I spot a cafe and go inside. I order a full English and a mug of tea. I take the tea and sit down. I flick through the paper. There’s a small piece about us, but it doesn’t say anything on top of last night’s report. Good, I think, although it still doesn’t mention Ashley. I’m starting to think I will have to make Ashley disappear. Everything is leading me in that direction. My breakfast comes and I get stuck in. I hadn’t realised how hungry I was, but thinking about it, it’s over 36 hours since I’ve last eaten. Toast, fried bread, beans, sausage, bacon, fried egg, half a tomato, black pudding, I leave the mushrooms. I don’t know why they give you the mushrooms, no one ever eats the mushrooms. I gulp down the tea. There is a television in the cafe and the news is being broadcast. It’s the regional news. The photograph of me appears again, the same photograph as last night. I hide behind the newspaper.
Now they are interviewing the owner of the bed and breakfast we stayed in. —Yeah, that’s him alright. He checked in about seven last night. I’d just sat down when I saw him on the news. I rang the police straight away. When I went up to his room, he’d already climbed out of the skylight.
There is a fat man watching the news, shovelling breakfast into his mouth, and an old couple too, drinking tea and chewing toast. I get up and slink out of the cafe. The first thought I have is Dave. Dave will be somewhere not so far away, perhaps a pub in Helvellyn, watching the news as well. Now he knows we are in Carlisle.
I make my way back to the empty house and through the broken door. I walk up the stairs. I enter the bedroom. Ashley is slumped in the corner. He is clearly stoned. I go up to him and shake him.
—We’ve got to go.
He looks at me without comprehending. I see the opened wrap and a rolled up note. Ashley has snorted the last of the ketamine and is a complete mess, unable to even lift his head.
—Listen, everyone knows we’re here, in Carlisle, Dave will too. It’s on the news. We’ve got to go.
I’m hoping some of this will sink in but he’s far too mashed to grasp the seriousness of the situation. He just sits staring at the chaotic pattern on the carpet. I’ve been gone for about forty minutes. I’ve still not bought credit for my phone, or any breakfast for Ashley, but it doesn’t look like Ashley is wanting any. I doubt he even understands what it is. I perch on the end of the bed for perhaps thirty minutes, staring at the heap of human flesh that is Ashley. What to do? Need to get credit for my phone. Need to sort Ashley out. Maybe I don’t sort Ashley out. Leave Ashley where he is and Ashley will vanish. Stop trying to carry him, you owe him nothing. Maybe the safest thing now is to go to the police. Best for both of us.
Is he a killer? Or was he provoked. He seemed to like Smiler. Perhaps he realised, like me and Becky did, that he was just a sad loser full of shit. Is that a reason to kill someone? But it’s hard to say and he’s certainly not in a fit shape to admit it now. It’s like that bloke Richard, when I was a kid I thought he was great, couldn’t understand why mum didn’t want to go out with him, even though I knew she’d stopped going out with men. Then I thought he was attacking women, and I learned he was a vigilante, beating up the dealers in the area, who were at best just desperate smackheads themselves. I didn’t like him after that. I realised he was a threat. Maybe Ashley realised that Smiler was a threat. The truth is what you know at the time. I’m thinking through all this when there’s a knock at the door. The front door. I freeze. Then I edge over to the window and peep out from behind the curtains. I can just make out two policemen. They stand back and look through the windows. I duck down.
If they come round the back they will see the broken door and come in. I creep over to the window again and have another peek. They have moved onto the next house. A woman comes to the door and they show her a photograph, of Ashley I imagine. They say something to the woman and she shakes her head. She goes back inside and the policemen move on. We can’t stay here, that’s for sure. If I’m to get Ashley out of here I need to sober him up. I also need to get credit for my phone. The only thing I want to do now is ring Becky. My phone rings but it’s just mum so I divert to answer machine. I go out the back way and walk back to the precinct. I buy a triple espresso from a coffee vendor in the square. The magic potion that’s going to straighten Ashley out and make him disappear. Perhaps a sausage roll as well. There are more people about now.
