by Mark Morris
The night was cold and the wind had picked up again. It rustled in the treetops as if something was alive and moving up there. The Jag was still parked in the driveway, where Benny’s driver had left it earlier. I looked around nervously as we walked towards it, my hand still wrapped around the heart, which I’d now slipped back into the inside pocket of my jacket. As Benny pressed a button on his key fob, and the car unlocked with a chirrup and a flash of headlamps, I became aware of a fleeting pinpoint of orange light, like a dying firefly, at the edge of my vision. It had come from somewhere to my right, where the blackest shadows were clotted beneath the trees in the far corner of the front garden. I looked in that direction, and almost immediately saw the point of light flare again. I realised it was caused by the burn of tobacco as the pale-faced man in the demob suit sucked on his skinny roll-up. He was standing under the trees, watching us, the brief glow from his cigarette illuminating the bland expression on his face. Unlike before, when he had seemed to generate his own light-source, I couldn’t see anything except his face this time. I got the odd impression that he simply wanted me to know that I hadn’t beaten him, that he was still around. We stared at each other for a couple of seconds and then I got into the car with the others.
As soon as Benny backed out of the driveway and swung the car round, I felt a great lethargy sweep over me. It was more than just tiredness, more even than the normal crash that always follows a surge of adrenaline. This was bone-deep, as if a gigantic syringe had been plunged into my core and was sucking out all my energy. All at once I could neither speak, nor raise my limbs, nor even turn my head. I felt my heartbeat slowing, my senses shutting down. My surroundings blurred, became a monochrome smear of dark and light. It would have been alarming if I hadn’t felt too exhausted to care. As my mind drifted, I suddenly remembered watching the tiny white dot in the centre of my gran’s ancient black-and-white TV that the picture collapsed into when she switched it off. As the dot greyed out and faded into the darkness, so did I.
Whether it was Clover’s raised voice that dragged me back into consciousness or the urge to throw up I have no idea. I knew only that if I didn’t get out of the car quickly, or at least wind down the window, I would soon be pebble-dashing Benny’s leather upholstery. Half-blind and as weak as a kitten, I clawed at the door handle on my left. I didn’t know whether the car was moving or stationary, and my brain was too scrambled to care. More by luck than judgement, I pulled something and heard a clunk, and as the door yawned away from me I crawled towards the cold breeze that I felt pawing at my face until I sensed space and blackness, and then I leaned over as far as I could and puked.
As the stinking gruel geysered out of me, I recalled Clover’s theory about the consequences of using the heart, and wondered whether she might have hit on something. My thoughts, however, were vague and incomplete; it was something I would have to consider at greater length when I was more alert. It took four or five big heaves, my body jerking like a fish on a beach, before I was done. Afterwards I didn’t have the strength to do much more than lie there, panting and sweating, my face wet with the tears and snot that the violence of my convulsions had forced out of me, my throat burning with bile.
Eventually I became aware of a hand on my back, gently stroking me, and a soft voice speaking my name. It was the softness of the voice which made me realise that I couldn’t hear the tiger-purr of the engine or feel the gentle thrum of movement.
Pushing myself up on wobbly arms, I looked blearily around. The first thing I saw was Clover, her face shocked and tense. I was about to tell her I was okay when over her shoulder I noticed that Benny had twisted around in the front seat and was pointing his gun at my face.
Before I could say anything he muttered, ‘Get out of my fucking car.’
My first confused thought was that he was angry about me throwing up. I put up my hands and was about to tell him that I was pretty sure I’d got it all on the ground when Clover said, ‘Please, Benny, be reasonable.’
It was dark, so I couldn’t see Benny’s face clearly, but from where I was sitting it looked to be all sharp angles and glittering eyes.
‘Reasonable?’ His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the steel in it, the thread of barely contained fury. ‘You honestly expect me to be fucking reasonable after what happened?’
‘It wasn’t Alex’s fault we were attacked,’ Clover said.
Benny gestured at me with the gun. ‘Isn’t it? I don’t even know what he fucking is.’
