by Ted Lewis
Later, when I’d finished, I began to feel a new fear.
The thing that brought it on was my realisation that the wind had dropped completely. There was dead silence. Nothing was moving. All the clouds had gone from the sky and the moon black shadows of the trees were rigid and still. I turned my head and looked towards the house; the night was bright enough to reflect the trees in the windows.
The fear that came on me now was the fear of Eileen. Rather, fear of my mind, what it might conjure up in its present state. Whether reality or hallucination, it didn’t matter which; even a mind’s-eye apparition would be enough to make any temporary madness become my final mental condition.
Slowly I forced myself up from the gravel. I turned round to face the house and opened my eyes as wide as possible so no flickering eyelash could cause confusion. I began to walk towards the house, keeping to the centre of the drive, keeping my eyes off the garage, avoiding any glance to right or left. When I got to the hallway’s glass facing, my reflected shape caused me to stop and stare at myself as if I were some shambling doppelganger.
I went into the house and the shadow disappeared.
PLENDER
I bumped the Cortina to the right and drove towards the limestone chute and the old engine houses. The narrow-gauge lines were still as they used to be, lazily curving away into the quarry basin, and there were still some panniers, long since prised off their wheelbases and overturned, lying face down on the quarry floor.
I stopped the car and got out and walked round to the boot, lifted out the body and took it over to one of the panniers that lay behind the engine house, where the shade fell all day long.
The pannier stood at the bottom of the limestone chute on the artificial scree made by years of tipping. I bent down and dug away a few stones at the base of the upturned pannier and put my hands under the lip and began to lift. It was even heavier than I’d thought it would be, but that was fine, the heavier the better. I gave a final heave and the pannier tottered over on to its side. Then I went to work on the surface of the stones that had been underneath the pannier until I’d pulled enough away to form a shallow trench. When I’d done that I picked up the body and laid it down in the trench and put the stones back until the body was covered. Then I walked round the pannier and lifted again until I’d pushed and levered it up on to its lip. I gave a final heave and the pannier toppled over back to its original position, sealing off the trench and the body. There was a slight whump as the air rushed out from under the pannier as it hit the stones.
KNOTT
Sunlight wafted on to my face. I opened my eyes. I turned my head and wondered where my wife was. I looked at my watch. It was quarter past seven. Then I remembered.
Amazingly I’d slept.
I closed my eyes again and tried to shut out the reality but it wouldn’t go. I had the same suicidal desperation that is usually caused by a champagne hangover. I didn’t want to move ever again.
But somehow I jerked myself out of bed and dressed and went out of the bedroom and down the corridor and across the hall and out of the house.
The day was bright and sunny but behind the trees heavy grey clouds were beginning to build up and fill the sky. I hurried across the gravel to the garage, trying not to think so that what I was going to do would be easier.
I lifted the handle and slid the garage door open.
PLENDER
I sat on my bed and played the electric razor over my face and listened to the tape recorder.
The dialing tone stopped and there was the click and a pause and then Froy’s voice said,
“This is Mr. Brown speaking. I’m phoning to report that the operation has reached a successful conclusion.”
The man on the other end of the phone said, “Thank you. I had no doubt that it wouldn’t.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“The Movement is fortunate to have such competent operatives in its employ, an event for which you have largely been responsible.”
Froy made some more thank you noises.
“As Leader,” said the other voice, “I shall see that you shall not go unrewarded.”
Froy was almost screaming by now. There was a pause and then Froy ventured, “I have had Gorton’s speech written for the Leeds conference.”
“Yes.”
“I must say it reads well.”
“Who wrote it?”
“Potter of the Crusader. He’s going to do a companion piece the weekend after the speech in the Sunday edition. They’ll give the speech big coverage and the companion piece will restate the issues.”
“Excellent.”
“Also the Liverpool rally is in the last stages of organisation.”
“Who are we using?”
“Davies will be the main speaker. Some of our men will be there acting as leftist-anarchist agitators. The television people will be covering it so they won’t be dis-appointed.”
“Good. Well, everything seems to be progressing satisfactorily. The old truths are being well served. In time, England will have much to thank us for.”
“Yes, sir.”
They said their goodnights and the tape went dead. I switched off my razor and got up off the bed. There was a knock on the door. I walked over and opened the door and my landlady bustled in with my breakfast tray and put it down on the table.
“Thanks, Margaret,” I said. “Been out yet?”
In all the time I’d lived there I’d never once seen her outside of the house.
Margaret shuddered.
“I’ve got more sense,” she said.
“Go on,” I said. “Looks a nice day. Fresh air’ll do you good.”
“It’s bitter out,” she said. “And it’s going to rain.”
“No,” I said. “It won’t rain, not today.”
“You try telling my rheumatism that,” she said, and closed the door behind her.