I walk across the precinct towards a newsagents that sells top-up cards. As I do I see a blue car pull up at the lights. Dave is in the front passenger seat talking to a man driving and another two men sit in the back looking out of the window. I pull my hood up some more. The lights are still on red. Change. I stand there quite still, hoping no one will notice. Change. They are looking for movement. The lights change and the car pulls away, but as it does, Dave looks back and for a split second, we make eye contact. I see a flash of anger in his eyes. I duck down a side street, spilling the coffee in the process. Need to get a sausage roll.
I carry on up the side street. I get to the end, but there’s no way out. I’m surrounded by shops but no way out. I walk back down. As I do I see Dave with the three men pass the entrance to the street. They see me. I chuck the coffee and run through Primark, through the ladies section, up the escalators, pushing people out of the way, to the gents upstairs. I look behind me, Dave and his men are running after me. Where now? I look around. They are making their way up the escalator. I run into a changing room. I watch them move round the store, leaving me just enough distance to run back down the escalator. I wait until they are further away, then I make a run for it. I get to the escalator when I hear one of them shout. I turn round to see them running towards me. Clothes rails tumble and crash. A small child screams. Down the escalator and through the shop. There’s a security man and he’s coming after me too. I’m running down the street now.
They’re catching up. I come out of the street and run across the precinct. Dave and his mates are gaining on me. The security man is behind them. Then I see a police car. I run over to it. I’ve never been so pleased to see the police in my life. I tap on the window.
—I think you’re looking for me, I say. I pull down my hood. All they’ve spotted is just another dull brown bird. But they open the back door anyway. I’ll do for now until they come across the rarer find.
The Dunnock
The king of the small dull brown birds is surely the house sparrow. No bird watcher I’ve ever come across has ever welcomed its sight. The truth is they are everywhere. It is one of the most widely distributed wild bird on the planet. There is nothing remarkable about the female at all. At least the male has a distinctive black bib and cap. The female has no black on her head or throat, not even a grey crown. It’s almost the complete opposite of me and Becky. House sparrows are cheerful exploiters of our rubbish and waste, so we should cut them a bit of slack.
They are very similar to the tree sparrow, they’re both sturdy, thick-billed little birds with similar markings, but nothing like the so-called hedge sparrow. The hedge sparrow isn’t a sparrow at all, so I don’t know why people persist in calling them hedge sparrows. It is probably the same people who call gulls ‘seagulls’. The proper name of the so-called ‘hedge sparrow’ is the dunnock. It is much more like a robin or a wren, or even a dipper than a sparrow and deserves to be thought of as something better than just a small dull brown bird. Its face and breast are classed as grey, but I think they’re a shade of blue, a very subtle and beautiful shade of blue. I’m quite partial to a dunnock.
I’m thinking about this as we park up at the back of the house. All the books I have read describe its breast as grey, but I’m looking at one right now, and I can tell you, it’s blue. It’s creeping along the floor near a privet. It sort of shuffles about in the shadows, but even without full light, its breast is clearly blue. Probably foraging for insects, spiders, even worms.
One of the policemen has gone into the house. The other sits in the driving seat. I’ve told them everything. There’s a long pause. The radio k
eeps crackling and a distorted voice cuts in from time to time, but it’s difficult to make out what’s being said. It can’t be anything to do with us, because the policeman just ignores it.
The policeman brings out a still-very-stoned Ashley. He sits him next to me on the back seat and we drive to the station. I still haven’t got credit for my phone, but am thinking that you’re allowed to make a call when you get to a police station. I’ve seen it on The Met. We seem to wait for ever in the police station before two plain clothed take me into one of the interview rooms. Ashley has been locked up in a cell. They said they would keep him there until he came round. I told them he’d taken ketamine.
