Chapter One

" PEN AND INK"

Andrew Pack

"INDIAN"

one

" What's Queen's worst ever song ? " asks Deane, dropping the Sun onto
the drab brown carpet, Les Ferdinand's face beaming back up at
him.

The other two are busy, Will is spreading brown sauce onto hot bacon
with a knife, rattling the knife around in the neck of the jar like a
child trying to get pennies out of a piggy-bank, Gateau is trying to
watch Football Focus. He squints hard at the screen, glaring at Gary
Linneker as if this will make him speak louder and drown out Deane,
nobody has got round to fetching batteries for the remote control yet,
it's the end of the first week back at University.

" I said, what's Queen's worst ever song ? "

Will comes back in with his bacon sandwich and a can of Apple Tango, a
scaled down medieval banquet, " Who wants to live forever, " he says
before taking a bite from the sandwich.

" Why that one ? "

" It's from Highlander. I can't stand Highlander. One of them films
that everyone who likes it reckons is the best film of all time. I've
seen it, and it's rubbish. It's just really boring. "

Gateau walks over to the television and turns it up by hand, this task
wearies him, nobody should have to do this much on a Saturday morning,
but there was a segment in the trailer about West Ham and he has to see
what that's all going to be about.

He realises that Deane isn't going to leave him alone until he answers,
so he sits down heavily on the sofa, next to the arm with the remote
control, even though the remote isn't working he likes to have it close
by. Sometimes he holds it, finger poised on the "volume up"
button.

" Bohemian Rhapsody, for the same reasons as Will, " he says, " Loads
of people go on about it as if it's brilliant, but it's just fuckin'
awful. I see a little silouetto of a man scaramouche, scaramouche.. And
if it hadn't been for that song, Mercury would never have done that
Barcelona song."

" God yeah, that was bloody awful, " agrees Will, " Can I change mine
to Barcelona ?"

" No, " says Deane, slipping his heel in and out of his shoe, " That
wasn't Queen that was just Freddie Mercury and Montserrat Cab-ay-yea. I
don't know why but I always thought he'd done that to help Barcelona
get the Olympics that year Manchester was trying to get them. I said to
me dad, why don't the government stop him, he's a traitor. "

" So what's yours then Deane ? " asks Will.

" Bohemian Rhapsody is pretty bad, " says Deane, chewing it over, " But
it does have that headbanging bit in Waynes World which is quite funny.
My choice is Radio Ga-Ga, because it A) isn't even about anything and
B) reminds me of Liverpool, when they used to have Sammy Lee and Ronnie
Whelan and when I used to hate them the most. I don't know why, I must
have seen a Match of The Day where they showed a montage of great
Liverpool goals with Radio Ga-Ga as background. "

" The only decent song they ever did was Flash, " says Will, finishing
his sandwich and they are all in agreement on this until the phone
rings.

" Your turn, " says Deane, but it is not clear who he's
addressing.

" How can it be anyone's turn ? " says Will sharply, " We've only been
back a week, this is the first phone call."

" Yeah, " says Deane, " but I answered the last phone call at the end
of last year. "

" Last year, " says Will, " Was last year. We start from scratch.
"

" Fair enough, " says Deane, " I agree totally. We're just not starting
with me. "

" Well you're the only one standing up, " says Gateau, " You're
nearest. "

" Not any more, " says Deane, vaulting over the back of the sofa and
sitting down.

" Right, " says Gateau, getting to his feet, " I'll answer the phone.
If I miss West Ham, you and me are going to step outside Deane. "

Deane pretends to be frightened in a very exaggerated way, but they all
know that it would be no contest if it came down to it between Deane
and Gateau, who goes to the gym three times a week and plays a fair bit
of football, when he can be bothered.

" Matty ! " says Gateau answering the phone, " Where've you been mate ?
Your course started a week ago you know. What ? No we haven't had a
postcard from India. "

" India, " says Deane, " Fucker. How can he afford India ? "

" Because he didn't blow his student loan on a smoke machine and some
new speakers last year, " answers Will tartly.

This doesn't go down too well with Deane, who scowls and picks up the
Sun TV guide to see what's on. Deane had spent a fearful amount of
money last year on a Smoke Machine, which he believed he could recoup
his money on, by offering his services at parties for fifteen quid a
time, to add atmosphere. It had worked reasonably well for a couple of
weeks and he and Matty had been to an awful lot of student parties,
which had its own fringe benefits, but the novelty had soon died down,
and he never did ever manage to get the full payment, usually just a
fiver and whatever beer was left over by the end of the night.

