42. BLACK SHEEP

Sitting alone in this unfamiliar coffee shop, watching the clock tick by as The Benefaktor makes prostate-based excuses by text message, I speculate that the clock might strike 13 by the time he re-appears. A more familiar signal marks the hour across Edinburgh and The Benefaktor returns. He has obviously been dabbing the food stains on his fleece. Clean clothes, virtuous life presumably. They simply reinforce the character blemishes.m

We lift and replace our cups like chess pieces, but so exposed on a bare wooden table I cannot see any smart moves for The Benefaktor to gain an advantage. I feel virtuous, powerful. It’s an unfamiliar sensation.

“The blog seems to be….., um, progressing”, he offers.

I sit stony-faced, silent.

“You’ll need to meet The Foundation Doktor”.

Sip.

“I think you’d like her”.

“Anyway, cheers”. He raises his cup.

I make my move. “I thought you were in hospital”.

“Ah, well, that’s my karakter”, he answers, annotating the Ks with his fingers.

“How long were you in for?”

“Me or The Benefaktor?”

“You”.

“That would be telling”, raising an eyebrow that makes me want to give him a proper black eye.  It’s easy to forget that he’s an old man.

I pull out my phone and show him the photo of the most recent delivery, in its snipped chaos. He gazes at it blankly. “And?”

“No idea”, he replies brusquely, without apparent recognition. Poker time.

“And The Foundation Doktor – would she know?”

This time little fluffy clouds appear across his cheeks, reddened by the evening sun. We’ve been sitting for hours, circling. “Ah yes”, he mutters, “I see”.

I wipe my mouth to conceal the bitterness of the end of my matcha tea, ordered to try something different after my earlier drinks. My grimace could be misconstrued. I try to shift the cloying paste between my tongue and roof of my mouth. The travel, caffeine, heat and proximity to The Benefaktor add up to a powerful dyspepsia. I take a slurp of water from the bottle in my bag and resume negotiations.

It is towards the end of these discussions, when it is completely dark outside, that I become aware of the young woman sitting at the end of our communal table. She is holding a book, but does not appear to be reading. She is listening. And she looks vaguely familiar. We finish up and I hurriedly excuse myself.

GANTOB

4 NOVEMBER 2023