The front doors opened in unison, and two brawny men in uniform rose up as though they’d practiced the routine. In another simultaneous movement they donned their peaked helmets, covering scalps that gleamed pale through their glossy black hair. One man’s face was as unusually rounded as his eyes and nose and fat-lipped mouth, while his colleague’s eyes and mouth were so small they looked squeezed, unlike his nose, which the moist pink nostrils appeared to have enlarged. The men paced along either side of the drive as if they were preparing to close in on me. “Is this your house, sir?” the small-eyed fellow said.
“It was. No, as a matter of fact it still is. It will be for a while.”
The round-faced man parted his thick lips with a moist pop. “Which?”
“As I say, it’s mine and my wife’s.”
“Joint mortgage, is it, sir?” his colleague said.
I had the grotesque notion that he was about to offer financial advice. “That’s the arrangement, yes.”
“Just show us, can you?” the round-faced man said.
I was in danger of yielding to some form of mirth. “You want me to show you our mortgage.”
His lips popped again, a sound like a breath breaking a surface. “Show us how you got in and we’ll check the house.”
“Why should that be necessary?” More than embarrassment was making me defensive, but I had to say “Unfortunately I no longer have the keys.”
His partner’s gaping nostrils flared as if they’d scented an offence. “How is that, sir?”
“My wife and I are estranged at the moment.”
“Then may we ask how you gained entry?”
“How do you know she didn’t let me in?” When they met this with an identical look as lacking in depth as expression I said “She wanted me to leave the keys once I’d finished with them, so I posted them into the house.”
“So what proof can you show us you live here?” the round-faced man said.
I tried to feel this was a request, not a challenge or an accusation, as I took out my wallet and extracted my driving licence. “I should think this covers it.”
He peered at it while his colleague opened the boot of the car. “Got something with your picture on?”
“Luckily for, as it happens I have.” At least I’d stopped short of saying he was lucky, and I found the passport I’d retrieved from my desk. “As a rule I wouldn’t have this with me,” I said.
“Not thinking of leaving the country, are you?”
“I’ve no such plan at the moment, but is there any reason why I shouldn’t?”
“Depends if you’re taking anybody with you, maybe.”
All at once I felt even more suspicious than he appeared to be. As he handed back the passport I said “Now you’ve established who I am, may I know your names?”
His mouth puckered inwards, acquiring a resemblance to a navel, and then popped wide. “Black,” he said no means unlike a warning.
“Far,” his colleague said.
It must have a final consonant that I couldn’t hear, but I had to fend off the idea that the combination of names came close to invoking a void. As I pocketed my wallet Farr said “Can I ask what’s in these cases, Mr Sheldrake?”
“Clothes. My togs. Do have a look if you need to.”
“If you wouldn’t mind, sir.”
“To tell you the truth, I’m minding a hell of a lot,” While I didn’t say this or use even stronger language, I’d assumed he would turn down my suggestion. “Investigate them, then,” I said. “They aren’t locked.”
“We’d prefer you to open them, sir.”
I stalked around the car and unzipped the suitcases. “My secrets are revealed,” I said. “Rummage all you like.”
“Pack them yourself, did you?” Black said.
He sounded like a customs officer, a similarity I did my best to shrug off. “Can’t you tell?” I retorted. “I’m the man responsible.”
“Right enough, it’s still a woman’s job.”
Before I could insist I hadn’t meant that, he set about pawing through a case while Farr performed a fastidious search of the other. I glanced about to see if anyone was watching, but nobody else was in sight. I’d rather hoped someone I knew might have come out of their house to witness the situation—indeed, so that I could appeal to them. Eventually Farr eased the zip shut, and as Black give his a few rough tugs the small-eyed officer opened one rear door. He leaned in to examine the spines of the reference volumes and the covers of the topmost magazines, and then he rested a hand on the exercise books. “What are these, Mr Sheldrake?”
At once I realised what I’d overlooked, and found it hard to speak. “What do you think they might be?”
“I really couldn’t say, sir.”
“Or do you mean you’d rather not? Was anyone wondering how many copies I had?”
Farr straightened up with an exercise book in his hands, a movement that looked threatening and ominously reminiscent too. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“Then find out what you’ve got there. Go on, have a good look.”
The policeman opened the book of my childish tales and frowned at the faded handwriting. Eventually he said “Someone’s copied those old children’s books, have they? The Famous Five.”
“Yes, that’s what I meant by copies.” I didn’t know whether my sarcasm was apparent or what it might achieve. “I wrote them a long time ago,” I said. “Do check that’s all the other books are too.”
By the time he had I was more than ready with a question, but it didn’t bother being one. “Now that you’re satisfied, perhaps you can tell me what all this has been about.”
“Just routine, sir. There won’t be any need to take it further.”
“You just happened to be passing, did you? I’d like to know what you saw that you thought was in any way suspicious.”
“Maybe someone saw you taking stuff out of the house,” Black said.