They took his belt off him and his laces and all the drugs. I go with them into the room. They have a recording machine. One of them talks into it. He says the date and time into the recording device. He looks at his watch to check. The questions go round and round. I’ve asked them if I can make a call, but they’ve told me not yet. That’s not how it happens on The Met, but the men don’t look in the mood to discuss this so I don’t say anything.
—And where were you when this happened?
—I’ve already said, I was looking for ravens.
—And you expect us to believe you came all this way to find ravens?
—We were on the run from Dave. It was my idea to come to the Lakes, because I wanted to find some ravens.
And off we go again. I go from the beginning, to the Tower of London and to the clipped wings. They don’t believe me about the ravens, but why would I make that up? I’ve already shown them the book. Then they start asking me about Ashley again.
—It’s the truth, whether you believe it or not. I had no idea that Ashley was capable of... of killing someone.
The policeman looks at his notes. —Look, for the third time, who is this Ashley?
—He’s my best friend.
—Your best friend?
—Well, he was.
—But he’s not now?
—I’ve told you, he was my only friend, but I don’t really know him that well.
The policeman looks at the older policeman. —Paul, we’ve got the school register here and there is no one by the name of Ashley O’Keefe.
The truth is, I’ve only actually known him for eight days, maybe he’s not registered at the school yet. That hasn’t occurred to them. It’s an obvious point but not to them. Still, it’s not my place to be doing their job for them. I nearly say, he was my only friend until I met Becky, but I want to keep Becky out of this. I tell them it’s likely that Ashley killed Smiler in self-defence. I tell him about the shadow-boxing incident, and make it clear that I think he had a screw loose. It turns out the police know Brian Smith. He has a long criminal record, so I don’t suppose he was lying about that.
—And where did you meet him?
—Ashley?
—Look, we’ve told you, we don’t know who this Ashley is, we’re asking you about Brian Smith.
—In his house.
—You met him in his house?
—Well, it’s more of a shack really.
I try and tell them about Ashley again, but they’re not having any of it. I want to tell them that he used to remind me of a raven, but I don’t because I can see that it would sound stupid. That he reminded me of a raven, then a crow and eventually a jackdaw. He doesn’t even remind me of a jackdaw now. He doesn’t remind me of a bird at all. Birds can fly except stupid birds such as the penguin who have sacrificed the power of flight in order to live on a block of ice. Ashley can’t fly. I thought Ashley could fly but I was wrong.
—There are lots of things that don’t make sense.
—I suppose there are.
—You’re in a lot of trouble.
—Well, you see, it’s Ashley. I had no idea he was so disturbed.
The policeman looks wearily at the older policeman. He sighs. —Ok, let’s talk about Ashley. When did you realise he was disturbed?
—Not at first.
—So when?
—I’ve said, when I found out he’d killed Smiler.
I want to talk to Ashley, but they have kept us separate. He will have probably come round now and I want to tell him not to mention Becky.
—And you say Ashley killed Smiler to attract these ravens?
—That’s what he told me. He could have been in shock. I don’t think that’s the reason.
—That’s a strange thing to do don’t you think?
I explain my theory again, that Smiler attacked him. I never believed the raven bait story, but why am I wasting my breath on these people?
—When can I make a phone call?
The policeman looks at his colleague and smiles. It’s like I’ve asked a really stupid question. We go through it all again. They make notes. They look back at their notes and ask more questions. In the back of my mind I’m expecting them at some point to give me a beating, but I don’t know why, you don’t see that on The Met, but I have seen it in films. Which is more truthful, The Met or the films? I hope it’s The Met. I’ve told them about Dave. They’ve taken my mobile off me, but I’ve memorised Becky’s number. I keep saying it in my head so I won’t forget. But they keep asking me questions and I keep thinking I’m going to forget the number.
The policeman takes out the bag of drugs and puts it on the table.
—What about this lot then?
