The Dinner Guest B Walter (readict books TXT) 📖

be very innocent. They may be up there watching Netflix, an oven-cooked pizza shared between them, her teasing him about liking Gilmore Girls, him trying to pluck up the courage to take her hand. The image of them both together on the underground, her hand over his, came into my mind. Whatever they were getting up to, they seemed to have got past the hand-holding stage. I found out later, of course, at the police station, that he and the girl had been having sex. He was careful not to tell the police this. But he told me. Our first little secret.

At this point, though, with me on the street, getting in the way of pedestrians, I could only torture myself with my own imagination. I decided to walk away from the house, leave the whole sorry business behind me, and go and have a look at the Albert Hall. The whole thing was so huge and impressive that it was an enjoyable distraction, to a point, and I took some photographs on my phone, playing with the light exposure in a way I’d once done with my own professional cameras. Back when such things mattered. But I ended up back on the street outside the house. That was when I saw the boys. They passed me, kicking a can down the street, laughing to themselves, and I caught a few charming sentences of their conversation. ‘She was fuckin’ wasted … yeah, course I smacked her one … that fucking slag.’

If I’d been alone, I’d have been worried for my safety, but there were some other passers-by, either going to or from the concert hall, and even the sight of the building in the corner of my eye was comforting. It didn’t seem likely anything sinister could happen anywhere so famous and beautiful. Then Titus came out of the door in front of me, and all worry about the boys vanished. I quickly crossed the road, walked up the street a little way, then crossed again so I could follow behind him at a safe distance. The girl was with him, in an expensive-looking cream dressing gown – I imagine it made her feel all grown up, pressed against her naked skin. They didn’t kiss or embrace, but Titus raised a hand in a little wave and walked down the few steps away from the house to the street as she closed the door.

Instead of walking back out towards the main road, Titus turned and walked up a dimly lit side street. He seemed to want to be able to do something on his phone out of the way, and stood against the wall of a building, looking down at the screen. Him being stationary made it difficult for me to watch him without being discovered. I was thinking about maybe passing him, going on ahead, and hoping he’d continue up the road, at some point allowing me to cross the road and double back, but he seemed engrossed in whatever he was doing – texting, messaging, browsing.

‘Oi, mate, mate!’ It was a loud, brash voice. The same voice that had talked about ‘that fucking slag’ earlier. He and his two mates emerged from behind one of the parked Range Rovers and bowled over with a confidence and swagger clearly meant to intimidate. Titus, who had glanced up at the ‘Oi mate’ froze, then quickly put his phone away.

‘Mate, do us a favour,’ the ringleader said as he approached, his baggy white T-shirt swaying around his muscled frame as he reached Titus. ‘Lend us your phone for a sec. Need to call my girl. Mine’s dead, and if I don’t call her she’ll give me a fuckin’ earful, know what I mean?’

Titus immediately shook his head. ‘Sorry, I’m … I’m in a hurry.’ He turned to go but the main boy grabbed his shoulder.

‘Hey, hey, what’s the fuckin’ rush, eh? I just need to use your phone. I just need a bit of help, mate, you know what I mean? Nothing dodgy, mate, nothing bad.’ As he said this, the two other boys laughed.

Titus gave another vague shake of his head and again said, ‘Sorry,’ followed by, ‘I need to go.’

That was when the boy seized him forcefully, throwing him against the wall, shouting in his face, ‘Eh, what you being like that for? I was being polite, you know. I was being nice to you, just wanted you to help a mate out, know what I mean? Just wanted you to be a fuckin’ good Samaritan, you fuckin’ posh cunt.’ He said the last two words with such anger and hatred that it sent a chill right through me. Then he slapped Titus hard across the face. The other boys laughed loudly, then, without needing any prompts from their vocal leader, they roughly twisted Titus around so his face was pressed hard into the concrete and started to search his blazer and trouser pockets, apparently looking for his phone.

‘Leave him alone!’ The words left my mouth in a bark-like shout with such force that for a second I thought someone else had spoken. I felt my knees tremble as I walked over to them. ‘Let go of him.’ It was now quickly dawning on me how dangerous a situation I’d placed myself in. Any of the boys could have had a knife. And any of them could choose to use it – in panic, fear, anger – at any second.

They did let go of Titus, letting the boy stumble and fall down to the pavement. He picked himself up immediately, brushing the grit off his knees and wiping blood from his face.

‘What makes you so fucking bold, little lady?’ the ringleader said. ‘Need fucking sorting, you do.’ He bared his teeth and then licked his lips, his tongue startlingly pink next to his vampire-pale skin. He then grabbed his crotch and gave it a squeeze. The others let out more laughs, although not quite as jubilant as before. All