The Hackman Blues

22

I did what any self respecting gay manic depressive would do.

I ran like fuck.

I spent that night in a numb state at the hotel. Everything had got away from me. I didn’t know how to rein it in or if I even wanted to.

Jeff

Ben

Roz

Danny

Crystal

ALL DEAD.

A line from Flaubert burned in my head:

‘I’m crammed with coffins, like an old cemetery.’

Reed was MIA... I was lithium leaded.

Next day, I bundled my gear together and paid the bill. In an attempt at levity, Spiro said:

‘Your wife will be happy for your return.’

I snapped, ‘Wise up.’

As I went he said, ‘Kalo taxidi.’

I figured he wished wrath of cab drivers on me or some such drivel. When I learnt a bit of Greek later, I found it was, ‘good journey.’ Yeah, like that.

Rented a long-stay locker and stashed the guns, the bat, most of the money. Next I went to Earl’s Court and into a late departures agency, booked the early morning flight to Athens. Not because I felt that’s where I wanted to go, but it was the first available. Then to Marks and Spencer for some lightweight clothes.

Keep it simple:

Two jeans

T-Shirts

Moccasins.

I didn’t venture near my house. I let the landlord repossess, I couldn’t give a toss. Had my lithium supplies restocked and I was ready to roll. The flight was scheduled for 2am, so I had ’till midnight. Checked into one of those back-packer places near Abingdon Road and laid low.

I had only one call to make before I had to head for Gatwick. I rang him. As always, he picked up on the first ring.

‘Yeah?’

‘Hello, Jack.’

‘Brady... I hope you found a deep rat hole to hide in.’

‘I’ve get to hand it to you Jack, you sure fucked it up.’

‘Me?’

‘Your sniper... he shot the wrong man. What’s the problem, they all look alike to him?’

‘There’ll be other times.’

‘Not for Roz.’

‘What?’

‘Leon took her out — retribution he calls it.’

‘Oh Jesus... oh God...’

‘Oh, and I figured something else too... she wasn’t just yer daughter was she...? She was yer wife... at least “wife” in the biblical sense.’

‘How dare you?’

‘I saw Chinatown. All that Hackman... a bloody snow job. I was looking at the wrong movie. Well here’s one for you to rent — Hackman in The Hunting Party. At least he could shoot.’

I thought I could hear sobbing and I said, ‘I’m going to be out of the picture for a bit but no worries, I’ll be back... it’ll be like a sequel. Bye, Jack.’

I bought a pack of cigarettes. The battle to stop had been awesome but hey... click... I was a smoker again. The first few pulls and I dizzied out but that’s why we came.

Decided to go the full route and bought a Zippo. That solid clunk when you close it, it sounds like significance. I bought it secondhand from one of those stalls off Kensington High Street. The traders are Russian and Lithuanian or shit... I dunno, maybe even Lutheran. The look they have, they’ve seen it all.

On the side of the lighter it said, ‘52nd Airborne’ and that seemed about right, considering the source.

I liked it.

Michael Caine said to Bob Hoskins in Mona Lisa: ‘It’s the little things, George.’

He had a point there.

They say the difference between having a single friend and no-one is immeasurable. Oh yeah, I’ll go with that. Or, to really put the boot in:

‘No man can be considered a failure who has one friend.’

Well, what can I say? I’d fucked up big time.

At the Departure Lounge at Gatwick, I was examining my duty-free purchase. Carton of cigs and a bottle of Glenfiddich. They didn’t have my usual and time it was to let sippin’ whisky go. I chose this one cos I liked the name — ‘A Glenfiddich please, straight up.’ See! You sound like you know yer stuff. In the grand scheme of things, it rates zero but right there, right then, it was a notion to cling to.

As I clung, a bloke came and plonked his self beside me. No by yer leave or anything, just sat on down. He was wearing a crumpled safari suit. There’s a place in Jermyn Street they cater to exactly that kind of thing.

You go in, bang down a shit pile of readies and say, ‘I want clothes that mark me out as an old India-hand, or old anywhere-hand; that make me look like I was there in the early days. But primarily I want to look like an arse-hole.’

You say that, they fit you out in one of those.

He extended a hand, said gruffly, ‘I’m Ross.’

‘Painful... is it?’

‘Sorry?’

‘I’ve read my Evelyn Waugh.’

