Chapter 30 - five months later (part 2)

Dave.

Dave found himself without a flatmate much quicker than he’d expected. Danny and Todd realised that it was silly to spend so much time hiding in Danny’s room when Todd had a whole house of his own, and after a few nights there they realised they were getting on so well that they might as well move in together. Dave missed having them round the house - he found Danny a calming influence, and it was always nice to find someone else in the flat after a busy night out. And he’d grown to like Todd too, and not just because of his habit of walking round all day with no shirt on, regardless of the weather or who else was in the flat. He had a sly wit that Dave appreciated, and quickly learnt that Dave didn’t mind if he took the piss out of him. Dave still saw them though, and even went round for dinner a couple of times. The house was lovely - an Edwardian semi with high ceilings and original floorboards. Danny looked perfectly at home there, and quickly made the kitchen his own.
Dave rattled around the flat on his own for a couple of weeks, then realised he’d started spending increasing amounts of time away from it, because he didn’t like being there on his own. So one day, without really thinking about it, he invited Simon to move in. He knew he wasn’t happy where he was, and thought the company would do them both some good. They’d been seeing quite a lot of each other anyway, so it made sense. Simon agreed, although typically for him he had to go away and think about it. But everyone agreed it was a good idea, so one Sunday they borrowed a van and shifted Simon’s stuff .
They’d shared a house together at college, and for a little while afterwards, so they were already familiar enough with each others habits to get on pretty easily. It helped that Simon wasn’t working, because he wasn’t in Dave’s way when he was trying to get ready for work, then he had the whole day to potter round to his heart’s content until Simon came back of an evening. They got on well, and people were soon joking that they were like a married couple, which Dave found slightly less amusing as he still had hopes of finding a boyfriend.
He continued his search for Mr Right, although he never seemed to get beyond the first date with anyone. He knew he was looking in the wrong places - gyms and clubs were hardly the ideal place to look for love - but he enjoyed them, and always had fun with the guys he went home with. He even went speed-dating with Nick one night, although both of them agreed that the other was the nicest person there. So they had a slightly drunken experimental snog, then agreed that it should never happen again. He half wondered if he should get together with Simon, but decided that was a very bad idea.
Much to everyone’s surprise his sister became pregnant again. It wasn’t planned, but both her and her husband were really excited about having another baby in the house again, as the girls were now getting fairly independent and would happy get on with their own stuff and ignore their parents. But she developed dangerously high blood pressure and had to give up work and stay at home resting. It drove her mad, so Dave spent a lot of time round there, gossiping with her or taking the girls out so she could have some peace. It made him realise how much he missed having a family, although he realised he couldn’t always look after himself, let alone another human being. Or even a cat for that matter.
And thankfully things at work were fine. They scraped through the audit, narrowly avoiding getting a fine. The Board were so relieved that he’d turned things round since the previous year that they gave him a generous pay rise and a PA all of his own, which made thing much easier round the office.
He had his 38th birthday and surprised everyone by giving up smoking, then surprised himself even more by taking up golf. People started to wonder if he was growing up at last, but he knew the truth!

Jim.

Maria never came back, in fact she made Jim promise never to contact her again. The letter had been the final straw, and even he realised it was a pretty stupid thing to do. But it helped him get her out of his system, and he soon stopped having dreams in which she came back to him and they lived happily ever after. The only other person in his life was Basil the cat, who seemed to forgive him for scaring Maria away and got in the habit of greeting him at the door when he came back from work.
A few people Jim worked with tried to set him up with single women, and although he went on a few dates he never slept with any of them and never saw most of them again. A few of them wondered out loud if he might be gay - single man, living alone with a cat, spending most of his time with other men - you can see why they would, but uniquely amongst his friends he was definitely straight. He just needed some time for himself, some time to recover and work out what he wanted next.
In the meantime he renewed some of his friendships - he spent a bit of time with Nick, who he found incredibly easy to get on with. Sometimes they swam together, and when they discovered a shared love of silent films they spent a few evenings watching those. He was so easy to get on with, even when they weren’t smoking, and the cat certainly enjoyed the extra company.
He tried to see more of Simon, and they’d tried to get out for a drink once a week at least. And once he moved in with Dave it meant Jim saw a lot more of him too, which was fun. He even managed to persuade him to take up golf, although neither of them could quite work out how or why it happened. Luckily they resisted the plaid trousers and bright jumpers.

The others.

Brenda stayed at the supermarket, and started going out more with the other staff. Not just clubbing with the gay boys, but pubs and stuff with the other girls and whoever happened to be up for it. Then a new Bakery Manger arrived and she was smitten. After a couple of weeks of staring at him across the canteen Nick persuaded her to invite him to the pub as it was one of the girl’s leaving do. He accepted, and Brenda spent the whole evening chatting too him. Although he wasn’t exactly her type he made her smile, and more importantly made her cake. She soon found herself daydreaming about wedding cake.
Big Ben stayed in Brighton after his romance fell apart. He gave up working in supermarkets and started working in gay bars, which had the benefit of getting admiring glances from the punters and pretty much first pick of anyone cute who came into the pub. He had a short-lived affair with the landlord of one place, but he beat him up when he discovered he’d been unfaithful, so he moved on, older and wiser.
Other Ben soon got sick of working in supermarkets and struggling with his college work, so he gave it all up and got a full time job in a bookshop. He was instantly much happier. Once he got over his crush on Big Ben he realised that actually he might be straight, and spent many an evening discovering for himself with a succession of women he picked up in Modern Fiction.
Simon’s flatmate John was a figment of his imagination.

The End.

Chapter 29 - 5 months later (part 1)

Simon.

