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NEW CHAPTER ONCE MORE…
Saturday was wet. It almost had to be.
Paul stuck his head round the bedroom door and was greeted by Delaney’s bare backside.
“Sorry.” He retreated, and spoke to him through the door. “Breakfast’s ready.”
“Okay.”
Delaney joined him five minutes later. Jonathan pushed a muesli packet at him, saying, “Is that all your worldly possessions? Shit, you can’t eat that, can you?”
Delaney shook his head.
Jonathan said, “Toast? It’s brown.”
“Fine.”
“Any problems with marmalade?”
“Nope.”
“There’s yoghurt, fruit, fruit juice. Anything you like. Help yourself. Have a look in the fridge.”
He did and helped himself to an orange, began peeling it while the bread was toasting.
“Is that everything?”
Delaney nodded.
“You travel light.”
Delaney shrugged.
“No records? No books?”
Delaney popped an orange slice in his mouth. “No money.”
“Where did it all go, if you were getting free bed and board?”
“Gym fees, equipment. I go through a lot of shoes and things. I like good ones. And I saved the rest.”
Jonathan nodded, having the odd feeling he was lying to him, but he couldn’t pinpoint it. “Well, it won’t take you long to move.” He felt an indefinable depression settle over him again. He’d had them on and off almost constantly since Delaney had found the flat. He’d woken up during the night last night, feeling as if his dog had just died. He’d dreamt something that had closed his throat up with tears and Delaney had been in it, but Christ alone knew what it was.
They finished breakfast too soon and got ready to go out.
They packed Delaney’s belongings – mostly in supermarket carrier bags – into the boot of the car and set off.
The house was dilapidated, in an area of bed-sits, almost a stereotype, earmarked by bad paintjobs, multiple doorbells and black rubbish sacks full to overflowing.
Delaney pressed the bell, pulling his collar up against the rain. Jonathan came up behind him, carrying two bags, as the door opened.
“Yes?” It was a small thickset man. Well-spoken but badly shaved.
“I’m Frank Delaney. I saw Mrs Blunt about letting her room yesterday.”
The man looked blank, then belligerent, then hostile. The expressions moved so fast it was almost comic. “She’s let it.”
Delaney was markedly thrown. Jonathan came up a step.
Delaney said, “She can’t have. I saw her yesterday. I gave her a £10 deposit for the keys.”
“Don’t know nothing about it, mate. You’ll have to see her. She’s let it.” The ‘mate’ sounded as alien in his mouth as if Jonathan had said it.
“Now listen.” Delaney’s voice was still level but something had changed about him “If she’s changed her mind then fine, it was a shit room anyway, but I want my money.”
“She isn’t in.”
“Too bad. I want my money.”
The little man pushed forward, immediately ugly with aggression. “Push off.” And he shoved Delaney in the chest.
Jonathan said, “Hey…” pushing up beside Delaney. But he needn’t have bothered. Delaney punched the man, square in the face. Jonathan heard the impact, like hitting ripe fruit. The man went back, foot catching in the door, fell backwards into the house at a stagger.
A woman screamed. “Albert! Albert!”
Jonathan thought dismally, Christ it’s like a sitcom. Albert.
Delaney was standing in the hall, saying, “I want my money.”
The woman was screaming, “I’ll get the police to you. Help! Help! Police!”
“Jesus,” Jonathan said, trying to pull Delaney’s arm, get him out.
But Delaney suddenly lunged, caught the woman by the throat, up against the wall. “I want my money.”
The man was struggling up off the floor, nose streaming blood.
The woman began fumbling in her cardigan pocket, “Here, here. I’ll get the police to you. Albert, get the police.”
Delaney let her go. He turned and went past Jonathan. Jonathan turned, went after him at speed.
Delaney was waiting in the car. Jonathan jumped in and took off like a drug baron making his escape from Harlem.