He talks into the recording device explaining that he has just taken out a bag containing what is left of the drugs. Only he doesn’t use the word drugs, just describes the contents matter-of-factly. I try to tell him that the bag belongs to Ashley but he’s not having any of it. We go round and round, asking the same questions, me giving the same answers. Ashley, Ashley, Ashley. 07789 982558. Keep saying the number in your head. Keep saying Ashley when they ask a question. Ashley. 07789... Keep saying the number in your head. Ashley... 982... Ashley... 558. Like juggling at the same time as riding a unicycle. I’ve never ridden a unicycle or juggled.
Eventually I get to make my phone call, but it goes straight to answer phone. Why wouldn’t she have it switched on? There could be a simple explanation. It’s charging up, or she’s out of signal range, but the simple explanations keep getting shoved aside in my mind and all I can think about is Dave. I’ve given the police as much information as I can about Dave, but they don’t seem that interested. They’re more interested in Ashley.
I keep telling them that it is really important that they arrest Dave, but what has he done that they can arrest him for? This is the problem. They say they don’t know anything about Andy, Dave’s brother, and they haven’t heard of any car accident that fits my description, but he’s hardly likely to report it to them. They call me a joy rider. As far as they are concerned, I’m the baddy. I killed Smiler. It is me they are after not Dave.
And then I think about my dad. Maybe mum had good reason to leave dad. Let’s face it, if he was a decent bloke, he’d have been in touch by now. As soon as I have that thought I get a chill which runs through my body. It’s obvious. He’s a bad man. All these years I’ve had this idea of my dad in my mind. He was the wronged party, he was the good man in the world trying to do good where he could. He was thrown out by mum and he came back but she wouldn’t let him in and I’ve always blamed her for that. But what if he wasn’t the goody? What if he was the baddy?
They keep asking me questions and I keep telling them about birds. I tell them about the red-backed shrike and the woodcock. I think I am finally getting through to them. I’m examined and questioned by a psychiatrist. I wonder if Ashley has come round and whether he’s in the interview room with the police. I wonder if he’s mentioned Becky. What’s he going to say? Would he even remember her address? They tell me my mum and sister are in the waiting room. They tell me there is no Ashley. They say I can’t go home.
The Pied Wagtail
I actually don’t mind funerals. It would be amazing to find a raven at a funeral but of course that isn’t likely to happen. It’s
over a hundred years since ravens lived in our cities. Everyone thinks they are an omen. They use them in horror films and when they do they are always associated with death. We should be really glad to have them at all. I mean where are the other so-called wild animals in this country? Where are the bears, the wolves, the wild boars? We’ve killed them all off. The truth is we don’t like things that are truly wild.
I’m thinking about my time with Ashley as a good thing. It lasted only a week, just over, but we did so much then that I feel like I’ve really lived now. If I was to die tomorrow, I wouldn’t have any regrets, only not seeing Becky. That would be a regret. I wonder if Ashley had any regrets? I’m surprised at how many people are here. They can’t have been friends. He didn’t really have any. There was Dave and his mates – but you couldn’t call them friends. Then I see them, they are here, dressed in white suits with angel wings. Four of them. Andy, only Andy, has blood dripping from his eyes and mouth. He smiles at me and more blood pours out.
No one else seems to have noticed them, this crowd. Perhaps they are the same crowd of people that gather around car accidents. They are just here to watch and be glad it isn’t them in that wooden casket. Some of them don’t have faces. We’re in a sort of hall. It’s not a church. Well, it is a church but the building hasn’t been built specifically as a church. There are so many people here that they can’t all get in. I suppose that’s what happens when you die young. My classmates and kids from school make up about thirty percent of the group so god knows who the other people are. I suspect a lot of them are Ashley’s family. I didn’t realise he had such a big family. It’s funny, we never talked about our backgrounds. I didn’t really know anything about him at all it seems. It seems he was the oldest of five. Two brothers and two sisters. One of his sisters is still a baby. Both his mum and his dad are here. His mum is crying. As is his older sister.
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