The Swap - By Antony Moore Page 0,11

insults with the rest. So yes, he knew the house. It stood alone, a white, child-architect's square box, in the land that was slowly being colonised by the new estates spreading out from St Ives, not far from the school. And with that, he realised that Bleeder was driving directly away from his own destination.

'Yeah, I remember the house, and er, sorry, am I taking you out of your way?'

'It's OK. I'm glad to have a look at at the place again. It's so long since I was down and I only got here last night. Meetings going on till lunchtime, then a long drive. Pretty crap day, actually.'

'Right, right.' Something was itching in Harvey's brain. Something was niggling.

'You say you're moving your mother,' he said deliberately.

'Yes. The social services have found her a place in sheltered accommodation. Three rooms, private bathroom, but part of a community. It's up near St Ia's Church, so it's a lot closer to town. She can't manage the bus so well now.'

Harvey flapped his hand at this extraneous information as at a mosquito. 'So you must be throwing out a lot of stuff?'

'Oh God, yes.' Bleeder shook his head. 'She's been there for ever. You would not believe some of the stuff . . .' He stopped, as though reminded of something. 'There's so much stuff.'

'Must be. I wonder . . .' Harvey stopped.

'It's amazing what you accumulate. Over the years. It's amazing what you manage to keep. Bits and pieces.'

Harvey looked across at Bleeder who was speaking slowly and with an uneasy precision.

'Lot's of things from your schooldays, sort of thing? Stuff from when we were kids?'

'Oh stuff from forever. From way back, before I was born, things of my dad's. She's been packing for weeks with someone from the social services helping her. They've thrown loads out but there's still boxes and boxes. I'm supposed to be going through it, things the social services woman thought might be mine . . .'

'They've thrown loads out,' Harvey repeated slowly.

'Yes, gave it to Oxfam and the other thrift shops, I think, what was salvageable. But a lot of it just went to the dump.'

'But your stuff,' Harvey was staring at Bleeder intently, 'you haven't gone through it all yet?'

'No, I haven't started. Couldn't face it last night and today I had the reunion. Tomorrow we might get a bit done but Mum's going to see her sister, Auntie Flo, who lives in Pad-stow and she insists she's got to go through everything herself. So it'll be tomorrow night and then all day Monday.' He sighed. 'I'm not sure I can even be bothered really. Maybe it's just better to get rid of everything, you know. I haven't needed any of this stuff for twenty years. Why would I suddenly need it now?'

'Right.' Harvey nodded hard. They had driven well past the turn to his parents' house. The long row of shops that led them into the town centre had been passed without him really noticing at all and they were now following the road that skirted the centre itself and led out along the harbour wall and up to rejoin the coast road beyond. 'It's funny,' he said, 'but talking about old stuff, I was wondering if you remembered something.'

'Oh?'

'Yeah. It's nothing really, just a memory that came back to me just now.' Harvey felt his voice beginning to rise as if in panic. He coughed and cleared his throat. 'Excuse me. It's just, ages ago, back at school, you know, there was a day: we were walking up to school and we swapped something I think. Yeah, that's it, we did a swap. Do you remember at all? We exchanged something.'

'A swap?'

'Yeah, yeah. I remember it because I swapped a comic I think. That was it, wasn't it? I swapped a comic with you. Do you remember that?' The twenty years of thinking about this moment hadn't misled him, it was just as hard as he'd ever imagined it might be.

'A swap? A comic?' Bleeder was narrowing his eyes as he turned left and followed the road away from the harbour towards the hill that led out of town. 'A swap. I do remember something. You gave me a comic.'

'Yeah, some crappy comic.' Harvey was very sure it was sweat that he was feeling now and wished he could turn the wet pants device off. 'You wanted it and I let you have it. Something like that. Remember?'

'I do. I sort of do.'