by steve higgs
‘You think the Phantom is a girl?’ I asked.
‘Oh. Well, I hadn’t thought about it until now.’ His face coloured and he paused to scratch his head for a moment while thinking how to answer. Then he looked across at Gary to gauge his opinion.
‘No good asking me, mate, I never got close to it. I chased after you when you said you saw it.'
‘Gary, did you actually see the Phantom?’ I asked.
‘Well, no. Not exactly.’
‘Yes, you did!’ Chris insisted. ‘I spotted it by the offices and pointed it out to you and we chased after it as it headed into the pump room.’
‘Sorry, mate. You said that you saw it and that was good enough for me at the time, but all I saw was something moving in the dark. It was over one hundred metres away, I couldn't really see what it was.'
Chris looked exasperated. He started waving his injured arm around. ‘Then how did I get this, dickface?'
It was a really good question and one that I wanted an answer to. ‘Amanda would you be so kind as to take Gary for some refreshments?’ I wanted to have Chris in isolation for a while. See if I could dig down to the truth. Maybe the wound was self-inflicted, and he was looking for attention and infamy. ‘I am sure Gary can regale you with his version of events over a coffee.’
‘Come along then, Gary.' Amanda smiled at him and extended her hand for him to take. Gary smiled a big lecherous grin, then remembered his aching testicles and reset his face to neutral. He stood up, making sure he was looking at anything in the room but Amanda's ample chest and followed her, not looking at her bum, back out of the ward.
I took a seat where Gary had been and took my time getting comfortable. I had a feeling that Chris had made the whole thing up. If he had, then he would now be worried about the truth being revealed, so I made him wait. If he was lying he would be squirming inside.
I settled into the chair, arranged my notebook and pen and fixed him with my best anti-bullshit stare. ‘Why don’t you tell me all about what you think you saw last night and how you came to get the burn on your arm?’
Chris stared at me for a second, I think he could tell I was now dubious about his story, then laid his head back onto the pillow so that he was gazing at the ceiling and I could not see his eyes. Then he began telling me his tale.
He had been finishing his shift, but he and Gary had upset Mr. Stewart, their shift supervisor earlier that day so had been put onto cleaning duty. They had been outside sweeping and weeding for an hour after everyone else had finished and gone home. They knew that if they didn't get the job done properly he would just have them back late on Friday which would mess with going to the pub, so they just got on with it. Heading to his car, Chris had seen, clear as anything, a figure wearing a floor-length black cloak, complete with a hood, coming out of the main office building. It came out of the main doors and turned in the direction of the Mill buildings.
He pointed and yelled to Gary and took off towards it. I interrupted him to ask him why. His simple reply was that he saw the Phantom. The Phantom ran from them and headed into the pump room. I would look up where the pump room was later. Chris got there ahead of Gary, but once inside he and Gary could not see the Phantom and could hear nothing but their own breathing and an occasional gurgle from a pipe.
They had elected to split up to search the room. He said the room was really big when I asked him about it. I didn't know what really big meant as big is not exactly a standard unit of measure. Prompting a better description, he said the room was large enough that they had lost sight of each other very quickly once they split up to search it. Chris and Gary had been able to talk to each other though by shouting. At this point, Chris admitted that Gary had asked if he was sure he had seen anything and had suggested they call it a night and get home. Chris said he knew what he had seen and wanted to look a little longer. The pump room was filled with equipment and pipes and had elevated walkways over several levels linked by cat ladders and staircases. He estimated that he had searched for about ten minutes and was about to give up when the attack happened. He was still talking to Gary, so could tell that he was back at the door they had come in through, waiting for him and getting impatient.
The Phantom had struck from behind by whacking him in the back of the head, perhaps with an elbow, but then he had felt blinding pain searing into his right arm where the Phantom had grabbed him. He had screamed in pain and fallen to the floor which was where Gary had found him a few seconds later. When Chris looked around the phantom was gone.
