The Swap - By Antony Moore Page 0,99

sent it to me?' Harvey was astounded. Bleeder sent him the comic; after all these years of dreaming exactly that, it had come true. Was this perhaps the time in his life when everything he had ever hoped for just happened? Why hadn't he hoped for Britney Spears? He put that thought away where it belonged and gazed at Bleeder who nodded.

'Of course, where did you think it came from? It just seemed right to return it to you. It was yours, after all. And now you run a comic shop. You had nothing to run away from, you see, in your past there was nothing to hide from so you stayed where you were: reading comics and doing swaps and listening to pop music, all that. That's what I meant about feeling pity. I have come so far from here but you have stayed right where you were, right here in St Ives.'

This was so catastrophically unfair that for the first time since they met at the pub, Harvey became genuinely animated.

'You fucking what? I moved to London, mate. I live a life as far away from this as it's possible to bloody get. I mean, OK your mother was straight out of the Bates Motel, but that doesn't mean nobody else had problems, I had problems.'

'Like what?' Bleeder was doing that piercing thing with his eyes again and Harvey withered beneath it.

'I don't know, stuff, problems, my parents didn't understand me kind of stuff, you know. I mean, OK, I wasn't getting the lash every twenty minutes but that doesn't mean everything was easy. You should meet my dad, he's fucking weird.'

'Yes, yes, I'm sure.' Bleeder nodded and spoke without sarcasm but Harvey was aware that the words weren't really adding up.

He sighed a sort of medium strength and said: 'OK, look, I mean, thanks for the comic, yeah? I didn't expect it and I have to say it kind of freaked me. I thought someone was setting me up for murder, sort of thing. But I should say that actually it is worth a bit of money, you know, not loads, but, well, quite a load really. So I don't know if maybe you should have it back, or we could share it or something . . . Whatever you think, yeah? Charles?'

But Bleeder was moving away from the edge, past where Harvey stood and back along the path. Harvey, with another expert flick of his cigarette over the parapet, followed. Did Bleeder not realise what he'd just said? It was as if he hadn't heard. And Harvey had just made the most generous offer of his life. All he'd dreamed of, the coffee shop with the superhero pictures, the wealthy married life with Maisie, all of it, he'd just offered to give it up, to give it back to Bleeder. And why? Shit, why? Oh, because Bleeder saved him and Bleeder needed a friend back then, but didn't get one, so he would be a friend now. All this was moving through his mind and melding together to form a large black blob of hurt feelings. This was as moral as he got. This was all he could do, there really wasn't any more. He almost ran after Bleeder who was now pacing the path with swift foot. It had begun to drizzle again and his hair was shining in the gathering light of the afternoon.

'I mean it, Charles. You can have it back.' But Bleeder didn't respond in words, he simply stepped off the path and stalked away between two gorse bushes across the high back of the headland. 'Charles?' Really quite plaintive this time, and then he turned.

'I think I need some time on my own, H. I've said more than I'd planned and I need to take stock. Let's, let's talk again . . .' He was moving away, the second person that afternoon to need time apart from him to think, and the hurt feelings grew and solidified.

'Well, that's charming,' said Harvey. 'Thanks a bundle.'

'I'm . . . what do you mean?' Bleeder paused, astonished.

'The comic. I offer it you back and you don't even respond. It's worth money, Charles, for Christ's sake. I could have sold it if I'd wanted to, you know. I could be well off now. But I didn't, I kept it for you, and all you do when I offer it to you, for nothing, is ignore me.' There were reasons why this wasn't a terribly good