‘Cheeky blighter.’

Did he mean me or Waugh. He looked at my purchases then asked, ‘Might I give you a tip?’

‘If you have to.’

‘Skip Athens — it’s too much for a first timer. Go straight to the islands, get acclimatised.’

‘How d’ya know it’s my first time?’

He gave a patient smile, said, ‘You bought cigarettes.’

‘That’s not on?’

‘Cheaper in Greece, all your internationals, cheaper than duty free.’

‘Oh.’

‘How’d you like to be a New Warrior?’

I laughed out loud. Jeez, you’d have to.

He wasn’t fazed and continued, There’s too much feminisation of modern man. Our virility is being eroded but now, we’re taking it back.’

He was in full mouth and I had to block, said:

‘Iron John lives, yeah.’

‘You read that! Splendid... truly capital. You are already initiated.’

‘Whoa, Toss.’

‘Ross actually.’

‘Whoever. Hold the phone, I heard of it... okay... I didn’t read it.’

‘No problems, as we warriors say. We’re having a three day fest on the Island of Kithnos for a select band of twenty candidates.’

‘Fest?’

‘We live off the land in a ragged terrain. Only our wits and abilities to sustain us. It’s a cleansing... a return to our ordained nature.’

‘Jesus!’

‘I like you sir, you have fettle.’

‘Listen Doss, I grew up in Brixton... how much more of a warrior could I be?’

‘You’ll like us... pick up the standard... rally to our cry.’

‘Jeez, keep your voice down. I do like a man, a pick-up’s even better... and this is free... is it?’

Conspiratorial look as he bent his head in low. An overwhelming urge to give him a big wallop to the side of his head but contained it,

He said quietly, ‘Alas, there are some minor expenses.’

‘How minor?’

‘All told, including literature and tapes, four hundred.’

He said that in a rush. As if a fast figure would appear a low one.

I said:

‘FOUR HUNDRED? You think you saw me coming... that it?’

The boarding call was announced and I stood up.

I said, ‘Abba had a Brixton moment... did you know that...? Yeah... so voulez vous couchez avec mel. You want to feel a man... cop that.’

And I jerked my groin at him.

He was up and gone like a true warrior. I thought he wouldn’t last a spit on a slow night at The Fridge. Jeez, I hoped the rioters hadn’t torched that.

As I walked down the aisle of the plane, I had to pass him but he buried his head in the safety instructions. Possibly made aviation history by voluntarily reading them.

I got a window seat and stared out at the tarmac. Gee, it was interesting. Rain fell and that added variety. A little later we got airborne and I shuffled round in the cramped space to get comfortable.

Blew my nose. A fucking cold was all I needed...

23

As the plane levelled out from its ascent, I swear I could see the fires of Brixton still burning. Throwing a glow across the London skyline and a shadow across my life. I knew it’s fancy and the angle of ascent ruled out such a view. But the flames of the city would always smoulder in my heart.

If you’ve no-one left to miss, then perhaps you best miss a place. Already I was pining for the midden that is London. So okay... it’s a city on its knees and plagued by all the modern pestilences but there was no place I would rather be... or had ever been.

I was fingering the Zippo and feeling all this loss, when the stewardess came marching down, said, ‘We have a strict policy of no smoking on this airline.’

‘I wasn’t about to.’

She gave me the look says, ‘pull the other one’, and I added, ‘I think I’m going to like you a lot.’

She harrumphed and went off to do airline things. I didn’t think she’d be offering me tips on what to do and see in Greece. She didn’t.

My head was split with a pain that only London flu can devise. I was shredding Kleenex like a woman in a commercial.

Getting off the plane in Athens, I walked into a blanket of heat. It bounced up off the tarmac like a warning. Inside the terminal, I was shooed through customs, fast, furious and unpopular.

I changed a bundle of money and walked outside, said, ‘Flu or not, here I come.’

I had the means, I certainly had the inclination, so to begin I was going first class. Hailed a yellow cab and said, ‘Hotel Grande Bretagne.’

The driver perked up as if electrified and we burnt rubber outa there. No Smoking signs in various languages littered the upholstery. He chain-smoked some foul tobacco. I lit up myself and felt it bounce off my heart. It didn’t help my cold any.