As a money making scheme, the smoke machine was very good at filling a
room with thick fog that smelt slightly like cherries.

A red-headed man appears on the television wearing a claret and blue
shirt with the words Dagenham Motors emblazoned across it.

" That's Hartson, " shouts Gateau loudly, covering the mouthpiece with
one hand, " Record it Will. "

Will scoots over to the video recorder and presses the record button,
checking first that the green channel indicator says one. He has no
idea what tape is in there and seconds later starts fretting that it is
the tape they were watching the previous night, namely his copy of
Ferris Bueller's Day Off, which is the sort of thing you never want to
get taped over.

" How in Christ's name can he afford to go to India ? " says Deane, but
nobody is listening to him.

" Yeah, " says Gateau, returning to the phone conversation, " I'll get
Deane to come and pick you up. Don't worry about it, he'll be there in
about half an hour. "

Deane looks round, to see what it is he's being volunteered for. Gateau
puts the phone down and walks back over to the sofa. He sits down and
begins watching Football Focus.

" Well ? " asks Deane.

" Matty's just got back from India, he's at Heathrow and he's got no
English money. He needs picking up. I told him you'd go and meet him.
"

" Why me ? "

" Well, if you'd answered the phone, you could have volunteered me, but
you couldn't be arsed. That's the price you pay. Now shut up, I want to
watch this. "

Deane leaves the room muttering and comes back a few seconds later,
putting his coat on, it's a dark gray dogtooth check. His hair is
short, gelled forward, bleached white-blonde, it's the colour of
melting vanilla ice-cream.

" Couldn't lend us a tenner could you ? "

Gateau doesn't even look up. Will digs in the pocket of his jeans and
pulls out a five pound note and a handful of pound coins.

" I'll give it you back, once Matty settles up for my tube fare. There
was some mail for him wasn't there ? I'll take that, his grant cheque's
probably in there, then he can pay it in. "

" Banks won't be open by the time you get there, not on a Saturday, "
Will tells him, but he hands over the money anyway.

" I want to know how he can afford to go to bloody India, " says Deane
as he finally leaves.

The John Hartson interview is only on for two minutes and at the end of
it Gateau rewinds the tape and watches it again. After the recording of
the interview Will is pleased to see that the tape turns into an old
episode of Eastenders rather than Ferris Bueller.

* * * *

At the airport Deane is rather pissed off to find Matty tucking into
onion rings and what appears to be a double Whopper and Coke at the
Burger King.

" Thought you said you were skint ? "

" I found a tenner in my pocket, I rang, but Will said you'd already
set off. Here, have some onion rings, I can't eat them all. "

Deane can't stay pissed off at Matty for long, it's been odd not having
him in the house, if only for the few days they've been back. The two
of them are both on the Law course and are closer than the others.
Deane secretly likes to think of them as Jonah and Zammo. Matty's hair
is now getting quite long, it's past his shoulders and he is tanned. He
is wearing a blue denim jacket, tight white V-neck T-shirt and faded
blue jeans, with brown walking boots, thick gray socks rolled down over
the tops of the boots.

" You're looking good mate. Now, where'd you get the money for India ?
It must've cost a fortune. Was it a good holiday ?"

" Top banana mate, top banana. I'll tell you all about it when we get
back. The best thing of the lot was, it was absolutely bloody free.
"

Deane looks at him distrustfully and Matty just looks him straight back
in the eye, " Free. I'll tell you later. "

Deane wolfs down a handful of hot onion rings. He picks up Matty's
livid purple and green rucksack and lugs it onto his back, clinging
onto the strap for dear life as the weight nearly topples him sideways.
He manages to right himself.

" Did you save enough money for your tube-fare ? "

" Yeah, I think I've got enough. "

" Sound, " says Deane, " Don't say anything to Will. We can get stuck
into some beer before we go back. It's on Will, he owes us
anyway."

" He's still not doing his share of the housework then ? "

" Is he bollocks, " says Deane, as they weave through the crowds
outside the tube-station, " He just thinks someone magic comes and
washes all his plates, like the Tooth Fairy or something. "

" The Liquid Fairy ? " suggests Matty.

