Page 139 of Oleander

“Really, eeeesh, big talk.”

“If there are any more of his films on the watchlist for this class can you tell me now; I’m going to put in a transfer request.”

Alexander laughed. “There’s one more, but it’s better, I promise. No horses were hurt in the making of this one.”

“That wasn’t even the worst part. I went to see it with a friend, he’s Russian, and he hated it more than me. Even Russians can’t stand his films.”

“Okay, I get it, I get it. Jeez, no need to hurt my feelings.” He put his hands out, surrendering.

“You really like him that much?”

“I do.” He looked a little apologetic about it. “But it’s fine. You wrote a good paper about all the reasons why I’m mistaken. No, I actually wanted to talk to you about something else, apologies if it sounds a bit bizarre.”

“Bizarre?”

“You’re from Jersey, right?”

“Yeah. Well, not originally; I lived in Devon until I was eight. Then moved there.”

He was nodding. “Well, I’m writing something. A speculative period piece about the occupation; I have a couple of production companies interested in it. I guess I’m looking for an ‘in’.Someone local who might be able to show me around.” Here he smiled at me, and I understood I was to be his ‘in’. I wasn’t sure what kind of bizarre I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this.

“You want me to be like a guide?” I didn’t know that much about the history of the island, but I didn’t want to look stupid in front of my professor by telling him so. It didn’t occur to me that if I agreed to this then I’d look even more stupid when he realised I didn’t.

“Nothing like that. I just thought it would be helpful to see the island through the eyes of someone who lives there. I’ve booked a house for the summer – not sure what your plans are? I don’t expect you to give up your entire break or anything.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that.” I was worried because I hadn’t planned on going home that summer at all. I wasn’t sure how to tell him that though, so instead I asked:

“Where’s the house?”

“Northeast of the island, Fliquet?” He posed it like a question.

I nodded. “Nice spot.”

“You can say no, Jude,” he said with a smile I’d soon learn made up a whole catalogue of smiles Nathan Alexander possessed. Smiles he could whip out for any and every situation. “I told you it was a little bizarre. I heard you mention it the other week and thought I’d ask, but there’s absolutely no obligation here. I promise.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I just wasn’t sure about my summer plans yet, that’s all.” Even that sounded rude to my ears, but Nathan didn’t seem to notice. He was still smiling as he moved to sit back at his laptop.

“Okay, well I’m gonna be in Jersey for a few weeks over summer and if it turns out you’re there at the same time, and don’t mind showing me around a little, then you can let me know. How about that?”

“Yeah, okay.” I nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Perfect, okay, well. I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

It turned out I saw him before that.

It was Sunday morning, and I was on my way back from an all-nighter at the flat of the girl Bast was sleeping with. There’d been alcohol, weed – a lot of both – before I’d passed out on an uncomfortable leather sofa in the large airy hallway. I’d caught sight of myself in the mirror as I’d taken a piss and promised to stay off the weed for a bit. I looked like utter shit.

After splashing some water on my face and checking that I had my phone and keys, I slipped out of the flat without even looking for Bast or Nika.

On Merchant Lane, the scent of cooking bacon stopped me in my tracks, and I followed it inside a little deli where I ordered two bacon rolls and a large tea, intending on inhaling both and proceeding to sleep until Tuesday morning. But when I pulled my mobile out to hold it to the keypad, it was dead, my screen black, and my phone long drained of any battery. I looked at the tall, bespectacled, arty-looking guy behind the deli counter with a desperate pleading look I’d be ashamed of later.

He said, without a single shred of sympathy, “Shit, that’s unfortunate.”

“I’m just up the street,” I began. “Let me take this now and I’ll come back this afternoon and pay? What time do you close?”

“We close at 3 p.m. Go get some cash, and I’ll keep this warm for you.”

I wanted to fucking cry. I was so hungry, the smell of bacon was flooding my nostrils and tastebuds, and I knew that even if I went home, I had no clue where my bank card was and I couldn’t wait on my phone charging. I could only imagine what I looked like. Hungover, unshaven, and starving with wild,bloodshot eyes and a mop of unruly hair. This arsehole seemed to be enjoying it too.