‘Get a fucking grip, Erasmus,’ he said to himself out loud.
He had driven to the office and told Pete about the doll. He had made light of it but it was Pete who had asked the obvious question: Where were the dolls eyes?
It hadn’t taken long for him to find out.
That evening he returned home to his flat and fixed a simple dinner of vegetable pasta. He settled down on the couch after selecting a bit of early Nirvana to play on his Mac, and that’s when he found them. Two small pieces of blue plastic with swirls of yellow unwinding like some alien galaxy, sat perched on the top of the frame containing a photograph of him and his best friend, James Townsend. The picture had been taken at Camp Bastion four years previously and showed them both in full military gear ready to go out to meet a local governor to discuss a land dispute that the Military Legal Service had agreed to assist with. Five hours after the photograph was taken James was dead and Erasmus was on his way to a dishonourable discharge and a life that was changed for ever.
Panic grew in his stomach. Slowly, he stood up and walked across to the bookcase upon which the framed photograph stood. He picked up the eyes and held them in the palm of his hand. He wanted to drink; there was a full bottle of Yamakazi in the kitchen cupboard. It was the only thing he knew that could stop the panic from overtaking him and drowning him in its adrenaline fuelled tsunami.
He headed towards the kitchen but was interrupted by his mobile phone ringing. It was Pete.
‘Hi.’
‘Are you all right? You sound, I dunno, weird, well, more weird than usual,’ Pete asked.
Erasmus told him about the eyes.
Pete didn’t laugh. Pete not making light of something made Erasmus’s panic even worse.
‘I told you that they would turn up. It seems like you’re being haunted, like I said.’
‘I don’t believe in ghosts but I do believe in threats.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The law of unintended consequences. If I start sticking my nose in where it’s not wanted innocent people can get hurt.’
‘James?’
‘Yes, James. Someone is giving me a message to butt out. I would have said it was Steve Cowley or Babak but we are off that case now.’
‘Maybe not,’ said Pete.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I got the results back from my cousin about that drug they are giving to Wayne.’
‘Prochymal. What does it do?’
‘It’s used to treat leukaemia or rather it used to be. It’s out of fashion now, replaced by newer drugs.’
‘Are you saying Wayne has leukaemia?’
‘You’re not listening. It used to be. Now, my cousin tells me, it’s used to help bone marrow treatments when administering stem cell treatments in various clinic trials. It’s not something you would get prescribed by your GP, put it that way.’
‘What does he think they are using it for?’
‘He doesn’t have an opinion. Without access to Wayne’s records and history he wouldn’t have a clue. He did say whatever they were doing was likely to be experimental.’
Erasmus thought for a second.
‘I need you to do something for me, Pete.’
‘Sure, it’s what you don’t pay me very well for. What is it?’
Erasmus told him.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to see Wayne.’
‘And Erasmus?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Change your locks. Ghosts don’t like new locks.’
Erasmus laughed. When the call was finished Erasmus noticed that the panic that once again had threatened to sink him had subsided. He knew why: he had a mission. He picked up his jacket and headed out.
CHAPTER 31
Maybe it was something in the tone of his voice, maybe it was just that he had had time to digest and calm down, but Wayne agreed he could come over and see Erasmus that evening. He gave Erasmus his new address, an apartment in the Albert Dock, and it took him less than ten minutes to drive down there along the dock road that hugged the side of the Mersey.
This road always gave Erasmus an uneasy feeling and tonight was no exception. The camber made it seem like the road ran below the level of the grey, menacing river that slipped and broiled in the dark winter’s evening. It was an optical illusion but it was unsettling, especially at some points along the drive when the wide, mighty river seemed poised to slip its banks and envelop you in its dark grip. Erasmus turned up the volume of the Pixies’ ‘Debaser’ and let growling, febrile guitar wash over him instead. Instant relaxation.