As they wait for the tube while the wind roars through the tunnel, a
thought kicks round in Deane's head, as he leans against Matty's
rucksack, " Do you know anyone with a glass eye ? "

Matty is fairly used to this sort of nonsense from Deane, so he takes
this in his stride, " Why, do you need to borrow one ? I don't know
anyone with a glass eye. Used to be a lad in our class with an
artificial arm, he used to let people take it off and touch the stump
for a quid. "

" That's revolting, " says Deane, but can't resist adding, " Did you
ever give him a quid ? "

Matty shakes his head, " Nah, it gave me the bloody shivers. "

" I've just been thinking about glass eyes all morning. I can't work
out if they're round or not. I've got this idea that they are, but
people's eyes aren't round, are they ? They've got sort of pointy bits
at either end. "

Matty chews this one over, " I think the eyeball is round, or it
wouldn't be an eyeball. So I suppose they just shove the glass eyeball
in and it sort of looks like a normal eye shape. I dunno. "

Deane isn't happy with this, but he accepts it. It's so good to have
Matty back, he's the only person Deane knows who will join in these
insane conversations, everyone else just ignores him and hopes that
he'll go away.

It isn't until they've got onto the tube and Deane has annoyed everyone
in the carriage by swivelling his hips and catching everyone with the
sharp corners of the rucksack that he remembers.

" Hey Matty, " he says, " What's the worst Queen song of all time ?
"

* * * *

" Two pints of Pride please Jim, " says Deane, laying Will's five pound
note on the bar, where spilt lager soaks the corners of the note. He
shrugs his shoulder, where he can already feel a wheal coming up from
carrying that rucksack.

" Glad to be shot of that bloody rucksack, " Deane says, " My bloody
shoulder's killing. "

" You should try lugging it round Delhi mate. "

The pints arrive, dark brown and creamy. The first two inches vanish in
a gulp from both men.

" Any luck with the women yet ? " asks Matty.

" Couple of first years, nothing serious. "

Deane seems to have a remarkable knack of getting women to sleep with
him. Nobody in the house has ever really been able to ascertain why, it
just happens. He goes out for a pint, a girl asks him for a light or a
cigarette, the next morning he's giving her Special K. He always keeps
a box of Special K in the house, although he can't bear to eat
breakfast himself, he's always found that girls like a bowl of Special
K in the morning.

If it's quality totty he gives them grapefruit. He makes a habit of
buying a carton of Fresh Orange on a Friday afternoon, so that there's
a supply in the fridge for breakfast at the most likely times.

" What about you ? " asks Deane, of Matty, who spent the whole of the
last year being a hopeless romantic and consequently never got a shag
all year.

" Oh, you know, " says Matty, which is the sexual equivalent of saying
"he's not worth the effort" when someone asks you why you didn't hit
that bloke that was glaring at you.

" Still after Rachel QFA then ? "

Matty seeks refuge in his pint instead of answering. Deane realises
that he is losing in the unspoken race that they always have to the
bottom of the glass and necks some more beer quickly.

Deane only ever has this race with Matty, since they drink at roughly
the same speed. Deane hates losing at anything, so he never tries to
beat Will or Gateau, both of whom could beat him easily. Gateau in
particular can drink by sort of dislocating his throat and just
funnelling the beer straight down.

" Have the Cartoon Twins been round yet ? " asks Matty.

" No, not yet, " says Deane, " I reckon Barbara's a bit shy since the
whole Gateau incident. "

Matty laughs, " That was well funny, I thought he was gonna kill us.
"

" I think he would've if he'd been able to get his jeans back on, "
says Deane, also laughing.
" Yeah, it can be a bit tricky in that sort of situation. "

" Oh, like you'd know, " laughs Deane.

Matty shrugs and finishes his pint, " Well, I've got a bloody good
memory you know. "

He walks over to the Jukebox, sticks his last pound coin in and makes
his selections, flicking the buttons to move the Cds along, scanning
down the racks to see if there are any new ones. He basically knows the
numbers of the songs he wants to put on by heart anyway, but it's worth
checking if there are any new albums. There are a couple, but nothing
he wants to put on.

There's already a song playing, All Apologies by Nirvana. He can spot
the guy who selected that easily, the one in the jumper that's all
stretched out of shape, smoking cigarettes with his face close up over
the ashtray, pinching the roll-up hard between his skinny fingers; his
wasted-looking girlfriend with twisted hair the colour of treacle
beside him, waiting for her drag . Matty seems to think that Deane
shagged her in October of last year, but it's hard to keep track.

" How's the sound system then ? " he asks Deane on his return to the
bar, Deane is now making a show of not hurrying what's left of his
pint, as he's already lost the beer race. The approach now is to show
that beer is something to be savoured, drink for flavour not for
speed.

