Next of Kin (2 page)

Ryan took his hand and shook it. ‘Ryan,’ he said.

‘Fancy nipping next door and grabbing a drink. Help me celebrate?’

Ryan considered the idea. Walk home in the rain or bum a couple of drinks off a nerd in a tweed jacket? No contest really, but it didn’t pay to look too eager.

‘Better than going out in that,’ the man added, glancing towards the door.

‘Maybe just a half, then,’ Ryan said grudgingly.

Woody indicated that Ryan should lead the way. Outside, despite the rain, Mill Road was still busy; it was lined with little shops selling everything from vintage clothes to spicy falafel and Vietnamese vegetables, and was the place foreign students headed for to buy a little taste of home. There was a pool hall and Chinese supermarket and a Cajun café tucked between a guy who sold hookah pipes and a place that sold spices and herbs, that, when the wind was in the right direction, flooded the air with mouth-watering smells. This end of the road was the betting shop and across the way the pub.

Ryan had always liked Mill Road. He’d never got around to travelling, missed out on all that whole gap year shizzle. Mill Road, he thought, was probably the closest he’d ever get to exotic places, although today the air smelt not of spices but of laundry and diesel fumes.

The pub on the corner was as close as Ryan had got to a local; it wasn’t flash but it was comfortable, not done up to be something it wasn’t, which was a proper working man’s pub with sport on the TV, a couple of slot machines, decent beer and a good line in basic pub grub. More than that it was far enough away from where he lived to keep Sarah off his back.

‘So do you live round here?’ Woody asked, as they waited for the barman to notice them. This time of the afternoon the place was almost empty, the man was on his own, nipping in and out, clearing up, and refilling the shelves, so it took them a while to get served.

Ryan shrugged. ‘Maybe half an hour’s walk away, not that far, but there’s a bus.’

‘Handy.’

Ryan laughed. ‘Seriously. It’s not that far. And it’s a nice area.’

‘The place I’m in at the moment isn’t. I’m looking for somewhere else.’

‘You serious about that?’

Woody nodded. ‘Yeah. The room I’ve got at the moment is a bit out of the way and a bit rough, you know what I mean?’

Ryan nodded. ‘ Yeah,’ he paused. ‘The thing is we, that’s Sarah, we need—’

Woody held up a hand to stop him. ‘References, deposit, someone who can pay on time and pay every month?’

Ryan nodded. ‘She’s a bit of a stickler.’

‘Nothing wrong with that.’

The barman finally came over. Woody encouraged Ryan to order first, insisted he had a pint, ordered an orange juice for himself, and then paid. ‘I’m doing my MBA,’ Woody said, handing the barman a crisp new twenty. ‘I’ve got references and my parents are bank rolling me while I’m over here studying. I get a regular allowance, and I need to be away from where I am, and I’m happy to pay for an upgrade.’

‘Right,’ said Ryan, nodding thoughtfully, as he took a mouthful of beer, sipping away the foam. He was parched. The lager was sharp and cold and for a moment Ryan thought that maybe the gods had smiled on him after all, recompense for the failure of his dead cert. ‘Well, we’ve got a couple of rooms,’ he said. ‘Nice rooms. Clean.’

Woody nodded enthusiastically.

‘And it’s a nice area. On the other side of Jesus Green. You know, the park? Off Victoria Road.’

‘Is there any chance I could come round and have a look at it?’

Ryan nodded. ‘Sure, when do you want to come round?’

‘The sooner the better, really.’ Woody picked up a menu from the bar. ‘I’m starving, do you fancy grabbing something to eat?’

Ryan shrugged; he was flat-busted broke, the truth was that food sounded like a great idea but he certainly wasn’t going to order something he couldn’t pay for. He was hoping that there was something in the fridge when he got back. Maybe Sarah had been shopping. Sometimes she brought home leftovers from the restaurant where she worked in the evenings.

‘Cottage pie and chips,’ Woody was reading aloud, working his way down the menu. ‘Lasagne.’

Ryan’s mouth watered. He hadn’t eaten all day, and hadn’t realised just how hungry he was. Better take it easy on the booze. It must have showed, because Woody grinned, and said, ‘Don’t worry, my treat, mate. ‘He tapped his jacket pocket. ‘Jackpot, remember? Now are you going to tell me about this room? And what about your sister, what’s she like?’

