death. You’ve done it! You’ll have caused it. Their family is going to die. Demons will devour them. You could have stopped it. You have let the Devil in.

  No, that’s not right. You’re lying. I can’
t cause it. It can’t be right. It doesn’t mean anything.

  I bit my tongue harder and tried to flood my mind with the good word. I caught snippets of Kev talking about his mum, how great she was…

  And you’re going to tell the whole room you did it. You’ve brought death to their family. They already know. Dave knows.

  He started painting a picture of Lou and Dave attending a funeral. Three tiny caskets. Dave and Lou on their hands and knees encased in trauma and grief. Heartbroken. Terrible, terrible pain.

  You caused it, you can’t stop it.

  I wanted to run out, but I couldn’t get up in the middle of Kev’s speech. That wouldn’t be right, I’d already caused a scene during the opening speech, I simply couldn’t and wouldn’t do the same to Kev. My foot was still relentlessly tapping; I felt sick. ‘Blessed blessings bless me,’ I was saying in my mind over and over and I was biting harder and harder into my tongue to incapacitate it, so hard my eyes were watering and there was a metallic taste in my mouth. I was willing the speech to be over so I could make my escape to clear my head. I closed my eyes to concentrate harder and stop myself looking at any of my friends while the words were in my head. I couldn’t let any more harm happen.

  Finally, I heard applause starting up. I opened my eyes to see people rising to their feet to give Kev a standing ovation. I took this as my opportunity to slip away.

  13

  I went to the toilets and surreptitiously checked that no-one was in there with me, then I went over to the sinks, laid my hands on the marble and looked at my reflection in the mirror. I was just an ordinary bloke, no different to anyone else. Then I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue. No, I wasn’t a normal bloke. A normal bloke would not be relieved to see a clear imprint of teeth marks on his tongue. A normal guy would not be thankful that there was blood seeping out of the teeth marks. I was though, as it was evidence that I couldn’t have said anything hurtful or incriminating out loud. I dabbed my tongue on my hand. I inspected the hand to see clearly that my tongue was bleeding. Yes! There was no way I could have said anything. You need your tongue to speak, and I had clearly been shackling my tongue. I felt a momentary sense of relief and I felt a resolve. I had been enjoying myself up until Kev’s speech and I wasn’t going to let him spoil it for me. I would go back in there and continue to enjoy myself…right after I’d had a piss.

  Ever since I was a kid I had always struggled with a shy bladder, or stage fright, as I believe the technical term is. So I ignored the empty urinals and went into the cubicle where I had a better chance of going. I stood at the toilet trying to relax. I was just about to go when I heard people walk in. It sounded like it was two or three people, but that was two or three people too many, and although the wine I had drunk was stretching it to breaking point, my bladder was not prepared to give up its contents. I resorted to a technique that allowed me to pee in emergency circumstances such as this. You simply take a deep breath in, exhale three quarters of the way out, then hold your remaining breath for about forty seconds or so, which will have the guaranteed result of you evacuating your bladder. It really works, and it worked this time. You have to be careful with this technique though, because the other effect is that if you hold your breath much longer than forty seconds you will also empty your bowels. I had refined the technique over the years and had never caused the unintended consequence, but after taking back my normal breath I did a trump, only a little one mind, but he didn’t see it that way.

  You’ve just soiled yourself.

  Of course I hadn’t. I knew I hadn’t.

  But what if you have? You’ll be dirty, you will smell. People will be disgusted by you.

  I knew there was no issue and I finished peeing and began putting myself away.

  How can you be sure?

  I wanted to re-join my friends and that was what I was going to do. I unlocked the cubicle door and marched to the sink to wash my hands. The bathroom was empty again. I looked at myself in the mirror.

  Come on, Toby. You’re an ordinary bloke. Go and enjoy yourself.

  How can you be sure? How can you enjoy yourself if you stink? Just check. Just check.

  Okay, okay. I went back into the cubicle pulled down my jeans and boxer shorts, sat down and gave my arse an exploratory wipe. See, it was clear and clean.

  Are you sure? Check again. You need to be sure.

  Reluctantly I did it again. Clear again. I did it again. Clear again. I did it again. Clear again and so on and so on and so on. I did it again…not clear. I don’t mean to be disgusting, but no, this time it wasn’t clear: this time there was blood on the paper. I checked again to make sure it definitely was blood. Yes, the paper clearly was bloodstained. Enough was enough. I pulled my boxers and jeans up, flushed the chain and made my way out with the intention of getting very drunk and having the good time that I was perfectly entitled to have. And I nearly made it back into the function room when he called out:

  Are you sure? You saw marks on the paper.

