It doesn’t really bother Bill that Ellen inherited the money. He chose another way, bikes, drink, the city and worse, and there was a time when he loved that life with a dirty, guiltless passion he wouldn’t have given up for anybody. You could say that seeing how things have turned out, the version of the world where Ellen got the house, the bonds, a modest amount of shares in safe bets, is entirely correct. It’s just that he has spent such a long time watching out for her you’d think he might be owed a little something. Over the years her fear has multiplied out of control like some invading virus, feeding first off her and then him and now the two of them have become fused into a new and ugly shape that wouldn’t have been discovered had Ellen been the sort of girl who just married a guy from school and got a job in a call centre. Maybe a child would have given her some perspective.
         The first few counselling sessions he went to after he was diagnosed were all about perspective. Mainly about how to achieve it and how to maintain it; maintaining it was traditionally the difficult part. The counsellor told him that it was normal to ask the question: why me? But this was not something Bill had ever asked. Why not him? This was a good response, a healthy attitude, he must have got it from some higher place, some kind of zen intuition. But he had not. He offered up the simple equation: you are the sort of boy who can’t quite find his niche, you do some drugs, it equals you meet the wrong people, you do the wrong things. Then you meet one right person and everything changes. You change. You try to atone for your old, unenlightened ways. You become a Mentor to Young People, then an advisor to the police where your job is to point out the windows that can be jimmied open; you have a particular talent for noticing the vulnerable cat flaps and letterboxes. You do other, subtler things like always making a point of giving way to drivers when it is your right to go, and even though the one right person didn’t stick around long enough to notice your efforts and absolutely nothing is changed by any of this, the sum of it all is that at least you can say you tried. Actually it is quite a complex equation. Still. What did you try? Bill wants to ask his sister. Seriously, what did you try?
         There are cherry tomatoes in my hanging baskets, he tells Ellen when she gets up to leave. Go and help yourself when you get home. Make sure you do.

4

  

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