Sydney

"Sydney..Sydney Thomson, it's Marsh, where have you been man".
"Away for a few days, that's all, absolutely all, nowhere really" Sydney's answer belies the fact that he was imprisoned by some psychotic maniac who seemed to think he was mixed up with an international organ transplant gang involving that odious boy, the one whose photographs now lay burnt in his sisters garden bonfire.
"well" says Marsh down the line "I have just seen the most remarkable thing, here just outside Calais, Jake, shopping of all things, like he lives here, a very peculiarly picnic bag he had too".
"and" says Sydney in a world weary, beat up, life beat out of him kind of way.
"and, well, nothing" says Marsh.
Sydney replaces the receiver and tries not to think about the call.
But why would Jake be France of all places specially after those murders, why would Jake be in France surely he's required at home, funeral arrangements and the such and as Sydney starts to ponder thoughts of Jake return, his skin creamy white with public schoolboy red cheeks, the way he stood, his chest, thighs the way he laughed he wonders would he ever be free of thee boy and then he wonders does he want to be?