Simon took Nick’s advice and went to see his GP the following day, where he added the waiting room and consulting room to the list of places he’d burst into tears in. the doctor listened as he explained everything that had happened to him - getting beaten up (he omitted to tell him the circumstances, which was probably a mistake as it might have helped him understand what was going on a little better); the situation at work; the shoplifting. The doctor was certain Simon was depressed, and possibly on the verge of a nervous breakdown, so he signed him off work for two weeks, and gave him a course of anti-depressants. Then he told Simon to go home and get as much rest as he could, and to talk about what had happened to somebody. At first Simon thought he meant friends and family, which was literally his idea of hell, but Nick suggested a counsellor of some kind, and thanks to his occupational health scheme Simon started seeing one a week later.
Of course he had to explain to his Mum why he was off work, and as predicted she took it badly - what would the neighbours think? She suggested she might have to move if his case got into the papers, which annoyed him so much he found himself telling her he thought he might be gay. Of course she blamed Nick for putting the idea in his head, and then proceeded to phone him and tell him exactly that. Everyone else agreed his honesty had been a good thing, although it took his mother three weeks to speak to him after he’d told her. By that time he’d gotten a much more positive reaction from other people that he was better able to stand up to her.
Shortly after that he took voluntary redundancy from work. It would have been difficult for them to make him redundant whilst he was off sick, and expensive to provide cover for his job while he was being paid, so they had a meeting and agreed a generous settlement, including a further year’s health cover, which everyone hoped would see him back to full health. As soon as the papers were signed he felt much better and smiled as he left the building for the last time.
He quickly developed a new routine, and found himself able to sleep late for the first time since he was a teenager. Encouraged by Nick he started swimming, and even joined Dave at the gym a few times. He ate better and felt better in general. His counsellor was pleased with his progress, but even she couldn’t do anything to put off the inevitable - the court case.
He found himself in the local magistrate’s court on a Monday afternoon, represented by a lawyer appointed by the court. He admitted the offence and was in and out of court quite quickly, getting a fine and having to pay compensation, as well as some community service hours. Everyone agreed that the sentencing was fair, and it only warranted three lines in the local paper. His mother didn’t attend court - she took herself off to the seaside for the week, unable to face the shame of it. Nick, Dave and Jim all turned up, each of them prepared to be character witnesses if necessary, but it never came to that. A letter from Simon’s counsellor was enough to ensure leniency.
Simon took it surprisingly well - it was a relief to bring that chapter of his life to an end. The money wasn’t a problem thanks to his redundancy payout, and the community service could easily be fitted into his day as he had plenty of free time. He even began to look forward to it.
After two months he moved out of the flat and in with Dave, who suddenly found himself without a flatmate. They’d shared at college, and quickly fell into their old routines. Dave was good for Simon - he encouraged him to be more outgoing and have more fun, whilst Simon reminded Dave to pay the bills and eat occasionally. They quickly became like a married couple, and people in the supermarket often assumed they were an item, which frustrated Dave as it stopped him pulling, but amused Simon no end.
Once he was settled Simon even got in contact with his father. Of course his Mum was furious, but thanks to Nick the meeting went surprisingly smoothly, and although father and son were wary of each other at least the ice was broken.
He saw a lot more of Jim and Nick, and started to look more his age. There was no immediate need to return to work, so he looked into some courses, but before it began he surprised everyone - including himself - by taking a holiday to Amsterdam. And whilst he wasn’t brave enough to venture into a café for a spliff he came back looking more relaxed than anyone could remember.

Nick.

Nick and Big Ben became an item very quickly, in the way that gay men often do. They became inseparable, spending loads of time together when they weren’t working or Ben wasn’t at college. They were very careful not to spend too much time chatting at work, which amused their colleagues no end, although Ben was so hurt by the whole thing he wouldn’t speak to either of them and left for a rival store when he couldn’t stand it any longer. Nick’s friends teased him about his toy boy, and Ben’s teased him about his Daddy. But it couldn’t last - Nick really was old enough to be his father and wanted very different things from life . As much as he enjoyed late nights clubbing it was the quiet mornings together that he enjoyed the most, whereas Ben found them claustrophobic and preferred to be out in a crowd. In the end it finished as casually as it began - one night Ben simply never turned up, and a couple of days later he texted Nick to say he’d met someone new and was moving to Brighton.
But Nick didn’t mind, as he’d started to enjoy spending more time with Simon, Dave and Jim. Amazingly Simon’s troubles had brought them back together as a group, and they could often be found out drinking together in the week. And he started going clubbing with Dave occasionally, an was happy to end up chatting to him in a late night bar if neither of them had pulled. There was a drunken snog one evening, but both of them realised that they made good friends and anything else would just spoil the group dynamic, which they’d both come to enjoy.
He finally gave up his NVQ course, preferring to quit before they threw him off it. He freely admitted that he had no ambition, and that for the time being working in a supermarket was exactly what he wanted to do. His tutors weren’t surprised, and nobody at work cared - there was always some other eager trainee waiting to fill his place.
Thing with his mother improved as well. Once she stopped blaming him for Simon being gay things got back to how they had been. And then after Simon’s court appearance, once his downfall was complete, she became friendlier still. She stopped holding Simon up as the shining example he’d never been, and realised that there wasn’t actually much difference between her sons, and that it wasn’t their fault that they weren’t the daughter she so desperately wanted. She was annoyed when Nick encouraged Simon to see his father again, but she realised there was nothing she could do about it and stopped complaining. She started inviting both Nick and Simon to Sunday tea, and Nick was surprisingly pleased to go.
After Ben there were a few one night stand, but no one serious. He tried speed-dating and realised that he liked dating but wasn’t very good at what came afterwards. He was briefly tempted to blame it on his parents divorce, until Simon pointed out that they’d been fully formed adults at that point and it was just a cop pout. His counselling was rubbing off on him and he was getting annoyingly perceptive about things!
So he decided to get a cat. It had been inevitable really, but then one night they’d ended up back at Jim’s and the cat had taken a real shine to him. Whilst he hissed and hid from Dave and Simon he couldn’t get enough of Nick, rubbing against his leg as he sat on the sofa, jumping on his lap, even trying to sit on his shoulder. Nick fell in love with him and the following day started asking round work to see if anyone knew of ant kittens for sale. The following week he found himself with a ginger kitten, which he christened Charlie. His friends made fun of the whole gay bachelor with a cat thing, but he didn’t care - he just liked having someone to come home to who wasn’t mad or overly needy. A tin of food and the odd stroke and the cat was happy, not like some high maintenance boyfriend!
And that would have been that except he took the cat to the vets to have some jabs, and before he knew it he fell in love with the vet. Not just a pathetic crush, or a stalking type of situation, it was reciprocated. He was so stupidly handsome he might as well have come out of a Barbara Cartland novel, and once Nick got over the fact that he was clearly too good for him he started enjoying been seen around with him. He had high hopes, but didn’t like to jinx anything by saying them out loud.

Chapter 28 - Nick, Thursday

Well, that’s got to be the most awkward birthday tea I’ve ever been to, which, considering our family’s track record for these kind of things is really saying something!
I’d not been looking forward to it anyway - why would I? A whole meal of Mum celebrating her favourite? Dear God, it’s my idea of hell! If I could have gotten out of it I would, but it was a summons not an invite, and in the end it was easier to go than to make a fuss.

