Henry

I was the first to spot Henry, waiting for us outside the flat. I didn’t say anything, it didn’t feel right.
I looked across at the other two, heads down against the incessant rain, their feet melting into the reflections of the street lights above them. The full horror of the situation suddenly washed over me, leaving me sick to my stomach. I wondered if they felt anything similar to the awful black sludge coating my insides? I grunted and Nick raised his face to the weather, then dropped his head and stopped walking. Ruth slowed her pace and cupped her hands around her mouth as she lit a cigarette, pulling her hood further over her head to create a dry haven for the smoke. She turned to look back down the road that we had just left. We stopped in silence.

We took him directly to the house. We didn’t want to be seen or recognised. We had agreed this. Henry had a job to do, well, we all did, and it wasn’t one we were looking forward to. The fact that we couldn’t seem to make a start without him just made it worse.

Soon enough we left the sodium safety of the street and walked into the cold, unforgiving darkness of the hallway. It suited me, I didn’t want to look into the room. Nick let out a ragged breath and his coughing started again, Ruth looked across to me, and then stepped into the front room, with no excuses left, we all followed.
Once in the front room, we stood in a circle; some grotesque ceremony, individually going over the task in our minds.
Words were obsolete. Planning unnecessary; the objective of the next few hours was plain for everyone to see. Henry needed no instruction. It was what he did best.

Short with a red face, long nose and only one good eye, his looks would have been comical had the situation not been so serious. The darkness bearing down on us was made worse by the palpable rotten smell that hung in the air. Everywhere in the room was the evidence of our complete inability to resolve this most awful situation. Our inexperience, our lethargy screamed at us. The countless coffee rings on the table, papers scattered everywhere and empty beer bottles piling up by the door.
We had emptied those bottles the previous night, heated words, accusations, and fierce recriminations flying between us. We tried so hard to talk our way out of this ridiculous situation, not realising in our torpor, that we were making the situation worse. I noticed a lone sock under the chair. Incongruous, stained, and dirty. I hadn’t spotted it before. It was so out of place. I wondered suddenly how something so innocent, so banal could illicit such a reaction. I looked away but try as I might, I could not stop my eyes from focussing on the coppery stain that had now spread away from the table in the centre of the room, seemingly pointing accusing fingers at us.

Nick was muttering under his breath; half-formed words breaking the silence with syncopated sibilance. We heard him angrily berate himself. He kept flicking his eyes towards the door, I grabbed his shoulder and told him with a heartburn smile that it was no good wishing the clocks back. Ruth took a drag on her cigarette and flicked ash on the carpet. I shot a look at her but figured a bit of cigarette ash on the carpet wasn’t going to make that much difference given what we were about to do. Ruth looked back at me and flared her nostrils, not breaking eye contact. Nick’s high-pitched voice chimed across the silence.
“Do we need to prepare, or anything?” he asked. “Don’t we need gloves, or that powdered stuff?”
Ruth snorted, blue smoke curling up towards the stained curtains drawn limply across the windows. She pulled away, the first to break the circle, initially reluctant, now she showed an impatience to start.

“Let’s just do it!” She said.

And then, finally, it was over.

Sweat held my shirt fast to my back. Ruth’s long hair fell lank against her neck, the only one out of all of us that seemed unaffected by it all was Henry. He didn’t say much but, God, he hummed incessantly as he worked. Tempers had snapped on more than one occasion and Nick had been the one to suffer the brunt of Ruth’s anger the most. He came in from the back room, sticky blood covering his hands.
“Get that cleaned up!” Ruth hissed. I expected another violent outburst but after everything that had happened over the last couple of hours, blood in the sink seemed to be too much for her. She slumped into a nearby chair and lit another cigarette.
Soon enough Nick reappeared cautiously from the bathroom his hand cleaned up and a plaster over the knuckle of his left thumb.

“I’ll take the last one.” He said quietly, picking up the bag. He seemed to be trying to make amends with us both, but as he picked the bag up it lurched awkwardly, nearly spilling its unsavoury contents over the floor.
“Oops.” Nick laughed nervously as he left the room.
“I don’t know about you,” Ruth said to me, “but I need to get cleaned up and find a drink.” She shot a look sideways and lowered her voice. “And I think you need to say ‘adios’ to Henry.”
I was exhausted. It would finish me, but I knew she was right, and I really needed to get out. I nodded and hauled myself out of the chair.
“Get yourself decent Nick,” I called softly down the hallway, “we’re taking Henry for a drink.”

Whereas before they had balked at the idea of being recognised with Henry, it now didn’t seem to bother them at all. It made it clear to me how much more at ease they felt. Plus, I thought grimly to myself, I was the only one left with a job to finish.

It was almost pleasant in the pub. Like it might be a summers afternoon with friends. We sat with half-empty pint glasses in front of us, all except Henry who had nothing in front of him but a packet of peanuts. We had bought him a pint of beer, but he hadn’t touched it, so Nick had swiped it unashamedly, his mood completely different, his nervousness dispelled. He rarely had the courage to ask for another pint, let alone take one blatantly. Ruth didn’t look at Henry but leaned back tearing the cellophane from her third pack of cigarettes that afternoon. She offered them around. We all declined, even Henry, who was turned away from us slightly, not paying attention.
“You had better drop him off.” Said Nick in a quiet voice. “You can always come back.”
“Yeah right.” I said. I had been dreading this from the moment we had left the house. “It won’t take me long, get a pint in for me.”
“You’re having a laugh.” Said Nick. “You’ll be gone for…” He stopped suddenly, and the table jolted from the force of the kick Ruth delivered to his shin, stopping him from saying anymore. Ripples appeared on the surface of the beer. We all stared at it for a few moments.

“I’d better go.” I said.

A short time later, the door opened, to reveal a dark figure framed in the light from the hallway. He looked down on me as I stood on the front step. I was shivering now from a combination of the chill air, exhaustion, and stale sweat that was freezing on my skin. I could see his face as he stepped back from the door. He raised an eyebrow into an arch. This wasn’t a good start. That disdainful look, a sharp intake of breath. He wouldn’t understand, or more likely he couldn’t. I knew that he would never have allowed himself to get into the same state the three of us had. There was no doubt in my mind that the course of events that had led to the whole disgusting ritual that afternoon could have been avoided. But no amount of money could tempt me back into that situation. Ruth had laughingly told me that some people earned some sort of living doing what we had just done. It made my flesh crawl just thinking about it.
Late the previous afternoon, at the end of my desperate tether I went to him to ask for help. Without hesitating, he had recommended Henry, it seemed extreme and so I flatly refused. But he persisted, and the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I approached Ruth and Nick with his solution. They had laughed in my face, but after talking it through until the small hours of the morning, aided by more than a couple of beers, Nick had caved. Ruth seeing the loneliness of her position had reluctantly agreed. When I made the phone call, later that day, to tell him what we had agreed, he hadn’t reacted at all. God all of that was only twelve hours ago.

All of the fear, disappointment and frustration hung in the air, unresolved, between us. I couldn’t bear waiting, if I was to find out what he was thinking I had to say something.
“Thank you.” I said, pushing Henry through the door.
His eyebrow shot up even further.
“I just…” He started, and then sighed. “You’re not living with your mothers any more you know. And no-one else is going to clean up after you. You need to do it every week, not leave it for six months.” His face and voice softened. “You know you can borrow Henry any time you need to vacuum.”

I turned away, smiling. “Not a chance.” I said under my breath.
And with that the door slammed shut behind me.