The Way Of The Worm

by Ramsey Campbell

  It shrilled for just a second, and I wondered if I was about to meet another aspect of the Nobles’ world. I didn’t intend to feel menaced in my own house when I had so little to lose, and I limped fast to the front door. A pair of police officers stood together on the path. “Have you seen someone, Mr Sheldrake?” the policewoman said.

  “Seen them where?” Unease prompted me to add “Doing what?”

  Her frown failed to make her look even as old as my son. “Seen someone as you were advised to.”

  I couldn’t help remembering Lesley’s suggestion of psychiatric help before I recognised my visitors. They’d lost the fake tan the streetlamps had lent them the night they had brought me home. Their skin was much paler than I would have expected, and their hair wasn’t black; hers was red, his a nondescript brown. As I tried not to feel they’d removed a nocturnal disguise, the policeman said “Shall we talk inside?”

  “Forgive me, but what about?”

  “You claimed you’d been intimidated.”

  “Not by you, either of you. You were helpful when I may have needed it.” This scored no response, and I felt impelled to add “There were a couple of your colleagues, but I should think that was before you were even born.”

  “Did you put in a complaint?” the policewoman said.

  “I was given the impression it wouldn’t do me any good. The police weren’t as accountable back then as they’re meant to be now.”

  I’d just realised this could be taken as a sly threat to complain when the man said “We aren’t talking about police, Mr Sheldrake.”

  “You made the complaint when you appeared in court,” his partner said.

  “I’m sorry, but I didn’t. I might have if I’d seen anyone to tell.” By now both of them were withholding their expressions. “Are we going inside, sir?” the man said.

  Perhaps I shouldn’t have let this feel as intimidating as it did. “I’d prefer people to see what happens.”

  “What are you suggesting that might be?”

  “Nothing if you’re saying nothing. Nothing except talk.” He and his colleague made their patience plain, and I suspected they wanted me to feel like an unreasonable oldster, which provoked me to demand “Just what are you saying happened in court?”

  “You accused someone in the dock of intimidating you,” the policewoman said.

  “I did, yes. They did, I mean. All of them.”

  “All of whom, Mr Sheldrake? There were only two defendants.”

  “Maybe there should have been three. Their son was complicit, wasn’t he? He knew their secret and kept it as well.”

  The silence this brought me felt like not just an answer but a reprimand. As a car passed along the road, slowing beside the police car that blocked the entrance to my drive and then speeding onwards, she said “You maintain you were intimidated by all three members of the family.”

  “That’s what I said, yes. Not that they were all in the dock together.” An impression that they had been felt like a memory implanted in my skull.

  “How were you intimidated?” the policeman said. “They weren’t seen to move or speak.”

  “You must know you don’t need to do any of that to threaten people.” This sounded too close to an accusation, perhaps even a complaint of feeling menaced as I spoke, and I hastened to leave it behind. “They rang me in the middle of the night,” I said.

  “Who did, sir, and when?”

  “Christian Noble and his brood, not long before the case went to a magistrate.”

  “What was said?”

  “A lot of the kind of stuff they preach at Starview Tower.” This didn’t lessen its reality, and I saw it didn’t sound like intimidation either. “They wanted me to know how insignificant they think I am,” I said. “I think they were trying to undermine the testimony I’d give.”

  “How could they know you would,” the policewoman said, “when the case hadn’t gone before a magistrate?”

  “I’m sure they were planning to say they weren’t guilty, and so they’d have known they’d stand trial.”

  The police scrutinised my face and shone a light into my eyes, or rather the sun sent a fierce beam through foliage across the road. As I leaned my head aside the policeman said “Did you record the call?”

  “My phone won’t do that. I believe there’s a legal issue.”

  As I grasped that I might have made it sound as though he’d proposed breaking the law, the policewoman said “If you’d recorded it, would you have tried to introduce it as evidence?”

  “If the Nobles didn’t object I certainly would have, and I can’t imagine they’d have cared.”