" Well smart, " says Deane, " I've got loads of new gear now. I bought
some spanking white labels last week. This is my year mate, I tell you.
"

" So I bet you've blown your Student Loan already. I haven't even sent
off for the forms yet and you've probably spent all yours. "

Deane looks away, embarrassed that Matty is right, he really wishes
that he could be a bit more sensible about money, " Nah, only most of
it. Still, I'll make it all back DJ-ing, no problem. I'll be holidaying
in Ibiza next year, packing em in. "

" I've got some mates run a club, " says Matty casually, " The
Magnificent. I'll have a word, we might be able to get you a spot.
"

" Sound, " says Deane, holding up his empty glass, " Fancy another ?
"

" Nah, " says Matty, " I've got a lot to do this afternoon. "

" Fair play, " says Deane, " I thought we might pop round to Dermot's
this week, pick up a teenth. "

Matty shakes his head, smiling, " Don't need to do business with that
twat anymore, " he says, " I've got new connections now. Price we were
paying before, we can get an eighth, smoke a teenth ourselves and punt
the other teenth for the price we paid for the whole eighth. We'll be
smoking for free, and maybe make a bit on the side. "

" Dealing ? " says Deane, but quietly.

" There's a lot of money to be made Deane, and you hardly have to do
anything for it. You and me mate, this year we'll clean up. Once I hit
Rachel QFA with those tickets to Paris, she'll realise what she's been
missing. "

Deane hands the glasses back to Jim, they exchange goodbyes. Matty and
Deane blink their way back into the light, just as Freddie Mercury
begins to sing, "All we hear is.. Radio Ga-Ga, Radio Goo-Goo"

" It's all about timing mate, " Matty tells him.

" I've just got to pop into the chemists, " Matty says, " Wait here
will you, mind the bag. "

* * * *

Sarah's dad had given her the money, for her birthday and a bit more on
top, telling her that it was the sort of thing you ought to learn when
you're young, it gets harder as you get older. This is her fourth
lesson and she's still hating every second of it. Gavin tuts and raises
his eyebrows to heaven every time she crunches the gears and when she
stalls he turns his head, looks behind them as if apologising to the
other drivers. This isn't helping.

" Just try to stay calm, " he says, " Give it a little gas and start up
again. "

They make a little progress, Gavin gets his yellow bag of Opal Fruits
from the dashboard, reaches past the discarded wrappers, searching for
a green one.

It is not actually her fault, she doesn't see him and the whole point
of proper driving lessons is dual controls anyway, isn't it ? Gavin
isn't looking, preoccupied with Opal Fruits. The youth goes straight
across the window even as she hits the brakes, she hasn't done
Emergency Stops yet, this is only her fourth lesson for Christ's sake.
She bangs her face on the wheel as they stop, Gavin is shouting
something and unfastening his seatbelt, he takes hold of the handbrake
and angrily jerks it, grabbing the keys from the ignition and getting
out of the car.

There's blood on the pavement, the young man obviously cracked his head
as he fell. Gavin's been in the Air Force, he's seen a few accidents in
his time, done a bit of First Aid. He kneels by the body, but it
doesn't take him long to realise that all the First Aid courses he's
ever been on aren't going to help this boy in the walking boots.

* * * *

Will is buttering some bread, he only uses butter, he's one for the
luxuries of life is Will. He puts two slices on a saucer and unwraps
the tight bundle of shiny white paper, hot and grease-stained, exposing
his chips and golden battered sausage. He sprinkles salt all over the
chips, then begins moving them onto the plate, adding more salt as he
goes. Will sprinkles salt the way people scatter ashes. The floor of
the kitchen always crunches when people walk on it.

Deane bursts in, wild-eyed. " Will, Will ! "

" Alright Deane, " says Will, " Where's Matty ? "

" He's been hit by a fucking car, I reckon he's dead. "

Will has been to "Fish and Shish" for his dinner and also into town to
buy some pirate and underwater Lego. He is not prepared for this in the
slightest. He had been looking at the boxes, picking names for the Lego
pirates and beginning to assign them characters - the leader, the
schemer, the coward, the greedy one. He had a pretty good idea of the
opening scene after he'd built the boats and put the gold coins in the
treasure chests.

He can't react at all, it's as if his system has crashed. He can't
understand the context of the message, how can Matty have been knocked
down ?