I looked down at my notes. I needed to speak with Amanda to see if Gary had any thoughts on the matter, but my gut reaction was that Chris was making it up and had planned to give himself a cool wound but had got it wrong and really burned his arm. I had asked him some questions which I thought would expose whether he was lying or not, such as how tall it was, did it speak or make a noise, could you see its feet when it was running away from you. Chris though was able to answer all the questions. The Phantom must be about six feet tall he told me because it was silhouetted against the door of the pump room door as it went it and he could gauge the height from that. It had not spoken at any point and it was too dark for him to see its feet. His actual answer was that it appeared to be floating across the ground at speed and he could not hear its footsteps, but I was convinced the answer was an embellishment.
I did have one more question though. ‘Chris, you appear to be the first person that has ever come into physical contact with the Phantom and lived. Given your unique perspective, who or what do you think it is?’
‘Dude,’ he started, fixing me with a serious look, ‘I have not the faintest idea.’
I thanked him for his time and left him. I spotted Amanda as soon as I went into the coffee shop area. She was sat alone at a table at the edge of the coffee shop area and was fiddling with her phone.
She looked up as I approached but did not move to get up. I sat in the chair opposite her. ‘How did it go with Gary? Did he have anything to say that would be of interest?'
‘He apologised for ogling me. Said he was just being laddish because he was with his mate and then he asked me out.' Amanda seemed to get propositioned a lot. ‘I declined by the way. Otherwise, he had very little to say that was of use. He hadn't seen anything except what he thought was possibly a shadow moving. Chris had shouted something and started running so he had run after him. It was only when they got to the pump room that Chris had briefly explained what he had seen. They went inside and split up and the next thing he knew Chris was yelling. When he found him the shirt he was wearing was smouldering around his right bicep and he was yelling that he had been attacked by the Phantom.' Amanda flicked through her notes to see if there was anything key that she had missed. ‘That's about it.' she concluded.
I thought for a moment. The account by Chris was unconvincing but it had been told in a convincing manner. It was mostly corroborated by Gary, so I was willing to believe that Chris had indeed seen a person dressed as the Phantom and had chased after it. The element I was most curious about was how the wound had been inflicted. I had asked Chris about this but all he had been able to tell me was that he had been grabbed around the bicep by a hand that did not feel human, he had said not made of flesh, and a terrible burning sensation had been immediate. He had described the hand as incredibly hot. I mimicked grasping my right bicep with my left hand.
I needed to ask another question and would need to head back to the ward to do so. Before I did though I intended to listen in to the conversation the two lads would have when Gary got back there.
When I had been sitting in the chair next to the bed I had attached a small one-way radio microphone to the underside of the chair. If Gary and Chris had been making the whole thing up, either for attention or for some other reason, the first thing they would do is discuss in hushed tones how well they had kept their story together or variations on that theme. I had the radio thingy linked to an app on my phone which I had produced from my b
ag and was now opening.
I set the phone on the table between Amanda and I. ‘Would you like to hear what the chaps are saying now they are back to together?’ I pressed the button that would set the speaker working.
They were laughing when the speaker came to life but then Gary spoke. ‘I tell you, mate, I would give my right nut to get my hands on her tits.' I looked up at Amanda and felt my face instantly flush. ‘They must be at least a double D. I bet a fella is risking a sprained tongue taking those on.'
I stabbed the phone with an embarrassed finger to close the app. Suddenly it was very quiet at our table and I was struggling to find something to say.
Amanda rescued me - sort of. ‘Boys talk about tits, Tempest. Boys look at tits, boys think about tits and boys cannot seem to get enough of tits. Tits, titties, tits. Apparently, I have quite the pair.’