  I sidled out of reach of the relentless sunbeam, only for a breeze to stir the leaves and send it after me. It blinded me to the faces of the questioners as the policeman said “The number will be listed on your phone, will it?”

  “They hid it. Maybe they aren’t as anxious for the world to know about them as they’d like you to believe. Mind you, if I’d recorded them you wouldn’t have known who was saying what.”

  The sunbeam fastened on my face, or the official gaze did, if not both. “You’re saying you couldn’t identify the callers,” the policewoman said.

  “They were the Noble family, all of them. I’d swear to that on anything you like.”

  “That won’t be necessary. Do you wish to take this further?”

  I could hear she didn’t recommend any such course, and I’d already decided. “I don’t suppose there would be much point.”

  “Then we should advise you, sir,” the policeman said, “not to waste police time.”

  I was a good deal too close to retorting that they’d done so if anybody had, and then the policewoman held up a hand. She surely didn’t mean a piercing ray of light to stream between two fingers onto my face. “Something you need to explain, Mr Sheldrake,” she said. “What would you have told someone at the court?”

  “I don’t know what you have in mind.”

  “You said you had a complaint to make if you’d seen anyone to tell.”

  “The Nobles came up when the trial was over and surrounded us with their followers. Not just me but my friends who’d been involved in the case.”

  “James Bailey and Roberta Parkin.”

  I might have been more immediately disconcerted by her knowing the names if I hadn’t needed to say “Christian Noble told us he knew where we lived. Jim thought that was intimidation, and he used to be high up in your job.”

  “We know all about Mr Bailey. Did he file a complaint?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Then we’d suggest you should be guided by him,” the policeman went beyond suggesting. “And do keep in mind what we said about time.”

  “Now we’ll leave you alone, Mr Sheldrake.”

  This could have been a farewell or an admonition to make sure I gave them no reason to visit me again, if not a reminder of my solitary state. They’d turned towards their vehicle when I said “Since you know all our names, shouldn’t we know yours?”

  They didn’t look back, so that I had no chance to judge whether they were giving me their own names or their partner’s. “DC Farr,” the woman said, and her colleague added “DC Black.”

  I was unable to move while they marched to their car in unison. I felt as if, far from removing a disguise they’d worn at night, they were wearing one that they presented to the world. I was pathetically grateful to observe that their actions as they climbed into the car weren’t entirely synchronised. Once the vehicle was out of earshot I stumbled into the house, groping for my phone. By the time I fell into my chair in the front room, a bell that sounded like an echo of the past was ringing. I’d begun to think Jim found the sight of my name on the screen less than welcome when he said “Dom.”

  He sounded tired, and I could easily have thought I was the cause. “I’m sorry I involved you and your family in my crusade,” I said.

  “We involved ourselves. We did what we could a
nd that’s the end of it.”

  “I don’t know that it is, Jim.”

  “Dom,” he said, an unmistakable reprimand. “What are you proposing now?”

  “I’ve no plan at the moment, I’m just afraid I may have given you and your boys a problem with the police,”

  “They’re well placed to deal with anything like that, and I should think I am. What problem?”

  “I’ve just had two of them here, taking me to task for accusing Christian Noble of intimidation. They made it pretty clear I shouldn’t tell the truth if I haven’t got the proof.”

  “I suppose they’d have to take that position. Was it just a verbal warning?”

  “They didn’t give me anything to show, if that’s what you mean. They take after their masters when it comes to not leaving any evidence.”

  “I meant they’re taking it no further.” Jim’s weariness was approaching impatience. “If I were you I wouldn’t either,” he said. “Let’s try and get on with whatever’s left of our lives.”

  “It isn’t that simple, Jim.”

  “I know your family are still with the Nobles, but—”

  “That isn’t all. The police who were here, they’re the children of the ones that came after me in the days of Safe To Sleep. Farr and Black. Tell me that isn’t significant.”

  “Do you want my boys to look into the situation if they can?”

  “I don’t want anybody else getting into trouble on my behalf. Better leave it unless Farr and Black have another go at me.”