“And called you, are you saying? All the neighbours know me,” I said and couldn’t restrain myself any longer. “But how did you know my name?” I challenged Farr. “You didn’t see my licence or the passport either.”
“Must have seen it on your case,” Black said and slammed the boot so hard it shook the car.
I was belatedly aware that I might be exacerbating any danger I was in, a sense that left me feeling isolated, cut off from the familiar suburban houses and the cloudless sky. I’d managed to stifle my answer when Black tramped around the car and stared at the back seat. “What are those?”
“Just old newspaper clippings.”
“We don’t need you to tell us that. What’s so interesting you’ve kept it all this time?”
Farr moved aside to let his colleague duck into the car and leaf through the cuttings about Eric Wharton and written by him. “Remember him,” Black said, perhaps to convey that he did, and reared up to face me. “Some folk thought he was a bit too fond of poking his nose in.”
This time I was unable to control myself. “Are you saying I am?”
“We wouldn’t do that, sir,” Farr said, returning the book of my tales to the back seat. “Thank you for your time, and please drive safely.”
I couldn’t be sure that his last words were a gibe, but as the policemen made for their vehicle Black turned his head. “Maybe watch out who you’re saying what to, Mr Sheldrake.”
I was provoked not just to reply but to follow them. “What am I supposed to think he means by that?” I demanded.
Both men swung around and held up their hands to halt me, one hand each. “Nothing happened here today, sir,” Farr said. “I’m sure you’ll agree you have no cause to mention it to anyone.”
Their gesture looked close to ritualistic, but it didn’t deter me as much as their gaze did. I wanted to believe that the sun had suddenly but instantly clouded over, blackening the day and the men’s eyes. Otherwise I could have been staring too far into the sockets, into a darkness that might have been using
the faces as masks—a darkness so deep that I felt drawn into it, robbed of any balance. I couldn’t even tell if the sensation was physical or mental or both. I was unable to look away or to see anything besides those eyes, but I had the impression that Farr’s nostrils had yawned eagerly wider while Black’s mouth had grown as circular as any worm’s. As I struggled to take a breath the policemen turned away, and I couldn’t be sure that I’d glimpsed their faces reverting to the ones they showed the world.
I leaned against my car until I heard them drive into the distance, and when I tried doing without its support I found I hadn’t finished shaking. The bright day and the familiar street felt like a shell that hid emptiness if not something worse. At last I drove to my old house, so carefully that I might have been following Farr’s advice. It didn’t help that I’d looked into the boot to see that neither suitcase was labelled with my name.
18 - Communications
When I answered the phone Lesley wasn’t speaking to me. “Toby, I asked you to stay in the garden,” she said, and then closer and lower “Hold on a moment, Dominic.”
“Is that dad? Can I talk to him?”
“Toby, what did I just say?”
“You said hold on a moment, Dominic.” As I wondered what expression—innocent or crafty—accompanied his response he said “Can’t I just say hello?”
I was about to make myself heard in the silence he’d elicited when Lesley said “Just be quick.”
I heard the receiver change hands and then “Hello, dad. How are you?”
The question seemed too formal for a five-year-old. “Hi there, Toby. How’s everyone?”
“We’re good. Mum made lots of dinners at the weekend so she doesn’t have to make them every night, so we can spend more time together.”
“I’m sure that must be good for both of you.”
“I’ve read her nearly all of Alice now, and there’s another book where she goes in a mirror. Does that turn you inside out, dad? Going some places does.”
“You haven’t been anywhere like that.”
This was more of a question than I wished it had to be. “Only watched,” he said.
As I searched for a reply Lesley said “Toby, you were meant to be quick.”
“Just another minute, mum,” he pleaded and went on at once. “Dad, Mrs Dixon liked a story I wrote and said I should read it to the class.”
“Well done, Toby.” All the same, I hesitated before saying “What is it about?”
“There’s a place past all the stars that’s so dark you have to make your eyes light up to see. And a spaceship gets lost in it but To, he’s the boy they have to ask if he’ll help them, he can make his eyes so bright he takes them back where they came from.”
I couldn’t very well not comment. “I’m glad your teacher likes your stories, Toby.”
“She said it was poetic, didn’t she, mum? Only I left out the part I didn’t think they’d like.”
If Lesley hadn’t been listening to him I might not have asked “Which part is that?”
“The spaceship wouldn’t really have got out, because there’s a creature that lives in the dark, only maybe the dark’s what he is. Or maybe the dark is his mouth that’s like a black hole or what black holes are trying to be. Maybe they’re just thoughts he has, bits of the universe he’s thinking about. And he’s so big and hungry, if you even think about him too much he’ll get hold of you with one of them and carry you off into the dark.”
“Well, don’t,” I blurted. “Don’t think about it at all.”
“Toby, say goodbye now,” Lesley said before he had a chance to speak.
“Goodbye, dad. Will you talk to me again soon?”
“That’s the least I’ll be doing,” I declared, but only for myself to hear. “Goodbye, Toby. Be good for mummy. And yes, we’ll speak soon.”
