Matthew 3

Zachy’s waiting for me at West Hampstead tube. He’s wearing a sharp hat and he looks nervous and slightly aggressive. His eyes dart around as if he’s expecting to have to make a run for it at any moment, and actually, that’s not all that unreasonable an assumption to make, since quite a few people usually are after him for one thing or another.

I’m so grateful he said he’d come with me; I’m really dreading it. His eyes narrow as he stubs one cigarette out and immediately lights another, taking a deep breath in, then he looks me up and down. Appearances are very important to Zach and he always comments. I wait;

“You look like Princess Diana gone wrong.” He laughs softly,

“I didn’t know what to wear…..” I am always on the defensive with Zachary.

He looks to either side of him again, and then I notice that one of his hands is very slightly held out

“Here..”

My hand slides over to his and he slips a little twist of foil into it

I look at him gratefully – I’m so touched at his thoughtfulness! It’s just the thing to get me through the day. I almost kiss him; then I think better of it, and go back into the tube station.

When I come out again he is still laughing softly, and this time I smile back. I don’t care anymore; the silk scarf that I’ve tied around my forehead was Joel’s so he can go and fuck himself. I’m not taking it off for anyone or anything. And I don’t care what he thinks of my dreadlocks, or the shaved bits around the sides either. Anyway, nothing matters so long as we can get through the day. I am fortified against the worst of it now. We set off.

As we get nearer to Priory Road the wind picks up, gusting little flurries of leaves across the pavements. I’ve done this walk so many times, and in so many different states. On smack it’s all slightly dreamy – it cushions me a little, but only a little. I know I should have come here more. I still hate myself for drifting away. Being in France for a year is no excuse, I know that. I never even wrote – just phoned once or twice. How could I have done that? He was so kind to me – never ever turned me away, nor any of Joe’s friends that horrible summer after he died. We practically lived there – me and Ben, and he welcomed us, although we can’t have been the easiest people to have around. I think we both felt it was the nearest we could get to Joel – not that either of us talked much about him, we just felt better being there.

Then it suddenly occurs to me that maybe Matthew might have actually enjoyed us being there too – that it mightn’t have just been the other way around. When Ben went to America, and I faded away, seeing him less and less – maybe he’d been lonely and missed us; perhaps it was my fault? The idea that he felt he had no-one who cared about him……

I’ve let Joe down too – the person I loved most in the world, Matthew was never streetwise like us – he’d grown up in the country and even though he was three years older, he had a kind of innocence that made you want to protect him. I should have done more. Joel would have wanted me to. I should’ve stayed around. Maybe then he wouldn’t have died. Maybe it’s my fault. I feel dreadful.

I have to make myself snap back to the present because we’re nearly there. We can see them now – a crowd – two crowds, and people are going between them, heads down, conferring ..

We slow down, and Zachy says; “what the fuck?”

My heart sinks, because it looks as if Joel’s mum and Matthew’s mum have got into battle formation and we’re going to have to take sides. I look at Zach;

“It’s a bit complicated to explain..”