Mitch’s flat was empty. I walked through from the lounge to the bedroom but there was no trace of life. The DIY bookshelf had been dismantled, the brick supports neatly piled up against the wall alongside the wooden slats which had held my boyfriend’s novel and disc collection. The bathroom cupboard was empty, the neat array of shaving foams and condoms had gone and only a half-used bar of soap hinted at his tenancy. I checked the phone and saw it was no longer plugged in.

Behind me the front door creaked. Mr Perkins appeared out of nowhere and pulled back the curtains.

‘He’s gone. The new tenants are moving in this week so please don’t come back. This is private property and I can’t have anyone walking in off the street.’ There was smugness, an ‘I told you so’ expression on his face.

‘Where’s he gone? Do you have a forwarding address?’ I leant against the wall to check my balance and to try and stop my head spinning.

‘No. I’ve no idea and I couldn’t care less. If you do catch up with him, by the way, will you ask him to settle his bill. He’s two months owing.’

Mr Perkins ushered me out the door. He took a key and locked up my boyfriend’s flat with an air of victory; and of finality. Mr Perkins told me to let myself out. I watched his stooped retreating back mount the stairs and knew I wouldn’t be making any more late-night drunken visits to this address.

17

Arthur

My mother told me, after Dad left, that the first time you fall in love is the best, most excruciatingly emotional time of your life. But it is also the worst. She wasn’t wrong there.

As I watched Amber close the front door, I knew then what my mother meant by the first cut. All I could think of at that moment was hatred, revenge and loathing, and an overwhelming desire for the object of my torment. Base animal lust thrives alone, separated by the narrowest of threads from sane rational thought.

I tortured myself, like a masochistic self-flagellating monk as I kept silent vigil by the window.

All night I sat. I longed for the lights to go off, for the devil caller to leave, go back to his cave and give me respite from wild imaginings. He didn’t.

He stayed all night and I have the pictures to prove it.

18

Arthur

Christmas Day arrived. I got up early and walked from my flat in Finchley to Golders Green. I decided the pharmacy would offer me a haven of calm for a couple of hours before the storm. The brisk walk would clear my head and the dark tranquillity of my emporium would help soothe my worst fears.