Mr. In-Between Read Online Free Page B

‘Same again?’
    When he returned, Andy had his head in his hands. He looked up and rubbed his eyes. ‘Ten years.’ He took the pint. ‘How long has it been since I saw you?’
    â€˜I don’t know. A long time. Years.’
    â€˜Eleven?’
    â€˜Twelve.’
    â€˜No, it must be eleven,’ Andy said. ‘You were there on my twentieth. Remember? Lee Clarke took a beating on the way to the pub.’
    â€˜That was your nineteenth .’
    â€˜It could have been. I don’t suppose a year either way makes much difference.’
    They knew this was not true.
    Silence.
    â€˜So what have you been doing for eleven or twelve years?’
    â€˜Oh, you know. Getting married. Having a kid. What about you?’
    â€˜You don’t want to know.’
    â€˜The last I heard you were going to university.’
    â€˜That wasn’t to be.’
    â€˜What stopped you? You were always the brainy one. We all thought you’d end up being a doctor or something.’
    Old dreams. ‘You know how it is. Things happen.’
    Andy let it pass. ‘So what do you do, since you didn’t grow up to be a doctor?’
    Jon shifted in his seat. In the far corner an old man sent up a cry of delight as the fruit machine hacked up a small handful of coins. He began to pump them straight back in. ‘Nothing much. I make a few quid here and a few quid there.’
    â€˜I know you,’ said Andy. ‘I bet you’re making a killing on the quiet.’
    The second pint disappeared quickly. Jon said, ‘Same again?’
    â€˜No. It’s my shout.’
    That meagre pile of coins. Andy’s incipient embarrassment. ‘Come off it. You’ve got a wife and kid to support.’
    Andy looked briefly irritated. ‘I can afford a couple of pints.’
    â€˜Don’t be stupid. I’m flush. I had a bit of a win last night.’ It was not quite a lie: he would have won had he played Fat Dave and his friends that afternoon. ‘What’s it to be? Same again or what?’
    Andy sighed. ‘Go on then. Cheers.’
    â€˜Anyway,’ said Jon upon his return, setting the glasses on the table, ‘I never paid back that twenty quid you lent me to impress Michelle Thompson.’
    Andy laughed. ‘That was twenty quid well spent, wasn’t it?’ he said with gregarious sarcasm. ‘If I remember right, she ended up going off with some bloke from Exeter and you ended up getting sick all over the shirt I loaned you.’
    â€˜Oh shit,’ said Jon. ‘I forgot about the shirt.’
    â€˜Rum and black,’ said Andy. ‘My mum went mad.’
    In this manner they passed the afternoon. Regret for the things they had not done was reserved for the unspecific haze of inebriation; an empty carton of cigarettes, a fresh pack open on the table. Andy leaning on his palm, his elbow wet with spilled lager. A sigh, the death rattle of nostalgia. ‘It’s good to see you again,’ he said. ‘No, I mean it,’ he insisted. ‘It’s really good to see you again. It really is. I didn’t know how much I’d forgotten. What a laugh we had, like.’
    â€˜It wasn’t all a laugh,’ Jon reminded him. ‘Most of it was fucking diabolical. I wouldn’t be seventeen again for anything.’
    â€˜No, it was,’ Andy agreed. ‘I mean, it was fucking diabolical and all that, but we made it a laugh. You can make things a laugh when you’re a kid.’
    â€˜Come off it, Andy. What have you got to be maudlin about? You’re married. You’ve got Cathy wassname from the year below.’
    â€˜Reynolds. No, don’t get me wrong.’ He waved his cigarette a little too expansively and frowned. ‘Don’t get me wrong, like, she’s smashing. I love her to pieces. She’s my best friend. And Kirsty. It’s smart being a dad. Fucking smart having this tiny little thing