I had to rush to get there in time as it was, because I’d been working all day - a long shift as well, so I’d been on my feet all day. The only bonus was the arrival of Big Ben at 3pm, closely followed by a grinning Brenda a couple of minutes later. Word certainly gets around, although I’d not told her so I guess Big Ben did. I hope he didn’t tell Ben, but I expect it won’t take long for him to find out. I’m surprised he wasn’t working today - they usually do the same shifts, but I guess he had something better to do.
I didn’t really get much time to talk to either of them, just snatched conversations as I was swanning round with my clipboard. Nothing serious. I didn’t even get chance arrange when I’d see Ben next, which was annoying as I really want to see him again! I’ve got a bit giddy about the whole thing, which was completely unexpected.
I’d just finished my shift and was in the staff room changing to go over Mum’s when my phone rang. It was Dave, which took me by surprise as I haven’t seen him or heard from him in ages. We never really were phone friends, more just pub friends, so it took me by surprise. But not as much as the news he gave me - our Simon was arrested for shoplifting, and not only that he’d been queer-bashed whilst out cottaging. Fucking hell, I bet he was having a shit birthday. My God, what will Mum say?

I raced round to Mum’s and ended up getting there before Simon. Mum and I sat around making idle conversation, whilst she kept checking her watch and wondering where he was. It was very unlike him to be late, but of course she didn’t realise he had good reason to be. I couldn’t really say anything without giving away the fact I knew, so I just nodded and agreed that it was very unlike him to be late, especially on his birthday.
As soon as he turned up I could tell something was wrong - he was distracted and fidgety, and wasn’t looking anyone in the eye. I don’t think he knew I knew, and if he did he certainly never acknowledged it. Mum greeted him with open arms, a big hug and a quick chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’. I joined in as well, because it would have been a little conspicuous if I hadn’t. Then we went into the dining room to eat.
If I’d not known better I’d have thought it was a child’s birthday - plates full of sandwiches, a cake with candles, even trifle! Just the kind of birthday party we had when we were eight, do you think she’s not noticed that we’ve grown up in the meantime?
Simon sat behind a pile of presents, onto the top of which I added mine. He just looked at them until Mum prompted him to open them:
“They’re for you, open them or I’ll do it for you!”
She never lost her excitement for gifts - if only she’d retained it for other areas of her life.
My gift was first, and I could tell by the way Simon looked at it that it wasn’t his type of thing at all. Normally I might have given him a hard time for not liking it, but today wasn’t the day for that, so I just said the receipt was in the pocket if it was the wrong size. I expect he’ll exchange it for something plainer, which is a pity as it’s lovely!
Then Mum’s gifts - a jumper that Dad might like, but which a 38 year old should never be seen in - I expect Simon will wear it lots. A book that he must have told Mum he wanted, and a box of his favourite sweets. He started to say thank you, but the words stuck in his throat, and before I realised what was happening he’d burst into tears. Mum looked at me to see if I had a clue what was going on, then reached across the table and stroked his hand.
“What’s the matter love, do you not like your presents?”
Trust Mum to get the complete wrong end of the stick! Still, it made Simon smile briefly.
“No Mum, the gifts are great, I’ve just had a really bad day. I’m just being silly.”
Now Mum was confused, so she poured a cup of tea and passed round the sandwiches. I had to hand it to Simon, he covered it up really well - he wiped his face and was soon tucking into sandwiches as if they were the best meal he’d ever had. He wasn’t that chatty, which forced Mum to turn her attention to me. We talked vaguely about work - I played up my NVQ, as if it was a passport to a job in management, and generally made working in a supermarket sound far more fantastic than it actually is.
Then Mum served up the trifle, always a speciality of hers when we were kids, and her skill apparently hadn’t deserted her. I indulged my sweet tooth and had two bowl fulls - well, it’s not everyday you get homemade trifle is it! Then it was time for the cake - Mum lit half a dozen candles and we sang another chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ before Simon blew them out. He gave a sad little smile when as he did, so I guess he was following the tradition of making a wish as they went out. No prizes for guessing what he was wishing for. I felt really sorry for him.
Cake over we helped Mum clear the table - I washed, Simon wiped up - just as we used to do as children. Mum made another cup of tea, and we sat rather awkwardly in the living room. I kept wondering if Simon was going to tell her, but it seemed pretty obvious that he wasn’t. But at least it would explain why we’d had such an odd evening - knowing Mum she’ll be thinking it’s all her fault. I guess she’ll realise once he tells her, but I wonder how long that’ll take?
Eventually Simon said it was time for him to go, so I said I’d walk to the bus with him. Mum kissed him goodbye, then did the same to me - not something we’d normally do, but I think she felt guilty about showing her favouritism so clearly. She put all his presents in a bag, and cut us each a piece of cake, then waved goodbye from the living room window as we headed down the road.
“Dave rang me”
Silence.
“I know what happened today.”
More silence.
“But if you don’t want to talk about it that’s okay with me.”
More silence. This was becoming annoying.
“Okay, fine, suit yourself. I don’t know why I bother.”
I stopped. He stopped too. He stood there, waiting for each other to speak. He got there first.
“You really hate me don’t you.”
“When you behave like a twat yes, but you’re my brother so I can’t hate you for long.”
“I’d hate me. I’m a twat.”
“Come on Simon, you’ve had a shitty day, why don’t we just go somewhere and talk about it? Or just get drunk and not talk about it? Maybe forgetting about it is exactly what you need to do?”
“That’s easier said than done!”
“Yeah, but it might be worth a try?”

We ended up in a pub round the corner from Mum’s. I got us both a pint, and we sat in the corner. Neither of us said anything for a while, we just sat sipping our beer and looking round the pub. But then Simon started to talk about what had happened, and about how unhappy he was. I felt bad, because it made me realise that I’d not been much of a brother to him, and I realised how much of a wedge Mum had driven between us because I refused to ignore Dad. I know it was awful for her when she left, but what kind of mother takes it out on their children in that way?
I asked him what he was going to do, and he seemed genuinely surprised - it hadn’t occurred to him to do anything different to what he normally did. But he clearly couldn’t go to work in that state, he really needed some help. So I managed to persuade him to go to the doctors, and even promised to go with him for support. And he had to tell Mum too - it’d only take one person to find out and that would be that - if the neighbours knew before her she’d never forgive him. I ended up promising to do it for him, as long as he went round afterwards to talk to her about it. I couldn’t persuade him to talk to Dad, but I promised myself I’d keep trying. Funny how it took something like this to get us to talk to each other, we even talked about the cottaging incident although I couldn’t quite bring myself to invite him out clubbing with me - it was hardly the time or the place, but I must try and find him some nice bloke. Hang on a minute, I haven’t even sorted one out for myself ,what was I thinking?! Oh, but I guess there was Ben. Aah, Ben, if only he was at home waiting for me….

