window, he saw signs of something bigger than himself, a vast conscious energy that stirred the litter in the gutters, the leaves on the trees, the swings in the playground opposite his flat.
Royle had never been a religious man, but as he got older he became more aware of his burgeoning spirituality. He wasn’t sure what he believed in, but he knew that he believed in something – or that he wanted to believe.
In his trouser pocket, his mobile phone began to vibrate. He took it out and opened the text message. It was from Vanessa.
Are you awake?
It was a system they’d worked out between them. He struggled with insomnia and the pregnancy was causing her to sit up late at night, unable to sleep. So if one of them wanted to talk, or simply to listen to another voice on the phone whatever the time of day or night, they’d send a quick text to see if the other was amenable to a chat.
He reached over and retrieved the landline phone from its spot on the windowsill and dialled her number. She answered on the second ring.
“How are you?” she said, without preamble.
“The usual. Can’t sleep, mind refuses to shut down. You know...”
He pictured her smile and the way she always ducked her head slightly, as if to try and hide her chin.
“What about you? Baby keeping you awake?”
“Yeah. Baby’s been restless tonight. I don’t think it enjoyed the mushroom sandwich I had earlier. Maybe Baby’s getting a bit sick of mushrooms.”
“The way it got sick of cooked meat?”
“Yes.” She paused, and he sensed some minor apprehension on her behalf. “I know I shouldn’t say this, but I’m missing you tonight. Sorry. No... I definitely shouldn’t have said that.”
He adjusted his position in the chair and rested his fingertips on the edge of the whisky glass. “No, it’s okay. I know what you mean. I’m feeling a bit down myself, and kind of wish that I had someone here in the flat. Just another presence around the place.”
“Uh-hum. That’s it. That’s exactly it. I wouldn’t want you to speak to me, or do anything. Just be here. Be around, to make it less lonely.”
He felt an ache in his chest. Nothing major, a slight twinge that was gone just as quickly as it had arrived. “Yes,” he said. “Yes.”
They both stopped speaking, then. It was a comfortable, companionable silence. If they’d been sitting in the same room, one of them perhaps reading a book, it would have felt natural. But on the phone it was slightly strained. Royle listened to the static on the line and thought about the Hum. This thought led on to the Crawl, and he shut his eyes to try and disperse the negativity it brought. He was out of its range here; the Crawl could not reach him.
There was a crackling noise in his ear – or was it more of a clicking sound? Then the low-grade white noise surged back in and drowned out the other sound he thought he’d heard.
“This is awkward, isn’t it?”
He nodded and then remembered that she couldn’t see him. “It isn’t usually like this,” he said. “It’s probably me. I’m tired and frustrated.”
“Is it that young man, the one who was stabbed?”
“Yes... it’s always about him, lately. I can’t seem to shake it. I need to find out who did it, bring them in, and file it all away neatly.”
“Life isn’t like that. You know it isn’t. How many unsolved cases have you been involved with? How many dead people were buried without the answers to why they ended up that way? You know better than anyone that these things can’t be tied up in a bow and put away on a shelf somewhere, all neatly packaged. It doesn’t work like that.”
She was right. She was always right. About this, and about everything else. About them, their relationship, the way they had to live apart if they were to stand any chance of getting back together.
“How’s the drinking?”
He knew she’d ask. She always did.
“The same.” He waited for the sigh but it didn’t come.
“But are you working on it?”
He looked at the whisky glass perched on the arm of the chair. The amber fluid glimmered with light reflected from the window.
“Yes,” he said. “Slowly. I’m working on it slowly.”
He heard a soft smacking sound as she pursed her lips or sucked her teeth. He imagined her small, pink tongue poking between her lips.
“We’ll get there,” she said, and