How Not to Die Alone

by Richard Roper

He’d decided to get everything out as quickly as possible, revealing only as much as he had to.

He spoke rapidly without pausing to draw breath, so much so that he was actually light-headed by the time he’d finished.

There was a horribly long pause.

The others exchanged glances, and Andrew sensed they might want to confer.

He’s fine one minute, mental the next.”

Andrew pretended to be surprised. “Sorry, I’m not really with it today,” he said, wishing he didn’t sound quite so much like a flustered substitute teacher.

“I’m not, I’m nobody,” Andrew said, his voice going falsetto.

She widened her eyes at Rupert.

Andrew had to concentrate on hiding the goofy grin that kept trying to wriggle onto his mouth.

The man made a big show of looking Alex up and down.

The man’s leer turned into a scowl.

“Jesus, look at this lot,” the man said. “A wimpy prick, a slag, a tubby ticket inspector and a shit Sherlock Holmes.”

Remember how grim this job can be. You’re

But Andrew was struggling with being at home. It was just him and his own thoughts, and he hated his own thoughts; they were largely bastards.

written at the top of the page in small, spidery handwriting,

“So how are things?” Andrew said as they left the flat, deciding to keep the question vague enough that Peggy could respond however she wanted.

he hadn’t had a drink in ten days, although he did smell like a distillery, so unless he got very unfortunate and someone spilled an awful lot of vodka on him, I think he was probably lying.”

“She must’ve been the hundredth person you’ve heard saying ‘we’d rather fallen out of touch,’ right?”

“Erm, nope, not really. How about this?” She handed him a bottle with some silver netting around the neck. “What I mean is,” she said, “it’s all very well doing what we do, but it all feels a bit ‘after the fact,’ you know? I mean, wouldn’t it be nice if everyone did more to at least give people the option of finding company, to be able to connect with someone in a similar position, rather than this sort of inevitable isolation?”

Fuck, what if someone is allergic to paprika, or any of the food Jim is cooking? Okay, just calm down. Deep breaths. Deep. Fucking. Breaths.

Okay, okay, keep a lid on it, don’t sound so desperate.

Cameron searched Andrew’s face for signs of sarcasm. Apparently satisfied of its absence, he smiled, put his palms together and said, “Namaste,” before backing away into the corridor and heading to

As he sat down at his desk, a fresh pile of paperwork in his in-tray, a new lot of death to be tackled, he couldn’t help but picture Peggy’s reproachful look as he begged her to help him.

Andrew walked out of the office laden down with booze,

Andrew gritted his teeth and made his way to another Sainsbury’s.

What was it about going into a supermarket already carrying a bag of shopping that made it feel like you were returning to the scene of a botched murder?

“Big night tonight, m’love?”

Innocent though they’d been, Glenda’s words opened the floodgates to Andrew’s nerves.

He felt like everyone he passed was giving him a meaningful look, as if there were something at stake for them too, and every half-overheard snippet of conversation seemed to be charged with meaning. His anxiety wasn’t helped by the fact that Rupert’s directions to his house seemed needlessly complicated.

“Hellooo!” Cameron said, stretching the word out as if he were calling into a tunnel to hear the echo. The smile disappeared from his face. “Oh, crumbs, I’m not mega-early, am I?”

Peggy widened her eyes slightly.

“Can I use the loo?” Meredith

It was hard to adequately explain what Andrew’s taste buds had just experienced. There was too much information to process.

and Andrew felt the faint soreness of tears beginning to form behind his eyes. How

“I didn’t realize you were such a whiz in the kitchen.

her expression betraying nothing.

and Andrew noticed him check his watch surreptitiously.

ignoring the others’ exchanging nervous looks.

And I think that sometimes the personal has got in the way of the professional—to

However, it turns out that the statistics—and it feels strange to say this, I promise you—are on our side.

Two mornings later Andrew woke with a start. He’d

for a horrible few seconds he couldn’t be quite sure what was real and what his subconscious had decided to twist.