by A M Russell
‘Come in here.’ George pointed to another door out of the sitting room.
Jules followed me in as well, and George shut the door.
I slid the ring off my finger, and gave it to George; ‘I hope it helps.’
George held it in his palm, them quickly closed his fingers; ‘I have a viewer at my house. I won’t tell you where. I’m sorry.’
‘No. that’s fine. After all you’ve got everything about me on there.’
‘That is first time files on internal people, have been smuggled out. Ingenious! Thank you for your help’
‘Aiden said you would know what to do.’
‘Yes… yes of course. I hope Davey you’ll forgive me for not sharing too much with you. It doesn’t help. Everyone’s kit is here. You can take what you need and we’ll dispose of anything else. Kyle has them in a room upstairs. The others have already gone through their things.’
Jules and I searched through everything we had. I didn’t spend time reading bits of the diary. I thought that would be best when I was safely locked away from the world, back in my own house. I unrolled some of my clothes. The ones I had worn at the time in Summerland. It still smelled of dust. The right sleeve was mangled and had been cut upwards. There was my blood dried into a forensic puzzle. Blood on the combats in steaks and speckles too. I would soon be Dust and ashes. There was an incinerator in the one of the basement rooms of this place, so I’d been told. I went through all the pockets. There it was! A stone glinting in the light. Evidence. No one saw it but me. I slipped into the pocket of the slacks. And bit of white dust…. The last fragment of that earth. But then… I found that little folded hanky in the breast pocket. Little pressed flowers. Those pale violet stars. The diary was here too. I carefully slipped them into a page and closed the whole thing round with the elastic again. There wasn’t much else. Stubbs of pencils a few bits of chocolate wrapper. I put the rest in the bin bag, ready to be burned.
Jules and I opened our cases. I took out my diary, that old appointments book and flipped it open to today’s date. Tuesday; the eighteenth of October. Those boxes that represented the measure of the days would never seem the same again. I fastened the cross around my neck. It was something that called towards home….
‘I’m done.’ I said as George came back in.
In the sitting room. George talked to all of us:
‘We will have to divide up the group now. Everyone must be prepared that in a week you will have forgotten nearly all of the experiences you have had. Normally they get replaced when you are debriefed at Base. But in this case they will fade. Let them. I will talk to each of you before the end of November. I don’t know what happened out there. If you have any insights then call the number I will give you. I’ll make a record. Myself and some others are fighting against an enemy that is subtle and cunning. On this side of the curtain of existence… for so I like to call it; things have happened that appear to be related to the wrongdoing of others, but I can’t find out if this is certain fact. Some things are just meant to be. I will press no one. If I ring you and you don’t want to talk to me. Or if you don’t remember I will not press the matter. For those people the journey is then over. I promise you that in time even this will fade. Just one last thing…’
Kyle got a case out that I vaguely recalled. The electronic tags had to be surrendered. George held it out. Each person lifted it over their head and put them in the padded box. When it came to my turn I just stared at George. ‘I lost it.’ I said.
‘What’s that then.’
‘A souvenir of an uneventful trip.’
‘Of course.’ George eyed me with a speculative stare, then passed to Jules on my right.
We all made the best goodbyes we could…. Joe especially seemed quite keen to hug all the lads in turn.
Ten minutes later the job was done. The group divided up. In an alley near the park three cars were waiting for us. George took Oliver, James and Curly Pete. In Kyle’s there was Joe, Nicolas, and Adam. Jules and I climbed into Sam’s car.
There is something about certain public spaces. They encourage anonymity. I found us all stood near the interchange between the train station and the bus stops and nearby taxi rank. Everyone left the cars and stood. Lost maybe in their own thoughts. One by one we dissipated. Joe was first to go; into the train station without looking back. I noticed then that Adam took a taxi, and a moment later Nikolas left by a separate taxi. We stood a little apart from each other, the remaining few; all waiting as if we were strangers, for that internal cue to depart. James got on a bus. Then Curly Pete went and bought a paper and simply walked away into the crowd down the street. Oliver smiled at me and Jules then turned to catch a train.