" I reckon he's dead, " Deane says again, looking round the room though
he's not sure for what, " There's a bloke with him, he's rung for an
ambulance, but I need to ring his mum, I've got to let his mum know.
"

Will thinks, you expect people to shout when there's a crisis, that's
what happens in Eastenders, but instead both of them are speaking
quietly, trying to be calm. His mouth is dry and he can't think, " Have
you got Matty's home number ? "

" No, I can't think where I've put it. It'll be on the phone bill from
last term, won't it ? Where's that ? "

" Christ, " says Will, " I saw it the other day. Where was it ? "

They come out of the kitchen and begin rooting through drawers in the
living room, glad of the activity. At first they find nothing but band
flyers and green cardboard takeaway menus, twelve or more all from the
same Chinese Restaurant, the Jade Tiger, blue biro rings around the
most popular item numbers; but then they find the phone bill, folded in
three and heavily marked in four coloured highlighters, livid pastel
lines streaking across the page; Deane's sickly yellow lines
outnumbering the others very substantially.

" That's it, " says Deane, " I'd best get back there. "

Will is unsure what is expected of him. He hesitates for a moment and
feels guilty for doing so.

" Hang on, " he says, " I'll come with you. "

When Gateau comes out of the loo a minute or so later, the house is
deserted and quiet. He wanders around for a while looking for Will, but
stops looking when he finds the still-warm chips.

Might as well, he thinks to himself, and tucks in. He eats in the
kitchen, standing up and spearing chips with a fork. He even tears at
the sausage with the fork, pulling it into smaller chunks. He's very
good with a knife is Gateau, but he rarely uses one at home. There's a
bottle of Bud Ice in the fridge and he levers the bottlecap off using
the corner of the kitchen cupboard.

* * * *

The girl is in pieces at the hospital, head down, not looking at
anything and crying wetly into her knees. She's quite pretty, Deane
observes from force of habit, a dark bob and nice mouth, plum nail
varnish neatly applied. He's sitting next to Will, opposite her. The
man she was with, the man that rang for the ambulance, he's in with the
police now, telling them all about what happened. Deane guesses that
they'll want to talk to him in a minute, he was a witness, he guesses
they'll want to know what he saw.

It's very difficult to know what to say, he's always had a quick mouth,
but he doesn't do serious very well, his mind just keeps throwing up
jokes as a reflex mechanism. He is hanging onto the blue and white
Boots plastic carrier that Matty was clutching when he was hit. When
Deane went to the loo a few minutes earlier he took a look inside the
bag to see what was in it, but still can't quite understand why Matty
had bought what he did.

Will squeezes his shoulder, " I'm sure they're doing their best for
him. "

It's helping having Will there, it would have been difficult on his
own. If he was on his own, he wouldn't have to be keeping up his act
and he'd just be a wreck. Having Will there as a witness is forcing him
to keep pretending.

" See if she wants a coffee or anything, " he says to Will, gesturing
with a thumb to the girl.

Will goes over to Sarah, speaks to her softly, she shakes her head
hardly looking up at all. She's sniffing quite a lot now and her cheeks
are damp with tears. Her throat feels thick and she daren't trust
herself to speak. She hasn't looked at Deane once since she came
in.

Everything just keeps happening around them, people go past, doctors
with clipboards, nurses with trolleys laden with silver kidney dishes,
orderlies pushing wheelchairs, bemused visitors asking them all if they
know the way to the Renal Ward.

Deane feels that time should have slowed down, but everything else just
keeps happening, it's just that there's no news. Matty's mum is on her
way, Deane hopes she's not driving herself, that she's found a friend
to bring her.

Will is trying to be strong for Deane, but he keeps finding memories of
Matty pop up and is already wanting to talk about him in the past
tense, to tell stories about him, "Matty and the bathful of baby
terrapins", "Matty and the World's Hottest Curry", "Matty and the
fictitious Disco".

Matty already feels less than real to Will, he can't hold onto the idea
of Matty in person. It feels like he's already in the pub after the
funeral. Everything he's ever heard about accidents implies that shock
takes over and all you can do is question whether something is real,
but he is extremely aware that Matty's chances aren't good, from what
the doctors are telling them, and more importantly, what the doctors
aren't saying.

Will looks over at Deane, who is sitting with Matty's denim jacket over
his lap, watches Deane take out Matty's small red passport from the
inside pocket and quietly put it away a few seconds later.

When the doctor finally comes and invites them into a small room,
drawing the dark green curtain behind them, it is almost a relief to
Will and Deane to finally hear what they've known for the last
hour.

The doctor tells them that Matthew died almost immediately, that he hit
his head on the pavement with some considerable force, that he wouldn't
have suffered, that there was very little anyone could have done. Deane
holds tightly onto the Boots bag during all of this.