The Albert Dock was a refurbished Victorian deep-water dock that had symbolised the city’s regeneration in the nineties. It was also the place where many of the city’s bright and beautiful set up house in the New York style lofts that filled the first and second floors of the complex. There were also boutique shops, trendy bars and museums of Liverpool culture – by which read ‘The Beatles’. Erasmus wasn’t a fan of the place. He had a feeling John Lennon wouldn’t have been either.
Erasmus found his way to the Albert Dock car park for residents and buzzed Wayne’s apartment. Wayne let him in and he drove to a bay designated for visitors, parked up and took the lift up. It deposited him in a corridor lined with red brick and carpeted in the uniform beige that seemed compulsory in all apartment blocks. The corridor was warm, narrow and windowless. It made Erasmus think of an upmarket prison.
He found the right door and knocked. It was opened after a few seconds by a woman who could have been aged anywhere between late thirties and early fifties. She was dressed in a peach velour house suit and had perfectly made-up blonde hair and immaculate, if a little heavy, make-up. She was tanned and lean but her hands were wrinkled in a way that made Erasmus think she pitched towards the back end of that age scale. She looked Erasmus up and down like a dog checking a butcher’s window.
‘Who are you?’ she greeted him in harsh Scouse tones.
Before Erasmus could reply, Wayne appeared behind the woman. He was carrying two cans of beer.
‘Erasmus, I see you’ve met my mum.’
‘A pleasure,’ Erasmus said.
He stuck out his hand and after a slight hesitation Wayne’s mother took it. Her grip was weak and her palm felt like wet leather.
‘Come and check this pad out, the club have sorted me right out here, man.’ Wayne turned and started to walk back into the flat.
‘Call me Jane,’ said Wayne’s mother. She moved slightly to one side so Erasmus could squeeze through the door but, even so, he had to brush against her hard breasts as he did so, and the barrage of perfume assaulted him as he moved past almost rendering him unconscious. Her eyes never left his. He followed Wayne into the hall and down an iron spiral staircase then into an impressive living area with a huge vaulted ceiling and floor to ceiling windows which looked out onto the Mersey. The view and the room were spectacular.
Wayne stood in the middle of the room with his arms outstretched.
‘Huh? Not bad, eh Raz? I never liked living in Formby. They’re all posh wankers out there.’
Wayne slumped down into the embrace of a large leather sofa. He threw one of the cans at Erasmus, who caught it and pulled the ring tab in one fluid movement.
‘Cheers!’ said Wayne drinking from his can.
‘Salut. Is your mum not joining us?’
Erasmus took a long swig from the can. The beer was cold and bitter.
‘Nah, me Ma has her own room at the top of the gaff.’
There was an awkward silence for a moment and then Wayne broke it.
‘I’m sorry for just running out like that. Steve told me you were a nutter, had assaulted Gary. He said you had been discharged from the army for some dishonour or something. He said you were dangerous. He also told me about De Marco, the greasy wop bastard. He said you knew already?’
Wayne looked down at the floor.
Erasmus didn’t see a multi-millionaire footb
aller, he saw a broken-hearted nineteen-year-old boy, who was being pulled in a thousand different directions by his hormones, love, fame, fortune and, above all, money. It was a wonder he could concentrate on playing football.
‘It’s not a problem. Maybe I should have told you about De Marco but the truth is that he doesn’t matter. The problems were between Steph and you. I just wanted you to be as OK as you could be. I’ve been there myself and I figured it was one less issue you needed on your plate until you spoke to Steph.’
Wayne looked up and smiled coyly.
‘What happened with you? You said you’ve “been there”, have you?’
Erasmus took a deep breath.
‘Her name was Karen. She was beautiful. Long dark hair to her waist, eyes you would go to war for, and a walk that would turn the Pope’s head. I first saw her when I was cramming for an exam in the university library. All the desks in the section I needed were full so I ended up in a quieter corner of the library and that’s when I first saw her. After that I always did my reading in the same place just on the off-chance I would catch sight of her. I didn’t know who she was, all I knew was she took books from the philosophy section so I started doing the same.’