In the end, a few of pints later, they decided to grab a couple of take-away pizzas and pick up a few more cans from the off-license on the walk back to the house. As they headed through the wet streets, the pavements glittering under the street lights, Ryan found himself telling Woody about the money he owed to Darryl and Neil – not that he intended to, but Woody had a way with him, a way of listening and asking questions as if he was genuinely interested.

As they climbed the steps up to the front door and Ryan rifled through his pockets to track down his keys, Woody said not to worry, why hadn’t he said something about the money before? Woody could lend Ryan the cash no problem, no problem at all, he could call it a sub on the rent or something. Ryan had a problem getting the key into the lock; he hadn’t realised quite how drunk he was.

Chapter Two

In the kitchen the following morning, Sarah was plugging in the kettle.

‘He’s a good bloke,’ said Ryan, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the table.

‘And you know this
because
?’

‘Because I’ve seen him around, you know, about.’

‘When you say
around
, what does that mean exactly?’

‘Just about, you know,
around
.’

‘No, I don’t.’ She looked at Ryan. ‘You’re twenty-three, don’t pretend to be some moronic teenager. I’m your sister, not your mother. You said that you would help me keep this place going. You promised me you’d pull your weight and so what do you do? You’re out nearly every night on the beer, and you’re way behind with your share of the bills. I shouldn’t have to keep asking you for money, Ryan. You need to grow up. Pay up. I’m sick of it.’

‘All right, all right. I am helping; you just don’t notice all the things I do.’

‘And what would they be? Tell me. What are they, all these things that you’re busy doing?’

‘Come on, Sarah, ease up. This is not about me. Woody does need a room.’

‘Where did you meet him? Down the pub? The bookies? You met him down the bookies, didn’t you?’

Ryan winced as if she had slapped him. ‘No.’

‘The last thing we need in here is another one of your gambling cronies.’

‘Don’t, Sarah,’ said Ryan, holding up his hands to deflect her. He could swing between being a boy and a man as it suited him. Now he was all man. ‘I know what you’re going to say. And you have to believe me; I didn’t know Billy was a thief. I wouldn’t have brought him back here if I’d known what he was like. It was a mistake. Years ago. One mistake. All right? Everyone is entitled to make a mistake once in a while. Oh but no, I forgot, not me, because I’m talking to little Miss Perfect here, aren’t I?’

‘You’ve had more than your fair share. I caught him going through Mum’s things.’

‘That must be five years ago, Sarah,’ Ryan protested. ‘Five years. And how many times do I have to tell you; I didn’t know he was like that. I thought he was a good bloke. Sound.’

‘Sound as a pound?’

Ryan stared at her, jaw working.

‘Like Woody?’ she pressed, just in case there was some chance, some faint chance, that he had missed the point.

Ryan sighed. ‘There’s no way I can win, is there? You never let me off, do you? Never let me forget. Woody’s straight as a die. He’s doing an MBA. His parents are minted and they’re bank rolling him while he’s studying over here. He just likes a little flutter now and then, that’s it, and that’s all. They all do. He told me – he’s a good bloke.’

‘Who do?’

‘The Asian guys. They’re all in there playing the machines and having a few quid on the horses here and there. It’s a cultural thing.’

Sarah stared at him.

‘It is – you can ask him if you want. It’s the only fun they can have, no booze, no drugs, no women. It’s the truth, Sarah. Honest.’

‘Until you got hold of him and gave him beer?’

Ryan rolled his eyes heavenwards. ‘C’mon, Sarah, give me a break. He’s a grown up. Woody’s his own man. He can make his own mind up, and he didn’t have that much. He told me he likes a drink now and then. Anyway, I’ve told him he can stay here for a couple of days if he wants to. He’s been having trouble with his landlord and some guys at his place. I didn’t think you’d mind. We’ve got the room.’

‘How much do you owe him?’

Ryan shook his head. ‘Will you just shut up. Nothing – nothing. All right?’

Sarah had heard it all before. ‘How much?’ she repeated.

‘I just told you.’