His radio was at Brixton level and it attacked a wall of sound that swept in through his open window. A string of worry beads hung from the mirror and I concentrated on not looking at them. The sound was like chaos and I understood that. I’d lived in it and with it all my life.

No shit, the hotel was grand and then some. I had a balcony overlooking Syntagma Square. I finally got to know what the word opulence meant and the place was reeking in it. The bellboy, who was about my age, told me that Winston Churchill had been nearly assassinated there. I figured they’d do me in with the bill.

The first thing I did was sleep and the nightmares came calling, a mix of Jeff selling the Big Issue, tied to a burning stake and Roz as the twelve-gauge took her apart. Drenched in sweat, I woke with a scream, stumbled out on to the balcony to grab some polluted air. You know how it goes, you see somebody without much awareness and then they keep popping up ’til you finally ask, like the Sundance Kid, ‘Who are those guys?’

At Gatwick two bald blokes had been debating the merits of red versus white wine. They were so alike, they had to be brothers. It seemed odd to me you’d hang with a bald brother, when you were like an egg too... much less go on holiday with him. But, what did I know, maybe they were proud of their scalps?

Now, there they were again in Palace jerseys and shorts right beneath my balcony. I wanted to shout, ‘Baldies... how goes it?’

But then what?

Yeah.

I got a map from reception, sneaked a look at the tariff and shuddered. One night would be my lot, else I’d have to snatch a Greek. Headed for Plaka, the touts waylaid me at every step. My plans for my stay were simple:

I. Get laid a lot

2. Get brown

3. Get bearded

4. Get resolved

5. Lose the cold

The fourth I needed to doin order to allow me to go back to London and do the business. After fumbling round for an hour, I hailed a cab and asked, ‘Where’s the best gay club?’

I figured, How offended could he be? These guys kicked the whole shindig into play.

He wasn’t offended at all.

Took me to the posh area and pulled up outside. The Alexander Club, whatever else, looked busy. Inside it was sleazy but I wasn’t complaining. Sleaze I could handle. Picked up an Aussie back-packer and gave him a fast one in the toilet. Said, as I came, ‘Now that’s down-under dinkum,’ and cursed my running nose.

Next day I booked into a cheap hotel and discovered that mosquitoes are a common nuisance. Over the next few days I saw:

The Acropolis

The Agora

The Thesen

Hadrian’s Arch

Temple of Zeus

National Museum

Changing of the Guard

...and it bored me shitless. If this was culture, give me Brixton on a bad-ass Saturday night.

I took a boat to Mikonos and loved that. Over twelve hours and the combination of sea and sun just lulled me into nearlithium peace. My beard had started and already my skin was burning. I bought a pair of steel rimmed plain sunglasses and resembled a nazi on vacation. I was doing okay. I liked the brand name — Police.

Getting off the boat at Mikonos, I heard ‘Tank’ by T-Rex. I wish it weren’t true, I mean how auspicious a landing can it be? I wish too I didn’t remember the song so clearly and worse, remember the poster.

Yeah.

Marc Bolan in all his glitter with a toy tank between his legs. I kid you not. Marc himself looked like a badly fucked leprechaun. As I walked off the gangplank, I saw Bald Inc at a cafe. It has to be said, those domes were tanning, and uniformly.

One of them turned and waved!

The paranoia get up on its hind legs and brayed, ‘They’re following you.’

My nose began to run.

I’d had this unshakeable flu for for six days now... More? A London-bought course of antibiotics had no effect. In fact, it was getting worse.

Lugging my hold-all, humming T-Rex — not an easy accomplishment — I walked right up to the baldies, asked:

‘You following me?’

They were dressed in the Palace singlets and shorts, with thongs on their feet. A cool carafe of orange juice lay before them. One said:

‘You what?’

‘You heard.’

Jeez mate, look at the facts... We were here before you. Be an odd way to follow a bloke.’

The other said:

‘You’ve get a nasty cold there, son. Take a pew, have some OJ... London, ain’t cha?’

Their own vowels were steeped in the accent you only find south of the river — and what a comfort.

I sat.

Ever since I’d left London, I’d felt tired. Delayed shock, I figured. Close up, the two weren’t alike at all. One held out his hand, said, ‘I’m Bob, this here’s me mate, Rodney.’

I said, ‘I’m Tony, I thought you were brothers.’

Big laugh from the boys.

‘Naw, never happened, it’s what people always fink...’

