‘To be perfectly frank, I find it hard to talk about. She was an alcoholic and a drug addict and we tried to get her clean, but … I suppose she was on her own path.’
He drinks, ice cubes rattling.
‘Anyway, she moved to Bali. Went out for a moonlight swim. Such a waste.’
He hangs his head, then adds in a quiet voice: ‘Strange to think I had two siblings and now I have none.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say and I realise that I am. For all his charm, he is lonely.
‘It’s just,’ I continue, ‘there was this man, Derek, in the chapel—’
Ben cuts across me, sharply.
‘Derek?’
‘Yes.’
Ben smiles.
‘Ahh, Derek. Not sure what he was telling you, but you mustn’t pay any attention to it.’
His eyes are steady, unblinking.
‘Oh,’ I say.
‘He’s a bit of a stoner.’
Ben is sitting again now, and he leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. Then he reaches out and gives me a playful slap on my shin. My leg tenses. I have always disliked unexpected physical contact.
‘It’s good to see you, old friend.’ He clinks his glass against mine.
‘Is it?’
‘It truly is.’
I wait.
‘So what are you doing with yourself these days?’
‘I’m a lecturer in art history at Cambridge.’
‘Really?’ He sucks in his cheeks. I can tell he’s impressed.
‘The University of South Anglia, don’t get too excited.’
‘Oh. Ha ha. Well still, that’s great, mate. So pleased for you. You always loved …’ He butterflies his hands around the room. ‘Arty stuff.’
‘I did. I do.’
‘And you like it, do you? The students?’
‘I like the subject. The students not so much.’
He laughs. A truthful laugh. I can see the shine of his teeth. I am so pleased to have made him laugh. Pathetic, but there you have it. And because I want to keep his attention, I tell him more.
‘Had a bit of bother with one of them who accused me of being “culturally insensitive”.’ I make a show of the quotation marks.
‘Yes, I heard about that. Saw it in the papers. Malik-Edwards, wasn’t it?’
