For a horrible moment just as he woke up, Remus forgot where he was. He took in the stuffy air, the faint whiff of rotten newspaper, body odour and urine. He took in the hard floor, which had exacerbated his various aches and pains overnight. Then he opened his eyes and saw Grant, lying on the mattress opposite, staring back at him. He looked a bit better.
“Morning.” Grant mouthed,
“Morning,” Remus replied, moving against Sirius, who was still fast asleep, head back against the wall. He peeled himself away carefully and whispered to Grant, “Don’t worry, he sleeps like the dead. I’ll wake him up in a bit.”
“I can’t remember much.” Grant whispered, lying on his side, head resting on a pillow which looked dirty and stained. “Sorry if I was a knob. I think I am a bit of a knob, these days.”
“You were fine,” Remus shook his head, “Just… sad, maybe.”
Grant looked stricken, so Remus moved to get up.
“Loo?” He asked.
“Downstairs. I’ll show you.” Grant pulled himself up, gingerly, then looked amazed, “Blimey,” he said, patting his side, “Must’ve just been a bruise, after all. Knew I didn’t need no doctor.”
Remus pursed his lips and followed Grant out. Downstairs was already alive with activity, despite the early hour. The house seemed to be a kind of commune, full of all kinds of different people. There was an outhouse in the back garden (more like a yard that had been turned into an allotment) and an outdoor shower, which Remus couldn’t imagine was much fun in the winter.
Still, the people were friendly and all said hello to the two boys as they passed - which Remus remarked upon.
“Everyone seems nice?”
“They’re all right,” Grant replied from inside the loo, “Only been ‘ere a few days. Leaving soon as I can.”
“For Brighton? You mentioned last night…”
“Oh, did I? Yeah, that was the plan…” Grant came out of the outhouse, looking sheepish, “Maybe next month, though.”
“What’s there? Friends?”
Grant nodded,
“Yeah - one of the nicer lads from the Mile End place. Got a cousin there too - the last Chapman who don’t hate me. She owns a pub, said she’d hire me if I could get my shit together and pay the train fare.” He sighed, heavily, washing his hands, then face in a bucket of water taken from a big green water butt standing by the back door. “S’posed to ‘prove myself’.”
“That doesn’t seem very…” What did Remus want to say? Familial? Kind? Grant had clearly experienced very little of either.
“Nah, she’s fair enough,” Grant replied, feeling in his pockets and coming up empty. Remus handed over his own tin of roll ups, and the lighter. Grant nodded appreciatively, and continued explaining as he lit up, “I’ve let ‘er down a few times before. Mostly if Grandad was involved - you know I can’t stick him.”
Remus nodded, trying to be understanding. Grant had a huge family - Irish Catholic, he’d said once - but relations between them was often fraught, particularly where his patriarchal grandfather was concerned.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Grant was saying, “I really was going, this time, I was… but it just turned out wrong again. A lot’s turned out wrong, to be honest.”
Remus wanted to hug him, but he looked so thin, so wiry and prickly, it made him afraid to.
“How much is it?” He asked, digging into his pockets, “I’ve got a bit of money, left by my dad, you can have the fare, I’ll take you to the station today .”
