I grimace and put the car into gear. I hear the music before I even turn the corner. It’s ear-piercingly loud, making my teeth hurt.
“Is that fuckingbagpipes?” I say incredulously to no one.
I screech the car to a stop. Mrs Mac, my other neighbour, is standing in her garden leaning on her wall, her hands moving as if she’s conducting an orchestra.
For a moment, I think it’s her music I’m hearing, and then I follow her gaze, and my mouth drops open.
Xavier is standing in my front garden. He’s wearing a pair of fluorescent pink boxer briefs, which he’s paired with my old Russian hat with the flaps down, and combat boots. A cigarette hangs from his mouth, and he’s dancing wildly as if he’s at a rave rather than a cottage garden on Mull.
I climb out of the car slowly. Xavier appears not to have seen me, but that doesn’t fool me. He’s scarily observant, so he’s obviously biding his time.
“What is going on right now?” I say faintly.
Mrs Mac chuckles. “Love your guest,” she shouts. “I’ve never heard bagpipes like this. He’s going to make me a copy.”
“Lovely. Just absolutelysuper.”
Xavier finally deigns to acknowledge me and waves a languid hand but carries on dancing.
“What is this?” I call above the din.
“It’s techno bagpipes,” he says in a pious voice. “When in Scotland, Reuben.”
His eyes are twinkling, and I want to laugh so badly.
“How lovely to see our customs adopted by the younger generation, Reuben,” Mrs Mac says.
I smile weakly at the fact that she’s just lumped me into the same age bracket as her.
“Lovely. Come with me, please,” I say grimly, grabbing Xavier’s arm and steering him towards the front door.
“See you later,” he shouts to Mrs Mac. “Nice to meet you.” His Russian hat has dipped and is now over one eye, but the other is twinkling with laughter and enjoyment of the situation.
“Lovely to meet you, too, dear. Reuben, you must bring him round for supper.”
“Only after I’ve murdered him in a horribly inventive way,” I say sweetly. Then I push him into the house and slam the door. The music beats at the house, and the walls seem to throb with it.
“Siri,stop,” I shout amid the cacophony.
Silence falls, and we stare at each other. He opens his mouth, and it’s the last straw. I put up a finger to stop him talking, then promptly burst out laughing. I don’t think I’ve laughed this hard in years.
I chortle and snort until I can’t get any air and fall back against the door, sliding to the floor. All the time he watches me, his head cocked to the side like a puppy who’s lost his way.
Each time I sober, I take another look at his hat and boots and start again. I laugh so long that his own lips twitch and he starts to laugh too.
When I finally calm, I reach out and pull him down to sit next to me. “I don’t want youeverto change. Please promise me that,” I say fervently as I wipe the tears away.
I’m excessively gratified to see the confusion and a trace of fascination in his eyes. It doesn’t last long, and I sigh when it vanishes and leaves only naughtiness.
He sniffs. “Well, that just means I’m going tohaveto change. Well done, Reuben. Who knows what my next metamorphosis will be?”
“I can’t wait to find out.” The honesty is stark in my voice.
Xavier
The house is completely silent apart from the wind howling outside. It sounds mournful, like it’s begging to come inside and get warm.
I turn over in bed and lie for a minute before rolling over again. I’m tired. In fact, I’m utterly weary. I want to sleep but my body won’t let me. My legs feel restless, and my skin hurts. My brain is also going a mile a minute.
