The Dinner Guest by B Walter (best short books to read txt) 📕

I was having a tedious day in the office one unusually sunny October afternoon when things stepped up a gear with Rachel. A simple phone call was all it took to turn the day on its head.

‘Hi, it’s me,’ Titus said at the end of the line, even though I’d seen it was him from the caller ID. ‘So … this is a bit weird, but I’m at the police station. Something’s happened.’

I dropped both the project folder and iPad I was holding. Crouching down to pick them up, as Juliette turned back to look at me and asked, ‘You all right?’, I nestled the phone against my neck. ‘What’s happened? What police station?’

‘Kensington. I … I was sort-of mugged. A gang of boys. It happened near the Albert Hall.’

‘Christ,’ I said, ignoring Juliette’s panicked look and walking away from the printers and into my office. I closed the door and reached for my jacket. ‘I’ll come right away. Is your dad already en route?’

‘I couldn’t get hold of him. I phoned but it rang and rang, so I left him a voicemail. And I’ve sent him a WhatsApp, but he’s not read it.’

This was odd. Matthew was sometimes off on work trips to see professors and historians who often lived in secluded parts of the country, and of course sometimes that came with a lack of signal, but as far as I knew, today was just a general office day.

‘Right. Not a problem. I’m on my way.’

He said, ‘OK’ then hung up. I stuffed my folder and iPad into my bag, then headed out of the building via the lifts. I tried Matthew’s phone but just got his voicemail. As I walked towards the underground garage, I felt a strong sense of irritation towards him. The very time when there was an emergency and Titus needed us both, he was impossible to reach. I got into my car and punched out a blunt message:

Titus at Kensington Police Station. He’s been attacked. Getting him now. Please call me.

I started the engine and drove out of the car park. The streets were jam-packed as ever, and it took me nearly ten minutes to get out of Fitzrovia alone. Images of Titus being held against a wall and punched by a gang of hoodies, all of them cheering as blood splattered across his face and his possessions were snatched from his person, flashed across my mind. I felt the frustration I’d aimed towards Matthew now twist into a fiery rage at Titus’s attackers. How dare they mess with our boy?

I arrived at Kensington Police Station just under half an hour later. I marched through the doors and instantly saw Titus on some seats in the corner away from the counter, sitting next to a blonde woman. I went over and, without saying anything, embraced him, pulling him close into my arms. ‘I’m fine, it’s OK,’ he said. ‘They didn’t really hurt me.’

I nodded, feeling tears rising behind my eyes, relief flooding my mind and body. As I let him out of my arms and looked at him, my eyes took in the blonde-haired woman next to us.

‘Rachel?’ I said, confused, wondering if there was something I was missing. ‘Why … why are you here?’

‘She was amazing,’ Titus said before Rachel had a chance to speak. She stood up and offered me a slightly shy smile.

‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you’re here. You must have been so worried. But he was so brave.’

‘I don’t think I was brave; you were the brave one,’ he said, looking over at her, then back at me. ‘Dad, Rachel saved me. She really did.’

Rachel waved her hand in an it-was-nothing gesture. ‘It wasn’t that impressive. The lads who were bothering Titus were cowards anyway. I’m just so glad I was passing and could give them a piece of my mind.’

I tried to compute all this. ‘Wait… You saw the mugging? And, what, stepped in?’

She nodded. ‘Yeah, I was just out on a stroll, saw this group of lads trying to take this boy’s phone and so I just … just told them to sod off, basically. And it turned out the boy was your Titus, here.’

I looked back at Titus who was now grinning. I could see a slight graze on his cheek and noticed his school uniform was all scruffy. It was a more reassuring sight than the visions of blood and bruises I’d imagined, but still… I hated the thought of someone being rough with him.

‘I think the police will need to speak to you. I’m surprised they haven’t already come over. They’ve been really good, though.’ She nodded at me, as if trying to make me feel better, but I felt a slight jab of annoyance about the way she said it. As if she were the responsible parent, here at my son’s side, and I was still playing catch-up, late to the game, secondary to the event. Which, in some ways, I was.

‘Sure,’ I said, ‘I’ll speak to them now.’ I turned back to Titus. ‘Have you got through to Dad yet?’

He shook his head. ‘Haven’t you?’

‘No,’ I said, glancing at my phone. ‘He still hasn’t replied.’

‘Must be a busy day at work,’ Rachel said in a jollier voice than I thought appropriate for the situation.

I gave a vague nod, then put my phone back in my pocket and went to speak to the police officer on the desk.

I hadn’t really wanted to give Rachel a lift; I found her presence in this worrying ordeal more than a little awkward, similar to when I had found her nosing about upstairs. It was like she’d been helicoptered into the personal side of our lives. More than just friends, within the space of a month or so. She was being woven into the fabric of our family, and this little event seemed to make those threads tighter and more resolute.

We drove in silence for a little while, then, in lieu of anything else