Page 24 of Tell No One
Then he burst into tears.
Tag allowed himself a few moments of self-pity, belatedly muffling his cries by pressing his arm into his face in case he woke one of his housemates. Then he snapped himself out of it. Crying was pointless. He took off Vadim’s shirt and undid all the straps across his chest and around his hips. The leather had left red lines crisscrossing his skin. Tag wrapped a towel around his waist and headed for the bathroom. No sign of Vadim, though he hadn’t expected there to be. Tag bet that wasn’t his name either.
While he showered, he planned. He ought to pay his housemates his share of the bills before he left. Telling them he was going to move north to…pick a place…York, might deter anyone who came looking for him.
He did have money in the bank. He just wished he’d had the job in the pub for longer. He’d been paid the London minimum wage and one week’s wages went on a month’s rent, but he’d saved a few hundred pounds. He had to buy another phone. He couldn’t do anything without one.
Once he was dressed, he began to pack. He had nowhere to go, and insufficient funds to pay for anywhere for long so he knew he had to be careful about what he chose to take. None of the furniture was his. Well, the rickety chair was, rescued from a skip, but that was all. Tag filled a small backpack with must-haves and a duffle bag with the rest, cramming in as much as he could.
He even took his work in progress. His clay model of a sea otter, about twenty centimetres long, with a baby on its chest, all carefully wrapped in plastic film, just fit in a small box. He didn’t usually keep anything he made. Once a model was finished, he recycled the clay. But this one he wanted to save. Tag’s shoulders dropped. Sometimes he thought he should just give up the dream of making a living with clay, forget it altogether. Set himself a different goal. He thought he was good, but whenever he’d been to the cooperative and watched the potters, he’d felt like a kid at school compared to them.
He looked around his little room. There was nothing else worth taking. If he was being honest, he could have walked away from all of it. It was then that he realised he had no shoes.Fucking shit!Tears threatened and he pushed them back. Nothing he’d lost was irreplaceable.
Tag went into the kitchen and ate four slices of toast to try and fill himself up. He put the money he owed on the table with a note along with his spare keys. He’d left the door of his room open.
Kenzie came in. “Morning.”
“Morning.”
Kenzie read the note. “You’re leaving?”
“Yep, my mum asked me to go home.”
“Mum’s Sunday dinner today then, eh? Lucky you. What’s with the bare feet?”
“A long story. I need to buy new shoes, but I don’t have any to wear now.”
“What were you going to do? Walk barefoot to a shoe shop?”
Tag shrugged.Yes.
“I’ve got a pair of trainers you can have. They’re a bit too big for me.”
“Yeah? That would be great. Thanks.”
Kenzie paused at the door. “Are you in trouble?”
“I might be.”
His housemate nodded and Tag sighed. It wasn’t fair to say otherwise.
Kenzie came back with the trainers, which fit Tag perfectly.
“Could you do me another favour, Kenzie? I had my phone nicked yesterday. Could you text the landlord and tell him I’ve moved out?”
“He’ll take another’s month’s rent from you for not giving him notice.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Kenzie made himself a coffee. “You want another drink?”
“Yes, please. I’ll put it in my travel mug. Help yourself to whatever food’s left when I’ve gone. I’m not dragging that all the way to York. I was thinking about finding somewhere else down here but going home seems the safest thing.”
“Is someone going to come looking for you? Is that why you’re leaving in the dark?”
“They might. But you guys won’t be in danger, I promise.” He hoped.
“Shit. What have you done?”