Chapter 27 - Gay Dave, Thursday

Yesterday ended up being every kind of shit!

I knew I was tempting fate when I thought we were on top of the auditing stuff! Then in the middle of the day the temp left - she said she couldn’t cope with it, the work was too complicated and the people were hassling her. God knows who she meant, but HR came down for a bit of an inquest, which is when I came back from lunch and found Bob and Mike in full flight. Bob was blaming Mike, and Mike was claiming it was nothing to do with him at all - which is a fair point, as he’d got his own PA back why would he want to steal our temp? I’m guessing she’d spoken to Bob before she left so he had some kind of idea about what he was talking about, but it didn’t seem to make much sense. Mike got sick of being blamed for things he hadn’t done and stormed off back to his office, muttering about, “this fucking place!” Bob headed back to his and five minutes later had sent a memo requesting a meeting between me, Mike and him tomorrow morning. Oh good , there’s nothing better I like than starting the day with inter-office bickering!
I spent the rest of the afternoon going over what she’d done, trying to work out how much more needed to be sorted, and allocating it around the office. About 4.30 David knocked on the door looking very sheepish.
“Hmm, Dave, I need to speak to you.”
“This isn’t the best time David, is there any chance it could wait a day or two?”
“Well, I’m not sure. It’s just that I think it might be my fault that the temp left.”
Great, this was all I needed. It would have suited me perfectly if Mike’s team had fucked this up, and would have been the perfect reason to get a new PA just for our department instead of this sharing nonsense. If it turns out someone on my team scared her off we’re fucked. And Mike will never let me here the last of it. Shit.
“OK David, I don’t want to hear this, but you better sit down and tell me what happened.”
“Well, it was only meant as a joke….”
What followed was a tale of bored blokes in an office getting their kicks by winding up the temp. Apparently they’ve specially photocopied pictures of their own arses just for such and occasion. And asking the temp to copy and laminate a selection of them might not have been the smartest idea, especially when they used an old Post-it note from Mike as the instruction. Fuckwits.
“How could you be so fucking stupid? This isn’t school you know! You know we’re on the verge of an important audit and if it goes badly we’re fucked. And I mean properly fucked. I mean sackings across the board and an accounts company replacing all of us. You stupid fucking twat!”
“Sorry Dave, it was only a joke!”
“A joke? You amaze me. How old are you? Too fucking old to be photocopying your spotty arse! Now, who else knows about this?”
“Just me, Jed and Tom.”
“Right, don’t tell anyone. This isn’t going to blow over. Bob wants a meeting about it tomorrow. If Mike gets wind of this you’re fucked and there’s nothing I can do to help you. Although why I’d want to is anyone’s guess. Now get out of my fucking sight and do something useful”
Oh shit.
I spent the rest of the day wondering what to do. Should I protect the stupid fucker and hope the whole situation blows over? Or sacrifice him just to put an end to the trouble? I felt like I ought to protect my department, but in doing so we’d really shoot ourselves in the foot. I hope to God this blows over.

By the time I got home my head was spinning and I needed to clear it. Dancing would have been good, or drinking for that matter, but I was a bit short of mates who were up for that kind of thing on a Wednesday night. Danny was out with Todd and had left a note telling me not to worry if he didn’t come back tonight. Jammy git.
So I made myself a G&T, got out of my work clothes and got on the computer. Within a few minutes I was chatting to three or four potential playmates, and within half an hour I had someone on their way round. There was just enough time to jump in the shower, tidy the bedroom and make myself look seductive. Actually, seductive was the last thing I needed to look - we both knew why he was coming round, who was I kidding.
An hour later there was no sign of him. Apparently he only lived round the corner, so he should have taken no time at all to get round. The fucker had stood me up! I went back online to see if I could find him, but there was no sign, and everyone else I’d been chatting to had gone as well - clearly they’d got themselves sorted for the evening, so it looked like I’d be spending it on my own. Damn. I hate Wednesday’s.

Thursday turned out to be not much better either!

I headed to work, still unsure about what I was going to do. I’d decided I was going to wait and see how both Bob and Mike were behaving - if they’d slept on it and agreed the whole thing was bollocks I’d probably just let it lie, but if things got nasty I’d have no choice but to throw David to the lions.
I was doing the usual morning stuff - post, emails, catching up with phone calls - when Jim phoned to say he was at a police station, waiting to pick up Simon. What in God’s name can that be about? Simon doesn’t do anything wrong, I’d be surprised if he’d ever broken a law in his life. Something must have happened to him, he sometimes had victim written all over him.
I wanted to phone Nick, but Jim said not to, as it’d only panic their mother, which wouldn’t be a pretty sight. So I told him to ring me and got on with my work, slightly distracted though - what can he have done? Thankfully the meeting was called off, perhaps they both realised that now wasn’t the time, although when I saw Mike in the corridor he looked like thunder, so I doubt we’ve heard the last of it.
Jim finally rang just before lunch - he’d been with Simon all morning, who was apparently in a bit of a state. He was nervous about leaving him on his own, but had to get back to work for a meeting, so he wondered if I’d go over and see him? My first thought was to tell him I couldn’t and to get Nick to do it, but they rub each other up the wrong way so it’d only make things worse. I made a quick mental check of everything I had to do in the afternoon and decided it could all wait, so I said yes, and as soon as it was lunchtime made my excuses and left.
I grabbed a cab, not fancying the ridiculous bus journey to Simon’s, and by the time I got there Jim had gone. Simon finally came to the door, looking like shit. He was still wearing a suit jacket despite the fact they’d been home for hours, and he looked like he’d not long stopped crying.
We went up to the flat, and sat down. I didn’t know what to say, so I waited for him to say something, but he didn’t, just sat there staring into space. This wasn’t going to get us anywhere. I toyed with the idea of making tea, but the coffee table was littered with cups so that had obviously been Jim’s plan too. In the end I just put my hand on his arm and asked him if he wanted to tell me what had happened. I thought he might be up to it as he’d obviously spent all morning talking to Jim, but he just started crying, so I gave him a hug until he stopped. Then he held my hand and started telling me the whole story.
When I thought he’d finished he said,
“but there’s something else. I didn’t tell Jim, he might not have understood, but I know you will.”
It was only after he’d finished telling me about his incident in the toilets that it occurred to me that I should be slightly insulted that he would think I’d understand - is that what he thought I did all the time?! It was hard to know what to say - he was clearly going through a bad patch, and sometimes one bad thing seems to attract another, until you’re in the middle of a cycle you can’t escape from. I just hoped he was going to be strong enough to ride it out, although judging from what I’d seen I hardly thought so.
It was getting late and I’d not eaten. I was guessing that he hadn’t either, so I suggested I go make us some sandwiches. But once he realised what the time was he got in a bit of a panic - he was supposed to be going to his Mum’s for a birthday tea. I just told him to cancel it - he was hardly in a fit state for cake and presents, and he certainly wouldn’t manage to put on a brave face. But he said he’d have to go - it’d be easier to explain to his Mum in person than on the phone, especially if Nick was there to help calm her down. I made her promise not to mention the cottaging - there are just some things you shouldn’t tell your Mum, especially not on your birthday!