He looked round, added, Though in this bleeding place, they fink we’re a couple of poofters.’

We all had a chuckle at this. The very idea...

Bob asked, ‘You get stuck with this place too, eh...? Last minute booking at Cosmos... right?’

What could I say?

I said, ‘Right.’

Then for deflection asked, ‘What’s with the Kojaks?’

‘It’s the fashion mate.’

‘Yeah, if yer in yer twenties.’

‘Didn’t you see Daniel Benzali in Murder One?’

‘What, the bookshop?’

‘Series mate, twenty-six episodes, Bloody cracker it was, we got it on vid.’

‘Oh.’

I stood up, said: ‘Well, see you guys later, I’d better go check in.’

‘You do that mate, ’n’ if anyone drops some coins, don’t bend over... know what I mean...? Nudge, nudge.’

Yeah, I knew what he meant.

I stayed at... wait for it... The Mikonos.

You got to wonder how they thought of that one. Next few days I did nowt but sun-bathe and sleep. I was in gay paradise and my libido had dropped to ground zero.

Now my throat hurt and I’d developed chest pains, said, ‘Age is a bastard.’

Shaved my skull... why not? I might not be well, but at least I could be current. The flu persisted. People praise Greece for its history, islands, yogurt... Me, I rate its chemists. You go in, a geezer speaks English and you ask for anything and it’s yours. You go in Boots and ask for aspirin, they grill you like Special Branch and you’re lucky to get two pills. On Mikonos I got antibiotics and thought, Second dose, we’ll shift this sucker fast.

Into the next week and I was brown... and bald... and gorgeous. Well... okay I was tanned and it makes you appear healthy. My weight was dropping too and I felt that had to be good. If only I wasn’t so knackered all the time.

I’d lie on the beach all day, swear I’d hit the nightlife later... and be in bed, alone, at seven and worse... glad of it.

Had I leapt into old age? Just skipped out on late middle-age and fallen fucked into decrepitude? That’s how it felt.

The English papers were readily available but I ignored them, just like I avoided English people. Even sight-seeing was off on Mikonos. There are some sights to savour, the gay universe at its preening exhibitionist, narcissistic best... or at its worst.

What would get you arrested in Britain seemed mandatory here. Lots of E, but I was a hot-house of pharmaceuticals already. One day, lying on the beach, a shadow fell across me. I opened my toasted lids to see Bob above me.

I said, ‘Bob.’

‘Jeez mate, yer burning up there. I brought you a cold one.’

I sat up and took it... gulped it down.

He nodded, said, ‘Hits the spot, eh?’

‘Yeah, that it does.’

He’d a good colour too. Dressed only in bermudas, he’d a beer-gut and a body that had taken some action for fifty years at least. He said, Ter a puzzle you are mate... you come to where it’s all happening and live like a monk. Unless you have some floozy stashed in yer room. That it?’

‘Naw, no floozy.’

‘Well, you’re not queer. Me ’n’ Rodney, we can spot a nancy right off... So, were you misinformed? Maybe you heard Mikonos was the place for quietness?’

I smiled, said, ‘What do you care Bob, eh? What’s it to you? Thanks for the drink but it bought you civility not information.’

He spread his hands in a calming fashion, ‘Whoa... back off, Tony. Me ’n’ Rodney wanted to ask you to dinner... All right? A bit of a nosh-up with London boys only... okay?’

It was the last thing I wanted.

I said, ‘Love to. What time?’

‘Round nine — see you at the caff where we met, all right...?’

24

Cats.

There are more of them than there are Germans in Greece. I was at a taverna with the boys and a plague of cats milled beneath the table.

Bob said, ‘I’ll order for us all... okay?’

‘Sure.’

Even the waiter was gorgeous. It’s an island where the mediocre is glaringly exposed. If you’re ugly, go to Corfu, they expect it. Bob ordered:

Fava

Revitloiceftedes

Spanako rizzo

Tzazitei

Sheftalia

Melitz zanos

I figured he was:

a. Chancing his arm

b. Naming Greek footballers

c. Raving.

I asked shrewdly, ‘Do you speak Greek?’

‘Listened to cassettes for the past six months. I’m not always sure what I’m saying but it seems like it’s what I would want. You’ve got to let a bit of flexibility float, plus it’s kinda exciting.’

‘Exciting?’

