Free The Last Days of Jack Sparks by Jason Arnopp

listen closely.’
    Oh my God. I suddenly remember an app on my phone called Secret, which lets you read anonymous confessions from your contacts. Recently, one of them wrote, ‘I really want to sleep with my flatmate, but we’ve been friends too long.’
    That was Bex! She’s going to tell me she likes me. Then she’ll kiss me. And after the sex, in bed, or maybe still right here on the sofa, she’ll tell me she’s breaking up with Lawrence, that it’s the right thing to do.
    Bex’s eyes are twin glowing lanterns. Her breath dances on my face as the words gush out. ‘Lawrence asked me to move in with him. And I said
yes
.’
    The room starts to revolve in a bad way.
    Matters only improve when, slumped beside our toilet, I check my email. Through bleary eyes, I see that someone has sent The Video whizzing right back to me.

 
    Alistair Sparks: ‘Having felt somewhat stung by our exchange of texts on 28 October, I am sorry to say I never replied to the 3 a.m. email below.’
    Date: 2 November 2014
    From: Jack Sparks
    Subject: Huh?!?!
    To: Alistair Sparks
    While I was buying a book at Rome airport, I saw you on the shop’s TV screen. You were talking to the camera, with the Hollywood Hills in the background. WTF? The sound was off so I couldn’t hear what you were quacking about.
    So what’s the story?
    You’ve always been gagging to follow in my footsteps, haven’t you, eh? Must admit though, mate, I never expected to see you on the box. At a push, you’ve a good face for radio.
    By the way: you know a guy at Scotland Yard, right? Tracks down child abuse videos and stuff? Do a passable impersonation of a brother and hand over his contact details, yeah?
    Jack
     

 
    Alistair Sparks: ‘Isla Duggan is a thirty-two-year-old air stewardess who lives in West Sussex and was born in Kinsale, Ireland. She was among the cabin crew on Flight 106 from Rome to London Gatwick, on which my brother claimed to be a passenger on 31 October 2014. The following is my interview with her . . .’
ALISTAIR SPARKS: Could you confirm which seat you believe Jack Sparks to have occupied that night?
ISLA DUGGAN: Yes, he was in 40A. A window seat.
ALISTAIR: Is there any doubt in your mind that this was Jack Sparks?
ISLA: None at all, now I’ve seen pictures and videos of him in the newspapers and on TV. He spoke the exact same way, you know, his mannerisms and stuff? And of course there’s the fact that he had to show his passport at least twice, or he wouldn’t have got on board. But he did act strangely on the plane, freaking out like that. I don’t know how out of character that was.
ALISTAIR: Was he late for the flight?
ISLA: He delayed us by almost twenty minutes. People weren’t happy, but it happens all the time. I keep saying we should have a zero tolerance policy like the budget airlines. Jack came on all casual, like, as if he hadn’t done anything wrong. I could tell he’d been drinking heavily, and he wanted more before take-off. So I pulled the old stunt of handing him a glass of ice and tonic with a drop of gin rubbed around the rim.
ALISTAIR: So what then went wrong?
ISLA: Well, as we taxied along the runway, I moved up the aisle, doing the usual checks. I saw Mr Sparks looking shocked and disturbed. He was all pale, like he’d just heard some really terrible news he couldn’t take in.
ALISTAIR: Did you talk to him at that point?
ISLA: I asked if he was okay, and he flinched when I lightly touched his shoulder. I can’t remember exactly what he said, but words to the effect of ‘I’m fine’. But he didn’t look it. He went back to reading a book, looking like he . . . I suppose . . . couldn’t believe what he was reading.
ALISTAIR: The book seemed to be the cause of his disturbance?
ISLA: I guess I just assumed it was a Stephen King or something. Anyway, the real trouble started just as we were about to take off. Passengers are at their most tense, so the last thing you need is one of them becoming alarmed