I stood feeling a little foolish. I had a choice of transport from here and didn’t know which would make the best exit. Train I decided. Jules and I found ourselves going in the same direction. We both took the local train to the quieter places outside the city.
‘You know;’ said Jules as the conductor examined our tickets, ‘I really am looking forward to some mindless TV, and a bowl of popcorn.’
‘You’ll have to come to mine some time.’ I said, ‘do you know where I live?’
‘Sort of.’ He smiled relieved. I got out a small fine permanent marker.
‘Your arm.’
‘Left it is.’ Jules held up his sleeve on the sweater. When I had finished writing he rolled it back down.
‘That will take ages to wear off.’
‘At least you won’t forget me.’ I said.
‘Oh! Just one thing.’ Jules gave me a small manila envelope; ‘Your present. Open it went you get back home. You’ll know what to do.’
The conductor was about to press the release for the doors.
‘My stop,’ said Jules, ‘See Ya!’
I raised a hand as the doors opened. As the doors closed on me I saw him pause for a minute as the train accelerated away. Then he walked along the platform to the steps of the overhead walkway.
It had clouded over by the time I got off. The next few minutes, as I walked people dissipated. I arrived at my own place and felt inside my pocket for my key. There it was. Turning the key. Entering my sanctuary. The door swung slowly to and clicked shut. I stood there disbelieving. Nothing could prepare me for the desolation I felt at that moment.
I slid down behind the door, dropping my bag. Hunched on the floor I let it empty out. Choked crying. Thank the lord for the nearby box of tissues on the hall table. On the mat in the semi-darkness, I passed through the stages of night. Like an intense but brief downpour, it emptied itself. And silence took over; and forgetfulness.
Eventually I stepped forward into my home: slotting back in to my life; hanging up my coat; dumping the bag on the kitchen table. And finally putting the kettle on and making tea. I heard the rattle of the wind at the back of the house. All those little familiar sounds of a home; that are the fabric of comfort and reassurance that let us know where we are.
*****
Twenty Eight
‘I am out of it… no… you heard me;’ there was a pause, someone was breathing at the other end of the line, then: ‘It’s no bloody good! He won’t listen!’
I was screwing a sheet of A4 with a mornings work on it; two small doodles and some random words from the transept of my subconscious. One was: “Extraneous” another “Egalitarian”. As much as I wanted to check the meaning of these floating beads of dissolving thought I simply couldn’t be bothered. I wondered idly if any one had ever thought of making a dictionary containing only words beginning with “E”.
‘The useless Fucker! Why is this only not available when I want it.’ My new workspace companion clearly had less control in the anger management department than Alex or myself. Alex was fetching coffee. I was busy completely not reacting to the hissy fit of this new wetter than wet college grad; whose ego that had yet to come up against the realities of the daily grind, or the Cornish pasties in the canteen. Great once you got in them; bu
t needed teeth that could cut through metal.
Alex returned… without coffee.
‘What’s going down Bud?’ said the new guy, in an attempt to be really “in”, ‘you no get coffee for Mikey?’
His name was Michael, but for some reason he thought this moniker suited his style better. I stared at him, curious to see his reaction when Alex blasted him.
‘Coat.’ Alex held my padded jacket on one finger.
We left by the back stairs, with Alex jamming a pass key in the slot so that the whole building wasn’t alerted.
‘We are going to eat.’ said Alex. He said it as if the concept of eating had just been invented. He looked at me with his serious face and then dragged me to a place I had never been to before.
‘I’ll order.’ Alex didn’t even look at the menu but reeled off a set of instructions in Chinese to the smart waiter. I stared at the neatly wrapped chopsticks and flower folded napkins.
‘Don’t ask me the question you inevitably will ask.’ Alex poured Jasmine green tea into small cups as soon as it arrived.
‘What happened to you?’ he asked me when I didn’t respond, ‘Uncle Alex is buying a good lunch so give Davey!’