Will is surprised that he cries before Deane, Deane doesn't cry until
they are out in the car park, away from the clinical air of the
hospital, snatching a fag out of the silver and blue packet with
trembling fingers, waiting for Matty's mum to turn up.

The police talk to Deane briefly, he tells them that he doesn't think
the car was going too fast, that Matty wasn't really looking at the
road, that it was just bad luck. There's nobody really to blame and
somehow that makes it worse. He thinks that the girl will already feel
bad enough, imagine having something like that happen to you in a
driving lesson. He wonders if she still had to pay for the lesson and
it makes him giggle, before the sobs hit him.

* * * *

Gateau, back at the house is unaware of anything being wrong. He
assumes that everyone has gone into town drinking. This is the sort of
thing that Deane would do, just piss off for a night out without
bothering to ask Gateau, he'll be full of himself now that his mate is
back.

Gateau makes the most of the time on his own by playing "Ill
Communication" by the Beastie Boys really loud and dancing round in his
socks, jumping onto the sofa and bouncing off the cushions.

He sings along with the words, air-guitaring furiously, " I can't stand
it, I know you planned it, gonna set it straight, this Watergate, I
can't see nothing while you're in here, cos your crystal ball ain't so
crystal clear. While you sit back and wonder why, you've got this
fucking thorn in your side "

As always, there comes a point when he mistimes his jump onto the sofa
and falls off, almost hitting his head on the coffee table. He steadies
himself and almost begins bouncing again, it is always hard to take a
near miss as a warning to curtail your behaviour rather thinking it
shows that you are indestructible. He thinks twice and puts his shoes
back on.

Match of the Day will be on in a few hours, he decides to ring for an
Indian. Normally he wouldn't do this on his own, because he'd have to
pay the Delivery Charge because the order value wouldn't be high
enough, but he turns down the music and rings for a Chicken Jalfrezi,
Pilau Rice, and two Naan breads.

Shame nobody will deliver beer, he thinks, someone could make a packet
out of that, like the old Corona pop vans that used to come round his
street selling dimpled bottles of Cherryade, fat cartoon bubblemen on
the label. He remembers the noise that the van used to make, like a
milk-float with the bottles rattling against each other to call the
kids out.

* * * *

The funeral is, as is usual, a very sombre affair. It's a quiet church
in Sevenoaks, the leaves are golden and curling on the trees and the
day is quite warm, early September, it's been something of an Indian
summer. There's a faint breeze which whips softly at Will's hair, he
being the only one of the three with floppy hair. He brushes it out of
his eyes and listens quietly to the service.

They all seem far too young to be attending the funeral of someone they
have chosen to know. An onlooker would guess at a grandmother or an
uncle who smoked too much, not someone they lived with and joked with.
Perhaps it would be easier to cope with if Matty had been diagnosed
with some serious illness, if there had been something locked in his
DNA singling himself out for this day in a churchyard; but the car
could have been for any of them, it shows them how close death can be,
every day. It has hit them all quite hard, the sheer randomness of
it.

Gateau is James today, not even Jamie, it is too serious a day for any
level of frivolity. They all shake hands with Matthew's uncle and
exchange a few quiet words with his mother, who is holding herself
together well, but her face is pale from weeping earlier in the
day.

The three have all hired suits, ironed crisp white shirts, knife edge
creases in the trousers, shiny black shoes and black ties. The only
other time they have hired suits was in preparation for the May Ball.
The contrast between the two occasions seems very strong, the May
evening of marching into pubs, ordering a round of Cognac just for
devillment, wearing stiff white shirts and cummerbunds resplendent in
reds and greens all seems very far away.

Deane is the most subdued of all three, the last four days seem to have
robbed him of something. Will and even Jamie hope that he will spring
back to his old self, start asking them bizarre questions. He hasn't
even played any music since... well for the last four days.

This is very unusual for Deane, who normally puts an album on as he's
about to leave the house, he likes to listen to music as he walks down
the stairs, as he opens the door, as he locks it from the outside. Even
if they are all going out, he starts an album playing just before they
leave, as if the house will somehow absorb it.

There is something about him that makes him look faintly incongruous in
a suit, the bleached blonde hair really standing out against the black.
He has not used any gell in his hair today as a mark of respect.

It has been strange, the mourning. None of them are used to it anyway
and it has been an odd time for mourning. September began with a
tragedy, one that had the whole nation mourning together for a Princess
and ten days of national mourning seems to have wrung the last drops of
compassion out of anyone who is not personally involved with a death.
It was an effort for Will and James to get the time off from their
courses to attend the funeral. Deane's tutor had been a bit more
understanding, he was still uncomfortable looking at the empty space
next to Deane in the lecture rooms.

