Death Watch

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The moment Bryan Judd’s twin sister died — that very instant — he was sitting on an abandoned sofa on the waste ground behind Erebus Street. He’d gone to the mini-market and bought a can of Special Brew which he was drinking slowly in the vertical summer heat, listening to his radio. The signal came and went, like an audible mirage, but he sang in the gaps, expertly finding the key, knowing all the words of ‘Success Has Made a Failure of Our Home’, mimicking the Elvis Costello cover, not this version by Sinead O’Connor. The beer was warm, the tin damp, and the alcohol made him feel better about the night to come — about what it might hold for him. Ally had said she’d meet him outside the Lattice House. Her skin was always cool, even in this endless summer, and he’d found that to seek it, taut under his fingertips, had become an obsession. He smiled, tipped his head back, and drank, despite the taste of metal in his mouth.

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