After Midnight

9.58 PM

The traffic lights switched from red to amber to green, but Anthony Penpol remained motionless, his foot resting on the brake pedal. The two drivers trapped behind him blasted their horns. On the pavement, a group of twenty-somethings stopped to watch the chaos, the neon of the store window display behind them painting their skin. Anthony turned, meeting their curious gazes.

‘Are you all right?’ mouthed a young woman.

Anthony blinked as if waking from a dream.

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ he said, his words obliterated by the honking horns.

The group walked on. Anthony watched them disappear through the doors of a rundown pub called the Pirate’s Hook . Irate, the two drivers swerved around him into the opposite lane, then hurled insults as they sped by.

Twenty minutes later, the lights of Truro dwindled behind him like a fading jewel. Darkness swarmed over the Cornish countryside as Anthony turned off the A30 and onto the two-lane road that would take him back home to his wife and two children.

Sandy had already called twice in the last hour, but he’d been in no mood to answer. Now, he scooped up his phone from the dashboard and pressed it to his ear, listening to the voicemail she’d left.

‘Tony, where the hell are you? Again. In case you’d forgotten, you were supposed to be home two hours ago. Teddy’s here already. You know I don’t like being left alone with him. I’m not happy, Tony. Call me when you get this message.’

Anthony pressed his foot down on the accelerator pedal and the vehicle shot along the empty road.

Teddy. Wasn’t that idiot supposed to be coming around tomorrow? Opening the diary app on his phone, he scrolled down to today’s date. Shit. No wonder Sandy was so angry. He’d mixed up his days again. It was happening more and more lately. He’d missed dinner dates, school plays, babysitting duties. Tuesdays had become Wednesdays. The weekends were losing hours and his mind was losing clarity. If only he could sleep at night, instead of staring at the ceiling or sneaking into the bathroom to tiredly masturbate.

No doubt Teddy was slavering over Sandy right now, mentally undressing her. He’d always had a thing for Anthony’s wife, and he’d made no disguise of it either.

‘Let me have one night with her,’ was his tired old line, as if Sandy could be loaned out like a book. ‘Just one night and I’ll buy you beers for a week.’

Teddy was a dick. The way he talked about Sandy, or any other woman, was nauseating. But it wasn’t just women he saw as lesser beings. Unless you were a white, heterosexual, football-loving male, you weren’t worth much at all in the eyes of Teddy Pendarves.

He was a personification of everything Anthony despised, and yet here they were, friends since childhood thanks to their fathers’ unbreakable friendship. Tony and Teddy. Double Trouble with Two Capital ‘T’s. Born within a week of each other, they’d been pushed together like twins ever since. Now that they had both reached thirty, it seemed irrational to keep up the façade. After all, wasn’t the big 3-0 supposed to be about taking control of your life? Wasn’t it about cutting out the dickheads and the wastes-of-space?

He’d gladly cut Teddy loose if not for one lucrative reason. Teddy had money. Lots of money. His parents had met a tragic end three years ago, while on safari in Tanzania. Spooked by the sudden appearance of growling vehicles, an adult giraffe had panicked, lost its footing and fell across the back of their jeep. Teddy’s father had taken the brunt, his neck snapping, killing him instantly. Teddy’s mother had died hours later from heart failure.

At first, Anthony had felt sorry for Teddy. Losing your parents was terrible enough, but the freakishness of their demise meant he would always have to tell the story over and over while people politely hid their smiles. But then Teddy, an only child, had inherited the printing business that his parents had poured years of blood, sweat, and tears into. He had sold it immediately for a small fortune, without a moment’s thought for his parents’ legacy. Now, Teddy didn’t have to worry about a thing.

Anthony thought about it as he sped along the dark, twisting road, headlights illuminating the tops of hedgerows. Teddy didn’t deserve that money. He hadn’t done a hard day’s work in his life. Anthony had slaved and grafted since he was old enough to take a job, and for what? A pokey house on the outskirts of some godforsaken town where every street looked the same and nothing remotely exciting ever happened.

He’d been an assistant branch manager at the bank for five years now, with little prospect of promotion unless a transfer came up elsewhere. Sandy was still on maternity leave, and even when she did return to her teaching post and a full-time salary, there was no way they would be able to afford to move closer to Truro.

But that was all right, Sandy frequently assured him. It didn’t matter where they lived as long as they had each other and their beautiful boys.

Yes, but what about me? Anthony used to think, and a guilty hole would open up in his chest. But after a while, the guilt faded. What about me? he would now ask, and his mind would show him the long black road that he drove along five days a week, back and forth, his brain switched to autopilot. Was this his purpose? To travel the length of this road, day after day? Night after night?

Lately, as he drove, he’d started imagining himself reclining beneath a palm tree on a tropical beach, a colourful drink in hand. In his daydream, he was always alone. There was no Sandy. No boys. Only Anthony and the gentle whisper of the tide.

It was why he’d invited Teddy over: to ask him for a loan. He would tell him he needed the money for renovations on the house – a surprise for Sandy – which meant the loan would need to stay a secret between old friends. He was sure Teddy would loan him the money without question. That was the thing about Teddy: when he wasn’t being a bigoted prick, he could actually be a decent guy.

Once Anthony had the money in his account, he would book his flight. A one-way ticket to a place where there were no endless roads, only soft, silky sand, and tangerine sunsets.

As images of hula girls and coconut cocktails filled his head, his focus drifted from the road and the car began to drift from its lane. Hedgerows and fields gave way to shadowy moorland. Clusters of stars glittered in the night sky.

Anthony thought about leaving Sandy. He really did love her and the boys. He would miss them terribly. But like everything else touched by life’s numbing hand, their pain would eventually soften and melt like butter in a pan on Saturday mornings. Soon, it would be as if Anthony had never existed. Perhaps Sandy would meet someone new and more deserving of her love. Perhaps Teddy would try his luck with her. Perhaps he might even succeed.

The car continued to drift, painted white lines firing beneath the chassis like lightning strikes.

And then a rush of panic brought Anthony back to reality. Another vehicle was hurtling towards him, its headlights blinding on full beam.

Screaming, Anthony slammed his foot down on the brake pedal. A terrible screech of tyres on asphalt filled the air. Then the world shattered into a thousand shards of glass and tearing metal.