A month ago they all would have said, if asked, that what they'd want
for themselves is a wake. Who wants everyone moping round when you're
dead? I'd want everyone to have a good time and remember the good
things about me, to celebrate the way I'd lived my life.

Now that they are here though, they understand a little more about
themselves. None of them had really appreciated the finality of death
until this point. Deane doesn't even taste the cheese sandwiches that
he eats at Matthew's home afterwards, cut into neat white triangles,
heavy with margarine, surrounded by Marks and Spencer's polite sausage
rolls and vol-au-vents.

* * * *

" What's A Clockwork Orange about ? " asks Will as Neighbours
finishes.

Deane looks up from a book about Constitutional Law, glad of the
distraction, " Why ?"

" I'm supposed to be doing an illustration for a cover for it, it's the
latest project. I had a list of about 13 book titles to pick from and I
picked that one."

" Why'd you pick it if you haven't read it ? "

Will uncoils his long rangy legs from underneath himself and stands up,
he moves a little like the Giger's alien uncoiling itself from the
ceiling, that sort of serpentine fluid motion, " I just thought it had
a kooky name, might be interesting. "

" I've got a copy upstairs, if you want to read it, " says Deane, "But
you'd be better off picking a book that you've read, it'll save a lot
of time. "

Will grins, " I hadn't read any of them. I don't read books. "

Deane almost falls off the sofa in shock, he can't believe this, it
reminds him of the girl he'd shagged who had never heard of Luke
Skywalker. He's never seen Will with a book, but he didn't really make
anything of that.

" What ? "

" I don't read books. I read comics, and books with pictures in - Dr
Seuss and stuff like that. "

" You must have read some books, surely ? "

" I suppose I must have read some at school, but the only one I can
remember is Kes. "

" Only one ? "

" Well, that and bits of the Bible. "

Deane is still speechless, he has to switch off the television, Gateau
having finally got round to fitting new batteries in the remote. As
usual Gateau isn't around, even though it's a Sunday he's studying at
the library. Medical Students always work the longest hours, Will is
usually back in the house just after lunchtime, but all he has to do is
draw things, while Gateau is probably busy slicing up lungs and sewing
things back on, learning how to put tubes in people.

" And Kes wasn't on the list, " says Will, getting up to make another
mug of coffee, " So what's the book about then ? "

" It's about the nature of good and evil, and whether or not it's
better to choose to be evil than to have no choice and be good. It's a
great book, perhaps a little more advanced than Kes, similar to the
Bible I suppose, they're both about good and evil..."

Will sticks his head out of the kitchen, " Bollocks ! I thought it was
going to be like A Nightmare before Christmas - all sorts of little
weird clockwork creatures running about. Bollocks !"

Deane is busy thinking about Matthew's bank statement that he opened
without really thinking on the way back from the hospital. The balance
was one of those big numbers, ?2,000 that you have to look at twice.
Deane had had to look at it three or four times, sure that it was
saying how much Matthew was overdrawn. It wasn't. The other envelope
he'd had with him had been the grant cheque, so the balance was all the
more surprising. He put the statement in an Airwalk shoe box under his
bed, together with Matty's passport and the Boots bag.

" I'm just making some tea, " Will calls through, " Where's that little
saucepan ? "

This is typical of Will. He is the only person who ever uses the little
saucepan, for making custard and gravy and peas, yet he never knows
where it is. This is because he never puts it away, because he never
washes up.

Will has been from day one of living in the house, the sort of person
who uses all of the crockery in the house to make a meal and then
washes none of it.

This used to exasperate Deane and Gateau, but they have found that
heavy sarcasm and direct criticism just bounces off Will and have
resigned themselves to it. The unspoken arrangement quickly became that
Will would always get the first round in if they go out anywhere. This
invariably used to mean that he would get stung for the fifth round,
which would usually be the final one of the evening. Just another
little thing that was all going to change.

Deane slips a pink tube ticket into his textbook to mark the place and
sets it down on the coffee table, something of a misnomer because at
any one time there were usually between six and eighteen semi-crushed
cans of Red Stripe lager on the table, together with the case for
whatever CD they'd been listening to.

It feels very odd this Sunday. Usually Sunday evenings in the house are
when Matty brings the board games down from his bedroom and they play
Kerplunk or Risk, listening to the charts while Deane slags off the
records that have undeservedly risen in the charts. It's odd that every
time they've played "Operation" Will has wiped the floor with all of
them, including Gateau, who complains that it isn't like real surgery
because the incisions are already made.

