Undeterred, Sean limped across the hallway and pounded on the old man’s door. Sean stopped and rested his hand against the cool wood. For a moment or two, nothing happened, and Sean became dimly aware of the ridiculousness of his situation. Here he was, in the middle of the night, standing in a corridor in a dosshouse, in his boxer shorts, hammering on the door of a senior citizen about to accuse the old man of screwing with him in some undetermined way.

As Sean was about to leave, the door creaked open and the old man’s face appeared through a haze of blue smoke. “Yes,” the man asked as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Sean took a deep breath, and whispered, “Sorry to have disturbed you.”

The old man smiled a toothless grin. “Which time?”

“Both I guess.” Sean hung his head, re-crossed to his own open door, and stepped inside.

The old man made a nasty phlegmy sound, cleared his throat, and said, “This is how it always begins.”

Part Four - 

Sean eyed the bed with suspicion, trying to decide whether it was a good idea to remake it and get back in. The clock read 03:46… way too early to be up and about. He could do with a decent drink but nowhere would be open. Sighing, he grabbed the covers from their resting place on the floor and staggered over to the ratty armchair. He pulled the bed clothes around him and sank into the lumpy chair. For a brief moment he contemplated propping his feet up on the edge of the bed but thought better of it. Leaving the light on, he tilted back his head and stared at the ceiling. He’d no idea what time he drifted off to sleep but when he awoke later that morning his neck was stiff, and the ceiling was still there.

Following a shower in tepid water, accompanied by the banging pipe orchestra, Sean dressed in his finest clothes, which were at best presentable. Before his woes began, Sean would never have been seen in an un-ironed shirt, let alone one of such poor quality. His trousers hadn’t fared much better.

With a clearer head, Sean pondered the events of the previous evening, trying to make some sense of it all. Myriad thoughts sought his attention. Was it all the result of an over-active imagination brought on by the story the old man had told him of the previous resident? Was it some sort of psychological response to the realisation of missing his daughters grow up? Or was something foreboding really going on within his new domain?

Whatever the answer was, it just wasn’t coming to Sean. One thing he knew, though, he had some apologising to do before things got any worse. If he ever wanted to have a relationship with his children, he needed to make amends.

~

The high street teemed with life as Sean lent against a lamppost outside the National Westminster Bank. No one gave him the time of day. Such is life in the city. He checked his watch – 13:10. It was lunch time and, unless he’d changed the habit of a lifetime, his former best friend, David, would be exiting the building shortly and heading to the coffee shop around the corner. Sean had contemplated waiting inside the coffee shop but was worried in case David would be meeting Susan. Sean couldn’t risk another confrontation, especially with the restraining order.. Thankfully, the order didn’t apply to David.

Sean checked his watch again -13:20… maybe David wasn’t coming. A mizzling rain set in and the people all started moving a little faster. Bugger this. Sean turned to leave when a stern voice called out from behind him.

“Sean?”

He turned back and looked up at the man who had usurped him in every important area of his life putting up his umbrella. Sean’s pulse quickened and the veins in his temples throbbed. He took a deep breath and composed himself.

David spoke again before Sean could react. “Seriously, mate, what the hell are you doing here? If you think you can worm your way around me after that performance last ni--”

Sean cut him off mid-flow. “Five minutes, okay. For the kids.”

David sighed. “Okay, five minutes. Come on.”