The Second Man

‘LOOK, I’VE HAD it up to here.’ Daniel stretched as high as he could reach. His workmates grinned; they held back the usual laughs they shared with him. They suspected something was wrong with him. ‘I don’t need to work in this office; I can work from home. Look at Jenny; she completes her tasks on time and just had a baby.’ They all grinned again, this time less sure than before. Adam tapped Beth’s thigh, and they smirked. ‘What is going on with him?’ asked Adam.

‘Sir, I want to work from home, actually online. Is that okay?’

‘You only live next door. What is the point?’

‘I didn’t tell you or the others; I need a complete change, out of the city, into the countryside. I’ve found a lovely little cottage in a village near a river.’

‘Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind. Let’s see how it goes.’

The move was easy. His London flat came with furniture, so he went with all the furniture. The cottage was sold with everything included. The previous owner died with no relatives. Danial arrived with a couple of suitcases, a file box, and his trusty laptop. ‘I’ll do some work tomorrow,’ he said.

Daniel changed from his Brogue shoes, his slacks and jacket, into walking shoes, jeans and a woolly sweater. ‘That’s more like it,’ he smiled.

He whistled as he locked his front door and started off to the village shops. People smiled and waved at him as he strolled to the general store.

‘Good to see you again; what’s it to be today? We have some fresh bread,’ said the shopkeeper.

‘Again? I’ve never been in here,’ Daniel mumbled. ‘Yes, a small loaf, butter, and I’ll take a tin of tuna and a pint of milk while I’m at it, thanks.’

Danial searched his kitchen cupboards for a teapot and half a packet of tea bags. ‘Excellent,’ he said as the kettle boiled. He sat with his lunch and gazed at his small but pretty garden. ‘I wonder if there’s a mower? That can be the next job.’ He stretched his legs and smiled with satisfaction.

The grass cutter hadn’t moved for some time and needed oiling. Daniel searched the shed and muttered to himself, ‘How come the lawn only needs a trim?’ He shrugged and got on with the task. Pushing the mower was harder than he imagined. He ended up with blisters on his palms, but the job was done.

‘Next stop, chemist. I must get some basic supplies, plasters, cream, etcetera.’

‘Yes sir, I’ll get your medicine.’

‘Sorry, what medicine?’

‘Ha ha, good one. Anything else you need?’

Daniel searched the shelves for the other things and placed them on the counter. The chemist returned smiling, ‘Here we are, please don’t leave it so long next time.’ He placed packets in front, ‘Antidepressants: Can help with low mood and crankiness. I'm not saying you are cranky, but you know what I mean. Anxiolytics: Can help with anxiety or restlessness. Antipsychotics: Can help with feelings and behaviours like aggression, agitation, delusions, or hallucinations. Or locally supplied magic. Herbs like ginkgo biloba and curcumin may help with memory.’

‘Um, Mr Chemist, I have a few questions, if I may.’

The door burst open. ‘Quick, I need help, ' a woman panicked. ‘It’s my son. He’s not breathing. He’s in the shop next door.’ The chemist ran out. Ethan strolled home.

He flicked through Facebook on his phone, finding nothing or nobody of interest. At least the TV showed an old Hammer Horror. Dracula and the day wore Ethan out. He climbed the stairs and crashed, instantly asleep.

Daniel wakes up in the middle of the night to faint whispering from his wardrobe. At first, he brushed it off as a dream, but the whispers grew more urgent. When he finally mustered the courage to open the closet door, he found a single, dusty photograph of himself—taken from a moment he didn’t remember. The whispers stopped, but now he noticed something: the photograph is slowly changing, and the version of him in the picture is beginning to smile… too wide. With a girl he barely remembered. ‘I know you,’ he said. She smiled back. 

Sleep had now defeated him. He snatched up the old picture from the floor. He was no longer smiling, but at least he wasn’t moving. ‘Must be overtired, but who is she?’

Daniel searched his phone for photos, and then Facebook, his pictures, and his social media account were all blank. ‘What the… who the hell…’ Coffee and gallons of it were needed. He sat in the kitchen and studied his mug. ‘No one has called me. It's funny; I thought they’d ask how I was. My boss hasn’t chased any work. I guess I’m lucky,’ he grinned and lobbed his mobile across the table.

The letterbox rattled with five pieces of mail. He ripped open the Ford dealer’s request for payment. He screwed it up and lobbed it into the bin. ‘I’d assumed the last occupant of this place was too old to drive,’ he chuckled, ‘I’d better let them know to save the postage.’

The DL-sized envelope caught his attention. It was from a bank. A statement, ‘It’s got my name, it can’t be.’ Hastily, he ripped it open. ‘Christ, I’d better see them. How the hell have they got this address?’

‘Good morning, sir. Have you come in to deal with your account?’

‘Yes and no.’

‘Excuse me? What do you mean?’

‘I don’t have an account at this branch and not at this bank.’

‘Sorry, sir, I don’t understand. You came in and tried to withdraw a large amount, and we explained it was impossible until you deposited a lump sum.’

‘No, no, you have the wrong person. I have never been in here.’

The lady turned her monitor to him and clicked a few buttons, ‘Here, that is you, Mr Daniel Cole, is it not?’

Daniel rushed to the door, shaking his head.

Once more, he checked his phone. There were no missed calls or records of any calls, in or out. He slumped across his folded arms, deep in thought. ‘I know. I need security cameras. Someone is cheating me at the bank, and God knows where else.

He proudly hung out the bedroom windows and fixed neat little cameras to the wall. It was not easy, but he linked the system to his phone. ‘Who’s a clever boy? It all works.’

He settled for another night of Hammer Horrors and dozed in front of the TV. He awoke with a start at four AM; his phone was blinking a warning. ‘Christ, someone was breaking into my house!’

He called the police, and within minutes, a car and two officers arrived. ‘Look, look, I have it on film, he was trying to break in.’

‘But sir, that looks like you.’

Daniel looked closely, ‘Yes, but I was asleep in front of a film.’

‘Sir, are you okay?’

‘Yes, perfectly okay. I’ve been under some pressure lately.’

‘Sir, is this your house?’ The officers looked at each other and then at Daniel.

‘Is your name Daniel Cole?’

‘Yes, what is all this?’

‘Mr Daniel Cole, you are under arrest, anything you say…’

Daniel was arrested and charged with the murder of his girlfriend. He had disappeared and lived with hippies in a slum in London. Days later, in jail, it slowly came back to him as he tried sharpening a short, thin piece of metal.

The END