Kane rolled his eyes.
‘…Even all this crazy stuff about his aunt being a very strict Catholic, and how she’d had crucifixes hung up everywhere, at which point the girl – Gaynor – who certainly appeared to be taking the whole thing with quite a pinch of salt – although maybe that was just me, I mean my paranoia – suddenly told this story about how when they’d first bought the place there’d been all these marks on the wallpaper – shadows – from where crucifixes had obviously been hung before…’
‘Perhaps he’d noticed one of those shadows as you were walking around?’
(Sound of refrigerator opening.)
‘No. They’d redecorated. This was years ago…’
(Clanking sound.)
‘Does this fmwah smell all right to you?’ she enquired. ‘It’s the day after its sell-by date…’
(More clanking.)
‘There should be a new one. Hang on…’
(Still more clanking.)
Pause
(Sound of teaspoon rattling around inside a mug.)
‘What you need to bear in mind,’ Beede pontificated, ‘is that even twenty or so years ago a standard Catholic home would’ve had fmwah-wah fmwah-wah on fmwah-wah all over the house…’
‘Of course. But it was just…’
‘Is that pale enough?’
‘Yes.’
(More stirring. Sound of objects being placed on to a tin tray. Clanking sound. Noise of refrigerator closing.)
‘I don’t mean to put a damper on things,’ Beede’s voice grew much louder, ‘but you’d be astonished how easy it is for someone with a very basic knowledge of human psychology – or in possession of certain behavioural techniques – to infer things from an environment, and simply – by the power of suggestion, by picking up subtle hints…’
‘I’m fully aware of that, Danny…’
Danny?!
Kane flinched at Elen’s casually abbreviated use of his father’s Christian name.
‘…But when we went into the tiny living-room Dory walked straight over to the fireplace. He said he’d carved his initials there, as a boy…’
‘Inside the fireplace?’
‘No. In the stonework around the side of the chimney breast.’
‘Well perhaps he’d already noticed something scratched there?’
‘No. It wouldn’t have been possible. I mean not from the angle…’
‘Sorry. Is that…? I’ll just…Thanks.’
(Sound of small table being cleared off and moved over towards the sofa.)
‘Were his initials there, then?’
‘Yes. Well, no.’
‘Pardon?’
‘There was a letter, which the girl claimed never to have seen before…’
‘The letter D?’
‘No.’
‘An I?’
‘No…’ Elen cleared her throat, nervously, her voice almost dropping to a whisper. ‘A J. A tiny letter J. Dory claimed it was an I, but written in the Germanic style. Then after he’d said it he kind of…he kind of turned to me and gave me this…this awful look.’
‘A look?’
‘Yes. A kind of a…a mocking look. A loaded look.’
‘Oh.’
Pause
‘Is that dripping driving you mad?’
‘Pardon?’
‘The tap – the dripping tap?’
‘The tap? No. No. I hadn’t actually noticed it.’
Pause
‘So you think it was a J, then?’
‘Yes. I’m absolutely sure of it.’
Another pause
‘Well…’ Beede rattled what Kane presumed to be a teapot, ‘I don’t think we should allow ourselves to get too worked up over this. It was probably just a coincidence. He got lucky. He was flying by the seat of his pants…’
‘But you said the other day…’ Elen lowered her voice to a whisper again ‘…you said that you were worried about fwah fwah fwah-wah fmwah-wah-wah…’
Kane almost choked with frustration at his inability to hear her. ‘I was just being paranoid,’ Beede insisted.
‘But things have become so…so fluid lately. And the meditation’s definitely a part of it. He’s developed this strange routine with a bandage. He winds it around his head – over his eyes and his nose…’
Kane stiffened.
‘…I looked it up in his Pranayama book. There was a picture. It’s called the Six Openings Seal…’
‘I tried to confront him about the yoga the other night,’ Beede interjected, ‘after our conversation at the laundry.’
Huh?
Kane raised his eyebrows.
‘You met up?’ Elen sounded excited. ‘You didn’t say…’
‘Only very briefly.’
Pause
‘He was concerned that he might’ve bruised your arms. He said there were bruises but that you’d hotly denied it…’
Kane flattened both his palms against the door. His jaw tensed. ‘So you talked about the yoga?’ she asked (simply letting the other matter pass).
‘Absolutely. I mentioned that I had some misgivings, that rather than improving matters, his behaviour seemed to be deteriorating…’
‘And how did he respond?’
‘Not well. He seemed very – I don’t know – caught up in the whole thing. He was even keeping some kind of a diary…’
‘Yes,’ Elen interrupted, ‘I often see him scribbling in it.’
‘Have you ever managed to take a peek inside?’
‘No!’ Elen sounded shocked. ‘It’s private. I wouldn’t dream of it.’
‘Of course. Of course…’
Beede sounded embarrassed.
Pause
‘Anyway,’ Beede continued, ‘Dory claimed that there was a technique in the Rosen book which his father had taught him as a child. I couldn’t really get to grips with it – not off-hand – it was all rather convoluted…something to do with…with Witnessing, or being a Witness…’
‘I just wish he’d stop,’ Elen interrupted emphatically.
‘Yes. I know you do.’
Pause
‘Me too.’
Longer pause
Clinking of teacups
‘There was this really awful interlude on the beach…’ Elen finally confided.
‘Really?’
‘Yes. On Winchelsea Beach. Although the first sign of something odd was in Dungeness. He disappeared while we were visiting the lighthouse. He left Fleet and I on the second floor and ran to the very top. I found him outside, on the viewing platform, totally hysterical, hundreds of feet up.’
‘Good God,’ Beede sounded alarmed, ‘you must’ve been terrified.’