‘You stalked her?’
Erasmus laughed. ‘No, well, OK, maybe yes, but it was a loving stalking and we didn’t have stalkers back then.’
‘Stalker,’ muttered Wayne.
‘So, I started taking out philosophy texts and reading them, you know so that on the off-chance we struck up a conversation I would have something to talk about. But every time I saw her I just couldn’t bring myself to get up from my desk and go and talk to her. ‘
‘Strike stalker. Insert massive sado,’ Wayne smirked.
Erasmus sat down on the opposite couch. From here he could look out over the Mersey. He could see white horses spitting on the crests of grey waves.
‘Eventually, after maybe three or four weeks of this, I got my chance. She was standing in her usual spot, piling up book after book into her arms and then she dropped them.’
Wayne slapped the couch.
‘You are making this up. This is too cheesemongous. Don’t tell me, you go and pick up the books, your eyes meet and you fall in love?’
Erasmus shrugged.
‘It’s the truth. Well, maybe not the falling in love on the spot. I think I already had fallen for her to be honest. I think it took her a bit longer. But what’s also the truth is that three years later she left me for her boss at the recruitment company she was working at and she ripped my heart out.’
‘Jesus man, I’m sorry.’
Erasmus took another swig and stared out at the Mersey, angry and endless.
‘It broke me at the time. But the important point is that if I had a time machine and I could go back in time and stop my younger self from sitting at that desk waiting for his moment to speak to her, I wouldn’t. You love Steph and the fact it hasn’t worked out doesn’t mean you weren’t both in love once. It’s not all about a destination it’s about the experiences along the way. My life took some turns, some bad, some good and I ended up with my daughter, which is the best thing to ever happen to me. Life has some turns in store for you too.’
Wayne blew out his cheeks. He looked lost and vulnerable.
‘I miss her badly, yer know.’
‘I know, son, I know. Part of you always will.’
For a second he thought Wayne was going to cry but he held himself together and then grinned his cheeky grin again.
‘Promise you won’t tell anyone?’
‘Tell anyone what?’
Wayne leaned forward on the couch.
‘I’m being sold to Anzhi.’
‘That’s, that’s brilliant. When?’
‘At the end of the month, the January transfer window. You will not believe the transfer fee. Biggest ever for an Everton player.’
Erasmus whistled.
Even though he was one of the world’s great players, about to be sold for millions of euros, Wayne looked nothing more than a young kid wanting validation. He looked eagerly at Erasmus.
‘Good job your form improved I guess.’
Wayne snorted.
‘That was just a blip. It happens to the greatest you know. But form is temporary – ’
‘ – Class is permanent,’ finished Erasmus. ‘So I hear.’
Wayne looked a little crestfallen. Erasmus felt a touch guilty.
‘It must be a dream come true?’
Wayne shifted on the couch and unconsciously switched to media speak.
‘It’s what any professional would want. It’s the richest club in the world. They are going to be the new Barca.’
‘And you. Do you want this?’
Wayne looked a little deflated again.
‘Of course I do. My dad always said only the players who play for the best clubs can be considered the best.’
Erasmus raised his can of lager.
‘Congratulations then!’
Wayne looked unsure for a moment and then raised his can, mirroring Erasmus’s salute.
‘I’m sure your dad would be very proud.’
Erasmus thought he heard a noise from the floor above as though someone had put a foot on the top of the spiral staircase and then withdrawn it. He looked up but from his seat all he could see was the ceiling and the bottom half of the staircase.
‘Fuck him. He couldn’t take being a father. Too much for him. Why are you being a mood hoover, Raz? I don’t want to talk about him.’
Erasmus waved his right hand.
‘I’m sorry. Will you miss the city?’
