chapter twenty one

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    I found it hard to follow what Keith was saying. I always did. He had such a deep voice where his words seems to fold out into one continuous noise that I couldn’t for the life of me separate them into something intelligible. He was telling us something amusing by the smirk on his face and the fire in his eyes but as I squinted in concentration I couldn’t work out anything. When Jack opened his mouth as wide as it would go so he could belt out his beautiful sound of laughter I glanced at him worriedly before trying to join in.

    Keith’s eyes flickered my way as he gauged my reaction to his joke. I smiled, bobbing my head as if trying to assure him I found it just as hilarious as my boyfriend did. Keith picked up a bottle and took an almighty swig before making a satisfied sound and returning it loudly on the table top.

    We were all gathered around Brian’s house in Hartfield. It was quite the sight with its old splendour, tan brickwork and strange roof. The only thing that looked out of place was the pool right in front of it which was far too blue and modern to ever fit in with the rustic feel of his house. It was far too cold and brittle outside for anyone to want to make use of it or to walk around the beautiful garden he owned.

    He wasn’t with the rest of us that were sat in his lounge. I hadn’t seen him leave but I’d become aware of his absence some while ago and apparently so had Jack because he had glanced around before rolling his eyes and carrying on chatting loudly to Keith, Bill and Charlie.

    Leaning forward I picked up a strange object off of the coffee table. It was brown and peculiar with strange little scratch marks along the side. Frowning, I held it up to eye level to give a closer inspection but I couldn’t work out what it was.

    “He got it from India,” Jack murmured taking the thing off of me and scanned his eyes over it briefly. “He likes collecting odd little trinkets like that.” I watched silently as he put the object back down, Bill cracked up laughing at something Bill or one of their girlfriends had said. In the background the record player was on and I could just about make out some tribal music, I’d heard that Brian was fond of tribal music.

    “Where is he?”

    Jack shrugged and sucked in a breath before swinging an arm around my shoulders and snatching up a bottle of wine off of the table. “Who knows?” Then after taking a good few gulps from the bottle planted a wet kiss on my cheek, “You know that bloke that wrote Winnie the Pooh used to live here!” I raised my eyebrows; it was hard to imagine that the man that had written books about a cute little bear had once padded around inside these rooms as he came up with the plans.

    “You wouldn’t have thought it would you?” Jack’s tone darkened as he examined my face, “Not with Brian being…Brian.”

    It was timed to perfection really because as soon as Jack had uttered his friend’s name in he walked, the man himself although he was dressed spectacularly bizarrely like usual and he was holding his hands out toward us excitedly. Hurrying over he tripped on the corner of a red and gold patterned rug but spurred on as if that were a normal thing for him to do.

    “What’s that?” I think I heard Bill ask.

    “It’s drugs,” Brian beamed as he pushed in beside me, squashing me awkwardly between him and Jack who mumbled something under his breath. “Obviously!”

    Instantly I began to feel nervous, not really wanting to hang around any more if this party was going to take that kind of turn. It may have been perfect for Angie but I was not a drug user. The hardest drug I’d ever take would be either alcohol or cigarettes and they weren’t particularly bad. Not like the stuff in Brian’s hands anyway.

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