Under a Watchful Eye(26)

‘Did you not hear what I said? You have to go.’

‘Sorry, go where?’

Seb raised his hands into the air. ‘How do I know? That’s not my concern. Anywhere that’s not here. Wherever you crawled out of.’

‘No,’ Ewan said, with a shake of his head. ‘Can’t go back there.’

‘Home. Your mother, if she is still alive.’

‘She is, but no. She’s done her bit.’

History was determined to repeat itself on a foetid loop of greasy hair. With a tremendous concentration of will, Seb kept his voice steady. ‘I don’t want you here. Find a room somewhere.’

As if carefully considering the advice, Ewan took another casual swig of his cider. ‘Not really my scene any more.’ He started to laugh. ‘And I don’t have enough money. Those rooms are also terrible places. I’ve lived in a few. I prefer it here.’

Seb could barely hold enough air inside his chest to speak. ‘Does any of what you’re saying strike you as absurd?’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘You just show up here. At my home. It’s been twelve years since you pitched up in London, and you were hardly welcome there either. We weren’t even close when you dropped out of college. In fact, we hated each other. But you . . . you come here, and get inside and just . . .’

‘What, sorry?’

‘Refuse to leave when I ask you to. Is this some kind of revenge?’

Ewan shrugged.

‘This is my home. I decide what happens here. Do you understand that?’

‘I think you’re missing the point –’

‘No! You are missing the point. This is a private residence, not a drinkers’ hostel. You have no rights here. You even took my keys. My keys! I could have you arrested with one phone call.’

Ewan looked at the can in his hand. A glum, morose expression took over his face.

‘Can you not see that I am a very private person?’ Seb persisted.

‘So am I. But this is big enough for two people. Ample.’

‘What you think is irrelevant. You’re just not listening to what I’m saying, are you?’

‘I am.’

‘Then get the fuck out!’ Seb pointed at the door. ‘I don’t want you here. I don’t want you anywhere near me, ever.’

‘No.’

‘What?’

‘You’re confused. You’ve just missed the point.’

Seb thought on who he should call first, the police or Social Services.

‘Somewhere along the line, you got it all wrong,’ Ewan said.

Seb’s face was in his hands again. This time he clawed at his scalp. He couldn’t bear to look at Ewan. He spoke into the floor instead. ‘I’ll find you somewhere to go. I’ll pay. We’ll meet on neutral ground. You can show me whatever you want to show me and then you can piss off. How’s that?’

There was a long silence. ‘It’s a nice offer. But I’m not so sure it’s the right thing to do. You see, I don’t want to live on my own any more. It’s too hard to keep everything going. It’s better I stay here. And we’ve so much to discuss. I need to set you right, and you owe me.’

Seb stood up and wrenched open the blinds, nearly breaking them. He threw the balcony doors wide. Ewan blinked in the sharp, lemony light.

Seb clutched at the chip paper and seized the top of the nearest bin liner beside the chair that Ewan was slumped in.

Ewan leapt up. ‘Leave it!’

Seb dropped the bin liner and stepped away, his scalp prickling.

Ewan’s eyes were wild, the cheeks flushed, the thick lips trembling. ‘Don’t touch that!’ He made an effort to calm himself, his eyes fixed upon the bin bags. ‘Just leave that. You have no idea what I went through to get that. No idea how valuable it is.’

This was the closest Ewan had come to the drunken rages of their undergraduate days. And now that he was on his feet and excitable, he began to weave. He pointed a dirty finger at Seb’s face but didn’t speak, or couldn’t think of what to say.

Seb thought of shut-ins living amongst stacks of old newspapers and heaps of garbage, every item of vital importance to some incomprehensible inner life. Ewan had drunk himself insane and his goal in coming to Devon was to surround himself with refuse and filth in Seb’s home. To take revenge on Seb for his success, while sealing himself off from a world that he could not function within, with Seb for company so that he didn’t get lonely. Seb wanted to scream.

Instead, he said in a strengthless voice, ‘I want you and all of this out of here. Gone.’ What he said sounded like a platitude, half-heard at best and ignored by a naughty child. His resistance seemed to disperse around Ewan’s head.

He tried another tack. ‘I’ll give you something to wear, otherwise you’ll never get a room. I’ll pay for a week in a guest house and then you’re out of my life. It’s that or the police today. I can get a restraining order like that.’ Seb clicked his fingers. ‘You are so far out of line, so stop playing dumb.’

Ewan never reacted, and continued to totter on the spot.

Heavy with a particular type of exhaustion that can only be inflicted by drunken imbeciles, Seb edged his way out of the living room, intending to go downstairs. He’d leave the house and call the police on his mobile phone. The handset was inside the pocket of his jacket in the hall.