I figured that what I was supposed to do at this point was agree with her and provide a seriously manly comment about boys to make me seem so much more the mature gentleman and not one of the lads. However, my head was completely filled with images of tits now. I was almost straining the muscles in my neck to ensure I did not glance at hers, but then conscious that I was not looking at them my rebellious libido insisted I try to remember exactly what they looked like. I have no idea what they look like I argued because she is always dressed. Ha, ha. My libido replied and instantly supplied an imagined image of Amanda in black lingerie so insignificant I could probably swallow it without needing a glass of water. Her fabulous breasts were barely contained by the cups of her bra and were heaving with every breath.
‘Are you okay, Tempest?' Amanda asked snapping me back to reality. ‘You went very quiet and still, but your lips were moving.'
I had an erection. Mr. Wriggly was very much ready for action – gun loaded and looking for someone to shoot. ‘Err, yes. Sorry. I was, um, thinking about a theory I have.' Cool and suave I was not. Flustered and certain that she could see my penis straining against the front of my trousers I needed to distract myself, but her breasts were still right there in front of me. ‘I have a question about the wound. I want to see if they took a picture of it. Won't be a moment.' With that, I grabbed my bag and swung speedily out of my chair so that I was facing away from her and had my bag hanging over my groin. I did not want some child pointing at my pants and asking: “What’s wrong with that man, mummy?”
I made it back to the ward without incident and by then the head of steam Mr. Wriggly had built up had dissipated. Chris did indeed have a picture of the wound on his phone and it answered a question. The handprint was quite clear, I could see four fingers and a thumb. It had been a right hand that had grabbed him, which meant that it could not have been self-inflicted. I thanked Chris for his time and for sending me the picture, which might prove to be a key piece of evidence later. I retrieved the radio piece from under Gary's chair. They both looked thoroughly shocked that I had bugged their conversation. I would play it back later to make sure that they had not discussed anything other than Amanda's amazing chest, but I suspected that I would hear nothing of worth.
I met Amanda back at the coffee shop and we headed out of the hospital.
There was silence in the car for a minute while neither of us spoke. I checked my watch: 1503hrs. My stomach rumbled meaningfully and quite audibly in the quiet of the car. I put my hand to it in a reflex reaction as if the action would quieten it.
‘Are you okay?’ Amanda enquired.
‘Just hungry. I skipped a couple of meals and appear to now be running on empty.' Hayley had ruined my dinner plans last night, not that I was going to lodge a complaint. Then Amanda showed up this morning and breakfast had not been achieved either. I could not remember the last time I had skipped two meals, but it must have occurred back when I was in the Army and such things could just happen because you were cut off from an easy to access food supply.
‘Okay.’ Was all Amanda had to say in reply. I guess it was obvious why I had missed my meals and she was delicately avoiding the subject.
I took a bottle of water from my bag, drank a large draught from it and hoped it would be sufficient for now.
The Office. Sunday, 10th October 1537hrs
Amanda had dropped me back at the office and headed off home. She was tired from working two jobs and I expected that in the same position I would also want to have a bath and put my feet up. I considered briefly going via the coffee shop opposite my office as my mental clock told me Hayley would be working now, but the consideration started an internal debate about what was the cool thing to do. If I went to see her today was I a bit desperate for attention or recognition? Hayley was quite clear that she did not want a boyfriend, but was that just what a girl said when she was being cool about it all and now that we had slept together was the situation changed? I honestly had no idea and was giving myself a headache trying to work out the permutations. I gave up and went home for a cup of tea.
As I pulled up to my house, my watch claimed it was 1537hrs, my stomach told me that breakfast was quite some time ago. Then I remembered that I had missed breakfast because Hayley had been there, and my brain had lost control of my motor function when Mr. Wriggly grabbed the wheel and steered it towards Boobyville.
Then I wondered if Hayley was still here, which caused a definite twitch from just below my belt. I looked back at the road but could not see a car I did not recognise. Nevertheless, I called out as I went through the door just I case.
