Come on, Jacob. This is easy. Tell her you can’t. Never mind the big speech, who knows what’s really going on in her life. You need to be free of ...t. Though you are awfully lonely. I look up and open my mouth, but I don’t really know what I’m about to say. I don’t get a chance to find out. Over her shoulder by about thirty feet is an angry looking man with a baseball bat. He’s locked in on me specifically, and he’s closing the gap between us very swiftly. Receding hair, kind of short, very red. Hence my tracking down his old Mum, at her favourite boozer. She was a floozie whose bloom had faded long ago. Getting milk stout in a Wetherspoons pub is like asking a meths drinker if he has any Mouton Rothschild. Five years locked away without pubs adds a new perspective, for what the pimply barkeep charged for a splash of ready-mixed lemonade in half a Guinness, I could’ve previously bought a gallon of R White’s. I won’t say Sal had let herself go, but I used to breathe more deeply in E. More

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