"Oh. Dad said somebody did. I thought it might have been you."

"Why would I call?"

"Well, I don't know." I shrugged to myself. "For the same reason you called tonight. Whatever."

"Well, why do you think I called tonight?"

"I don't know."

"Christ; you don't know why I've called, you aren't sure of your own name, you get mine wrong. You're not up to much, are you?"

"Oh dear," I said, more to myself than to Eric. I could feel this conversation going all the wrong way.

"Aren't you going to ask me how I am?"

"Yes, yes," I said. "How are you?"

"Terrible. How are you?"

"OK. Why are you feeling terrible?"

"You don't really care."

"Of course I care. What's wrong?"

"Nothing that would interest you. Ask me something else, like how the weather is or where I am or something. I know you don't care how I feel."

"Of course I do. You're my brother. Naturally I care," I protested. Just at that moment I heard the kitchen door open, and seconds later my father appeared at the bottom of the stairs and, taking hold of the great wooden ball sculpted on to the top of the last banister, stood glaring up at me. He lifted his head and put it slightly to one side to listen better. I missed a little of what Eric said in reply to me, and only caught;

"… care how I feel. Every time I ring up it's the same. 'Where are you? That's all you care about; you don't care about where my head's at, only my body. I don't know why I bother, I don't. I might as well not take the trouble of calling."

"H'm. Well. There you are," I said, looking down at my father and smiling. He stood there, silent and unmoving.

"See what I mean? That's all you can say. 'H'm. Well. There you are. Thanks a fucking lot. That shows all you care."

"Not at all. Quite the contrary," I told him, then put the phone just a little away from my mouth and shouted to my father: "It's only Jamie again, Dad!"

"… why I bother to make the effort really I don't…," Eric rambled on in the earpiece, apparently oblivious to what I'd just said. My father ignored it, too, standing in the same position as before, head cocked.

I licked my lips and said; "Well, Jamie —»

"What? You see? You've forgotten my name again now. What's the use? That's what I'd like to know. H'm? What's the use? He doesn't love me. You love me, though, don't you, h'm?" His voice became slightly fainter and more echoey; he must have taken his mouth away from the handset. It sounded as though he was talking to somebody else in the call-box with him.

"Yes, Jamie, of course." I smiled at my father and nodded and put one hand under the other armpit, trying to look as relaxed as possible.

"You love me, don't you, my sweet? As though your little heart was on fire for me…," Eric mumbled far away. I swallowed and smiled again at my father.

"Well, that's the way things go, Jamie. I was just saying that to Dad here this morning." I waved at Father.

"You're burning up with love for me, aren't you, me little darlin'?"

My heart and stomach seemed to collide as I heard a rapid panting noise come over the phone behind Eric's muttering. A slight whine and some slobbering noises brought goosepimples up all over me. I shivered. My head shook as though I'd just knocked back some hundred-proof whisky. Pant pant whine whine went the noise. Eric said something soothing and quiet in the background. Oh my God, he had a dog in there with him. Oh, no.

"Well! Listen! Listen, Jamie! What do you think?" I said loudly and desperately, wondering if my father could see my goosebumps. I thought my eyes must be starting out of my head, too, but there was little I could do; I was trying the best I could to think of something distracting to say to Eric. "I was — ah — I was just thinking that we really must — must get Willy to give us another shot of his old car; you know, the Mini he bombs up and down the sands on sometimes? That was really good fun earlier on, wasn't it?" I was croaking by now, my mouth drying up.

"What? What are you talking about?" Eric's voice said suddenly, close to the phone again. I swallowed, smiled once more at my father, whose eyes seemed to have narrowed slightly.

"You remember, Jamie. Getting a shot of Willy's Mini. I really must get Dad here" — I hissed those two words — "to get me an old car I could drive on the sands."

"You're talking crap. I've never driven anybody's car on the sands. You've forgotten who I am again," Eric said, still not listening to what I was saying. I turned away from looking down at my father and faced into the corner, sighing mightily and whispering "Oh my God," to myself, away from the mouthpiece.

"Yes. Yes, that's right, Jamie," I continued hopelessly.

"That brother of mine is still making his way here, as far as I can tell. Me and Dad here are hoping he's all right."

"You little bastard! You "re talking as though I'm not even here! Christ, I hate when people do that! You wouldn't do that to me, would you, me old flame?" His voice went away again, and I heard doggy noises — puppy noises, come to think of it over the phone. I was starting to sweat.

I heard footsteps in the hall below, then the kitchen light click off. The footsteps came again, then started up the stairs. I turned round quickly, smiled at my father as he approached.

"Well, there you go, Jamie," I said pathetically, drying up metaphorically as well as literally.

"Don't spend too long on that phone," my father said as he passed me, and continued up the stairs.

"Right, Dad!" I shouted merrily, beginning to experience an ache somewhere near my bladder that I sometimes get when things are going particluarly badly and I can't see any way out.

"Aaaaoooo!"

I jerked the phone away from my ear and stared into it for a second. I couldn't decide whether Eric or the dog had made the noise.

"Hello? Hello?" I whispered feverishly, glancing up to see Father's shadow leave the wall on the floor above.

"Haaaooowwwaaaaooooww!" came the scream down the line. I shook and flinched. My God, what was he doing to the animal? Then the receiver clunked, I heard a shout like a curse, and the phone rattled and crashed again. "You little bastard- Aargh! Fuck! Shit. Come back, you little-"

"Hello! Eric! I mean Frank! I mean- Hello! What's happening?" I hissed, glancing up the stairs for shadows, crouching down at the phone and covering up my mouth with my free hand. "Hello?"

There was a clatter, then "That was your fault!" shouted close to the handset, then another crash. I could hear vague noises for a bit, but even straining I couldn't make out what they were, and they could have been just noises on the line. I wondered whether I should put the phone down, and was about to do so when Eric's voice came again, muttering something I couldn't make out.

"Hello? What?" I said.

"Still there, eh? I lost the little bastard. That was your fault. Christ, what's the use of you?"

"I'm sorry," I said, genuinely.

"Too bloody late now. Bit me, the little shit. I'll catch it again, though. Bastard." The pips went. I heard more money being put in. "I suppose you're glad, aren't you?"

"Glad what?"

"Glad the goddam dog got away, asshole."

"What? Me?" I stalled.

"You aren't trying to tell me you're sorry it got away, are you?"

"Ah. .»

"You did it on purpose!" Eric shouted. "You did it on. purpose! You wanted it to get away! You won't let me play with anything! You'd rather the dog enjoyed itself than me! You shit! You rotten bastard!"

"Ha ha," I laughed unconvincingly. "Well, thanks for calling — ah — Frank. Goodbye." I slammed the receiver down and stood for a second, congratulating myself on how well I had done, all things considered. I wiped my brow, which had become a little sweaty, and took a last look up at the shadow less wall above.