I picked up my phone and dialed Gurney’s number.
“How did it go last night?” I said.
“Well,” said Gurney.
“Was Camille all right?”
“Fine.”
“No messing about?”
“No, she was fine.”
“Well, you know what to do now.”
“Yes.”
“When will the pictures be ready?”
“Give me a chance, Mr. Plender.”
“When?”
“Sometime tomorrow, I expect.”
“Good. Listen, there’s something I want you to do for me.”
“Yes, Mr. Plender.”
“Is Stoney likely to be at the garage today?”
KNOTT
I sat at the breakfast table and stared at the colour supplement. The car had gone. Somebody had taken the car. Stolen it. With Eileen in the boot. What would happen when they found the body? Abandon the car? And then the police would find the car and I’d be finished.
I hadn’t told Kate the car had gone. She’d want to know why I hadn’t called the police. But she’d have to know sometime. What would happen then?
Kate put a cup of coffee in front of me. Her movements expressed her mood perfectly. Her mind was still on what had upset her last night.
Nicola said, “What time are we going over to Grandfather’s, Mummy?”
Kate said, “I don’t know. Sometime after lunch.”
“Will we be able to swim in the pool?”
“Don’t be silly, Nicola. It’s far too cold.”
“I don’t care about the cold, Mummy, honestly.”
“Well I do. You’d probably catch pneumonia.”
Kevin said, “Don’t you mean pneumonia would catch her?”
“Shut up, stupid,” Nicola said.
“It’s like overtaking. It should be takeover,” said Kevin.
“You’re just stupid.”
“Come on, both of you, finish your breakfast,” said Kate.
“Finished,” both of them said.
“Well in that case go and get ready for church.”
They both moaned.
“No complaining,” said Kate. “Go and get your coats.”
They climbed down from their chairs and went out of the breakfast room. Kate stayed where she was, sipping her coffee, elbows on the table, not looking at me. In a few moments she would get up and put her coat on and take the children into the garage and find that the car was gone.
I said, “Do they have to go?”
“They were christened so it follows that occasionally they should attend church.”
“But why today?”
“Because they haven’t been for over a month.”
“I thought we might all go out for a walk together.”
Kate looked at me in mock surprise.
“Oh? What brings this on? Guilt feelings about last night?”
I didn’t say anything else. Kate returned to her coffee, a bitter triumphant look on her face. She took a final sip and put her cup down and went out of the kitchen. I heard her cross the hall and open the coat cupboard and heard the children rush down the corridor to meet her.
“Mummy, it’s my turn to sit in the front, isn’t it?” said Nicola.
“It isn’t, it isn’t,” said Kevin. “She sat in the front last time, didn’t she Mummy?”
“I’m sure I can’t remember,” said Kate, “but in any case there’ll be no arguments today. You can both sit in the back.”
The children groaned and complained and I heard Kate usher them across the hall and out of the house. The door closed and the double-glazing shook and then there was an ear-splitting silence except for a few bird songs drifting across from the trees that surrounded the house.
The silence continued for a while. Then there was the sound of crackling gravel as Kate ran back to the house. The door was scrambled open and Kate shouted my name, hurrying across the hall, not waiting for my answer, and then she was standing in the kitchen doorway.
“Peter,” she said, as if she didn’t quite believe what she was saying, “the car’s gone.”
I looked at her and said, “The car’s gone?”
“The Mercedes. It’s gone.”
“The Mercedes?”
“For Christ’s sake yes. The Mercedes. Come and see.”
The madness in my mind made me consider her choice of words. Come and see the car. It’s gone. The old joke. There it was, gone.
I stood up and pushed my chair back and followed her like a sleepwalker, out into the bright undecided weather.
The kids were jumping around near the garage in a state of excitement.
“The car’s gone Daddy,” Nicola shouted as I approached.
Kate was standing in the space where the car should have been, demonstrating the garage’s emptiness. She stared at my face, waiting for me to make some kind of comment. I looked round the garage, as if to make sure the car really wasn’t there.
“Well?” said Kate.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Has it been stolen, or what?”
“It looks like it.”
“Well, what else could it be?”
I shook my head. Kate turned round slowly and looked at the emptiness.
“I don’t believe it,” she said. “Someone came here during the night and took the car. How horrible.”
She turned full circle until she was looking at me again.
“I must say it doesn’t appear to be worrying you unduly,” she said.
“It’s not sunk in yet,” I said.
“Well it had better sink in pretty quickly,” she said. “We’ve got to do something.”
I nodded, knowing what the something was going to be. I felt as if I was being sucked down into quicksand.
“You’d better phone the police,” she said.
I turned away and began to walk out of the garage.
“I’ll just check that it’s not out in the road,” I said, playing for time and at the same time aware that it would be ultimately useless.
