“Where should I go for some cycling shorts?” people might say.
“Go to Keith Brentford’s, the home of quality and value.” will come the reply.
“Who’s that?” some people who don’t know where my shop is will maybe say.
“That guy with the tiny head. You know, the curse victim.”
And they’ll know straight away who I am because obviously I’m regarded as something of a freak locally.
Yes, I was seeing Rachel for a while. We were together when she disappeared. Not “together” together, obviously! Otherwise I’d find myself implicated in what could quite possibly turn out to be a horrendous crime! But no, I mean we were seeing each other at the time. She’s a wonderful girl. Very giving and kind. And in bed? Well. A gentleman never tells. So I probably shouldn’t have brought that up. Now I have, I feel obliged to say she was exceptional. You know the feeling you get when you do a stock take of a large inventory of sporting goods and it balances off pretty much to the item? It’s a rare and beautiful thing. But being with Rachel was up there. Almost as good.
Have I been lonely since? Of course. But it’s not about me. Someone out there knows something about Rachel. Someone can tell me and everyone else who cares about her whether or not she’s alive. So I don’t think of myself as “being lonely”. I am fairly well off. I can always get another woman.