‘I don’t want to know.’
‘Fine, except that nastiness has just come knocking on your door. In fact, it’s put a knife to your throat.’
‘I want to save him.’
Andrew gave a big sigh. ‘New Fabian deal in violence of the worst sort. They hunt down, torture and even kill those they don’t like – including anyone who is not white, straight and leaning right of Genghis Khan.’
‘You said that he was homosexual.’
‘Some things are best kept secret. I expect this was one thing he kept to himself. Who knows? I only know what this sign on his neck means. It’s an inverted cross with the three roses of salvation. They stand for white, protestant and pure. The first two principles make the third principle. The cross is inverted to demonstrate loyalty to a crucified Christ who was hung upside down by the Jews. They hate the Jews, of course – and Muslims come to that.’
‘Sounds like they hate everyone.’
‘Now you’re beginning to understand.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘This man is evil. He put a knife to your throat. He carries no IDC. My guess is he’s wanted by the police.’
‘That’s why we mustn’t tell them he’s here.’
Silence.
‘From what I can tell,’ continued Andrew. ‘His right knee and hip are almost completely destroyed. He needs a hospital,’ he paused, ‘and a dentist – did you notice his teeth?’
‘I’m going to save him.’
‘Judith, please! Have you not heard a word I’ve been saying?’
‘Yes, I have. He’s a bad man, a wicked man even, but he’s still a man, he’s still one of God’s creatures and I intend to take him back to God.’
‘He’ll murder you in your bed. You can’t keep him bound for ever.’
‘He’ll not murder me in my bed, and I’ll certainly not keep him bound.’
‘At the very least, he’ll steal everything worthwhile from your house to pay for drugs.’
‘I’ll take that chance.’
Chapter 4
Andrew had to leave shortly after his heated discussion with Judith; that was when I decided to ‘wake up.’ I guessed that the old woman would be easier to deal with alone. Andrew was far too sharp, too knowing, for me.
When he returned it was already too late. I had won and he knew it. He walked into the bedroom to find a happy Judith spoon-feeding me soup. He sighed, sat down and sighed again. He looked very despondent; he looked defeated. He was, I had defeated him, checkmate! I must have glowed smugness and confidence; his scowl told me that much.
‘Have you seen his hands?’ he growled.
‘Yes.’
I looked at my hands. They were pretty ugly. Not the sort to show in polite society, certainly.
‘And his arms?’
‘Yes, Andrew.’ She didn’t look at him. She kept her gaze fixed firmly on me and smiled. It struck me what a beautiful smile she had. It made her look much younger. I smiled back.
‘As for his teeth! ‘
‘Oh, Andrew, leave him be!’
I stopped smiling, suddenly self-conscious. She frowned, turned and placed the empty bowl on the table beside the bed. Impulsively she reached out to me. I flinched and drew my hand back sharply. She blushed. Andrew looked pleased. She turned to him and, to hide her embarrassment, started to talk. ‘Guess what? I know his name!’
‘Decided to speak at last, has he?’
‘No, he can’t speak. He’s a mute.’
Andrew looked suspicious. ‘Very convenient.’
‘You said yourself it was strange how he never spoke during his ... during his ordeal.’ Andrew frowned and leaned forward, staring at me. ‘He really is mute, Andrew. He can’t speak.’ He still looked unconvinced. She rushed on. ‘He can’t read or write either. He’s illiterate.’
I could see Andrew believed none of this. ‘So just how are you communicating? How do you know his name?’
‘There are such things as nodding and shaking your head.’
‘How did you learn his name by that?’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I went through the alphabet. Luckily, the name David turned up quite quickly.’
He almost choked and, despite everything, I couldn’t help but smile. ‘I don’t believe it!’ he managed to gasp.
I sat back against my pillows. Checkmate, bloody checkmate I thought and I knew that he could see I was gloating. I was right, though, I would never have pulled that one off if he’d been present.
Chapter 5
They were whispering together outside my bedroom. They thought I was asleep.
