Beyond the Realms

by Gill Mather

  Having done her public duty, she washed up and did a bit of housework while “Tristram” watched TV again. His face was covered in dry spots of blood where he’d cut himself shaving.

  By the time the washing had finished and she’d put the clothes in the tumble drier and got to bed she was exhausted and fell asleep immediately. Her bedroom was above the sitting room and about two a.m. she was woken by the TV blaring on still.

  “Oh shit,” she mumbled and tramped downstairs. The overhead light was still on in the sitting room as well and “Tristram” was fast asleep on his back on the settee, bathrobe hanging open to reveal his slim but fairly muscular torso and….Orielle had to stare….his quite substantial todger. She tore her gaze away, turned the TV off, put a dim table lamp on so he wouldn't have to blunder about in the dark if he woke up, switched off the overhead light and went back to bed.

  CHAPTER 4

  HUGH WAS REGARDING the man opposite with quiet distaste. He had been to the magistrates’ court, had got the man’s bail extended and had sought, successfully, an adjournment of the case for four weeks and had brought the man back to his office to take some further details.

  The man was called Brad Adams. He was the nephew of Hugh’s cleaning lady Vera, from whom he had received a frantic call the evening before saying her brother’s son had been charged with drug dealing. It was, Vera said, a put up job, a set up. No way would her brother’s treasured middle son who, uniquely in their family, had six GCSE’s and an NVQ equivalent to one A’ level, and who owned a smart flat in a prestigious development with a communal gym and swimming pool and had almost no mortgage, do any such thing. If not then it was a mistake on the part of the police. Having quickly read the police evidence available, Hugh was inclined to agree that at least on this occasion Brad wasn’t the culprit, or at least there was scant evidence against him. Notwithstanding he didn’t like the look of Brad who was lounging insolently in his chair, nodding off-handedly at everything Hugh said as though he knew it all already.

  Hugh strove to be polite and wished very much that he hadn’t agreed to take on this case of Vera’s nephew on a pro bono basis as a gesture of goodwill. In fact he wished, as he quite often did now that he had never employed Vera at all, a shrewish dragon of a woman, whose pointed ferret-like features Brad to some degree shared, to be his cleaning lady. But now that she had worked for him for six months, he was quite incapable of giving her her marching orders. She would rely on the income. There wasn’t a lot of employment in the country area in which he lived and Vera, a childless woman in her fifties or sixties (Hugh hadn’t bothered with the details when he had taken her on) probably needed the income.

  Deidre came in with Brad’s ID that she had copied, handed it to Hugh and went out again. Hugh compared the photos with the man opposite and signed the certificates already stamped on the copies. Briefly he noted Brad had been born in Norwich. Hmm, he thought absently, NFN as he handed the original ID back to Brad.

  The police case was that they had been watching a disco at a large comprehensive school where it was believed that drugs were being sold to the pupils. On a previous occasion, a student had been sold amphetamines and had nearly died. Where the kids got the money from, Hugh dreaded to think but obviously they did have the means to pay. Seeing all the signs, the police had raided the school half way through the evening. However there seemed to be a tipping off chain of students and others and the officers were sidetracked and diverted and as a result failed to make any arrests of dealers at the event. Plenty of drugs had been handed out however and the police ended up therefore turning to students willing to give statements and help with photofits which was how Brad, known already to the police, came to be pulled in, though there was no fingerprint evidence implicating him in the drug sales.

  A quantity of marijuana was found not very well hidden in his flat, a little more than might be considered appropriate for his own consumption, but a lot less than a dealer might be expected to keep so it was a bit iffy for a dealing charge but the police had decided to pursue it anyway because so far they hadn't managed to apprehend anyone else in the immediate post-disco period. There was an alternative charge of possession, but Hugh would try to get that dropped if the dealing was discontinued.

  That Brad dealt in drugs sometimes Hugh had little doubt and therefore disliked him on principle. Brad had an alibi of sorts for the night of the disco. He had been seeing a teenage girl. Seeing only he had stressed. The girl was only just turned fifteen. Brad was early thirties. There was no law however he said against having a friendship with someone. Furthermore, Brad, an erstwhile member of a band, had been teaching Pandora, a friend of the family, to play the guitar and it was true that a couple of old acoustic guitars were found in his flat though they had strings and frets and other parts missing but Brad said Pandora had borrowed a serviceable guitar on the night of the disco and the police enquiries had sort of confirmed that though the lender of the guitar had a huge collection of old instruments in various conditions and often lent them out and had a job remembering what he had lent to whom in recent weeks. Pandora had seemingly been warned that to give a false alibi was a serious offence but she stuck to her story. Presumably the police hoped she could be broken down in the witness box.

  There was some poor CCTV footage of a man who might have been Brad entering the school on the night of the disco and some of the pupils were prepared to say that they might have seen him that night.

  Though it meant a lot of extra work for him and a longer more drawn out case, Hugh had decided that Brad, previously unrepresented, should take his case to the Crown Court and therefore he was going to have to try (more work for him) to get the election to have the case tried in the magistrates’ court set aside. He also had to see Pandora and the collector of instruments or get Orielle to do so and look at the prosecution evidence more closely.

