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eyes now. “You looked after Kit, too.”
“He’s not a pet,” I said, softly. “He looked after himself.” I just shared some of it with him.
Arran flushed again. “OK. Whatever. I just wanted to say thanks. And to see…”
“To see me?” My tone was wry, and he glanced up. Then we both smiled.
“Yes,” he grinned. The sudden humour lit up his eyes, his whole body relaxing. “To see you.”
To check me out, I thought, but I wasn’t offended. I hoped that he kept his job: I deduced enough
from this meeting to know that he was good at it. Meanwhile, he’d got up from the couch,
straightening his jacket, ready to leave. His body moved with the same grace that Kit’s had,
though his movements were slower and more measured.
I found myself on my feet, abruptly, alongside him. “So… will Kit stay at home?”
Arran turned back to me with a look of surprise. “No, of course not. I mean, he’s moving away
soon, isn’t he?” When I stared at him, he gave a rueful grimace. “I thought you might know that.”
“No,” I said. No, I don’t know.
Arran was looking at me with something uncomfortably near pity, though it seemed to include us
both. “Freeman, I can’t say he hasn’t made some bad mistakes, you know? I mean, he was
difficult at school, and at home, all through his teenage years - he’s always gone his own way. He
questioned things: wouldn’t conform. People liked him – they still do – but, I mean… his choice
of lifestyle has put him in such danger.” He bit back a sigh of impatience; frustration, maybe. It
didn’t seem an easy thing for him, talking to me about his brother. “I’m no fool, I’ve been in this
job long enough to know what must have gone on when he was part of G’s organisation, and I’m
damned glad he’s out of there. I’m not saying he actively invited all that -” He must have caught
sight of my expression, because he paused, biting his lip in a gesture that was shockingly
reminiscent of his brother’s. “OK, I know, of course it wasn’t his fault. But then, he told me a little
about being with you… Don’t get me wrong – I barely know you, and of course I can’t deny what
you’ve done to get us out of our mess. But I don’t entirely understand where you fit in the whole
story, you know?”
“Yes,” I replied. “I know.” I wondered exactly what Kit had told his brother. How he’d described
being with me. Suddenly, it seemed very important to me to know. I probably never would.
“But despite all the mess he’s been in - or perhaps because of it - I know him better than anyone.
I know him for what he is, what he likes – what he cares about.” Arran looked both bemused and
pleased at the thought. “Sometimes I think he’s another side of me. Despite the differences – all
through the fights - he’s still my brother, and I’m his. I certainly cope with him better than my
mother does. He’s not an idiot, and he’s not deliberately cruel: and she knows she has to come
around to the man he is now, rather than the boy she might have wanted. She was devastated
when he left home, you know?”
“I know,” I said, and he nodded, impatient with himself. Of course I did.
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“She wants to understand him better – learn to respect him for what he is. It might take some
time. But, like I said, I hope I already do.” He was looking at me, looking for response.
“I don’t know how well I knew him,” I said, suddenly. “How well I understood him.” I was rarely
this frank with a stranger, and it was uncertain ground. “But it didn’t matter. I wanted to know him.
I wanted him to know me. To know…”
He watched as my words dried up. He nodded slightly: a spark flickered in his eyes.
“That’s what he says,” he replied. “Kit. He says that he doesn’t understand you, but that it doesn’t
matter.”
“It didn’t,” I agreed. Doesn’t?
Arran had paused at the door of my lounge and I didn’t know why. There was no need to delay
his departure. He’d done what he came to do.
“I owe you, Freeman.”
I frowned. “I said it, before. You don’t. No-one does.”
“Whatever,” he shrugged. “But because of that, when he asked to come with me, I agreed.”
I listened to his words. I heard what they told me. My heart clenched tightly in my chest.
There was the sound of another knock at the door. I knew the sound of this one. Arran raised an
eyebrow. “Impatient,” he grimaced. He looked down the hallway towards the door, then back at
me. “I’m back on duty in an hour,” he said. “I have to leave now. If he doesn’t want to talk to you
anymore – if there’s any problem –“
“I’ll make sure he gets back,” I said. I sounded hoarse. “Wherever he wants to go. Whatever he
wants. He’s safe. Trust me on that.”
Arran nodded and left the room. He took the liberty of going to open my front door for me. I was
glad he did, as my legs seemed strangely leaden. I heard it close again, as he left. Then the
steps that came almost hesitantly up the hallway, back to the lounge.
Kit paused as soon as he saw me, standing there in the doorway. He looked… different. The
same features, but the way he stood and moved was subtly different - stronger; fitter; more
confident. I was momentarily confused, though I realised what it was. He’d been home again for
the last couple of weeks – he had better, cleaner clothes, though he still wore the same tight,
low-slung jeans. His hair had been trimmed; he’d had better food and more regular sleep. He’d
had the company of his family again.
“You look good,” I said, quickly. I thought he might turn around and leave before I’d said it.
He smiled, slowly. I saw it lighten up his whole face: I followed every crease of the skin around
his mouth. “Yeah, right.” He shrugged; he looked a little self-conscious. “Things are OK, I guess.
What about you?” His gaze darted over my shoulder, flickering around the lounge. “You
working?”
“No,” I said. “That’s no to not working, and no to things being OK.” My breath was too shallow to
control: I felt too warm. “Will you have a tea or something…?”
He stared at me as I reached in vain for other words. He was searching my face, as if
memorising – as if recalling; remembering. “Freeman,” he said softly, neither reply nor question.
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I felt something catch in my chest and a breath that was more like a gasp escaped through my
lips. I felt as if something inside me started to unravel. The bindings slipped swiftly away, freeing
me: sharp, silvered threads whipping away on the breeze, allowing me to breathe again, to feel
again.
“It’s so good -”
“- to see you!” He was saying the same thing, at the same time. I smiled; his eyes widened. We
both started to laugh. It sounded rather ragged, but grew in comfort and familiarity.
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