‘Do you think I could have something with booze in it?’ I felt it might make the pain lift enough so I could eat.
Alex said something to a passing waiter, and almost instantly a small bottle of sake appeared with two glasses. Alex passed me one.
‘Thanks. That helps;’ I drank some carefully; ‘I have a story that is so bizarre by anyone’s standards, that I would definitely get sectioned under the mental health act if anyone I told it to thought I actually believed it myself.’
‘Have you told anyone else?’
‘No.’
‘Do you want to tell me?’
‘Maybe…’
‘I think…’ Alex sat back, ‘I will order extra pancake wraps. That way I can get to nibble all the way through the main feature.’
‘I will sound crazy.’
‘You already do. And to be honest; if I was a doctor I’d put you in a hospital now… you look completely out of it.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Is that a smile I see before me? Could it be?’ Alex dived into the starter with a sigh of satisfaction as soon as it arrived. I looked at the plate in front of me. Small wraps and things on little skewers, with a small bowl of dipping sauce.
‘Alright,’ I sighed, and picked up a crispy prawn, ‘but this really is between you and me.’
‘Agreed.’ Alex looked at me very directly without a trace of humour, ‘Scouts honour.’
‘Really?’
‘Really…. But please don’t tell the people at work ever.’
‘You were a Scout?’
‘Yes.’
‘You did badges and stuff?’
‘Yes.’
‘You must not, under any circumstances let this leak to the rocks in the jungle?’ (Our code for staff in adjacent work spaces with their overdone indoor gardens).
‘Alex, I would never…. I mean really I wouldn’t.’
‘Good. Then we understand each other.’ He stabbed a piece of prawn toast. ‘So go on then: “Once upon a time…..”’’.’
I grinned at him and bit into the prawn; ‘Once upon a time…. In a strange land called England there lived a dulled-witted Graphic designer called Davey Milnes. And he decided to go and seek his fortune and applied to the great University for a place on a noble quest…’
‘To obtain what exactly?’ Alex leaned forward.
‘A mysterious substance that had magical powers. It could stop time and make it play over again. And this Milnes took his courage… small as it was, and went to dark and cloudy places, and found things that were impossible back here. In the course of this quest, he lost some of his friends; found, and then lost the love of his life, and came back by the skin of his teeth. Oh… and he’s scared shitless that the evil knights will wipe him and his friends out by changing history, having found the source of this magical power, and used it for evil purposes. World conquering, that sort of thing….’
‘Ok. So far,’ Alex mopped up the last of his sauce, and sipped the Jasmine tea.
‘You want me to continue?’
‘No. I want the expanded version. And who is the woman? That has got to be worth at least four spring rolls!’
‘You’re serious are you?’
‘Know something about me Davey… and again, Never, ever tell anyone this; I love my friends and would do anything for them. The piss taking is all a front… and if you ask me again, anywhere except here… I will deny it totally, got that!’
I was startled by this admission from Alex. I looked around. No one from work or anywhere else I knew could be seen in the place.
‘I’ll start again if I may… this time with what really did happen. I’ll skip the bit you know about though, to save time....’
‘Carry On Davey....’ Alex settled into his main course.
So I told it all. Leaving nothing out. I drained a full confession. As I struggled with chops sticks I was at the ice lake for the first time. As we found the platinum knife; we were biting into our spring rolls.
Alex ordered more tea. He patted his stomach in a satisfied way.
‘There is only one way they could have pulled a trick like that off.’ he said. He had that look of one who is moving furniture inside his head.
‘What?! You believe Me?’ I felt really light. The four little glasses of sake might have had a bearing on the sensation.
‘Of course I believe you. Have you understood nothing before today? This is a puzzle and no doubt about it.’ He fetched a small pad out of his coat pocket and started scribbling on it with his drafting pen.
The waiter came and placed a bowl of prawn crackers in front of me. I waited while Alex mused and tapped the pen on his front teeth. He was doing “serious creative” with the facts I had told him. I was reeling from simply being believed. I could hear the people in the street outside the window. It was as if the world had been running with the mute button on. And now I could hear it again.