“Out in the road?” said Kate. “What on earth are you talking about? Why should it be out in the road?”
“Perhaps somebody just borrowed it for a joy ride. It sometimes happens,” I said, starting down the drive. “You read about it in the papers all the time. Somebody steals a car and goes for a drive and brings it back to where they found it.”
Kate followed me down the drive, and the children followed her.
“You must be joking,” she said. “They wouldn’t go to the trouble of breaking into a garage just to take a car for a joy ride. It’s obviously much more serious than that.”
I opened the gate and went and stood in the middle of the road and looked up and down, but, of course, the road was empty. Kate was standing in the open gateway looking at me as if I was some figment of her imagination. I walked back towards the gate, indescribably sick and on the verge of tears.
“I mean,” said Kate as she stood back so that I could close the gate, “if someone wanted to joy ride it’s obvious they’d choose a parked car. They wouldn’t go to the trouble of—”
She stopped in mid-sentence as I whirled round and grasped her by her arms.
“All right,” I shouted. “You’re right. For fuck’s sake, you’re right. Now shut up. Just shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up.”
The children froze and stared at the two of us. At first Kate didn’t attempt to free herself from my grip. Then the shock on her face turned to contempt.
“Even with the children watching,” she said.
Then she shook her arms and I let go. Kate walked over to the children and knelt down and put her arms round them. Nicola looked as if she was about to cry.
“Don’t be upset,” said Kate. “It’s nothing. Daddy and Mummy love each other, really.”
I ran past them on into the house. I went into my studio and closed the door behind me and sat down in my leather chair and stared at the wall, forcing myself not to think. After a while Kate came into the room.
“You bastard,” she said eventually.
I didn’t look at her and I didn’t say anything.
“I hope you don’t forget the looks on their faces,” said Kate.
“I’m sorry,” I said, putting a hand to my own face.
“Try telling that to Nicola.”
I just stayed the way I was, my head resting in my hand. I heard Kate light a cigarette. There was silence for a long time until Kate said, “I want to know what’s wrong.”
I didn’t answer.
“There is, isn’t there?” she said. “I want to know what it is.”
I shook my head.
“Why aren’t you worried about the car?” she said.
Oh Christ, I was thinking, over and over. Oh Christ. Why don’t you help me?
“You’re not worried about the car because you’re too worried about something else. Aren’t you?”
I shook my head again.
“Then why haven’t you phoned the police?”
My mouth began to work, trying to say the words that my brain was unable to put together.
“It’s because there’s something else.”
When I made no reply she said, “Peter. I’ve a right to know.”
I knew exactly what she was thinking. She was thinking I’d become so involved with someone that I wanted to leave Kate and the children.
“There’s nothing wrong,” I managed to say. “Nothing.”
“Don’t lie, Peter. Have the guts to tell me the truth.”
“I don’t . . . I can’t . . . there’s nothing. Nothing.”
Kate didn�
�t say anything for a while. Then she said, very quietly, “All right.”
There was another long dead silence until Kate said, “Aren’t you going to phone the police?”
I was unable to make any kind of reply.
“In that case,” she said, just as quietly, “I’d better phone them myself.”
She walked over to my desk. I lifted my head and watched her progress with a dumb fascination. Now it was all over. I may as well tell her. It was the only thing to do. As her hand touched the receiver I opened my mouth to speak.
But before she lifted the receiver the phone began to ring.
PLENDER
A woman’s voice answered.
“Corella 332,” she said.
“Hello,” I said. “Could I speak to Peter, please?”
“Who’s that calling?”
“It’s Brian Plender speaking.”
I heard far away mumblings, then the receiver rattled and Knott’s voice said, “Yes?”
“Hello, Peter,” I said. “Brian here. How’s the world treating you today?”
He didn’t answer.
“Been down to the garage this morning?”
I didn’t even expect an answer this time.
“Look,” I said. “I’d better come clean. I don’t know whether you realise this, but last night . . . Well, before I bumped into you (if you’ll pardon th expression) I’d had a couple. You know, Saturday night and all that.”
Still nothing.
“Anyway, I really felt bad about what happened. I mean, it was my fault entirely. I felt I had to do something. I kept thinking of that beautiful car all banged up because of me. So I came back.”
“Came back?” he said. I smiled to myself. The words were slurred and hollow.
“Yes. I came back. The house was . . . you were all in bed. So I took the car. Took the car and drove it over to my mate’s place. You know, the one I mentioned. The one with the garage. He’s working on it now. No problem. A few taps with his little rubber hammer and it’ll be as right as ninepence by tonight. Now I know what you’re going to say—I’d got no right to do it. And you’d be right. But as I say, I’d had a couple, and all I could think of was getting the car straightened out. No problem getting it started. Trick of the trade, really. You pick up that kind of thing.”