‘Don’t you think it’s strange that he has the same name as your husband and son?’ It was Sonia’s voice, sharp and full of scepticism.
‘I think it’s a good omen,’ came Judith’s soft musical voice.
Sonia snorted. ‘He’s using you!’
‘How could he know?’
‘I don’t know but I don’t believe he’s mute or illiterate; it’s just an excuse so we can’t question him.’
She really was sharp that one.
‘He doesn’t have to pretend anything. I’ve no intention of questioning him. The past is the past. He’s done evil; I’ve no doubt about that. Andrew has explained it all to me. What those ... those scars mean.’ Her voice faltered. The bastard – I bet he had. She carried on. ‘But it’s the past. I’ll look after him. I’ll bring him back to God.’
‘Oh, Judith! You’re going to get hurt. Please don’t do this! If you won’t call the police, at least get rid of him; don’t let him stay.’
‘Sonia, just trust me. This is a bad man, but I can make him a good man. Well, I can at least try. I intend to try and that really is my final word. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get the bathroom ready for him. Time he got up, don’t you think?’ I heard her hurry off.
Sonia gave a cry of despair. ‘It’s no use, doctor, she won’t hear reason!’
‘I shouldn’t worry, Sonia.’ It was Andrew’s voice. ‘He won’t stay. What is there here in the middle of the Highlands for him? We’re not exactly buzzing with life, now are we?’
‘I suppose not.’ She sounded unconvinced.
‘This man has ... well ... certain tastes, shall we say – tastes that cannot be satisfied here. He’ll soon get bored, go looking for some excitement somewhere else, seek out his dubious friends, there’s nothing for him here.’
‘Meanwhile Judith is going to get hurt.’
‘Maybe, but we’ll be here for her and, be sure, I’ll be watching this wolf.’
‘We both will,’ she said emphatically. ‘He’s evil; I feel it in him. It’s not just what he is but what he’s capable of. He scares me: those eyes, that face, the scars and the tattoos.’
‘He won’t stay – and we’ll make sure of that by making him feel as uncomfortable as we can.’
They left, leaving me with my thoughts. I stared up at the ceiling. I was a wanted man: the police were after me, Fabian was after me. I needed sanctuary. I needed time. I needed Judith and her safe little house tucked in the hillside of a remote Scottish village; no, I wasn’t going anywhere – not very soon anyway.
I smiled at the ceiling. At least I knew my enemies now; we would see who claimed the next checkmate.
Chapter 6
Andrew came in scowling. I could feel his anger, his contempt and his hate. Well, I was used to that; people who sleep rough don’t exactly have a welcome wherever they go. I had had enough kicks and sticks to last a lifetime, and I had no intention of going back to it. I had to be cautious. He may be my enemy, but it didn’t mean he had any power over me – not if I positioned my pieces skilfully. I wondered idly whether he played chess and if he was any good. I had to assume he was a master; to underestimate him could mean my defeat and I had too much to lose – more than he could possibly guess.
He sat down at my bedside. It had not occurred to me that he was a doctor. Sonia had called him doctor; that made sense. In the end he had ultimate power:
he could risk Judith’s anger and call the police in; yes, I had to be careful.
I sat up trying to look meek. I obviously failed. ‘You must be one of the wickedest men I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet,’ he began. So much for meek; I tried the honest look. ‘I don’t know what your game is but I do know it’s not good. You have placed your knife against the throat of the most precious creature in the world, one of God’s angels. You’re not even fit to touch her feet and, yet, you dared to touch her throat, and in such a manner!’ He spat the words out; his outrage was so intense and his passion so great.
‘I can’t make her send you away and I’d never do anything to displease her.’ Well that was a relief. ‘But I’ll watch every move you make. Your first mistake – and you may be sure you’ll make one – will expose you for what you are; then we’ll see. You’ll be out of that door before you can blink.’
