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By Root 450 0

he reminded himself, and a guide to the evening’s television awaiting him should he lose his nerve. Beneath the trees, he took a seat on a bench. The occasional car passed behind on the far side of the stone wall that surrounded the common. Music from an open window rose and fell on the wind, losing itself in the hushing sound of the trees. A couple, hand in hand, walked along the park’s edge. Just off the Underground, their briefcases weighed heavily in their hands; his tie was loosened, she wore sneakers. James watched as they disappeared through the gate, headed for the warren of row houses that stretched over south London toward the river.

It was seven-thirty, the light beginning to go, and parents were collecting their children from the football pitch. Nearby, a gardener stowed tools in the municipal shed before padlocking the door behind him. A middle-aged woman in evening dress hurried a terrier over the edge of the grass, pulling it back toward the lights of the houses, visible now through the gate’s arch.

James opened his letter pad and began to write on the small, lined sheets:

Dear Father,

Today I left my job at Shipley’s. We’ve been doing very little business, and they won’t miss me. This isn’t for lack of effort on my part. I’ve worked long days and made lot of calls, but the market is bad just now and no one has made a sale in three weeks. My manager was helpful and said I could take my holidays straightaway. The hardest thing was saying good-bye to Patrick, the fellow I’ve told you about. We’d become quite friendly, he even asked me for a drink this evening, but I was afraid of what I might have been tempted to say. I don’t suppose he notices my glances at the office. This must all seem rather odd to you, worrying about the young man across the desk. At my age, you’d already married Mum. I wonder what you really make of it.

He could just make out the words on the page when the streetlamp across the wall came on. He closed the pad and returned it to his pocket. The common was dark. Above the faint glow of the city rose the lighted towers of the housing estates at Sand’s End. The distant sound of traffic crossing the river floated toward him over the grass, making the space before him seem vast, the darkness rolling in quiet waves up to his feet. A few minutes passed before he heard the first steps on the path, slow and intermittent. Then to his left, a shape moving through the trees, catching the corner of his eye, vanishing as he turned to look. The streetlamp felt like a spotlight now, blinding him to the darkened house. He unzipped his jacket and put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. A light flickered by the hedge beside the tennis courts, lit the tip of a cigarette, and was gone, leaving behind the glow of an ember. James felt his breathing become shallow; he dropped his shoulders and told himself to relax. Here and there leaves were brushed aside by shuffling feet. Rising from the bench, he headed for the small copse beyond the gardener’s shed, impatient for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light. He leant against a tree, training all his senses on the darkness. Nearby, a man groaned softly. From over the wall, music still floated.

Several minutes passed before he sensed a figure approaching. As the man came closer, James saw he was wearing a suit, his tie pulled down from the collar of a white shirt. Late thirties, James guessed quickly, unsure whether to advance or retreat. The visage emerged from shadow—a broad neck, double chin, the features of a once handsome boy cloaked in the flesh of a man’s face. Their eyes had met and James already felt with paranoid terror the disappointment he would inflict were he to step away now. The man attempted a half smile, generous and disarming. James cast his eyes to the ground. The hand on his shoulder came as a surprise, but he fell into the touch, making of the man’s extended arm an embrace.

Afterward, walking home, the air felt cold against his face. His breath became full again and he jogged the two blocks from the gate to his front door.