Come Di(n)e With Me, page 20
“Umm, I hope that’s the main course being served.” Chris joked, trying to lighten the mood a little. Things might have been shit for him, but they still hadn’t finished their Come Dine With Me final meal yet.
There were mumblings of “What the fuck was that” and “Oh my God could this dinner party get any worse” on the way through, and even Patrick said to Stewart, “Well, I think Anton and I have the competition in the bag now.”
Stopping for the second time that evening in the grand kitchen doorway, the congregation fell silent.
In front of them, Sandy was laid out on the floor. Blood was gushing from his head, he was making a coughing noise, but his eyes were still open, looking back at everyone.
“Please tell me this is part of the Murder Mystery evening, Faye?” Patrick asked nervously. He didn’t quite know what to do.
“A twist we weren’t expecting?” Sam suggested hopefully, but even before he’d finished his sentence, he knew it wasn’t the case.
Faye silently shook her head. In shock, like the rest of them, she couldn’t quite look away.
Stood above Sandy was Anton, holding the very same frying pan that had been used as the prop that had ‘killed’ him earlier. He, too, was speechless.
“I don’t… I don’t know what happened…” he muttered, shaking.
“It was Mr Pink! Anton did it, with the frying pan in the kitchen!” Peters proclaimed awkwardly, as if they were still playing. But it certainly wasn’t the time or the place for that.
“Shut up, you complete idiot. Go,” Faye began, “go help him, quick.”
“I can’t, I really can’t.”
“Go on, he’s going to die if you don’t, Peters, you have to,” Sam pressed.
“I can’t I’m not a real paramedic!” he cried out, feeling nauseous at the sight of all the blood.
“But you’re training, at least. You have to help. You’re the only person that knows anything,” Faye spat.
“I’m not training. I’m not a paramedic. I sell used underwear online to sleazy old men. I don’t know anything,” he began to cry.
Ignoring all of the commotion surrounding him, Anton threw the pan to the other side of the kitchen. It made an almighty clang, breaking a tile as it landed. He knelt down and took Sandy’s hand in his. Stroking a bit of Sandy’s hair from his eye, he said, “Can you hear me, Sandy? No, don’t go to sleep. It’s going to be okay, but you need to stay awake. Someone, please call an ambulance.”
“Shit, yes, of course!” Chis said, fumbling in his pocket.
***
The police and the ambulance both arrived within five or six minutes of Chris placing the call through to 999. Unfortunately, by that time, Sandy was already dead.
Even if they had arrived any quicker, it was pretty clear to everyone that the visible damage to Sandy’s skull was far too severe to survive. Those pans weighed a bloody tonne. It was a surprise Anton could even lift it that high.
The house was drenched in blue and red flashing lights and the already bizarre evening had evolved into a downright surreal one.
“And where is the husband? You said it was him holding the frying pan?” The police officer asked Chris, who seemed to be taking charge of the proceedings, in the absence of anyone else being able to speak coherently.
“Umm, yes. Anton, you mean. I told him to go upstairs and wash his face. It’s going to be a long night, so I thought he might need to freshen up.”
He, Sam, and Peters had stayed in the kitchen and he’d ordered everyone else to give them space and to go into the lounge.
The policewoman pulled a face as if to suggest Chris had willingly allowed a bank robber to flee the scene without so much as a protest.
“Don’t worry, officer. He won’t be a risk to run or anything like that. We’d all been drinking, and we’d all been arguing about things, but Anton isn’t a criminal,” Chris said, shaking his head. “It’s not like he’s going to run off and pretend he didn’t do it. He’s our friend. It was all a big mistake over a few silly little arguments.”
He was as visibly shaken as the rest of them. Most of the party had been in tears for one reason or another that evening already. Seeing Sandy dying in front of them had tipped almost everyone else over the edge, too.
The policeman with a camera had been in and out in a flash, apparently having taken all the photographs he’d need of the ‘crime scene’. The chances were, he probably had somewhere far better to go on a Saturday night, Chris thought, wishing he had too.
“What I don’t get,” Sam turned to Peters having pondered over the issue, “is if you haven’t been working for the hospital… where have you been sleeping all those nights you were out?”
Peters hung his head in shame. He never thought it would come to this. It was just a little white lie that started accidentally after he’d changed his mind about becoming a paramedic. He didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t know how to come out and tell Sam the truth.
“I’ve been staying with my dad,” he finally admitted. “He’s also been doing all my washing and ironing, too.”
It could have been worse, thought Sam. There could have been another boyfriend, or another fiancé on the go.
As Sandy’s body was zipped up and stretchered outside, the rest of the party filed out onto the gravel drive in front the detached house. To pay their respects, to say goodbye, or just to get some fresh air; everyone had been cooped up inside so long this evening, it had been incredibly exhausting.
“Can I travel with him?” Chris asked one of the paramedics, preferring that to going home with Faye. “Oh, officer, there’s his husband, in the top-floor window.”
Everyone looked up. They could see Anton peering down from the Attic window. High above them, he just stared down at proceedings with a detached look on his face.
He wasn’t himself at all.
He was obviously drunk, because right in the window, in front of his friends, the ambulance crew and the police presence, he’d pulled something out of his pocket and snorted it right there in plain sight.
“I’ll go up for him now,” the officer said to her colleague, who’d successfully managed so far to stay away from the bloody scene in the kitchen.
But there was no need for her to go upstairs for Anton in the end…
Before anyone could stop him, before anyone could protest or tell him he didn’t need to do it, Anton jumped.
He threw himself through the original, single paned, stained-glass window and had landed at the foot of the Ambulance of the gravel, rather close to the stretcher that carried his dead husband.
Each of the remaining dinner party guests let out a shocked cry as Moanie stood there silently as everything unfolded in and around her new home.
It seemed that the evening would be the last time that any of the couples would have each other around for dinner ever again.
Acknowledgements
As always, I’d like to thank my family, Tristan and Harvey.
I’d like to thank my wider family and friends in the UK, who have been incredibly supportive since we’ve moved back. I’m glad to be home. I’d like to also thank all of our Jersey friends and family, who we miss dearly. Where will I get my inspiration from now?
Thank you to Spectrum Books and Andrew May.
Thank you to all of my readers. I really do appreciate all of your interest, and feedback.
About the Author
J S Gray was born in the North East of England. After graduating from the university of Huddersfield with a degree in Fine Art, he moved to the picturesque island of Jersey, where he began to write. He lives with his husband and son.
J S Gray published his first novel, Standing in the Shadows under the pen name Jon Stasiak, and has recently released a second horror, Death by a Thousand Cuts. Confessions of an Art Student was his first LGBTQ novel published in 2020. He has since devoted his time to writing novels which focus on characters under the LGBTQ spectrum, pulling from his own personal experiences. In addition to writing, J S Gray loves painting, photography and spending time with his friends and family.
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JS Gray, Come Di(n)e With Me