It was Delaney who said a few minutes later, “Watch your speed, for fuck’s sake.” He still sounded ratty. Not like Delaney at all.
Jonathan immediately slowed, then said angrily, “Why the hell did you hit him like that?”
“I wanted my money.”
“You didn’t need to ruddy hit him.”
Delaney said, “Stop the car.”
“What?”
“I said, stop the fucking car.” And Delaney was staring at him, fixing him with those eyes. And was it an illusion or had the colour somehow leached out in them? Like yellow fire. A trick. A trick.
Jonathan pulled into the side, realised he was almost trembling with adrenalin.
Delaney opened the car door, saying, “I want my stuff.”
Jonathan said, “What?”
Delaney’s expression seemed to change, regroup, and when he spoke he sounded like himself again. Flat, emotionless. “I need my stuff out the boot.”
Jonathan couldn’t understand him; countered with, “Why?”
“Because it’s mine.” And his voice was hard, his gaze on him again.
“Where are you going?”
“To find somewhere to live.”
“Don’t talk stupid, you can’t just…” Jonathan stopped then said levelly, “I’m sorry.” And it felt like a weight coming off his soul.
Delaney brought his legs back in and closed the door, looked straight ahead.
Jonathan started the car and felt as if he’d been granted a pardon for his life.
Delaney sat down on the settee with a weary thump, as uncharacteristic as most of his behaviour seemed these days.
Jonathan said, “How d’you feel about lunch?”
Delaney nodded.
“And wine, how do you feel about wine? Does it bring you out in hives or anything?”
Delaney’s eyes came up slowly. Jonathan smiled. Delaney nodded again.
Jonathan went out to make lunch.
“You can stay here and I’ll do as I originally intended – I’ll ask around for you and we’ll get you some proper digs. Our students rent and leave places all the time. Like universities, we’ve got people who take them.” He smiled. “The thrill of having a real dancer on the premises. Relax, it isn’t any problem.”
“I need to give you something for my keep then.”
“Alright, if you want to. But you don’t need to, it isn’t going to be for long.”
“I want to.”
Jonathan shrugged. “Okay.” He smiled, lifted the bottle in question. Delaney nodded. Jonathan refilled his glass. “We’re celebrating, by the way, since you didn’t ask. Take everything in his stride Delaney.”
“Celebrating what?”
“Your new career, new life, and a narrow escape from the clutches of Albert.”
Delaney looked at the table, head tilted, no smile. Jonathan said, “What’s wrong?”
Delaney shrugged.
Jonathan said, “Come to the theatre tonight, get out the house.”
Delaney didn’t answer.
Jonathan said, “You’re going to have to face it some time. Better than waiting.”
“It’s only two days. One really.”
“Come along,” Jonathan coaxed.
Delaney looked up and said, “Okay.” And then he gulped down the rest of his wine.
The theatre was packed out. Jonathan did not miss the curious looks of Jo and the FOH girls as he went through the foyer. He was spared introductions; it was far too busy for that.
He said, “We’ll go see Paul first. You can stay there while I do the rounds. Unless you’d rather come with me?”
Delaney shook his head. “Be fine.”
They went through the door to the auditorium. Jonathan took a programme from the girl. She didn’t look at him; she was looking at Delaney. Jonathan passed him it. “Here, introduce yourself to your fellow dancers.” He pushed open a small door and gestured him ahead.
They went up a long flight of narrow stairs. Delaney stopped at the top. “Go on,” Jonathan urged. He pushed open the door.
Paul swung round. “Well hello. This is an honour.” He was looking at Delaney, surprise all over his face.
Jonathan said, “Thought we’d see what you did in here all night.”
“Dozed off, a well-known fact.”
“He admits it. Take care of this boy while I go see the prancing horses.”
“My pleasure.” Paul was still looking at him, smiling.
Jonathan said to Delaney, “Back when it starts, okay?”
Delaney nodded.
Jonathan went.
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