His body would be found at low tide perhaps, lying cold on the muddy bank further downstream, or maybe with the river flowing so fast he’d be carried out into the estuary or even out to sea. None of that would matter to him though, not any more - he’d be out of it.
And yet even as he thought about it and fantasised, he knew he wouldn’t go through with it. That was who he was, someone who didn’t have the nerve when it came to the moment of truth. It was so completely who he was, and he despised himself for it. He had nothing left to offer life but didn’t have the guts to bow out gracefully.
He turned and leaned on the railing, looking up at the city’s gothic outline and the clear black sky. It was cold and still at ground level but he could hear rogue gusts and squalls reverberating through the air high above him. A lone gull floated about in the dark, like a folded piece of paper caught on the wind.
It was probably nothing more than the sound of the wind but the atmosphere seemed charged somehow and he began to feel restless. He was trying to reason with himself but he felt a need to get back to the house, not for fear of being out but for fear of not being there when he needed to be.
That was ridiculous in itself, the feeling that he had any need to be in an empty house, a place where no one ever called, not in person, not even on the phone. He couldn’t help but grasp onto it though, that sense of something portentous, and he began to walk now.
He crossed the road and up the steps, onto the steep path that led up behind the churchyard, kicking through the blanket of leaves that had been there for over a month. He skirted the castle walls then and down into the cobbled streets where the house was.
There was no one about. It was ten thirty but a Monday night, the town quiet. There were never many people around the old quarter at night anyway, no pubs or restaurants to draw people up there, hardly any of the buildings residential now.
As he walked he concentrated on the sound of his own steps, looking out for other people, not wanting to see anyone. He dreaded encountering other people at the best of times but especially tonight, the way his nerves were, the way he was almost expecting to be met by someone.
He heard something now and stopped. He turned, looking about the street, his heart kicking a little with adrenaline, thumping awkwardly against his chest. The noise had come from a doorway where the shadows were piled up, a voice. He saw then that it was someone huddled in a sleeping bag, that he’d walked past without even noticing.
‘Spare some change please?’ That’s what he’d heard, just a homeless girl, but it still unnerved him.
‘Leave me alone,’ he said and walked on, quicker, turning into the small close where his was the only inhabited building, surrounded by solicitors’ offices, a stonemason’s yard, a couple of buildings that had been sealed up for as long as he’d been there.
Stepping inside, he fell back against the door, on edge, mentally exhausted. He thought of the girl in the doorway and became angry with himself. Even if he hadn’t wanted to give her money why had he spoken to her like that? And why didn’t he want to give her money? She’d be better off with it than him.
He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the notes he found there, a couple of twenties. He didn’t have anything smaller and again, he thought maybe it wasn’t worth going back anyway. He put the money back in his pocket and closed his eyes, trying to blank everything for a moment or two, but it was no good - the thought of that girl out there had set in like a virus.
He sprang off the door and out of it without even closing it behind him, almost running the fifty yards or so to where the she’d been, worrying irrationally that she wouldn’t be there. He slowed down as he approached the doorway, hoping she’d speak first.
She was silent though and he couldn’t see her, just the edge of the grubby sleeping bag where it caught the stray edges of the streetlight.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude. I just... Here, take this.’ He put his hand in his pocket and took out the two twenties, offering them into the darkness. He didn’t see the hand but felt it take the notes.
‘Thanks mister.’ She sounded surprised though he guessed she didn’t know how much it was. He stared into the doorway, thinking if he looked hard enough his eyes would adjust and he’d see her face. But maybe she didn’t want to be seen and then he became nervous himself, an urgent sense that he really didn’t want to see the face that was hidden away down there in the shadows.
‘You’re welcome,’ he said and walked away quickly, looking behind a couple of times, embarrassed by how jittery he was tonight. He checked again when he got to his door that she wasn’t behind him and having left it open for a few minutes he went through the place, checking that no one had come in.