Chapter 26 - Jim, Thursday

I’d gone into work early, to get a head start on some stuff that needed doing . We were having clients in for a meeting, and I needed to go over our history with them before they arrived to make sure we were going in the right direction with things. But it’s tricky to get that kind of work done when there’s an office full of people about and phones ringing all the time. I guess I really should have taken it home with me to look over in peace, but it never occurred to me until I actually got home, so getting in early was the next best thing.
The office was eerily quiet - I was in at 7am, and there probably wouldn’t be anyone else in for another hour. It almost felt like I was burgling the place, and certainly felt like I shouldn’t have been there. I put on the coffee machine, flung open a few blinds and turned on the computer, trying to make it look as much like normal as possible. Except there were no people and no noise.
I spread the file across the desk and spent a good hour poring over it, taking notes as I went and covering the documents in Post-it notes where there were bits I wanted to copy or quote. I must have been about three-quarters of the way through it when the first few people started arriving in the office. A few shouted, “hi”, as they went past, one or two looked slightly surprised to see me in so early, and then one of the PA’s brought me coffee and it was just like any other day. I sent her off with a pile of things to copy, and a list of other things I needed to find, then phoned one of my colleagues to check the meeting room and catering had all been arranged.
I’d finally got back to the last pages of the file when the phone rang. I let it ring, not wanting to be disturbed until I was finished, so one of the guys next door picked it up. Next thing I know he’s standing in the doorway.
“Uh, Jim, there’s a call for you, I think you might want to take it, it’s the police.”
My first thought was that something had happened to Maria, although it pretty soon occurred to me that I’d probably be the last person she’d want the police to contact. Unless she’d completely over-reacted about that letter. Oh fuck.
“Mr Masters?”
“Yes, can I help you?”
“I believe you are a friend of Simon Hall?”
“Yes I am, is he okay?”
“”He’s in our station at the moment, he asked us to call you and get you to come down and pick him up. Can you do that?”
“Yes of course, what’s happened?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, but I’m sure he’ll explain it to you when you get here.”
“Okay, I’m on my way.”
Fuck.

I grabbed my jacket, raced out of the office, popping my head round the Manager’s door on the way out to tell him I had an emergency but would be back in time for the meeting. I left so quickly he didn’t have time to disagree with me. I started to run along the High Street, until I managed to find a cab, then sat back, getting my breath back and wondering what on earth was up. He’d been fed up lately, and the redundancy was a bit of a blow, but I can’t imagine he’d ever do anything stupid. Something must have happened to him, he sometimes seems like he has ‘victim’ written all over him, I wonder if he got mugged? I wonder why they wouldn’t tell me? I wonder why he didn’t phone Nick?
I paid for the cab and went into the police station. The reception area wouldn’t have looked out of place in a business type of hotel, apart from the lino on the floor instead of thick carpet. And the fact that the people sitting round waiting all looked miserable or slightly battered. I went up to the desk and a young woman who hardly seemed old enough to work for the police told me to take a seat and someone would come out and find me in a few minutes. While I waited I phoned Dave, just to keep him in the picture. He was just as confused as I was, and couldn’t imagine what on earth Simon could have done to end up in a police station. He was going to ring Nick, but I thought it might not be a good idea until we knew what had happened - he’d only tell their Mum, and the last thing I needed was her coming down here screaming and shouting at the police.
I ended up waiting over half an hour, getting increasingly nervous as a succession of people came in and were impatient with the woman behind the desk. I felt overdressed in my suit and fully expected someone to turn on me at any moment. Then I realised I’d never been in a police station before, and it was exactly like ‘The Bill’ only more boring. Eventually Simon was led out by a policeman. God he looked rough. He was wearing a suit, with his tie undone round his neck, which would either mean he’d only been in since this morning or he’d been in all night. Judging by the look of him it was hard to tell - he certainly looked like he’d been crying, but other than that he seemed to have no injuries. He was clutching an envelope and was looking very sheepish.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, lets get out of here.”
So we left, although once we got outside Simon didn’t really know what to do and just stopped where he was.
“What do you want to do? Go home? Go to work? You feel like telling me what happened?”
“No, not now, not in the street, I need to ring work and I need to get home.”
So we found a call box, as neither of us bother with mobile phones, and he phoned work whilst I hovered on the pavement trying to work out what he’d done. It couldn’t be anything to do with work or there’d have been no need for him to phone him. What’s he been up to?
We walked for a bit, then decided to get a bus back to Simon’s. I was in danger of missing my meeting and would have to phone them as soon as I got there. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, the rest of the team could take the meeting - I was only there to make up the numbers I guess - but it looked a bit bad, so I’d need a bloody good reason.
The bus finally arrived, and we travelled back to Simon’s in silence. Clearly he didn’t want to discuss whatever had gone on in public, so I sat there trying to work out what on earth had gone on. Burglary? I wouldn’t have though he’d have needed to go to the police station. Fighting? He didn’t look like he’d been fighting. Accident? Ditto. I guess I’d have to wait, it really wasn’t the place to ask.