I sat with my eyes cast down. I dared not look at him. He sighed, a heavy despondent sigh. ‘Meanwhile,’ he continued heavily. ‘She’s asked me for some help in getting you back on your feet again.’ I looked up interested. ‘I have some crutches for you, not like that stick you had when you arrived, proper crutches that can be adjusted for your height, and I have some straps for your leg. We need to protect that knee and hip. Keep them still. You’re going to find it hard and painful to walk – can’t help that!’
Help it? He positively purred at the thought that I might just suffer some pain. He continued. ‘You’re going to have to give yourself up one day you know. You need to go to hospital. I can’t do anything for your leg. I’m just a simple GP. You don’t have the drugs to cushion the pain any more. I don’t believe you realise how much this is going to hurt. The straps will help but, in the end, the very act of walking will hurt. You need an IDC; no hospital will take you without one.’ He stood up to go. ‘You think you’re so clever fooling this lovely lady here, but I wonder how long you can stand the pain; I wonder what it’ll take to admit it’s time to give yourself up?’ He leaned over and smiled. ‘I give you less than a week,’ he said and then he left.
Checkmate to him.
Chapter 7
I pride myself on being a good chess player – more than good, in fact – but this was a game that could mean life or death to me. This was a game I really could not afford to lose. I knew pain; I knew exactly what it meant. For many people, it’s just a word, just a passing phase, short and then forgotten, but not for me. I understood it in every sense of the word. I understood its nuances. I was intimate with it because it had been my constant companion for so long – just around the corner, very close, so close in fact that I could smell it; it was waiting for me, waiting for its friend, a friend it loved to torment, again and again.
No, this was one game of chess I could not, and must not, ever lose.
***********************
The walk to the bathroom was exactly how I imagined it would be: it lived up to all the doctor’s hopes for my wellbeing; he would have been delighted to see just how much it hurt.
I felt every step as a jolt of pain seared through my hip and knee. I grunted in silence until, finally, I made it to the bathroom and, swamped by nausea, collapsed on the chair next to the washbasin. The doctor had given me a week. He was jesting! I couldn’t imagine lasting a day. Sweat poured off my face and down my back, making my shirt cling uncomfortably to me as I gulped in the air and tried to control the sickness and pain. So, I was intimate with pain; it didn’t mean it got any easier.
I looked around the bathroom. Well, there was one thing in my favour: it didn’t hurt as much when I was sitting down.
Judith had been meticulous in preparing the bathroom for me. A chair sat in the shower cubicle for me to sit on when having a shower. She had lain out towels, clean clothes and shaving tools. A heater blasted the cold air away and the straps promised by the doctor lay next to my clothes. They looked like some devious sexual device, but I would think that, wouldn’t I?
I turned to the mirror above the basin and looked at the reflection of the man sitting in the bathroom. Well, there was only one man sitting in that particular bathroom – so it must have been me looking back – but I completely failed to recognise him.
I stared at that man; then I really understood, at last, something that I must always have known – but something I had not yet, admitted to myself. I knew then that the person I had once been no longer existed. The face I thought I would always recognise because it was my face no longer existed. Some time past, when I hadn’t been looking, I had failed to notice my own death.
I reached out to touch the reflection – hoping, with that simple act, it would go away and my own face would reappear. The cold mirror yielded nothing; it merely confirmed the truth.
Sonia had been right. It was the face of an ugly, wicked man.
I was twenty-three years old but I looked forty-three. My once-dark hair was almost completely grey. My eyes, my strange yellow eyes – never very attractive at the best of times – were bloodshot and bleary and sunken into deep dark pools. Wrinkles spanned out from the corners of my eyes and nose and down my cheeks. My teeth were stained a deep-yellow; three of my front teeth were missing. On the right side of my face was a tattooed scar. It looked like a black spider’s web, coming out of my right eye and sprawling across my cheek.
I wasn’t staring at any old wicked face; I was looking into the face of a cartoon monster. I was looking at Matrix.
I was a joke.