Alex put the pad away. He gave the waiter a tip and his credit card.
‘What time is it?’ I said suddenly aware of where I was.
‘You have the afternoon off. Boss said so. Or rather I suggested I discretely press the reset button on your brain, before you did it rather less subtly on the bacon rasher.
‘Oh him!’
‘Raw. Under-cooked and full of grizzle.’ Alex got his card back and thanked the man in perfect Chinese… well I assumed it must be.
‘Ah! The smell of the City!’ Alex said, as we stepped into the street, ‘where shall we go?’
‘We’ve got the afternoon off, with permission?’ It was still not quite computing.
‘Yes. That is a little hard to believe isn’t it? We must conclude that the boss has some vested interest in protecting your wellbeing. You are after all not much use to him on any other level.’
‘Thanks.’ I smiled. The old familiar Alex was displaying his edge now we were in earshot of some people who did speak our version of English.
Three hours later and several stages down the relaxed scale of boozing I was dropped off by Alex. He had been intent on getting me to “chill kid” while guzzling vats of juice himself. He lived further north than me, and declared he had a date with an exotic woman who was into massage and meditating.
‘Don’t grimace Davey. She’s just a friend. We go to the same reading group. It’s all about poetry and the Haiku form.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Go inside. Sleep. Rest. Forget for a while. And call me in the morning if you remember.’ Alex leaned out of the window. ‘Oh and you can stay off until you’re better. I told the boss that statistically it would be more appealing for his report to give a staff member compassionate leave because he’d had a bereavement.’
‘How do you…?’
‘Know? I didn’t. But it all turned out to be the tr
uth. I will ring you. Go inside.’
I clambered through my front door. Alex roared off to his appointment with the woman poetry enthusiast.
I put on the TV, and let it drone on. I half listened through the door while making a pot of tea. I had crumpets too. Slobbing there in the lateness of an afternoon that had culled the fear from my bones; I vaguely felt that there was something I ought to do. Take a bath? Possibly. Perhaps tomorrow morning would be better. Something.
I was crossing the distance to the kitchen before I had change to think about it. I took the manila envelope and relaxed back in the chair. I slit it open with some care, then poured more tea in my cup.
Inside where three things: A letter from Jules; a small photo and a sheet of white lined paper with a name and address on it. I didn’t recognise it so I put it down and picked up the letter and photograph.
It was headed with Jules’ name and address in a neat and flowing hand.
It continued:
“Dear Davey,
I hope you did open this quickly. I thought you were always a bit daft about official stuff that’s why I wrote this out the old fashioned way. The truth is that I found where Janey is living. She took another name for reasons that could be to do with and accident that she and her brother were involved in some months ago. They were both in a car when it crashed; they were both pulled out alive. But here’s the thing: Jared was put in a coma. Foul play was suspected. Janey was about to enrol for postgrad here in London but didn’t until later.
I think this is her name and address. The name she’s using now. It seems her family wouldn’t let her come here unless she stopped using her real name. There is an on-going investigation as to who was responsible for causing the accident. It was believed that it was caused deliberately and was designed to be fatal. They weren’t supposed to survive. They hit a tree head on. I found the reports from the inquest. I won’t include them here. But if you talk to Janey herself then there is a chance that we can get to the bottom of what has happened to all of us. Jared is in a hospital in the north somewhere. Only Janey and her parents will know where. I found some other things as well. I’m sure that you must be shocked at this being true. But I hope it gives you something to work on. It does for me too. I worked with Janey (our Janey) many times. I guess I owe her a lot. Only you really know what happened on the expedition right out there in Aiden’s camp, so I guess it’s up to you. Please talk to her. She’s still the same person underneath. I don’t suppose she’ll think any better of you than she did when she first met you. But give her a chance. Please. Janey is one person who should know the truth. She isn’t going to reject it if it makes scientific sense. Call me when you want. Soon as you can.