We finally got back to his, and the first thing I did was ring work and tell them I was going to be delayed. They were cool about it as soon as I mentioned the police, but I need to get back as soon as I can. I’ll get Simon settled then get someone else to come and stay with him, if he needs it. I did that stupid English thing of going and putting the kettle on, because tea always makes it better. Simon slumped on the sofa, staring into space, clinging onto his envelope as if there was something precious in it.
“So, you ready to talk about it?”
“Oh Jim, I don’t know, I just want to forget the whole thing happened!”
“I don’t mean to sound pushy, but you ought to tell someone - you can’t just phone up from a police station and then not tell people why you were there! They’ll be worried! I’m worried! What happened to you? Were you mugged? Are you in trouble?”
“It’s all so stupid, I just can’t believe it happened, what was I thinking?”
I went into the kitchen - this was clearly going to come out in his own good time and not before.
“I got caught shoplifting.”
“Shoplifting? Where? What did you steal? And why?”
“It was in the shop across the road, just a couple of bars of chocolate.”
“You been in the police station all morning for stealing chocolate? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No, you see it wasn’t the first time, it’s been going on for ages.”
“What were you thinking Simon? You can afford chocolate can’t you? Why on earth would you steal it? Is everything okay, I know things have been a bit stressful lately, you okay?”
“I don’t know, it’s a long story.”
So I went and poured the tea and came back to here him tell me all about what had happened - how he’d been casually stealing chocolate most days for months; how it had started out of boredom and then once he’d started how he’d got hooked on it and couldn’t stop; how hated his life and felt like everyone hated him; how he felt like he’d never be in love; how he was worried he might be gay; how he hated his job. Honestly it all came flooding out, and along with it came more tears and more tea. He was in a right mess.
Then we opened the envelope. It was a copy of statement he’d made admitting stealing on a regular basis for months; a charge sheet; and a letter advising him that he would be summoned to a Magistrates Court at a date to be decided. Oh shit, this was going to get worse before it got better.

Chapter 25.5 - Take a letter Maria

“Hello Weatherby Walker estate agents, Natalie speaking, how can we help you?”
“Nat, it’s Maria, you okay to chat?”
“If you’re quick, they’re all out on visits so I’m on my own in the office.”
“You’ll never guess what that twat Jim has done now!”
“What? I thought you weren’t in touch?”
“We weren’t! I told you about the sixty day thing didn’t I?”
“Yep, so what’s he done?”
“He wrote me a letter.”
“Oh, what does it say?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t opened it.”
“Are you going to?”
“I don’t know, and that’s not really the point - he was supposed to stay out of contact for sixty days, and he couldn’t even do that right!”
“Sorry Maria, I’ve got a customer, can I call you back?”
“Meet me for lunch? Pret a Manger at 12.15? Bye”


Wanker. I told him not to get in touch with me! Okay, I admit that the sixty day thing was a bit of a trick. It is a recognised technique for getting over a break-up, but I just didn’t want to see him and thought it would be a good way of achieving than. I didn’t even tell him where I was going to live, and I changed my mobile number. Of course I never thought he’d be stupid enough to send me stuff at work! What was he thinking! Now what am I going to do with it? I can’t pretend it doesn’t exist. I can’t throw it away. But I can’t read it!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To: Jim (work)
From: Nicky Heath
Subject: You bastard

How could you? What’s all this writing to me at work crap about? I thought we’d agreed not to get in touch? What gives you the right to invade my workplace with your shit? There better be a good reason why you sent it, although as I don’t intend to read it I’ll never now. Don’t bother me again you twat.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Perhaps I’ll get Nat to open it and tell me how bad it is? Oh but that’ll never work, I’ll just want to know what it says and make her tell me anyway. I could shred it, then there’s no going back. Oh God, I’m just going to have to read it aren’t I. I can’t just leave it on my desk and get on with my work, this’ll drive me mad! Okay, I’ll put it in my draw, no my bag. Out of sight out of mind. I must get on with some work, this is madness!



“Dear Nicky,

I know I agreed to your sixty day thing but I’m hoping enough time has passed for you to read this in the spirit it is written. I’m not going to beg you to come back, I realise that’s never going to happen. And I’m not going to repeat how sorry I am, because you’ve heard that before and I don’t think you believe me. But I want to tell you that I’ve changed, I’ve learnt from what I did and I hope I’ve grown. You meant more to me than I realised and I’ve missed you like mad since you left. Yes, I know you can never trust me again, but I wish we could be friends. Will you meet me for lunch? A drink maybe? Come round and see the cat - he misses you like mad. I miss you like mad! How did I manage to let the best thing that ever happen to me just up and leave?”
Fucking bastard, fucking fucking bastard.



“Hello Weatherby Walker-”
“Fucking hell Nat, he’s gone mad, there’s pages of shit, just rambling on about how he misses me and wants me back, and how the cat misses me, and how stupid he was! The man sounds unhinged”
“I’m sorry Maria, I can’t talk now, we’re really busy, I’ll see you at lunch yeah?”
“How am I supposed to last till lunch with this thing burning a hole in my bag?”
“Shred it Maria, it’s the only way. Gotta go, bye”


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To: Jim (work)
From: Nicky Heath
Subject: You selfish twat

You selfish fucking twat, unloading all your shit on me like that! I don’t care how you feel! I trusted you and you really hurt me! Stay away from me, I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to hear from you. You’ve ruined my day, STAY AWAY FROM ME!!!!!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 25 - Simon, Thursday

Happy fucking birthday to me.

I’ve never really enjoyed my birthdays, but even by my standards this one is starting pretty badly. The throb in my head won’t go away, and I wonder if I might have concussion? It’s tender to the touch, and there’s even a bit of a lump. No cuts or bleeding, which is a relief, but it hurts like hell. I should have gone to the doctors yesterday, just to get it checked out, but how on earth was I ever going to explain how it happened? I guess I could have pretended I’d been mugged, but I’m so ashamed of the whole incident I just want to forget it ever happened.
So instead I went back to work. I ended up being quite late back - once I’d pulled myself together, I then had to make myself look more human - wipe the snot off my face, and make my eyes less red. I wandered round for a bit, breathing deeply and trying to calm myself down, but everywhere I went I felt like I could see him out of the corner of my eye, talking to someone, sneering and pointing at me. By the time I got back to work my heart was racing and all I wanted to do was cry. But such is the atmosphere at work at the moment that no one noticed or cared that I was late back, so I went and hid in the toilet for a bit, until I felt calm enough to go back to my office and face people. Thankfully nobody bothered me all afternoon, and I was able to sneak out at five without being noticed.
When I got back the flat was deserted - John must have been on nights - so I was able to hide in my room feeling sorry for myself without anyone expecting me to explain what was the matter with me. Both Jim and Dave phoned, leaving messages of support about the whole work thing. And Mum phoned to remind me to go round for tea after work today, but I didn’t speak to any of them, and ended up falling asleep in my clothes.

So this is how it feels to be 38. Great. I’m not a fan so far. I wish I could stay in bed all day, but I’ve got to work. People complain about working on their birthday, but I don’t usually mind - what would I do otherwise? Sit around at home counting how many people have forgotten me again? It’s not like I’m going to have a big party or do anything exciting, so I might as well go to work and forget about it. And thankfully I’ve managed to keep it a secret at work, so no one ever makes a fuss. Or perhaps they know and just despise me? Aah, fuck it, who cares!