  Brad had not thanked Hugh so far for turning up at court that morning and agreeing to represent him free of charge. He couldn’t have got legal aid. He was a single man with no other responsibilities and had a job as an electrician with a reasonable income. It was a good trade to be in according to Vera and Hugh seemed to recall some earlier mention of Brad in this connection. He felt a twinge of sympathy for Vera for her attachment to and pride in this nephew and knew he had to do his best to get Brad acquitted. A conviction in drug dealing wouldn't help Brad’s career. The company he worked for often fitted out large institutions including schools and colleges.

  Hugh and Brad shook hands. Brad gave Hugh a ghost of a smile which didn’t reach his cold eyes and Brad took his leave. Hugh put the file out for the standard ID letter and client care and terms and conditions to be sent to Brad.

  ORIELLE SAT TAPPING her pen on her desk. She didn't seem to be getting to know Hugh any better. He was distant and uncommunicative and he mostly left her training to others. It was dawning on her that Hugh treated her differently from everyone else. She started to watch him surreptitiously. Generally he was serious and conscientious, but he often had a laugh with the other advocates in the chambers, he seemed to have plenty of friends, he was courteous, charming even towards female clients and the women in the chambers, and with his girlfriend Amanda when she visited the office he was monumentally attentive and openly affectionate. He left all the bureaucracy to do with Orielle’s training to her and when he had to sign something to do with her training, he barely looked at her. Most of it was done online and he told her to just get on with it, he’d endorse anything she thought was suitable.

  He was never unpleasant. He didn't get angry. He contrived somehow to deliver his off-handedness with her in a way that wasn't offensive at all. But he ensured that she was never going to get anywhere close to him socially or even professionally. She began to wonder anxiously why he treated her like this but tried not to let it upset her. So instead that morning while putting the finishing touches to a woman’s statement about her serial shoplifting, as a diversion she thought about “Tristram”. H
e had got dressed that morning before she and Georgie got up, had refused any breakfast, he had thanked them both nicely for the use of the sofa and the clothes wash and had left before she did. She hoped he was all right.

  Orielle looked for “Tristram” later as she was walking home through the park that evening but there was no sign of him. She tried to ignore the disappointment she felt. She even went to where he had said he kept some blankets. There was nothing there. Oh well. He must’ve moved on. She continued on her way somewhat crestfallen.

  She went in the back way and found Georgie putting out a plastic bag full of something.

  “Been having a clear out?”

  “He’s back,” Georgie whispered, jerking her head towards the sitting room window. An unexpected rush of joy went through Orielle. She tried not to look too pleased.

  “And he’s brought this bagful of flea- and no doubt other vermin-infested old bedding with him. I can't have it in the house.”

  “Has he been here long?”

  “No. He said you had put his dinner in the fridge for today. So I heated it up in the microwave and he ate half of it. I made him.”

  “Oh good.”

  “Then he threw up all over the sitting room floor. I’ve made him clear it up.”

  “Oh dear. I’ll go and see if he’s all right.”

  “He’s all right! What about us? If this becomes a regular thing then…well I don't know.”

  Orielle went in the back door, kicked her shoes off and walked through into the sitting room. Tristram was perched on the settee watching TV looking a bit green but he brightened on seeing her.

  “I’m going to have to keep my food intake down until I get used to it. Perhaps I could try some more in a little while. I have been feeling a bit light-headed today. This wretched body. It’s dictating everything.”

  “Yes well. Apart from that did you have a good day?”

  Georgie had come in and was staring from the kitchen door.

  “I walked about. I went to the library. You can sit in there all day if you want to. There were quite a lot of men in there I’ve seen on the streets at night. Some of them had fallen asleep. I wanted to use the internet but they wouldn't let me without any identity documents. They wouldn't let me borrow books either. I need to “join” and I need documents to do that. Could you possibly join so that I could borrow books using your ticket?”

  “I’m a member already,” said Georgie, “you can use mine. I never borrow any books or if I do I never read them then forget to take them back and run up huge fines.”

  “I can imagine that would be the case,” said Tristram.

  “Look. Do you want my ticket or don't you?”

  “Thank you. Yes.”

  “So you had quite a productive day then,” said Orielle.

  “I read a couple of books.”

  “Oh yes?”

  “I read a book called War and Peace. And another one called Crime and Punishment. Unfortunately the library didn't have them in the original Russian.”

  Georgie gave an “it doesn't get any better does it” look.

  “They’re very long books aren’t they. I mean to get through in a day. So you know Russian then. How did you learn Russian?” said Orielle.

  “Languages are not a problem. They’re all the same really.”

  “Right. Well if you speak several, maybe you could get a job as a translator.”

  “A job?”

  “You must know what I mean. You know. You get there at nine, leave at five, try not to be too bored and they pay you.”

  “Pay.”

  “Money. You know. The thing that makes the world go round.”

  “No. Other forces do. So I could get money. What would I do with it?”