I heard the back door shut—it sounded very far away—before Lesley picked up the receiver. “Is he as cheerful as he seems?” I said.
“As much as I can help him to be.”
I did my best not to take this personally. “Then I’m glad.”
“He’s strong for a boy of his age.” Lesley took a breath that might have included a sigh. “I’m sure you’re responsible,” she said, “to some extent.”
No doubt she aimed to make me feel a little less excluded, but I had an awful inkling that Toby’s experiences at Safe To Sleep might be the real source of his strength. The notion of the kind of fortitude he must have needed to develop appalled me, but what was the alternative just now? “I’m sure we both are,” I said, and with the faintest surge of hope “Why were you calling me?”
“Why were the police here before?”
“Because they saw me playing the removal man and supposedly they were checking I wasn’t up to no good.” I couldn’t risk straying any closer to the truth, since she would only take it as more evidence of mental disturbance, but I said “Who told you about them?”
“Wouldn’t you have wanted me to know?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I’d begun to feel we might never reach the end of the series of questions. “I just want to know who was watching,” I said.
“The Booths across the road.”
“They must have been careful to stay out of sight. I wonder why they didn’t venture over.”
“You know they’ve grown cautious since they retired. They said they don’t expect to see police round here.” She cleared her throat as if she needed to dislodge her next question. “Have you had the court documents yet?”
I felt as if I’d nearly reached the Lesley I knew, only for her to recoil. “Not yet,” I said.
“Then please deal with them as soon as they arrive. I shouldn’t think we’ll have any reason to be in contact until they’re in the system.”
I was about to tell her that we might, in the hope of regaining some closeness, when it became plain that she meant this as a goodbye. As I dropped the empty phone into its cradle I couldn’t help wishing that the call had been from Bobby instead. I hadn’t heard from her for days—not since she’d talked her way into Safe To Sleep.
She still hadn’t called by Monday morning, which was the start of graduation week. For me it was always the highlight of the academic year—watching my students in their gowns and mortarboards stride across the stage to be presented with their scrolls—but now I kept wishing I could see Toby’s achievements at school instead. Each day began with the staff parading in our ceremonial outfits through the Philharmonic Hall. Thick carpets toned our footfalls down to a muffled shuffling, while the auditorium several storeys high seemed to dwarf the ritual into insignificance. No doubt this was only how it felt to me, but I was oppressed by reflecting that Toby was involved in a wholly other kind of rite.
Each evening as soon as I was back at my old house I checked the phone, but the last number to have called was always Lesley’s, and always another day older. On Wednesday I found a sombre brown envelope waiting for me in the hall. It contained the divorce papers, and I felt irrational for being most dismayed to find I had to complete an acknowledgement of services form. As I filled in my details and my intentions, the spaces I was given made me feel hemmed in by officialdom, reduced to penning letters as painstakingly as a child, all of which kept the emotions I ought to have experienced out of reach. Dull resignation almost wiped out any hope. Once I’d signed away my marriage I tramped to the post office on the main road before I could be overwhelmed by second thoughts. I’d sent the papers on their way when I heard a screech of brakes amplified by the bridge that spanned the road. The place hadn’t seen a tram in decades, but the noise brought to mind a scream of metal and a human one, and a fear of what may happen to the dead.
During the lunch break at Thursday’s graduation ceremony I found Lesley in the crowd. When she saw me she glanced around in search of support if not of concealment, and I felt compelled to wave a hand, however reassuring that looked. “I just wanted you to know I’ve sent your forms back,” I murm
ured.
“Have you done as we agreed?”
“You’ve never known me to break my word, have you? Don’t tell me your opinion’s sunk even lower.”
“Please don’t make a scene here, Dominic,” she whispered, though I’d kept my voice down. “I take it the answer is yes.”
“That’s what it is,” I said, feeling stupidly clever, and retreated down the long room. The vice-chancellor joined her, and after some conversation he headed for me. Staff moved aside for him and then away from me, but I wondered how many of them heard him say “So the process is in motion, Dominic.”
“If you mean between me and Lesley, then the wheels are turning, yes.”
“May we trust they’re well oiled?”
I wished I hadn’t used the metaphor, since I seemed to be trapped in it now. “I don’t think anybody’s going to need a can.”
“You’re assuring me the process will be smooth.”
I’d begun to lose patience with being translated. “I won’t be sticking a tool in the works.”
When he frowned I thought he meant to rephrase this as well, but he said “Can you guarantee a cessation of hostilities?”
“I don’t think I can say. Which do you have in mind?”
“The sort that was apparent just now. Imagine my surprise upon observing such a spectacle at an official function.”
“I wouldn’t have said there was much to observe.”
“Really quite enough.” Before I could judge whether this was an observation or a directive, he said “We can’t have open conflict on our campus, I’m sure you’ll agree, or indeed the covert kind. May I trust that matters will have been resolved to the satisfaction of all concerned by the autumn term?”
“I think that’s up to Lesley too. What did she say when you asked?”
Born To The Dark Page 20