‘Sure, you dunno, did you ask for chips or a wank?’

Is there a reply to this in any language? The waiter came scuttling with two bottles of Domestica, plonked them down.

Bob shouted, ‘Yo’ Costa, what cha fink yer doing with that shite... eh?’

Looked all right to me. It was yellowish and in a bottle and had a Greek name.

I said, ‘Looks all right to me.’

‘It’s tourist wine. The Greeks wouldn’t piss with it. Costa take this shite away, bring us some Aspro Krassi.’ And he added, ‘Mallakas’

Before I could ask, he said, ‘Means wanker. They use it as a term of affection, or it’s reach for your weapon time.’

A cat entwined itself round Bob’s leg. He said:

‘The thing with cats is... you can’t train them not to kill cos it’s what they do — it’s who they are. You can train them not to kill in front of you and that’s the best you can expect.’

Jeez, I thought, that’s deep and said, ‘Jeez, that’s deep.’

‘Naw, just a law of nature.’

Rodney was chain-chugging bottles of Amstel beer. I don’t think I’d heard him speak.

I asked, ‘Yer mate, he doesn’t say a lot.’

‘Not his thing... he likes to stay half-pissed, be mostly out of the game.’

‘Tell you what, he’s succeeding.’

The food came, the wine in tin beakers. It looked worse than the other stuff.

Bob said as he forked through a dish, ‘This here is Saganaki which is like fried cheese, okay? Or hey, have some papoutsaki. They’re aubergine halves stuffed with cheese and mincemeat.’

‘I’d rather eat it than pronounce it.’ He laughed.

I half turned my head and saw Roz walk towards me. The glass of wine fell outa my hand and my heart rocketed in my chest. As she drew nearer, the moment passed and I realised it wasn’t her. Not even vaguely similar, though she was certainly an ugly cow too.

The information didn’t filter through to my system and a tremor kicked my whole body.

Bob cried, ‘Jeez son, are you all right? Don’t get a coronary before I get me dessert.’

He put his hand on my shoulder, squeezed it... shouted to the waiter.’

‘Get some metaxa over here.’

I forced myself to focus and gradually came back on line, said, ‘I’m okay... guess it’s this bloody flu.’

‘It’s the chick-peas do you in every time... you looked like you saw a ghost.’

‘It’s nothing, don’t mean nothing... drive on.’

Rodney had been galvanised by my performance and began to intone in a sports commentator style:

‘Mike Slater hooked in the second over, got a top edge and was caught by Graham Gooch. The Aussies were nine for one. England has squeezed another 27 runs out of their last three wickets. Fraser scored 28 off 29 balls, only one short of his highest test score...’

They he guzzled half an Amstel, sank back in his chair.

I said:

‘Fuck, I thought he was a Crystal Palace supporter!’

‘He is, but he does love his cricket.’

I stood up, if shakily, said, ‘I think I’ll call it a night.’

‘Call it whatever you like, mate, I’ll walk back with you.’

‘No need... truly... thanks for the Greek lesson.’

Bob gave me the oddest look, said:

‘Life is full of significant meetings. Only in hindsight or Hind Street do we realise what they meant. When you get time, remember the lesson of the cats... that’s the important bit... you take care, mate. I enjoyed yer company.’

I felt too woozy to dwell on any of it. Figured I’d ask him next time. All I wanted to do was curl up under my sheets. If I’d known I’d never see them again, would I have behaved any differently? I like to think I’d at least have paid for the meal. They must have gone next morning, cos I searched in vain. A nagging suspicion that it had been a massive hallucination added to my pervading awfulness.

With them gone, Mikonos lost its appeal and I decided to give island-hopping a go. For the next two weeks, I blitzed across Greece...

... on boats

off boats

in bed

feverish

sun-bathing

pilling.

Went to Rhodes and was assaulted by waves of blonde hordes. The Scandinavians in all their pinched glory. Took a day trip to Turkey and that truly was hallucinatory. Bought two carpets and left them on the boat.

I was a deep mahogany brown colour, a whole lot slimmer and with the wire rimmed frames, looked like Ghandi after a bad night out.

I woke one morning in Kos to feel something on the side of my neck, wondering if Transylvania had moved and I’d been vampirised.

Stumbled out of bed and checked the mirror. Two lumps there and I swear I went ashen behind my tan. I knew what those were...