‘Nah, I’ve seen it all here and me Ma’s coming with us so it’ll be OK. And anyway it’s what I need. My form suffered here because I’m not playing with the best players at Everton. Anzhi are buying the best team in the world.’
Erasmus had his doubts that this was the real reason for his poor form.
‘Sure, sure. Is your mum living with you now?’
Wayne blushed a little.
‘Just for a bit. To see me through until you know, the transfer. Fancy a bit of Xbox, FIFA 2015?’
Erasmus laughed. ‘You may be about to be King of Goodison but I am going to teach you how we did it back in the nineties, Sega style.’
‘Game on, Raz, game on.’
They spent the next thirty minutes battling it out and had drawn one match apiece when Erasmus heard the front door upstairs being opened. Steve Cowley appeared at the top of the spiral steps. He was red faced and bug eyed with fury. As he descended the staircase he started to shout.
‘You fucking piece of shit!’
He turned around the spiral.
‘Arse licking, fuck barrel, knob jockey, piss flap, twat cake.’
A final turn.
‘Interfering cunt bubble.’
‘I think he means me,’ said Erasmus winking elaborately at Wayne.
Wayne laughed and then used the distraction to score a goal on the Xbox. He slammed his controller down on the sofa in triumph.
Cowley had reached the bottom of the staircase now and walked across to where Erasmus was seated and stood over him.
‘You just cost me my game,’ said Erasmus.
Cowley snatched the controller from Erasmus’s hand and threw it against the wall so hard its electrical innards spilled out like guts over the polished wood floor.
‘Unacceptable, dude,’ said Wayne.
‘I warned you, didn’t I? I told you to keep away from Wayne but you fucking well think you know best, don’t you? I could destroy you.’
Erasmus leaned back further into the sofa. He didn’t feel in any imminent danger but he positioned his right leg in such a way that he could bring it up hard into Cowley’s crotch at any second.
‘Let me guess, I’ll never work in this town again. I wouldn’t bother, I hardly work now if the truth be told.’
‘Nice,’ said Wayne and raised his hand to give Erasmus a high five.
Cowle
y slapped Wayne’s hand down.
‘You don’t fucking get it, do you, Wayne? He is going to ruin you, us and the transfer will be off.’
Wayne was looking at his hand, which had reddened a little, like it belonged to somebody else.
‘What do you mean?’ Wayne asked sheepishly.
‘Tell him Erasmus.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Erasmus.
Cowley grinned viciously, white spittle hung like waxy stalagmites from his lips.
‘He has been speaking to Natalie and trying to find Jessica. He’s going to sell your story, Wayne. His father is a journalist.’
Erasmus stood up, his face an inch away from Cowley’s. ‘That’s not true.’
Cowley smirked and stepped back. He raised his arms.
‘Sure, so you didn’t pay Natalie for her story, then?’
Wayne had stood up now and was studying Erasmus.
‘Wayne, I only wanted to find out what had happened to you. I think you’re being exploited by him and Babak.’
Cowley raised his arms triumphantly.
‘Oh yes, didn’t he tell you, Wayne, the only reason he is pretending to be your friend is because Ted hired him to be your friend.’
Wayne shook his head in disbelief.
‘I thought we were mates?’
‘We are, Wayne. Can’t you see what he is trying to do? He is hiding something from you!’
‘You fucking cunt!’ snapped Cowley.
Cowley threw a wild punch at Erasmus. It was a haymaker and Erasmus easily ducked inside it and threw a quick flurry of jabs at Cowley’s chin. Cowley hit the deck, landing on his backside, a look of bemusement on his face as though he had no idea how he had managed to get there.
Erasmus turned and saw Wayne brandishing the Xbox controller with tears in his eyes.
‘You lied to me!’
‘But only to help you,’ said Erasmus.
‘You told me your dad was dead,’ Wayne said softly.
Erasmus’s mouth opened and shut. He had forgotten telling Wayne that his father had died in order to bond with him. Shit.
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