And so she waited. Just looking at him. Ryan wasn’t good with silence. After a minute or two he crumbled. ‘Okay, okay. So he offered to help me out of a hole, so I owe him a few quid, but I’m good for it. You know that. He knows that too. So don’t go getting all self-righteous on me, Sarah. It’s fine. Marty owes me a hundred for the paving I did for him last week and Ben said he can use me on the tools next week. I just needed to sort Darryl and Neil out, just a couple of hundred and Woody said it wasn’t a problem.’

‘You can’t keep doing this, Ryan.’

‘I don’t
keep
doing anything. It’s just this once. And it’s fine. Just lighten up, will you, nobody died.’

Behind her, Sarah heard Woody cough.

Ryan grinned and waved him in. ‘There you are. Come on in. Do you want a cup of tea, mate? Or coffee?’

‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.’

‘You’re not interrupting, is he, Sarah? Do you want tea?’ Ryan asked again. He trailed a finger along the canisters on the shelf. ‘Earl Grey, green or just plain builders’, we’ve got it all here, haven’t we, Sarah? Wide tastes, every palate catered for.’

He was showing off.

Woody hesitated. ‘Ordinary tea will be just fine, thank you. If it’s no trouble.’ He was plainly uncomfortable.

With a forced cheeriness, Ryan took a mug off the draining board and dropped a bag into it. ‘It’s no trouble at all, is it, Sarah?’

What could she say? Woody seemed polite and deeply embarrassed at having walked in on them. ‘No, it’s fine; I’ll make the tea if you like,’ she said. ‘Ryan, can you go and clear the front room up before that woman gets here?’

‘Sure, not a problem,’ Ryan said with false cheeriness and, stuffing his hands into his sweatshirt pockets, sloped off.

Woody didn’t look at all like the kind of person Ryan usually mixed with or brought home; he was dressed in a sports jacket and checked viyella shirt, tucked into cords, and worn with finely tooled brogues. Everything looked slightly too big for him as if he was wearing his big brother’s clothes. He glanced around the kitchen, shifting his weight from foot to foot, seemingly nervous and self-conscious.

They both started to speak at once. ‘Ryan said—’ Sarah began.

‘—About the room,’ Woody said. They both stopped at the same time. He gestured towards Sarah. ‘I’m so sorry, after you.’

Sarah shook her head. ‘No, please. I insist.’

‘Ryan is a good man,’ Woody said.

‘I know exactly what Ryan is. And he owes you money,’ said Sarah.

Woody shrugged. ‘I’m sure I will get it back. He said I will have it by the end of this week.’

She laughed. ‘Well, good luck with that. I would be very grateful if you didn’t lend him any more, Woody. Ryan’s not good with money.’ She dipped the tea bag in and out of the mug, pressing it with a teaspoon. ‘Milk, sugar?’

‘Milk and two sugars please.’

‘Are you really interested in seeing the rooms? Or are you just saying that to get Ryan out of trouble?’

Woody grinned and shook his head. ‘No, not at all. I am genuinely very keen to see it.’

‘What’s the problem with where you're living now?’

‘The house is okay, but there are a couple of young men living there. They’re on the dole, they’re trouble-makers, into all kinds of things, I suspect. One in particular.’ He paused. ‘He is making my life difficult. It’s not like this, not a family home. I prefer a quiet life, and they like drinking, and swearing, drugs too I think, women. They’re very loud. Sometimes I think they are doing it on purpose to upset me, banging around outside my door, shouting and singing and swearing. They bang on my door sometimes and one of them jostled me in the hallway. He said afterwards when I threatened to go to the police that it was just a joke, you know, all good-humoured, but that isn’t how it felt.

‘My landlord was not very sympathetic when I told him about it. He’s a good man but I think he is afraid of them too. They make me nervous. I’m finding it difficult to study.’

‘You know that Ryan lives here, don’t you?’ Sarah said, handing him the tea.

He smiled. ‘Ryan’s not like them. Not at all. They’re trouble. Really.’

‘Okay. Well if you are serious, the room is eighty-five pounds a week, first month in advance, which includes your share of the bills. Shared kitchen. Lodger’s fridge…’ She nodded to the one she had hauled home from the Sally Army. ‘No overnight visitors, you can have a TV in your room, and use the washing machine in the utility room. We haven’t got a tumble drier but there’s a line in the garden. And there’s Wi-Fi; we split the bill for that between us, and you can’t use the landline for overseas calls.’

He nodded. ‘It all sounds fair enough.’

