Page 39 of Trust

I roared into poor Mr Snuggles.

My mum had bought him for me. Well, knowing her at the time, she’d probably nicked him from the toyshop where I’d been admiring him for weeks. Big and soft and fluffy.

I never got much as a kid, but she’d given me Mr Snuggles. And I’d loved him. More than anything else in the world.

I hugged him tighter.

Closed my eyes.

I slept, though not for long since my phone started ringing and scared the living daylights out of me.

Oh, fuck. What now? Probably work. Or Gray.

“Hey,” I said in a croaky voice.

“Hello.” Not Gray then.

I stared at the screen. Gray’s number… Weird. I put it back to my ear. “Yes?”

“My name is Khan. I’m security.”

Sharp needles of anxiety stabbed the back of my neck.

“We have an altercation going on at McDonald’s on the corner of the Rye. Are you local to Peckham?”

“Ehhr…” I sat up and rubbed my head. I had no idea what was going on. “Sorry. Could you explain?”

“We have someone locked in the toilets in the downstairs of McDonald’s. He’s refusing to come out and asked me to call you.”

I was tempted to pinch myself to check I was actually awake. Did that work?

“Why?” I asked.

“There’s a rather large bunch of people upstairs claiming he’s really famous.”

Someone just knock me out. Now. What the hell?

“Honestly, we’re a bit confused as to what’s going on.”

You and me both, bud.

“So if you could possibly come down and talk some sense into this guy and remove him…”

I felt like laughing, pointing out that he was security and I was going back to sleep. But then I woke up.

Gray.

What the fuck, man?

“McDonald’s on the Rye,” I repeated. “And he’s locked himself in the downstairs loo?”

“We’re a little understaffed, overwhelmed, and honestly I think if someone could just come down and talk some sense into this guy, then we can all get on with our evening.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed, finally managing to get my neurons to compute. “Tell him Reuben is on his way. I’ll be there in ten minutes, tops. Reuben Schiller. Can you just stay with him, yeah?”

“Reuben Schiller,” he said. Like the name rang a bell. Yeah, right. Probably did. But that was years ago.

“Ten minutes,” I said sternly. “Don’t let him leave, and make sure he’s okay? Please?”

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