No answer was returned. However, I was met at the door as always by a tangle of black as tan as my two Dachshunds fought to get to me. I stepped over them to get into the house then knelt to fuss them both. Bull climbed onto my knee in a bid to lick my face, so I offered him my chin and was rewarded with the warm, damp flannel that was his tongue. Always the chin, never the lips, as a Dachshund will happily lick your teeth given the chance. Dozer had flipped over onto his back, so I could scratch his belly. No matter whether my life was stormy or calm, these two were a reassuring rock of love that I could anchor myself to.
I stood up again and let them into the back garden, whereupon they spotted a cat walking along the back fence and tore across the lawn as fast as their little legs could propel them, barking all the way. The cat largely ignored them but did at least pause to make sure they had not learned to climb the fence since yesterday. I left them to voice their displeasure at the intruder and went to my kitchen to find the kettle.
With the kettle getting excited behind me. I opened the fridge, snagged the carton of milk for my tea and had a rummage. I needed something for lunch. Electing to make a hearty vegetable omelette, I took spinach, mushrooms, peppers etcetera from the drawer in my fridge and carried them to the counter.
Was that a buttock print I could see?
The counter had been put to alternate use this morning and not been touched since. I would not call myself a clean freak, others might, but I kept the house neat and tidy and above all sanitary, so the veggies went back into the fridge with a groan from my belly. My hunger would have to wait a few seconds longer while I cleaned the surface.
Thirty minutes later a nearly clean plate was going into the dishwasher and food was no longer a primary demand. The dogs had come back inside, eaten a few slices of carrot as a treat and taken themselves off to bed once more.
It was 1621hrs. I had the evening to myself. I found it to be one of the great pleasures of being single and having my own place. I could do what I want when I want. Outside it was just beginning to get dark. Full dark was more than an hour away, but I was a fan of the autumn twilights, so I called the dogs, inviting them to come for a walk. In response, I got the usual silence. Rather than call them again I took a pace to my right and opened the fridge. I could not tell whether it was the displacement of air as the door opened that they react to, or the sound of the light bulb in the fridge coming on, but they could hear it over the TV, a thunderstorm and perhaps even Armageddon. Even when fully asleep, the two Dachshunds would appear if I opene
d the fridge, so half a heartbeat later eight paws skidded to a stop at my feet. Chuckling to myself, I took their bowls from the cupboard, gave them a slightly early dinner then snagged their collars and leads.
Outside in the cool air, I took them on the long, northern route out of the village that would sweep around the top edge of the vineyards. There were still blackberries in the hedgerow. I stopped to pick and eat a few while the dogs snuffled around my feet. The grape vines themselves had been picked clean recently by the owners. The grapes no doubt already on the way to becoming wine.
On my way back into the village, I considered the merits of a Sunday evening drink at the pub. I had not been to the gym for a couple of days, so I felt that I really should find the time to fit in a decent workout tonight. The truth though, was that I really didn't want to. I was tired. I recognised that I was making excuses, but I still wanted to have a drink in a quiet relaxed atmosphere, instead of an exhausting hour of lifting weights. I was still arguing with myself when I got to the pub on my way home. Bull and Dozer pulled me across the carpark and I failed to resist.
The pub was almost empty. A few regulars nodded a greeting as I went in. The landlord was already reaching for a glass before I got to the bar, so I needed only to nod as he indicated the tap for my usual beverage. The cold liquid was exchanged for a crisp ten pounds note and I suddenly realised just how ready for a drink I was. I downed over half the pint in my first draught. I took a packet of pork scratchings to share with the dogs and settled into a sagging, but comfortable sofa in the far corner of the pub.
Using my phone, I attended to a piece of business I might otherwise forget and sent an invitation email to the list of friends Rachael had sent me. It was an easy task, but the message was sadly lacking in any real detail as I had yet to book a venue. Lacking that particularly important piece of information, I instead requested that they leave a hole in their Saturday early afternoon and advised that the baby shower would be at a venue in Rochester.
