A Ladder to the Sky(105)

‘Oh, that’s right, you were shortlisted once, weren’t you?’ said Garrett. ‘I’d completely forgotten that. When was it? Sometime back in the nineties?’

‘Who can recall? My memory isn’t what it was. I am, as you say, on the wrong side of fifty.’

‘Well, if you will spend your afternoons in a pub, you can expect a little diminishment of your powers.’

‘You’re in a pub too,’ I pointed out. ‘And look at you! Enjoying your fifteen minutes of fame.’

‘Yes, but I’m celebrating. I’ve been shortlisted.’

I smiled and felt an unexpected rush of affection for the boy, who’d always been able to give as good as he got. I’d rather missed his cuntish behaviour.

‘Who’s that you’re with over there, anyway?’ he continued, looking back towards my table. ‘He looks like something you’d pick up at King’s Cross Station in the men’s toilets on a Thursday night.’

‘That’s my son, actually,’ I said, the words out of my mouth before I could even consider the wisdom of the lie. I glanced at Rufus, whose expression hadn’t changed, and I assumed that he knew nothing about what had happened to Daniel. Or perhaps he did and thought that I had two sons.

‘Oh right, sorry,’ said Garrett, who at least had the good grace to look embarrassed at his faux-pas. ‘My mistake.’

‘No, it’s fine,’ I said. ‘Anyway, I daresay you’re more familiar with that type of fellow than I am. Thursday night, you say? Why Thursday night? Is that a particularly good time to catch some rough trade?’

‘I said sorry. It was just a joke.’

‘A hilarious one,’ I muttered.

‘And are you working on anything at the moment, Maurice?’ asked Rufus, who was blushing scarlet for some inexplicable reason, and I turned back to him with a shrug.

‘Oh, I’m sure you’re not that interested,’ I said. ‘You were never a great fan of my work, after all.’

‘Well, I did publish Two Germans,’ he said, pushing his glasses up his nose and looking a little wounded by that remark. ‘So, to be fair, I was the first person to spot your talent.’

‘Erich Ackermann was the first person to spot my talent,’ I pointed out.

‘And look what happened to him,’ said Garrett.

‘But you’re right. You did publish me. Twice, in fact. Before you dropped me.’

‘In retrospect, that whole situation was handled rather badly,’ Rufus replied, looking down at the floor. ‘I was fairly new to the game myself and I listened to the bean counters upstairs when I should have followed my gut. I always knew that you were the real deal.’

‘It would have been nice to have heard that at the time,’ I said. ‘It was quite a blow when you showed me the door. It led to some pretty dark years.’

No one said anything for a few moments. I’d only been at their table a few minutes but had already managed to insult them both and make them each feel like shit, so I was beginning to feel that my work there was done. Suddenly I longed for the days before I’d met Theo, when I was just a solo drinker and rarely spoke to anyone. Life was simpler then.

‘Anyway,’ I said at last, placing a hand on both their shoulders simultaneously and squeezing them just enough to leave a bruise, ‘I’ve probably taken up enough of your time. It was nice to see you both. And congratulations again, Garrett, on your longlisting.’

‘Shortlisting,’ he said, but the word was thrown at my back for I’d already walked away and was heading back to our table.

‘Sorry about that,’ I said as I sat down, and Theo shook his head as if to say, No problem, while he put his phone away. ‘A couple of old friends. You probably know one of them. Garrett Colby?’

‘The writer?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ve heard of him. I’ve never read him.’

‘You’re better off. He’s an idiot. And his work is infantile. His first book had something to do with talking animals, if I recall correctly.’

‘Like Animal Farm.’

‘Yes, just without the wit, the politics, the style or the genius.’

Theo laughed and took a long drink from his pint. He still seemed distracted by the revelation I had made but I was determined not to talk about that any more. I didn’t want to make a bigger issue of it than it needed to be.

‘Anyway,’ I said. ‘Where were we?’

‘You were telling me about The Tribesman and how you—’

‘No, we’ve covered that. Something else.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Well, you were going to talk to me about Daniel, but instead we—’

My good humour melted away instantly. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ I said. ‘Well, what else would you like to know?’

‘Anything you want to tell me. Was he a writer?’

‘No. A good reader but not a writer.’

‘Did he see much of the world?’

‘Some. A little of Europe, with me, when we travelled to festivals. But not enough.’

‘And when he died—’

‘I don’t want to talk about the day itself, if you don’t mind,’ I said.