  “Then let’s hope we can forget all about them.”

  “I don’t know if we can. I told them you accused Christian Noble of threatening us after the trial. They wanted to know if you’d put in a complaint.”

  “I didn’t, and I won’t unless you think I should.”

  “No, then. No but thanks.”

  “Let’s get together again soon. Bobby too if she can make it.” A pause left this resembling a farewell until Jim said “And do make the most of your family, Dom. Maybe try avoiding things you disagree about. I really think they care about you, and Bobby thought so too.”

  I felt he was counselling me to forget as much about the Nobles as I could. “Soon,” I said as an adieu without making the word any clearer. He’d left me more aware of Bobby than of any danger to myself, and I phoned her at once.

  “Dom.” Her enthusiasm wasn’t too distinguishable from concern, especially when she said “How are you dealing with fame?”

  “I haven’t earned too much of that, thank God. It’s mainly you the net is after. I just hope I haven’t brought you the wrong kind.”

  “I’ve certainly multiplied my followers. I think I’ve enough supporters to take on the hostile mob, and I’ve kept my column and my publishers.”

  “You surely didn’t think you’d lose them.”

  “I’ve a sense there may have been some talk behind the scenes, but they’re holding out for me.”

  I was dismayed to think I could have put her work in jeopardy, but she was saying “How has the outcome affected you, Dom?”

  “At least the Nobles haven’t anything to take out on my family.” Unable to leave it at that, I said “I had a visit just now from the police.”

  “You think it has something to do with the Nobles.”

  Rather than bring Farr and Black up again—I felt exhausted of explanations—I said “They didn’t like my saying I’d been intimidated.”

  ‘You mean the police intimidated you as well? Are you going to put it online?”

  I heard her urging me to rediscover confidence as a writer, but it was far too late. “Even if they tried I won’t,” I said.

  “Do you want me to? If you tell me everything that happened——”

  “I’ve made enough trouble for everyone. Everyone except the Nobles.” In case Bobby took this for an invitation I said “I’ll make it public if anyone does. I only wanted to warn you the police are at large.”

  “I shouldn’t think I’ve any reason to be visited.”

  I had to hope the Nobles thought that of her too. “Jim says we should all meet up again soon,” I said.

  “I’ll definitely let you know next time I’m up your way. In fact, I always will.”

  I felt close to reviving our adolescent vow, but made my farewell instead. The calls had left me feeling I’d done less than I should. Now that I’d brought my friends to the attention of the Nobles, it was surely up to me to protect them. Since the Nobles had boasted about their ability to find us, oughtn’t I to learn where they lived? Perhaps in some way this might give us an advantage.

  In less than five minutes I found Christian Noble’s address in the electoral register, having realised that he and his family would be listed as Le Bon. All three of them were living in a house across the river. An online map showed a three-storey building perched above a precipitous riverside garden taller than the house. It was close to Egremont Ferry, where the remains of a landing-stage commemorated an ancient crossing of the water.

  The image of the house seemed anonymously innocent, but I wanted to see the real place. The present ferry would let me take a look without venturing too near. Where were the binoculars I’d used to spy on Safe To Sleep? I’d given them to Toby not long after so that he could view the moon. I found them in a corner of his old room, lying on a deflated rubber ball that bore a faded wrinkled grin. They were enmeshed in cobwebs, and the lenses looked senile with dust, but once I cleaned the binoculars they worked well enough.

  I drove through the town to the river and parked near the landing-stage. The homeward exodus had begun, and commuters were queuing all the way down the ramp from the Pier Head, leaving me in sight of the secretive black windows at the top of Starview Tower. I was glad when strangers closed in behind me, once I’d decided that their faces showed they had no interest in me. Eventually a rattle of chains and a double thump of gangplanks beyond the ramp released the queue. By the time I clambered to the top deck of the ferry, all the benches were laden with passengers, but there was space to stand at the rail above the prow. Once the ferry swung about I would be able to watch the Noble house.

