‘No, much older than either of you. Sixties? Seventies?’
‘I don’t know. Some retired officer? Peter must be about that age.’
Aleksey twiddled his pen then rolled his eyes. ‘With a dog called Snodgrass.’
Ben laughed. ‘I think I’d remember a dog called that. What does he look like?’
‘Not as tall as us, but over six feet. Weathered, steely—’
‘I meant the dog.’
‘Oh. Hard to say. Like that cartoon one.’
‘Scooby Doo?’
‘The one with the boy detective.’
‘Yeah. Scooby Doo.’
‘No. A white dog.’
‘Do you mean Tintin? Snowy?’
‘Yes! Exactly like him, only after a very bad night on the town.’
‘Huh.’
‘What?’
‘Remember I told you about the fight Squeezy had. That old bloke had a white dog. Looked a bit like Radulf put on a rinse cycle with bleach for a few hours then tumble-dried when his label said not to: shrunken and pitifully ragged. He’s one of the homeless guys.’
‘You said he wasn’t.’
‘No, I said Squeezy said he wasn’t aveteran—that he was a fake.’
Aleksey hesitated before murmuring more to himself than Ben, ‘That he was a deceiver and a liar.’
‘I guess. Why are you asking all this? Did you meet him?’
Aleksey laid down his pen, thinking, dismissing Ben’s question with a gesture towards the kettle, which always got Ben distracted.
Homeless.
People who see everything.
This was possibly a lot more interesting than just seeing dead people.
* * *
‘Come on, are you ready?’ Aleksey twiddled the car keys around his finger, shouting down to the bedroom. ‘Wear something warm, Benjamin, you know you are not a young man any more.’
Ben emerged from across the swim lane, pulling on his new hoodie. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m waiting for you, apparently, because you are so slow to get ready. You did not need to dress up for a…sleep out, but you do look nice.’
‘You said nothing would tempt you to leave our—’
‘Ack, you do exaggerate and misrepresent me, Benjamin. Of course I am coming with you. I can think of nothing I would rather do.’