Clover spoke quickly, urgently. I still wasn’t sure what was going on, but I couldn’t help thinking she was talking for our lives. ‘That’s not fair, Benny, and you know it. He saved our skins back there. And it’s my fault that he even got involved in this in the first place. If there’s anyone to blame, it should be me.’
It was hard to tear my eyes from the circular black hole of the gun barrel less than a metre from my face, but as my brain got back up to speed, I started to get an idea of our surroundings. With the car door open, I could hear the rustle of wind in trees and bushes, the faint cries of nocturnal birds and animals. I didn’t need to look around to tell that we were enclosed by darkness on all sides, that there was not even a hint of illumination from street lights or buildings.
‘What’s happening?’ I asked cautiously. ‘Where are we?’
‘Shut your mouth!’ snapped Benny, the gun jerking in his hand.
‘For fuck’s sake, Benny,’ said Clover. ‘He was only asking a question.’
I admired the way she managed to sound stern and placatory at the same time. Turning her head towards me, as if making a point, she said, ‘We’re in woodland. Somewhere near Wotton, I think. My understanding was that Benny would drive us to Guildford to catch a train to London, but instead he’s brought us here.’
I licked my lips. Glanced from the staring black eye of the gun to Clover’s face and back again. My mind was not only up to speed now, it was starting to race. I wondered whether Benny was so on edge that another word from me would be enough to make him pull the trigger. And if he did pull the trigger I wondered whether the heart would erupt into life in my pocket in time to save me.
Reaching into my pocket and squeezing the heart, I heard myself blurting, ‘Why?’
Benny didn’t pull the trigger. But for a long moment – during which I asked myself whether I had really just put the potential capabilities of the heart to the test – time seemed frozen. I stared into the barrel of the gun, the heart gripped in my hand – and then Clover inclined her head and said, ‘Yes, Benny, why have you brought us here? Are you going to shoot us and bury us in the woods?’
Benny’s face tautened, shadows flooding into the hollows of his cheeks. I held my breath; I knew he was capable of far worse than what Clover had suggested. Beside him, in the passenger seat, Lesley sat staring straight ahead, saying nothing, the dog in her lap.
Finally Benny muttered, ‘Don’t be soft. I just want him away from us. Far away. There’s something not right about the cunt.’
‘But we were going away, Benny,’ Clover said. ‘You were going to take us to the station and we were going to get a train back to London. That was the plan.’
Benny gave a brief shake of the head. ‘Not good enough. Because if you’re with him when he goes down, Monroe, you’ll go down too, and I’m not having that. Which is why he’s going to get out of my car now and walk away.’ He jerked the gun at me dismissively. ‘Off you go, Alex. Door’s open.’
I considered saying no. I considered calling his bluff, and seeing whether he would shoot me, and more to the point whether the heart would save me if he did. But what was the point? I didn’t want to risk Clover getting hurt, and I would only have been being defiant for the sake of it. And so I sighed and started to slide towards the open passenger door.
‘How dare you,’ Clover said in a low voice.
For a second I thought she was talking to me, but when I turned I realised she was looking at Benny. ‘How dare yo
u presume to make my decisions for me. I’m a big girl now, Benny, and I’ll do what I fucking like, and if you don’t like it then you’ll just have to shoot me.’
She slid across the seat towards me, pushing me almost roughly ahead of her. ‘Come on, Alex, we’re going.’
I scooted along the soft shiny leather and had one foot out the door, trying to find a bit of ground that didn’t have puke on it, when Benny said, ‘Don’t be stupid, Monroe.’
Clover turned back to face him, whipping her head around so quickly that her hair lashed my face. ‘I don’t call it being stupid. I call it being loyal.’
He grunted. ‘Loyal? You hardly know the guy.’
Beside me, I felt Clover’s body tense. For a second I thought she was going to smack Benny in the mouth, gun or no gun, and I half-raised a hand to stop her.
‘You wouldn’t understand,’ she said. ‘I was wrong about you, Benny. I thought you had more bottle than this.’
