The Painting by Ryan Casey Read Free Book Online

they aren’t really biscuits, are they? They’re like little cakes. So light you get through a full packet in no time.”
    Donny’s head spun. Soft Oats? What was going on? Why was he in here, lying under the blanket of a stranger who had drugged him in the road?
    The man picked the poker up from beside the fire and shoved it inside, rearranging the flaming wood. Donny moved further back into the sofa. The man must have clocked him because he shook his head and placed the poker back down. “Don’t worry. Not gonna brand you or anything.” He sat down on a chair by the fireplace and lifted his colossal feet onto a footstool, dangling them in front of the fire.
    Donny could only watch.
    “D’you have a name?” the man asked, shoving another Jaffa Cake imitation into his chubby mouth, crumbs dribbling onto his lap.
    “I… Donny. Donny.”
    “Donny. Nice to meet you. I’m Reginald.” He held his hand out and shook the air, gesturing it in Donny’s direction. “First off, I just wanna say sorry for the shock back there.”
    “You mean for drugging me?”
    Reginald sighed. “Look, it’s just I—we haven’t had a case like this for years. We thought we’d closed all the gaps but… Well, we haven’t, have we? I always… I always have a cloth with me. Just in case, y’know?” He shuffled his feet together as they glowed in the heat of the fire.
    The words shot over Donny’s head. “The gaps? I—I just don’t understand. I don’t get it.”
    Reginald leaned forward and a burp sneaked out of his throat. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry but… but you gotta realise that what I’m gonna tell you—it ain’t gonna be easy to hear.”
    Donny thought about the house, about the painting and the children. Tap tap tap. “Believe me, after the two days I’ve had and the things I’ve seen, I doubt I’ll have much trouble.”
    Reginald scoffed and cleared his throat. “Well, all right, but you might wanna grab a sick bag if your stomach’s as bad as it was down on the road.”
    Donny waited. How bad could it be? Was he in trouble about the house? Fuck—maybe the council had repossessed it and he’d lost his novel in progress. He knew he should’ve carried his notepad with him at all times. He knew he should’ve kept it by his side.
    Reginald took a deep breath in and exhaled through his mouth. “Well, you’ve… y’see, there’s these portals. These gaps, and we thought we’d closed ‘em all but we’ve—”
    “Just stop talking about portals and gaps,” Donny said, shaking his head. “Just tell me what’s happened. Just tell me what’s going on, please.”
    Reginald bit his lip and tilted his head to one side. “Well, you might think I’m completely mad but this world—this house and this place you’re in right now—it’s kind of not… it’s kind of not your world.”
    The room was completely silent but for the crackling of the fire and Reginald’s hands rubbing up and down his legs.
    “What do you mean—it’s not ‘my world’?” Donny asked, a slight laugh to his voice. Was this man crazier than he was?
    Reginald shook his head. “Look—I knew this would be tough to explain on my own so that’s why I… Listen, would you mind if I let somebody else join us?”
    Donny’s skin tingled. This had to be some sort of joke, right? Some sort of local practical joke? He’d watched a Derren Brown show once where they tricked one poor guy into believing it was the zombie apocalypse. That was all this was—an expensive practical joke. If he said a few things— I’m a changed man, I’ll never watch pornography behind my girlfriend’s back again —then television would have its moral to the story and he could live happily ever after.
    Besides, he’d always fancied a pint with Derren Brown.
    Reginald cleared his throat to capture Donny’s attention. “Well?”
    “Sure,” Donny said, a smile twitching onto his face. “Sure—just do what you want. Just bring some more