‘If you want to leave your tea on the table for a couple of minutes I can show you the rooms if you like,’ Sarah said.

Woody nodded, and got to his feet.

Together they made their way out of the kitchen and up the stairs, Sarah talking as they went: ‘There are two rooms, one is in the attic up at the top of the house,’ she said, as they reached the landing. ‘That’s the biggest, and then there’s this one on the first floor. Oh and I’ll need references.’

‘Not a problem. What do you do?’

Sarah glanced back over her shoulder. ‘Me?’ The question took her by surprise.

‘Yes. Ryan didn’t say. Are you two married?’

‘To Ryan?’ Sarah laughed. ‘No. Ryan is my brother. No, I’m single.’

‘And so this is your house, yes?’

‘Yes, well, we own it between us. We were left it by our mother; it’s a couple of years ago now.’

Woody nodded. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss. Ryan tells me that he is a builder.’

‘That’s right. He’s a labourer, but don’t be fooled. He could have done anything he wanted to do, anything, gone to Uni – anything. Mum wanted him to be an engineer. He’s really clever. He’s just bad at focusing on anything. Anyway, this is the room,’ Sarah said, as she pushed opened the door.

All the rooms in the big Edwardian semi had high ceilings and tall windows. Today the sunlight was streaming in, spilling over the mellow sanded boards. The first floor bedroom was almost square. Sarah had painted the walls cream and hung two big mirrors to make it feel bigger and more airy. There was a double bed, a desk and chair, and a rug in dark green to match the curtains. By the window, in the little bay, was an armchair and coffee table, and there were bookcases lining the walls under the sill. In the alcoves either side of the fireplace were built-in cupboards with more shelves and aerial sockets for a TV. The double bed was bare except for the two pillows that matched the duvet downstairs.

Woody made an appreciative noise. ‘It’s very nice,’ he said, walking over to the window and pulling aside the net curtains. ‘And Ryan said you’ve got a garden too?’

Sarah nodded. ‘Yes. That’s just the bit along the side, there’s more at the back. My mum loved gardening. I think it’s one of the main reasons she bought the house in the first place, although I’m afraid gardening skipped a generation. It’s all I can do to keep the lawn mowed.’

‘Nice to have though,’ he said, still looking through the window. ‘Maybe I could give you a hand with it?’

Sarah laughed. ‘Are you serious?’

He nodded. ‘Yes of course. I enjoy gardening,’ he said.

‘Oh okay, well that would be great. Do you want to go and have a look at the other room now?’

Woody nodded.

Sarah directed him back out onto the landing and to the next flight of stairs, which led up into the loft space. The stairs were narrower and steeper here, rising up to the tiniest of dogleg landings. ‘I think that this used to be where the servants lived. If you’d like to go up first, I’ll follow you,’ Sarah said, inviting him to lead. ‘It’s a bit tight space wise, and I wouldn’t put too much trust in the handrail.’

He laughed. ‘Okay, good to know. I’ll remember that,’ he said, as he climbed the stairs and pushed open the door into the attic room.

‘Oh yes, this is nice,’ said Woody. The attic room ran the whole length of the house and was bathed in sunlight from the two dormers set into sloping the ceiling. The bed was up against the chimneybreast but there was still plenty of room for a small sofa, a desk and chair and bookcases.

‘Are they both eighty-five pounds a week?’

Sarah nodded. ‘Single let.’

‘Of course. I think I prefer this one. More room up here. It’s perfect.’

‘I’m happy to hold it for you for a couple of days if you like,’ Sarah said. ‘And if you decided you want it I’ll need four weeks rent in advance and two references. There’s a fee for drawing up a tenancy agreement and a five hundred pound refundable security deposit.’

Woody nodded. ‘That shouldn’t be a problem.’

‘And for the first three months we’re both on a week’s notice. You know – if it doesn’t work out. So…’

‘So, I’d still really like it if you’re happy to let me have it. You didn’t tell me what it is that you do?’ he said, moving over to the window to take a look at the view out over the garden and neighbouring houses.

‘Me? I work in a nursery, with plants that is, not children.’

‘Didn’t you just say you weren’t very good with gardens?’

Sarah laughed. ‘I’m not. I’m not sure what Ryan’s told you about the family, but Mum was really ill and I had to come home to take care of her, and she used to work there.’