  Thunder thin enough to be accompanying an amateur drama resounded beneath the arch that enclosed the ramp—footsteps of commuters sprinting for the boat. The ferry lurched away from the stage with a creak of hefty rope and returned, thumping rubber. A final passenger clattered across the gangplank moments before it reared up, clanking its chains. A piratically tattooed man lifted the rope from its bollard on the dock and pitched it to a crewman. The engines began pounding like an amplification of my heart, and the ferry wallowed away from the stage. It turned as inexorably as the hand of a clock and brought me face to face with the Noble house.

  The house looked reassuringly distant until I lifted the binoculars, and then I had to tell myself its immediacy was artificial. One detail that the online image hadn’t shown I saw at once. Every item of vegetation—flowers and dwarfish bushes—on the six deep steps that formed the garden above the promenade was leaning if not straining away from the house, just like the trees around the field where Gahariet Le Bon had built his church. I was disconcerted by how little I could make out of the house. On each of the three floors an identical pair of windows was embedded in pale stone under a steep grey slate roof crowned with three chimneys, but beyond the windows I could distinguish only darkness at odds with the late afternoon sunlight. I might have fancied that the house contained no rooms—that it was a mask worn by a void.

  As the building crawled towards me its approach began to drain my sense of where I was, withdrawing the murmur of conversations behind me, the humid breeze that kept tousling my hair, the faint saline smell of the incoming tide. I had to grip the barrels of the binoculars and press my ribs against the rail to convince myself I was safely remote. Even so, I let the binoculars dangle on their strap before raising them again. I’d glimpsed movement inside the Noble house.

  My sensations receded as I made out three
figures, one on each floor. They were pacing if not dancing rapidly back and forth, passing out of sight beyond the edge of one window before reappearing to cross to its twin and vanish. While I knew they were the Nobles, I was unable to identify which was which. What sort of house had just one room on each floor? Perhaps there were others beyond the rooms overlooking the river, but the sight renewed my impression that the house was hollowed out, occupied by a void and its inhabitants. The movements in the gloom grew more defined, and I saw that each of the figures was describing an intricate sinuous series of patterns with their entire body, not so much a dance as a mime of a state I preferred not to begin to imagine. I was struggling to break the hold the sight exerted on my mind—I’d lost so much awareness that I couldn’t even feel how I was clutching the binoculars—when the identical simultaneous movements took another turn. All three figures swooped towards the left-hand windows to press their faces against the glass.

  The binoculars dealt my chest a hearty blow as I recoiled. I couldn’t be sure I’d seen the stack of faces like a fleshy totem-pole grow far too large and flat against the panes, their scarcely human eyes swelling huge as though their darkness had distended them. I did my best to think they hadn’t seen me, but now I realised that the ferry was in the middle of the river, halfway between the Noble house and Starview Tower. From where I stood, and plainly from the house as well, the tower appeared to be situated midway between the two Liverpool cathedrals, and I wondered what meaning the Nobles might find in the trinity this formed. I wasn’t anxious to imagine it myself, and I was reaching none too eagerly for the binoculars when I grasped that the position of the ferry was significant as well. It was where I’d thrown the icon from the Church of the Eternal Three into the river.

  Venturing back to the rail, I peered at the water. The ripples that the boat was sending forth appeared sluggish, not to mention thick and black as oil. Perhaps shadows of clouds were darkening the river, except that the sky contained just a few clouds, shrivelling overhead. Was the ferry even moving? I had a nightmarish impression that only the somnolent ripples were—that the boat might be trapped between the house and the tower, arrested in mid-river by some submarine presence that was blackening the water but not yet revealing its shape. Could I hear the engines labouring on the way to failing for good? There was certainly a fierce hot stench of oil. I found I was actually relieved to see the Noble house creeping closer once I understood this meant the ferry was still able to progress. I didn’t know if I was seeing activity inside the house, ill-defined shapes darting back and forth. They put me in mind of caged creatures, but could I really make them out at such a distance? I took hold of the binoculars, only to decide that the sight of the house and its stealthy implacable approach were daunting enough.