  “Buy things. Clothes for instance. Pay rent. Go out for the evening. All that.”

  “Orie, I’d give up if I were you. He’s just having you on,” said Georgie. “He obviously wants to sponge off us as long as possible. I expect he uses this line all the time to get people to feed and house him and when he gets sussed out, then he’ll move onto the next gullible person.”

  “That might be so if he hadn't thrown up his dinner,” Orielle said turning round to look at Georgie.

  “He’s probably on drugs all day long and it suppresses his appetite.”

  “My presence here is causing trouble. I’d better leave.” Tristram got up.

  “No don't,” said Orielle.

  “He’ll have to,” said Georgie. “Remember? We’re going to that quiz night tonight. He can't stay here on his own.”

  “Oh damn I’d forgotten. Well you can come too,” she said to Tristram.

  “A quiz night. Where we answer questions about different things. All right.”

  “No. We can't take him with us,” Georgie said frantically.

  “Whyever not?”

  “Well because….because….he’s…a…whatever he is!”

  “He’s not dirty. He had a shower last night and his clothes were washed. It’ll be fine Tristram. Now I’ll heat a few spoonfuls of your dinner up for you again and maybe you’ll be able to keep it down this time.”

  THE QUIZ EVENING WAS slightly odd. It was a charity one and Orielle, Georgie and the cousins had formed a team but there was room on the table for another one.

  Tristram started answering all the questions immediately and all the answers were right. To begin with the others thought this was amazing, but in time it palled and by round three, everyone was wholly pissed off with it and Georgie was threatening to leave.

  Orielle whispered: “You’re upsetting everyone. You’ll have to let the others answer.”

  “But the answers they try to give are sometimes wrong. They’re only guessing.”

  “Nevertheless this isn't how it works. We’re a team. Everyone wants to get a go. Otherwise you might as well have come along here on your own.”

  “Perhaps I should.”

  “Tristram, why don't you just stick to the questions no-one knows the answers to and any you think we’ve got wrong.”

  “Yes. All right I will.”

  They won the quiz. It’d never happened before Georgie said. The prize was six bottles of wine and Georgie and the cousins were all for going back to Georgie’s house which was near the pub to down the lot. So they did.

  “That was brilliant mate,” said Orielle’s cousin Mick to Tristram. Tristram nodded but didn't reply. In fact he sat there silently the whole time while the others laughed and joked and got drunker. The cousins looked at him and enquired about him in the kitchen.

  “Don’t ask,” said Georgie. “It’s beyond logical explanation. Before tonight I thought he was a drug addict. I almost wish he was. It’d be a lot easier to fathom. Now I just don't know.”

  The cousins ended up staying the night and tumbled raucously upstairs to sleep on the floor of the spare bedroom. When they’d all gone up, Orielle sat with Tristram for a few minutes.

  “Thanks for your input this evening. They never ever win. I hope you enjoyed it a bit.”

  “I’m learning more about your behaviour. Since I’m here, I’d better do that.”

  “You were very quiet while we’ve all been larking about.”

  “They were talking complete nonsense. It’s very difficult to understand why they would want to.”

  “Can you really read Russian?”

  “Yes. And speak it.”

  “Wow!”

  “I don't think it’s going to help me here. You people seem to be looking for something else beyond mere knowledge. It’s all about behaviour isn't it. I could remember jokes, say, any number, but I wouldn't be able to deliver them in a way that would be acceptable.”

  “Have you ever been to a doctor about it?”

  “About what?”

  “Your behaviour.”

  “What good would that do?”

  “Maybe you could get help.”

  He shook his head. For the first time he displayed a facial expression. The
look was sardonic.

  “I don't think so. Maybe I can learn in time. I’ll have to since I’m here.”

  “There are conditions called autism, or aspergers I think the other one’s called. They’re probably not curable but there must be some sort of help with them.”

  “It’s not either of those Orielle though I don't blame you for thinking so. It’s just that I haven't been here long. I don't know how to behave. Though I do know I don't want to behave like those people upstairs. Or Georgie. You would do.”

  “Well that’s very kind, but I’m not perfect.”

  “But you manage don't you. But there’s something else. You talked earlier about me getting a job as a translator. Would I just answer an advertisement?”

  “I was thinking about that afterwards too. It might be difficult as you’ve got no identity documents.”

  “Could I get some?”

  “I don't know how. People come here from all over the world, but if they’ve got no legal right to be here, they just get sent back.”

  Tristram actually laughed, then looked a bit surprised at himself. “They’d have a job on their hands. To send me back to where I’ve come from.”

  “Well you’re getting better at the behaviour already anyway. You laughed just then. It’s a start isn't it.”

  “But I can't get a job. No documents. No job. I’ll have to think of something. As Georgie said, I can't sponge off you two as she put it. It took me a short time to work out exactly what she meant by that but now the meaning is quite clear to me. You both work. You both get money and you pay for this home and your food and clothes and anything else. In a world where everything has some exchangeable value, one needs to have the medium of exchange to get anything. And I haven't got the medium nor any way of getting it.