I should have cried at that point. I was certainly overwhelmed with self-pity. I should have cried for the man who had once been. I should have wept for what had been taken from me. I had no tears. Monsters don’t cry.
They plot their revenge.
Chapter 8
Before we went to the village kirk, Judith made sure I was properly dressed. I was wearing clothes that had once belonged to her dead son or husband – I was never sure which. They were both called David and they were both dead. The son had been in the army and had died as a result of an accident. She was still mourning them.
However, when I say properly dressed I am not referring to the clothes or even the rather complicated system of bars and straps that the doctor had devised for me, supposedly to keep away the pain in my leg and side. I doubted their efficiency or his intent – they did look like torture instruments – and they seemed, if anything, to increase the pain. Personally, I found whisky much more effective. Judith had faith in them, though, and insisted I wear them. I did it to please her. I guessed they must have made me look even more ridiculous – if that were possible.
No, Judith’s idea of me being properly dressed was to ensure that some of the more obvious indications of my sordid past did not sully the sacred kirk. My hands and wrists needed to be covered. My left hand displayed a rather handsome swastika – not my preferred decoration, I must admit, and one likely to cause some offence. My other hand displayed the legend HATE – one letter on each knuckle. Both my arms were badly scarred and hinted rather too strongly at my taste in dubious sex.
Judith bought me some black leather gloves without fingers and some armbands to match. I was never allowed out in company without them. She also ensured my shirts were always buttoned up to my chin, to hide the other tasteless tattoos and scars around my neck. Sunglasses helped hide the Matrix tattoo and my strange eyes.
That’s what I mean when I say that Judith always ensured I was properly dressed – not just for the kirk, but at all times. I never failed her in this. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her or remind her of my past. She wanted to make me into a good man. My one hope for remaining at her house was, somehow, to become that good man.
***********************
My first visit to the kirk was an interesting one. I noticed that Sonia was there – but not the doctor. The kirk was almost full; this was, evidently, a God-fearing community. The people there were farmers, crofters, manual workers and their families. The minister was elderly and slightly incoherent; nobody s
eemed to mind. I was the most interesting and exotic creature there. Everyone managed to sneak a furtive glance my way and took any given opportunity to whisper about me to each other. I know they were talking about me; I have the skill of lip reading, even when they whispered in Gaelic.
They had no idea I could lip read or speak Gaelic. That gave me an advantage over them – and I needed every advantage I could get. No one there was my friend; they were all my enemies, except the Minister. Everything passed him by; his mind and thoughts were on either the next life or his Sunday dinner – I’m not sure which. The whispered exchanges did not prove encouraging; they were all, without exception, suspicious of me and my connection with Judith. She was clearly very popular, and I soon realised that they had already made up their minds about me; someone had kindly disclosed some of my dirty little secrets – secrets that poor Judith had taken such pains to hide. I need look no further than Sonia to guess who had been whispering her poison and I could guess what she had been saying.
After the service, Judith took me around – hobbling next to her – and introduced me to various people. I was keenly scrutinised; they wanted to see the mark on my neck. They were hungry for the scandal that was Fabian. They had never met a truly evil man before and now they had; he was actually standing in their kirk. I remained as neutral as I could. I didn’t smile; I didn’t want them to see my disgusting teeth. I had not smiled since seeing my reflection. I balanced on my crutches and waited for the ordeal to pass.
The Minister beamed at me. He beamed at everyone. People came up to him and shook his hand. It soon became apparent, though, from the comments of the members of his congregation, that his days were numbered. He was soon to retire and be replaced by a younger man; given what I had heard I could only believe it would be an improvement – which just shows how wrong you can be.
We were about to leave when a woman came up to say hello. She was probably the same age as Judith, yet she couldn’t have been more different in her looks. Her clothes were old and drab. She was creased and crumpled in every respect. Her hair was thin and grey. Her eyes were pale and dead. Life had not treated her well – that was obvious. Poverty, sorrow or both had made their mark on her and had simply ground her down.
The Dream Catcher Diaries Page 14