I clenched the heart again, willing her not to goad him, but a crooked smile appeared on Benny’s face. ‘It’s not about bottle,’ he said. ‘It’s about making the right decisions, knowing when to cut your losses.’
‘Yeah? Well, I’ve made my decision and I’m sticking to it.’
She gave me another push. I unfolded myself from the car and straightened up and she did too.
‘Goodbye, Benny,’ Clover said, stretching out a hand to slam the car door.
Before she could, I put a hand on her arm. ‘Maybe Benny’s right. Maybe you should leave me here, cut your losses.’
Clover’s eyes searched my face. ‘Is that what you want?’
My hesitation was answer enough for her.
‘Thought not.’ She made to shut the door again, but then she paused and leaned into the car. ‘Stay safe, you two. Thanks for everything. I really do mean that.’
Lesley gave a tight, nervous smile. Benny sighed. Looking at me, he said, ‘You look after this one, Alex. Keep her safe. Because if anything happens to her, you won’t only have the Wolves of fucking London coming after you.’
I looked back at him, saying nothing, and Clover shut the door.
There was a moment of silence, then the engine purred into life and the car drove away.
EIGHTEEN
DAWN CHORUS
‘Why does he call you Monroe?’
It was the first time either of us had spoken for several minutes. After being abandoned by Benny we’d begun to walk back towards what Clover claimed was the A25. She’d told me that halfway to Guildford, Benny had taken an abrupt left down a minor single-track road surrounded by woodland. Ignoring Clover’s demands to know what was going on, he had driven for two or three miles before pulling into a lay-by and cutting the engine. It was during the ensuing row that I had started to come round.
Clover turned her head to look at me now, half-amused, half-puzzled. ‘Is that really all you can think of to say?’
‘I’m curious, that’s all. It’s never Clover, always Monroe. It just seems odd.’
Clover shrugged and faced front again, staring into the darkness. ‘That’s Benny for you. He’s a hard man, who thinks that showing affection is a weakness. He’s protective towards me, and he hugs me like a daughter whenever he sees me – but he never uses my first name. When I was younger it was always “Miss Monroe”; now it’s just “Monroe”. It’s his way of keeping his distance, holding me at arm’s length.’
I snorted. Trees and bushes formed shifting black walls on either side of us, the rustle of leaves and the scrape of branches in the wind made ominous by the fact that we couldn’t see them.
‘Funny way of showing his protective side – by kicking you out to fend for yourself.’
‘It was my decision. Benny’s a proud man. He’d already decided to kick you out. There was no way he was going to lose face by going back on that.’
‘Not even if it meant leaving you at the mercy of the Wolves of London?’
‘Like I say, it was my decision. What could he do? Force me at gunpoint back into the car? Shoot me if I refused?’
‘I see your point.’ I hesitated, then said, ‘Do you think he’d have shot me if I’d refused to get out of the car?’
Clover was silent for a few seconds. Far off in the darkness I heard the mournful cry of a bird.
‘Who knows?’ she said finally. ‘Maybe. Benny’s unpredictable. I’ve known him for years, but I wouldn’t claim to know him, if you get what I mean? With people like Benny, it’s all about self-preservation. They’re loyal and protective up to a point, but they would never lay their life on the line for you. If Benny thought you were a threat he’d kill you as soon as look at you.’
I wondered, not for the first time, what had prompted him to take me under his wing in prison all those years ago. Had it been a whim? Had he thought I might be useful to him in some way? Or was it pointless trying to work out his motives because, as Clover had said, he was unpredictable?
‘Back at the house, and then in the car, was the first time I’ve seen him flustered,’ I said. ‘I’d always thought he was… unruffable. Is that a word?’
Clover made a sound in her throat that was barely a laugh. ‘It is now.’ Again she paused. ‘I might be wrong, but I think the darkness, and then seeing that… thing on your arm, rocked his world – and not in a good way. Although Benny’s unpredictable, his world is very black and white; it has very set parameters. He can cope with threats from other people, but I think what happened tonight took him so far out of his comfort zone that it scared the shit out of him. It made him realise he wasn’t in control, after all, that there were things he couldn’t understand and deal with. So he decided to jettison what he saw as the cause.’