  Yes, I know. The marks were blood caused by you.

  How do you know it was blood? What if you’re mistaken?

  I was sure…yet I couldn’t be sure.

  You know your technique can make you soil yourself. You did it. You can’t go back in there in that state. You need to make sure you’re clean.

  I knew I was clean, apart from some drops of blood, but I knew I had to be certain. I knew I had to satisfy him or he would remain convinced I had soiled myself. There was only one thing for it…

  Sarah appeared amused to see that I wanted to book a room. I explained to her that I was going to have a few drinks and it would be easier to stay over. She probably thought that I had got lucky with Bobby. I knew I didn’t need to explain myself and Sarah was, thankfully, too professional to ask. But even I could see it was a bit unusual to book a hotel room at nine o’clock when the night hadn’t yet got into full swing. As she checked the computer for available rooms I discreetly sniffed the air around me. I couldn’t smell anything sinister, just as I knew I wouldn’t, but I needed to make sure Sarah couldn’t. She gave me a knowing smile as she handed me my key card. I took the smile to indicate either that she knew I was a deluded idiot who was booking a hotel room because he thought he might get lucky, or a drunken idiot who couldn’t handle his drink by nine, rather than knowing that I had had an accident…which I hadn’t.

  As soon as I got to the room I first made sure all the curtains were closed then I got undressed. I picked up my boxers from the floor and gave them a thorough inspection. They were definitely clean.

  “Clean, clean, clean,” I said out loud, then went into the bathroom. I saw that by the shower gel and shampoo there was a vanity kit with a shower cap. I was tempted to put it on but decided I would just have to be careful. My hair had been looking pretty good so I didn’t want to mess it up. I stepped into the shower armed with the shower gel, and being careful not to get my hair wet, I proceeded to wash the bottom half of my body, concentrating on the backside region. I was careful not to get my top half wet for follicular reasons, but also because I didn’t want to wash my antiperspirant off and have to worry about BO as well. I knew I had to be quick because I had already been AWOL for about thirty minutes and I really did want to get back. I used up the entire shower gel and then substituted it with the shampoo for good measure.

  “Clean, clean, clean.”

  I knew people would be wondering where I was so I managed to get out of the shower on about the third attempt and was able to get dressed with great alacrity for me, only putting my boxers on and off five times, all the while chanting ‘clean, clean, clean.’

  Right, I was ready to go back. I checked myself in the floor length mirror by the door. I might not have been in black tie, but I looked pretty good, and I felt fresh and clean, and I now knew that I must be clean. I opened the hotel room door then paused and went back into the bathroo
m. I retrieved the empty shower gel bottle and put it in my trouser pocket. If he later started trying to make me think I was dirty, the fact that this bottle was empty proved that I had had a shower and was clean.

  Finally, let’s get this party started.

  *

  “Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” I found Bobby at the bar with a genuine look of concern on his face. The function room had been transformed into a disco, which was in its embryonic stage, with the dancefloor not yet occupied.

  “Sorry, just needed some fresh air so went for a walk.” Well, technically I did walk to the hotel room.

  “For an hour? Thought for a moment you had deserted us again and gone back to hermit land. Anyway, let’s make up for lost time.” He turned to the barman. “The usual times ten, please.”

  “You’ve found him, then?” Lou had wandered over along with Dave. “Are you okay, Toby? You, went all white during Kev’s speech.”

  “Yeah, you looked like you’d seen a ghost,” said Dave, “and when you ran off like that, I guessed you weren’t feeling well.”

  With all my worry about following through, the anxiety I had felt during the speech had dissipated, but being face to face with Lou and Dave and them confirming they noticed something wrong with me invited the anxiety back. He nudged me to remind me to do the necessary check.

  “Yeah, I just felt a bit queasy. Must have drunk the first three glasses of wine too quickly. Got some fresh air and feel better now. I…erm…so I didn’t say anything during the speech then?”

  “Don’t say that. Kev will be annoyed at you for trying to steal his limelight,” Dave laughed as he said this.

  “Say anything like what, Toby? You didn’t say anything to me. Why? Did you say something about being ill at the time?” Lou asked.

  “Er, no,” I sheepishly replied.

  “So what did you want to say?” asked Dave.

  “Nothing really, well…that is, I just wanted to say how good it is to see you all, and it’s awesome to see you two so happy together, and with a growing family. Have you heard from them tonight? Are they okay?”