Free Now You See Me by Lesley Glaister Page B

most of them not even mine – out of the plug-hole. I scooped the curry into an ice-cream carton and put it in my satchel, not that I wanted it, but I didn’t want to seem ungrateful.
    When I left the house I looked up and down the road but there was no one and nothing, just an empty street and a pile of rusty hedge-trimmings where the man had been. I felt just about as empty as that street.
    The afternoon was free. And the day stretched ahead of me so far I couldn’t see the end of it. Being free isn’t as great as people make out. It can be the saddest and most tedious thing. I wandered along to the Duke’s Head and through to the beer-garden just for the hell of it. And you will never guess – he was there. Doggo.
    I got a jolt right through me, seeing him sitting there. My feet stuck to the ground. He looked different with his beard grown thicker and different sunglasses. Better ones. I could have darted off before he looked up, I would have done but by the time I could move again, Norma had seen me. Her mouth opened in a doggy smile and she wagged her stumpy tail. Doggo was drinking a pint of Guinness and smoking.
    â€˜Like the shades,’ I said.
    â€˜Fuck me.’ He jumped a mile, spilling a creamy lick of froth down the side of the glass.
    â€˜Nice to see you too,’ I said.
    Norma frisked round my ankles but Gordon just raised his eyebrows and did a long-suffering sigh, like oh God not her again.
    â€˜You alone?’ he said, looking behind me. ‘Meeting anyone?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Drink?’ He got up.
    â€˜I’ll get it.’
    â€˜You got the last one.’
    â€˜K.’ I sat down and watched him go in. Norma twisted her lead right round the table to put her head on my foot. I don’t know what was going on. He could buy me a drink if he wanted. Nothing wrong in that. My heart was like a stupid trumpet.
    There was an old woman at one of the other tables. She’d tipped all the money out of her purse and was counting it in piles of silver and copper. I heard her get to two pounds thirty-three, before Doggo plonked my drink down. ‘Got you some crisps,’ he said. ‘Like crisps, don’t you?’
    â€˜They’re OK.’ I thought, Jesus I’m going to turn into a crisp at this rate. We sat and stared across the table at each other. What now? I thought.
    â€˜Why did you do that thing,’ I said, ‘with the matches?’ But he shrugged that subject off. We sat in an awkward silence till the old woman, who had got to three pounds seventy-six, stopped counting. She came over and petted the dogs.
    â€˜Do you know what I’m reduced to?’ she said. ‘After a lifetime of sturdy service?’
    â€˜Three pounds seventy-six?’ I said.
    â€˜It’s not on,’ she said, ‘it really is not on.’
    â€˜No,’ Doggo said, ‘it is definitely not on.’ He nudged my knee under the table and an electric shock shot right up my leg.
    â€˜I’ll leave you young lovers to it,’ she said. ‘A lifetime of sturdy service, I ask you.’
    I went scarlet. Young lovers! God . When she’d gone I sneaked a look at Doggo but he was staring deeply into his pint. I said I needed to go to the toilet, went in, locked myself into a cubicle and leant against the door. I stayed there until the riot in my chest had calmed down. When I was sure there was no one else in there, I went and looked in the mirror. I blotted my shiny face all over with a bit of bog-roll. I wish I hadn’t picked my spots. That’s why I’ve got the craters like Mum warned me I would. My skin is terrible. I know why. I haven’t eaten a vegetable for weeks unless you count crisps as vegetables.
    I went out again. Norma was sniffing at my satchel. ‘It’s got food in,’ I said. ‘From your mum.’
    â€˜She OK?’
    â€˜Go and see for yourself.’
    He lit a fag and shook