‘Me,’ I said, and she nodded.
We trudged on in silence for another minute or so, the uneven ground crackling wetly underfoot. It was just before 6 a.m., maybe an hour or so before dawn, yet although the sky was only a fraction lighter than the landscape around us, courtesy of a half-moon that transformed the low-hanging clouds into smears of silver, the dawn chorus was beginning its first hesitant twitterings and warblings. Surrounding us was the mulchy odour of wet vegetation and the occasional sharp tang of animal musk.
‘So what about you?’ I said eventually.
She looked at me. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, Benny was right, wasn’t he? You could have cut your losses, put yourself out of danger by staying with him and Lesley. But you chose to come with me instead. Why was that?’
Her features tightened as her eyes narrowed. ‘Is that a serious question?’
‘You tell me.’
She halted abruptly. Her fists were clenched and I could tell she was angry. In a tight voice she said, ‘Has the world really become so… so fucking cynical? So poisonous? Does nobody think that loyalty and integrity are good enough reasons any more?’
Aware that I was playing devil’s advocate, I muttered, ‘Like Benny said, you hardly know me.’
She closed her eyes briefly, as if fighting to control her temper. Then, in a scarily calm voice, she said, ‘I feel guilty, if you must know. Regardless of whether I like you or not – which I do – I feel a duty to hang around. If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t be in possession of the heart; you wouldn’t have the “Wolves of London”, or whoever they are, after you; your daughter might not have been kidnapped.’
I shook my head. ‘We don’t know if that’s true. If you’re not bullshitting me – which I have to admit I’m still not sure about – then you’re just as much of a pawn in this game as I am.’
‘Game?’ she said.
I flapped a hand. ‘I use the term loosely.’
‘I’ve lost my business,’ she said, ‘my home. Friends of mine, people I know, and in Mary’s case loved, have died…’
Her voice choked off. I stepped towards her instinctively, as if to offer comfort, but she waved me back.
‘I know,’ I said. ‘Sorry. I’m just so…’ I shook my head.
‘This is just so fucked up.’
She drew a long, shuddering breath. Swiped at her teary eyes as if angry at herself for getting upset. Eventually, almost challengingly, she said, ‘So what’s the plan now?’
It was a question that had been preying on my mind. Shrugging, I said, ‘We hitch a lift back to London, I suppose.’
‘And then what?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted.
She sighed, though I’m sure she can’t have been expecting anything more constructive than that.
‘At least I’ve still got the heart,’ I said. ‘Hopefully that will protect us.’
‘Hopefully,’ she said, and sighed deeply, then began to look around as if searching for something.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked.
‘I really need to pee,’ she said.
I laughed. After the tension of the last couple of minutes her words struck me as funnier than they ought to have done.
‘I’ll just go behind those bushes over there,’ she said. ‘Wait for me, won’t you?’
‘Course I will.’
I watched her move to the side of the track and then blend into the blackness of the trees and undergrowth. The crackle and snap of small branches as she pushed her way through the dark tangle gradually faded to silence.
‘You all right?’ I called.
Her voice was fainter than I expected it to be. ‘Fine.’
‘You sound quite far away.’
‘I didn’t want you to hear me peeing. It’s embarrassing.’
‘I’ll cover my ears.’
In fact, I didn’t need to cover my ears. Any sound that Clover might have been making was masked by the still-muted tuning up of the dawn chorus and the occasional rustle of wind in the bushes. I stood and relished these gentle sounds, tilting my head back and drawing the fresh morning air deep into my lungs. I doubted there would be many more moments like this in my immediate future, moments when I could just stand in contemplation, secure in the knowledge that I was alone and undetected. Then I thought of how I couldn’t hear Clover even though she was only thirty or forty metres away, which made me realise how oblivious the two of us would be if there was actually someone close by, monitoring our movements. Would we hear them if they began to stalk us? Would the heart alert me to danger?
