Page 38 of Now Comes the Dark

Roman ignored him. “Are you sure? I’m going out, but I’ll stay if you want me to.”

“It’s fine. Really,” Ashley said. “Go out. Have a great time.”

Roman looked daggers at Patrick while addressing Ashley. “Okay. I won’t be late. I’ve got work in the morning. But we need to talk this weekend. Okay?”

“What about?” Patrick asked, standing over him.

Roman didn’t back down. “House rules,” he said defiantly.

“No problem,” Ashley called. “I’ll see you tomorrow after work. Have a good night.”

Patrick sneered, showing his ugly little teeth before shutting the door in Roman’s face.

* * * *

“You should have called the police when you had the chance,” Phil said. “You had plenty of witnesses to back you up.”

“I realise that now,” Roman said.

He sat at the end of the bar in Julie’s. For a Friday night, the place was quiet. Phil expected it to fill up after ten, though that seemed optimistic. When the Uber had brought him here, Roman had not seen many people on the streets. The cold weather, combined with a post-Christmas January slump and the on-going threat of the Blyham Strangler kept them away.

There were a handful of customers in the beer garden and another twelve or so smattered about the pub. Before the troubles, this place would have been packed.

Roman finished the beer he had made last almost an hour and raised the empty bottle to show he wanted another.

“The man has always been trouble,” Phil continued, setting the new drink in front of him. “I still won’t allow him in here.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. He’s barred for life. Anyone who raises a fist to one of my customers gets the same treatment. There are nosecond chances for the kind of people who resort to violence. And from what I’ve heard of Patrick, he’s got a long history of it.”

Phil moved along the bar to serve a couple of women who had just come in, shivering from the cold. Phil was a nice guy. Why couldn’t Ashley fall in love with someone like him instead of a toxic prick like Patrick? Phil was nearly forty, probably ten years older than Ashley, but he was in great shape, a hundred percent better looking than Patrick and far more chilled and intelligent. The age difference wouldn’t matter at all. Ashley had told him before that he fancied Phil. He wondered if the attraction was mutual. If he could get them to take notice of each other, Ashley might realise what a complete loser Patrick was.

Not that it should take a genius to figure that out. Anyone with half a brain could see what a piece of shit he was.

Phil returned to his end of the bar. “You need to have it out with Ashley. You can’t continue to live there and hide in your bedroom. It’s your flat as much as it is his.”

“Believe me, I intend to. I want to have that conversation tomorrow, if he doesn’t find a way to squirm out of it.”

“Tell him if he wants to see Patrick, they need to go to his place instead.”

“I’m not sure I can go that far. Ashley pays half the rent, too. He has a right to do what he wants in his own home.”

Phil picked up a tea towel and started polishing glasses from the upper shelves. “Then he should be more considerate.”

“That’s just it. He is. Ninety-nine per cent of the time he’s the most perfect flatmate. He cleans up after himself, does his share of chores, doesn’t play his TV or music too loud. We get on brilliantly. But when it comes to Patrick, his brain turns to shit. For whatever reason, he’s infatuated with him.”

Phil grimaced. “If Patrick had a single redeeming feature, I could understand it. But he doesn’t. Looks, personality, kindness? He’s a failure on every front.”

Roman was ready to change the subject. He’d come to the pub to get away from Patrick, not talk about the fucker all night. “Has there been any more trouble these last few days?” he asked.

Phil nodded. “Another week, another shit storm. A couple of lads were harassed on their way back to their hotel last weekend. Visitors from Derby so they had no idea of the circumstances. They didn’t know it wasn’t safe to walk around at night. As far as I’m aware, it was verbal abuse and nothing violent happened, but they were all over social media afterwards, slagging the city off and saying they would never come back. Can’t say I blame them. If I didn’t already live here, Blyham would be at the bottom of my list of places to visit.”

Roman stared grimly into his drink while Phil served more customers. He loved his life in Blyham. He couldn’t think of another northern city where he would rather be. Newcastle, Leeds, Manchester, they all had their merits, but none of them compared to Blyham. From starting university, when he’d sampled the nightlife for the first time, he had known that he belonged here.

But for how much longer?

That was a question he had no answer to.

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