Oggy scrambled backwards.
Dan moved towards him, ready to strike, but he was uncoordinated, the drink making him clumsy.
Oggy was able to get to his feet and spread his arms out. ‘What the fuck?’
‘It was you. You did this.’ Dan jabbed his finger towards his face. ‘And my office.’
Oggy stepped towards him, his shock giving way to anger. He slapped his hands against his chest. ‘Yeah, the police came round, and guess what? No evidence, bruv, so what the fuck are you doing in my house?’
‘Evening the score, bruv,’ Dan said, spitting out the word bruv.
Oggy laughed, loud and sarcastic. ‘You? Mr Shirt and Tie?’ He switched off the laugh and stepped closer. ‘You brought the police to my house. For that, I’m going to do you.’
A female voice from the kitchen said, ‘Don’t Oggy, not in here.’
Dan glanced over and saw frightened eyes peering round the edge of the kitchen door jamb, a shock of blonde hair hanging down.
Oggy cocked his head. ‘Maybe she’s right, because you know what, yeah, I pity you.’ He looked Dan up and down. ‘I heard about your office, so you’re having a bad day. Maybe I cut you some slack, just for today.’
He pushed Dan in the chest, and he tried to swat it away, but Oggy pushed Dan again, harder, making him stumble backwards.
‘I’ll give you one chance,’ Oggy said. ‘Like my lady said, just go. If you don’t, whatever happens next is down to you.’ He grinned. ‘You’re the fancy lawyer, so tell me this. You’re a trespasser here, so I can do what I want to protect my home, yeah? Have I got it right, that whatever I do to you will be your fault for bursting in?’ He bent down close to a chair, and when he straightened again, he was holding a baseball bat. ‘Don’t mind the sporting equipment.’ He jabbed Dan in the chest with it. ‘Just never got round to buying any balls, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get a bit of practice in here.’
Oggy raised it over his shoulder, like a hitter waiting for a pitch.
Dan looked at Oggy, and then to his girlfriend, still cowering in the kitchen.
‘Last chance, lawyer-man.’
Dan turned and rushed for the door, needing the fresh air. He didn’t look back and started to run when he got outside.
He made it as far as the alleyway before he threw up, one hand against the wall, retching, the adrenaline rush and the pressure of the day getting to him.
The wall was cool as he pressed his forehead against it. He turned his head to look back towards Oggy’s house. He was standing by his gate, the bat swinging loosely in his grip.
How had he got to this point? It had taken just a few beers and a bad day for him to turn into the sort of person who bursts into houses, looking for a fight.
Dan pushed himself away and stumbled towards the main road. He needed to get home.
The walk to his apartment would normally take less than fifteen minutes from Oggy’s house, just down the long slope towards the canal and over the railway line, but his walk wasn’t normal. He swerved and stumbled, rested against walls sometimes, groaned and doubled over. It took him three times as long, stopping at one point to stare at the town, nestled in its valley. Perhaps Jayne had been right and there was a bigger world out there to be found.
As he looked, his attention was drawn to the sun that shone over the motorway, a shaft of light that peered through the clouds and illuminated the road away from Highford. Was it a sign? He laughed as he gave a thumbs-up gesture to the clouds. The big man was giving him signs. He should heed them.
Eventually, he stumbled along the cobbles in the yard outside his apartment building. Nearly home. He had wine in the fridge, as always. His apartment was his refuge, and his solace was in the bottle. He was going to chase oblivion and worry about the world when he woke up.