King Flannel

When Sam stamps his feet, which he does a lot, Liam’s long-suffering neighbour downstairs bangs on his ceiling with a broom. Sam loves this. He stamps his feet even harder. Liam takes him out as often as he can.

They go down to the lawns, take a ball with them.

“High kicks,” Sam says. “Higher, higher.” He likes watching the ball turn slowly in the air. He sits on the grass, head tilted back, mesmerised. “Again,” he says. “Again, again.” When Liam gets tired of kicking the ball, they move on.

They sit on a wall by the side of the road watching the cars. Sam stares at their wheels turning, turning.

They visit me in the community centre and Sam begs me to come out and play. I tell him I can’t, I’m working. Sam begs. And begs. He breaks me in the end.

Out on the patio Sam throws the ball and it knocks off a chunk of the church’s crumbling masonry. I pick up the fallen bit of stone and shows it to him.

“You’re killing the church,” I say. Sam takes the stone out of my hand and throws it at a stained glass window. I turn to Liam, exasperated.

“That’s what our whole flat is like,” he says.

“Let’s go and play in the garden,” I suggest.

Liam and I kick the ball around in the garden, talk about this and that while Sam sits cross-legged on the grass.

“Stop talking,” Sam tells us. “Stop talking. Kick it higher.” We do as he says and Sam follows the ball up into the air and back down again. Two grown men kicking a ball between them while a little boy sits watching. I wonder what it must look like to people passing by.

“Why don’t you join in?” I ask Sam.

“I’m too lazy,” he replies.

Eventually the ball gets stuck in a tree, I go back to work and Liam and Sam go back to sitting on the wall. Wheels turning, turning.

“What shall we do after this?” Liam asks Sam.

“Kick the ball,” Sam says.

“The ball’s in the tree,” Liam reminds him.

Liam sees their long suffering neighbour coming up the road. He’s hunched over, all hot and bothered.

“Look, there’s Bob,” says Liam.

“Bob!” Sam shouts. “Bob! Bob!”

Bob raises a weary arm in acknowledgement, carries on up the road.

“He’s sweaty,” Sam says.

“So would you be if you lived downstairs from us,” Liam tells him. “How about we walk up to the shops and get some chips?”

“And then?” Sam asks.

“And then we’ll head home.”

“And then?”

“Then you can go to bed and I can have a rest.”

Sam doesn’t reply.

“Come on, let’s go and get some chips.”

On the way to the chip shop they meet a woman who stops to say hello to Sam. 

“Hello Jane,” Sam says. Sam knows everyone. Liam doesn’t know half the people Sam does. Sam remembers everybody’s name. He only has to hear it once.

At home Sam will spend hours in conversation with all the imaginary people he has living in his head. Liam doesn’t know how many there are exactly, he can’t keep track. They all know one another. Some of them are related. They all have their own histories and relationships. Sam’s like their king and they’re his subjects. He loves bossing them about. When he gets carried away bossing Liam about, Liam calls him King Flannel and Sam laughs. King Flannel is a character in a TV programme he likes. King Flannel doesn’t take his responsibilities too seriously. He stays up all night dancing to techno. Which is what Liam’s life used to be like before Sam came along.

“Night Geez,” Liam says after finally getting Sam in to bed. “Sleep well.”

“I love you, Liam,” Sam says.

“I love you too,” says Liam.