I got ready for work, slowly reassembling myself until I look pretty much like the man who left the house yesterday morning. My suit looks a bit dishevelled, but it’ll do - who knows how much longer I’ll be wearing it for anyway? I thought I was going to get out of the house without speaking to anyone, but just as I was getting ready to leave Mum caught me.
“Happy birthday love!”
“Thanks Mum.”
“I won’t sing to you, I’ll save that for your birthday tea.”
“You don’t have to Mum, not now I’m a grown-up.”
“Ooh, but it’s your birthday, someone’s got to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to you! And you’re still my little boy.”
Dear God, I’d swear she was drunk, only she doesn’t drink.
“Okay Mum, well you sing to me later, I’ve got to get to work now or I’ll be late.”
“Okay love, see you at teatime, don’t be late, it’s your favourite!”
“Bye Mum.”
“Bye love.”

Shit, the last thing I need today is birthday tea with Mum. This whole thing is like some stupid bad joke. The phone rang again, but I left it ringing and headed out of the flat. As I locked the door I heard the beep as the answering machine kicked in, and it sounded like Jim leaving a message. He’d find me later no doubt, but for now I didn’t want to speak to anyone.

There was a bit of a queue at the bus stop, which was a surprise as the bus wasn’t due for ten more minutes. So rather than stand shuffling and avoiding eye contact with strangers I nipped into the newsagents for a paper. I took my time, browsing the magazines, wondering if that be a more entertaining way to spend the bus journey, but I got slightly overwhelmed by the enormous choice, and the only things I really wanted I was too scared to buy, and couldn’t read on the bus anyway. So I picked up my usual paper and queued behind some school kids at the counter. One of them was trying to buy scratchcards, and George the newsagent was having difficulty making them understand that he wasn’t going to sell them any unless they could prove they were over sixteen. Eventually the ringleader got sick of arguing, slammed his chocolate down on the counter and said,
“Fuck you then, we’ll go to the one in the High Street - they’ll sell you as many as you like, and fags and booze too. Loser.”
“Watch you mouth you scrawny bugger. If I see you in this shop again I’ll kick you arse, now fuck off out of my sight.”
Go George!
We had one of those, “it’s not like in our day” type conversations, despite the fact that he’s probably twenty years older than me. He had a point though, I’d never have spoken to someone like that when I was a teenager, and certainly wouldn’t have had enough spare cash to waste like that. God, it makes me feel so old.
I headed for the door, and George shouted for his wife, no doubt to tell her about the continuing decline of Western Civilisation in general, and teenage boys in particular. Without really thinking I put my hand out to pick up some chocolate, but then I remembered it was my birthday and I deserved a special treat, so instead of the usual KitKat I grabbed a couple of bars of Dairy Milk, put them in my pocket and opened the door.
Then I felt a hand on my arm, and before I realised what was happening George was screaming at me and pulling me back into the shop. I didn’t let go of the door at first, so it turned into some ridiculous tug of war - George pulling me, me hanging onto the door. And then I started to hear what he was screaming:
“You thieving fucker, you think you can come in here and chat to me then just help yourself to my stock on the way out? I’ve had my eye on you for weeks, but you’re always too sly for me, but not today, I see what you put in your pocket, give it back!”
I let go of the door handle and burst into tears. Not just a gentle trickle, but great big wailing sobs. It stopped George shouting at me for a minute, but then he grabbed me by both arms and started shaking me.
“Pull yourself together, be a man why don’t you. If you think crying’s gonna get you off the hook you’ve got another thing coming!”
Then he reached into my pocket and snatched back the chocolate while I just stood there wailing, letting the paper fall out of my hands, hanging my head and shaking as I wept.
“You can stop that right now”
It was George’s wife.
“I’ve called the police and they’re on their way. Crying won’t help you know. You should be ashamed of yourself, stealing when you can bloody afford it! At least when kids do it you know they’re doing it because they’ve got no money, but you, you in your suit, you make me sick.”
I hadn’t meant to upset George’s wife, so I started saying I was sorry, and kept saying it although it was hard to understand as I was sobbing and gulping for air at the same time.
By the time the police arrived I was on my knees, whimpering and saying over and over how sorry I was. George and his wife just stood there in disbelief, occasionally shooing away the odd customer who wanted to come in to buy something. One bloke got a bit arsey because he couldn’t get any fags and called me a twat on the way out. He had a point. Next thing I know there’s a policewoman standing in front of me, asking George what had happened. George’s wife said something about CCTV, and pointed to a camera that I’d never noticed in the corner of the shop, then George pointed at the chocolate that was laying at my feet.
The policewoman knelt down to talk to me:
“You okay love?”
“I’m sorry”, I wailed, snot running down my face, mixed with my tears.
“Come on now, you need to tell me what happened. Sitting on the floor sobbing isn’t going to help any of us”
She gave me a tissue, and I wiped my face. But I didn’t want to get up, because I wasn’t even sure my legs would hold me.
“You want to tell me what happened?”
“I don’t know”, I sniffed, “I don’t remember”
“These people tell me you’ve been stealing stuff from them for some time, now you want to tell me about it here or you want me to take you to the police station and let you tell someone else?”
Police station? Fuck.
“No! I didn’t mean to! It’s my birthday! My head hurts!”
“You’re not making much sense love, you okay? You want me to get someone you know to come and help you?”
God, now she thinks I’m some kind of retard.
“No, I’m okay. I’m sorry.”
“Yes love, we know you’re sorry, we’re just not sure what you’re sorry for. I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you down to the station to sort this out, these people have got a business to run and you sitting in their doorway bawling your eyes out doesn’t seem very good for business.”

Fuck.