Sarcomas.

The advance guard of a death warrant.

Back in Athens, I laid out a minor ransom for the undivided attention of a Kolonaki doctor. Got the tests done and the results were peppered with him tut-tutting:

‘Highly irregular, not my usual practice.’

I paid through the teeth.

Got the verdict I’d already known.

HIV positive with strong indication of the full-blown within a year.

Maybe less.

As I walked out into the sun of Kolonaki Square, in front of the British Council, with orange trees all round, I understood the meaning of Dead Man Walking.

It’s all over, save the dying.

I’d also learnt that steroids hide the effects of the disease. Made you look good, too. Course the downside was moments of pure madness.

Well, I’d just add them to my baggage and let them stand in line for their shout at emergence.

Business as usual.

Booked a British Airways flight to London, a first class seat. I’d a day to wait so I went out to Glyfada to have a look at where Christina Onassis lived. Lay on the beach and listened to Lorena McKennit on the Walkman. Once, hearing the piece, ‘The Lighting of the Lamps’ would have me pine for a balcony in Marrakesh. But not — no how no more. Stayed on the beach ’til evening.

A British couple next to me said:

‘Be careful of the ultra violet, you could get a melanoma.’

I said, ‘Naw, I’m immune.’

And heard the husband mutter, ‘Must be a Paddy.’

I should have said:

‘Yeah, but a Paddy on steroids. Wanna fuck with that, Messrs United Kingdom?’

But that’s how it goes. The lines always come too late. Just ask Neil Kinnock.

25

London was dark and pissing outa the heavens. As if I gave a fuck...

As I waited for my bag, a porter said, ‘Brilliant tan.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Pity they fade, eh?’

‘Not this one, I’m taking it with me.’

And left him to it. Now he’d really have a reason for scratching his arse.

Nolan said, ‘Blimey, I thought I was being mugged by an extra from Baywatch.’

I’d watched his house all afternoon, saw him come home, then a little later, two women call and his wife leaves with them. Jackpot night at the bingo. I’d gone in through the back, something I was getting good at. Too late, alas, for a career change.

He was watching Eastenders. His shoes off and his feet resting on a pillow. Dressed in a shirt, braces and the trousers of that blue suit — the copper at ease.

I shoved the Browning in his ear, said:

‘Young lad I knew hoped to audition for that.’

He half turned, saw who it was, did a double-take, then made the Baywatch crack. I moved round front, adjusting the barrel to fit on his forehead, slid the catch, and as he heard the snap, sweat coated his face.

But he kept his voice steady, said:

‘I thought they done you too.’

‘Who’s they?’

‘Whoever did Reed with the blow-torches.’

Oh God! It must have shown on my face, cos he said, ‘You didn’t know! While you was sunning yer self, they was barbecuing yer mate.’

I whipped the gun back, then used it to break his nose.

He roared:

‘Oh fucking hell... ah yah bastard.’

A trickle of blood fell on his shirt and he moved his sleeve to dab it.

I said, ‘Leave it. As the Rolling Stones put it, “Let it Bleed”.’

He tried to gather himself. Not easy with a recently broken nose but he was a feisty fucker.

He said:

‘Yer a sick bastard.’

‘Indeed I am... now here’s the deal: I came to shoot you in the balls...’ Let him digest that, then continued, ‘But if you tell me what I need to know... maybe I won’t.’

‘Shoot a copper... I don’t think so.’

I shot him in the hand, said:

‘Think again... you’re not a copper, you’re a piece of shit. Now, do I have yer undivided attention?’

He nodded.

‘Okay, tell me what’s been happening?’

Between groans, he spat out that Leon’s club had been blown to smithereens, taking Leon, his Minder and half of Electric Avenue, including Jimmy’s Autos, with it. Reed’s body had been dumped outside my home.

I considered all this, then asked, ‘You said blow-torches?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Only one person we know who favours them.’

‘Yeah, sending a message I’d say... You were bloody daft to come back.’

I moved away from him, said:

‘No doubt I could ask you to keep shtoom — you’d probably even give me yer word, wouldn’t yah?’

He was curled up on the couch, cradling his shattered hand. I’m not even sure he heard me.

I thought, Maybe I could risk it, just leave him.

I was at the door, about to go, when I added:

‘On the other hand...’

I noticed Eastenders had finished.