Generally the games end with Deane and Gateau locked in fierce rivallry
and Matty and Will just playing with deliberately reckless moves,
laughing at the two ultra-competitive lads.

The doorbell rings and Deane answers it. The two men at the door are
both wearing Ralph Lauren shirts, a little horseman on the left breast,
pastel shades, pale orange and pale blue, not tucked in, so that the
bottom of the shirt ends halfway down the thigh. They are also wearing
stone coloured jeans and skate trainers, biscuit coloured Vans with a
dash of chocolate and black. One of the men has a completely bald head,
although he is not particularly old, about twenty-eight, thirty. The
other has cropped blonde hair, very textured and ice-blue eyes.

" Matthew in ? " says the one with the bald head.

" You'd better come in, " says Deane, " Have a seat. Will ? Can you
bring the Digestives out please. "

Will comes out of the kitchen with a packet of biscuits, " It's Rich
Tea this week. "

He sees the visitors settling into the armchairs and proffers the
biscuits. The man with the blonde hair takes one, the bald man shakes
his head.

" I'll just turn down my peas, " says Will, going back into the
kitchen.

" So, " says the bald guy, " Is Matthew in then, or what ? "

He has a London accent, probably from Catford or somewhere similar. He
looks muscular underneath that shirt, but not weight-lifting muscular,
more like someone who's been in the Navy or worked on a building
site.

Will emerges from the kitchen, but remains standing up. From his
position he can see the backs of the two visitor's heads and all of
Deane.

" I'm sorry, " says Deane, " But I don't know your names. "

The bald guy scowls, and the blonde man answers, " I'm Vin, this is
Chris. I'm sorry, but it was really Matthew we were wanting to see. If
he's not in, we can come back another time. "

He speaks in a quiet, measured way; his voice has the sound of money
about it. He seems very confident to Deane, very self-assurred. It's
clear to Deane that this man has got power, Deane's just not sure yet
where from.

" Well Vince... "

" Vin. Not Vince, Vin. "

" Oh. Sorry. Well, I've got some rather bad news for you. Matty...
Matty's not here anymore, he died. He..ah, died just after he got back
from his holiday. He'd just been to India. "

" Yes, I know, " says Vin, he is still calm and measured.

" He was, knocked down. By a car. He died pretty much straight away. He
didn't, well suffer at all. "

" This is a bit of a shock, " says Vin, but his tone doesn't display
any change, " We'd like to pay our respects. Visit his grave. Can you
tell us whereabouts the grave is ? "

" I'm sorry, " Deane says, and he too now is speaking in a precise
manner, impressed with the way that Vin handles himself, " Matthew was
cremated. I think his family are rather distressed at the moment, but
I'll pass your best wishes on once they feel a little better. "

He is very conscious of Will gaping at him and just hopes that Will has
the sense not to contradict him. He can feel the blood drumming through
his ears.

The men stand up, Vin sets down his biscuit, still all in one piece.
Vin shakes Deane's hand and as he does so, Deane catches sight of a
small tattoo on the inside of Vin's right wrist, a small five-pointed
star outlined in blue ink.

Chris speaks, " There wasn't any package ? Nothing he left for us ?
"

Deane pauses for a moment in thought, " No, I don't think so. He never
even came into the house, the accident happened on the way back from
the airport."

" Thank you, " Vin says in a smooth voice, handing over a card, " If
anything does crop up, please give me a call on this number. "

They leave and Deane looks at the card in his hand. It's quality stuff,
thick ivory-coloured card, glossy with just a number on it, nothing
else.

" That's Spot U-V Varnish on that number, " says Will, looking at it,
with quiet respect for the design, " That's classy. Wouldn't normally
expect that on a business card. Classy..."

" Like Shirley Bassey, " replies Deane, giving the usual answer almost
by reflex.

Deane puts the card on the bookshelf, near the extensive collection of
Agatha Christie novels. Gateau has read nearly all of them now, he
being a big fan of detective novels. Deane hasn't bothered, he read
them all when he was eleven and he has almost a photographic memory for
fiction, he remembers the plot of every book he's ever read.

" What was all that about ? " asks Will.

" Will, " says Deane, " I think I know how Matty had a free holiday in
India, and I think I also know how me you and Gateau can knock a big
hole in our overdrafts."

* * * *

This is the first chapter, the rest can be emailed if you contact
apack@lincolnshire.gov.uk.