Chapter 24 - Simon, Wednesday

Well that went as badly as I’d expected, although I guess going in with that kind of attitude didn’t really help! It’s just hard to get excited about it - I know I’ll be gutted if I lose my job, but at the same time it might be the kick up the arse I need. It’s a bit difficult to motivate yourself to beg for your job when you’re not sure you want to keep it!
I thought we might just be having one-on-one meetings with Clive, but I got there to find him flanked by our HR manager and a specially appointed ‘Reassignment Consultant’. For fucks sake, use the term redundancy - we’re all grown-ups, we know what it means! So it was a bit like facing the Firing Squad. I wouldn’t have minded seeing Clive on his own - we’ve worked together a long while - we started in the same department, although clearly our career paths have diverged slightly. He can be a bit of a wet blanket, but he’s always treated me fairly, and I think he’d have given me the nod if anything was up. But not the other two - I doubt I’ve ever spoken to our HR bloke, possibly we’ve communicated by email, but I’m not sure I’d have recognised him if you’d asked me who I was. The Consultant was a smug looking twat in a very expensive looking suit, who sat there with his pen poised looking like he was enjoying the whole process. He started writing something before I even sat down, which really put me on the defensive - that better have been a shopping list!
What followed was pretty much an interview for my job. The usual questions that I don’t know how to answer: what are your strengths? Your weaknesses? Do you consider yourself a team player? Yeah, right - the word ‘team’ when used in that context makes me gag! I can barely tolerate most of the people I work with, so I’m guessing the answer to that is no. I can’t do bullshit very well, so there was a lot of ‘hmmm’-ing and ‘aaah’-ing. It didn’t help that the twat in the suit stared at me the whole time and never said a word. Just as I was looking my most uncomfortable he’d scribble something loudly, and smirk annoyingly. He wants me gone, I can tell. The HR bloke hardly said a word either. I remember him now, a dopey git, never has much to say for himself. If anyone should be going it should be him! At least Clive seemed to be on my side, talking me up a bit when I forgot about stuff I’d done.
He finished with a load of standard spiel about how no decisions had been made yet, how nothing would be decided until all the interviews had taken place, but how they appreciated it was a difficult time so they’d be letting people know as soon as possible as the prolonged wait would prove disruptive in the workplace. Twats. Bugger the workplace, we’re people not machines. I left the meeting feeling like shit - I knew I’d done myself no favours, but equally who wants to work for a company with so little regard for its staff? Wankers.
I went and hid in the toilet for a bit. No one would miss me - management had all gone into hiding since the announcement, and the junior staff were just going through the motions and couldn’t care less either. What am I going to do?

I spent the rest of the day hiding from people. Jim phoned several times but I let the voicemail pick it up - he wanted to know how things had gone, and I was in no rush to repeat the story. Same for Dave. Nick phoned too, which means Mum spoke to him. I’m surprised she bothered, she normally only likes to gloat about my good news, not bad. He sounded sympathetic, which was sweet of him, but I don’t think I’ll phone him back either. Then Mum caught me. It’s easier to take her call than to take the grief for not speaking to her. She wanted to know how things went, and was full of unhelpful ideas about things I should have said. At one point she suggested that this place will fall apart without me, which is frankly so ridiculous I burst out laughing. Of course she told me off - “it’s not a laughing matter Simon!” I wouldn’t mind, but the last job she had was in a hat shop about forty years ago, so she’s hardly an expert!

Lunch was a welcome relief, if only to get out of the office. I’d not been in the mood to make sandwiches, so I wandered down to the shops to get something to eat, and a beer to go with it. I found a bench to sit on and ate in the sunshine, although it was a little too cool to be really nice. A I sat there a few people from the office walked past - some said, “hi”, some looked straight through me. Neil came past, looking a bit lost without his posse. He sat down beside me for a bit and chatted about what was going on - he’d had his interview before lunch and was feeling equally depressed. We were agreed that the Consultant was evil - he never said a word to Neil either, and he felt his interview had gone really badly as well. But they can’t sack us all can they? The place needs some people to keep it going surely? Although we both wondered if the whole thing was part of some sneaky plan to relocate everything to Belgium, without having to offer us jobs over there and pay for our relocation. Of course even if I was offered I’d never go. God I wish this was over!
Neil wandered off in search of his mates, although I think he realised deep down that they’d deserted him and the days of the pub posse are over. When the dust settles it seems unlikely that anyone would want to keep up a tradition that just served to remind them of how many people were missing. I thought I ought to head back to the office too, but before I did I just popped into the shopping centre. I meant to get some chocolate, just a little something to see me through the afternoon, but before I really realised what I’d done I was in the toilets. I had noticed that I needed to pee so it was no surprise when I stood at the urinal and nothing happened. A bloke came in and stood beside me, and it soon became obvious that he wasn’t peeing either. I should have just zipped myself up and left, but in the moment before I did that I turned to look at the bloke beside me and couldn’t help notice that he was waving a hard cock at me. Bloody hell. I cleared my throat, more out of surprise than anything else and zipped myself up and for a moment there was still chance to leave, but I paused just a beat to long, and he said, “you like what you see?” I was dry-mouthed and couldn’t speak. I guess “yes” would have been the truthful answer, but somehow I couldn’t seem to say it, so I nodded my head mutely.
“In there” he said, nodding towards the cubicle, so I turned round and went into the nearest cubicle. He followed, shutting the door behind him and leaning back against it, cock still hanging out of his trousers. It was then that I realised I was out of my depth and didn’t know how to get myself out of the situation. He came towards me, and I thought he was going to hit me so I cowered slightly, which confused him as he was only trying to kiss me. He grabbed me by the back of the head and pulled me into a furious snog. I was on autopilot, the first touch of his lips and I was kissing back, chasing his tongue with my own, immediately forgetting what a dumb idea it was. As he kissed me his other hand reached for my belt, finally getting it open after a couple of tugs. The zip stuck a little, so he yanked it down as far as he could go and then pushed his hand into my trousers. As soon as his hand touched my cock I froze. This wasn’t a good idea, it wasn’t what I wanted. I tried to push him away, mumbling something in coherent and telling him to stop, but he didn’t stop, so I pushed him a little harder and he stumbled backwards.
“I’m sorry, I can’t do this”
“Bit fucking late now pal, you should have thought about that before you led me in here.”
“I’m sorry, this isn’t what I want, let me out.”
“You fucking prick tease, you think you can get me all worked up then just walk away because you don’t feel like it? Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m sorry, let me out, or I’ll call for help”
“Call for help? Who’s gonna come and rescue a filthy pervert in the toilets? Get a grip mate! Now, give me your wallet.”
“What? No!”
“Come on, I said give me your fucking wallet, you must have something in there I can use.”
“No, I won’t, let me out!”
But my whining just annoyed him more than he already was, and next thing I know he has my head in his hands and he’s banging it against the cubicle wall. Thank God it was only wood, but it still hurt like hell. I was sobbing and begging him to stop, and after the fourth or fifth time he did, and I slid to the floor, sobbing like a baby, holding my head, snot running down my face. He grabbed the wallet out of the inside pocket of my jacket, and turned to open the door, but before he left he spat in my face, and left saying, “that’ll teach you you pathetic closet case”.

I don’t know how long I sat there, but I finally moved when I heard someone come into the toilets. I leapt up and slammed the door shut, then sat down on the toilet with my head in my hands, silently sobbing. I could feel bruises where I’d hit the wall, but thankfully there was no blood. Fuck I felt a mess.