‘Yes.’
Silence
Kane scowled, jealously, wondering what signs of tenderness – if any – this silence might contain.
‘Was he coherent?’ Beede finally asked.
‘Almost. He seem obsessed by the power station. He kept telling me that it was in the way. He said it was obscuring the port.’
‘Which port?’
‘Old Winchelsea.’
‘But Winchelsea’s a town. It’s inland.’
‘I know. I said that. He claimed that there was an old town which was washed away during some terrible storm and that they’d moved the port to a hill. He insisted we went to try and find it…’
‘And did you?’
‘Yes.’
‘How was he at this point?’
‘Surprisingly good, really, all things considered…’
‘So you went to the port?’
‘There was no port. We went to the town and he got terribly upset. He ran off again. We eventually found him on the beach. He was wading around in the mud, clowning around in the mud…’
‘He was very bad?’
‘Terrible.’
‘So how on earth did you get him back?’
‘I didn’t. I got into this ridiculous conversation with a local man – a teacher and writer – w
ho lived in this tiny cottage close by. He took a great interest in Fleet. Fleet was being very…I don’t know…difficult…gregarious. Just letting off steam, I guess. He said he had some books about gifted children which he wanted to give us. He was involved in some government-funded organisation…’
‘Hang on a minute…’ Beede sounded incredulous. ‘You mean to tell me that in the midst of all this chaos some total stranger approaches you on the beach and starts up an arbitrary conversation about Fleet’s giftedness?’
‘Yes. I suppose it does sound a little strange…’
‘And Dory was rolling around in the mud, meanwhile?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well how in God’s name did you go about explaining that?’
‘I didn’t. I…I just…’
‘Then you went back to his house?’
Beede seemed astounded.
‘It was right next to the beach…’
‘You went alone?’
‘It was complicated. He’d lost his daughter in the Sudan. I couldn’t get out of it. He’d gathered together this big box of papers and stuff…’
‘But what about Dory? Was it safe to leave him?’
‘Yes. Yes. He’d…I don’t know. It was a difficult situation. Embarrassing. I didn’t want to seem rude so I just quickly went to grab this book from him…’
‘A book or a box of books?’ Beede demanded.
‘Pardon?’
‘You said a box, then you said a book. Which was it?’
Silence
‘This is exactly what Dory did,’ Elen said softly.
‘What?’
‘He kept asking all these questions as though he didn’t believe me.’
Kane almost stopped breathing, he was listening so intently.
Silence
‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ Beede backtracked.
‘It does sound improbable, I know. But it was all completely innocent. It was completely…’
‘Of course it was,’ Beede insisted. ‘Ignore me. I’m just…I’m just fractious, just tired.’
‘He’s got so paranoid now, so suspicious, that he thinks I’m having an affair, that I’m keeping things hidden from him. When we were arguing on the way home he called me a slut. In front of Fleet. He can’t bear being around me. He thinks I’m disgusting…’
‘Stop it!’ Beede chastised her, agonised. ‘Please. Dory wouldn’t say that. Dory wouldn’t think that. How could he?’
‘But it seemed like him, Beede. He started making fun of me – repeating things I’d said in this awful voice – this cruel voice – private things, word for word, like it was all just some kind of horrible joke, some kind of awful game. But I couldn’t play along because I didn’t know what the rules were. I just wanted it to be all right. I just wanted to make it better, and I couldn’t.…’
She broke down.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Beede’s voice was very soft. ‘Put that down…’
(Clanking of a teacup.)
‘Come on, come here…’
Silence
Kane now had his full body-weight pressed up against the door. To all intents and purposes Kane was the door.
Silence
‘How’s your shoulder?’
It was Elen speaking. Her voice sounded husky, as if she’d been crying.
‘It’s fine.’
(Sound of a nose being blown.)
‘I just really, really want things to go back to how they were before.’
‘I know you do. Of course you do.’
‘It was manageable before.’
‘Yes. I know. You’ve been very brave. Very patient. It’s obviously…’
Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by a loud clattering sound.
Holy shit!
Kane leapt back. His phone. His stupid phone had suddenly begun vibrating against the door.
‘What was that?’ Beede asked, sharply.
Before Elen could answer – or Kane could gather himself together – the door had swung open.
‘Kane,’ Beede said.
‘Hi!’ Kane smiled, flushing to his roots, lifting his hand and waving it, like a fatuous, ceramic Chinese cat.
‘What do you want?’ Beede demanded.
‘I’m just heading out,’ Kane pointed to the front door, pulling up the collar on his crombie, ‘I just thought you should…I mean in case you…’
Beede was staring at him, like he’d lost his reason.
‘Gaffar. That little chat…’ Kane stuttered.
‘There’s no rush,’ Beede said coldly, ‘I said later would be fine.’
Kane shrugged. ‘Good. Great. Then I’ll head off.’
He removed his phone from his pocket and glanced down at it.
‘Winifred,’ he exclaimed, glancing up. But the door was already shut.
TEN
The elusive Reverend Jacobs was eventually located – after a helpful tip-off from a garrulous cleaner – cowering under a desk in the tiny Nurses’ Station on an extremely busy Geriatric ward.
‘If Sister finds you here, ducks,’ Kelly warned him, jabbing fondly at his neat rump with one of her crutches, ‘she’ll use ya knackers for door-jams.’
‘Kelly!’ the Reverend exclaimed, abruptly lifting his head (and inadvertently smacking it into the desk’s small drawer). ‘How delightful to see you!’
‘If he can see you from down there,’ Gaffar observed (with typically implacable logistical acuity), ‘then he’s got eyes in his arse.’
The Reverend slowly backed his way out (trying his utmost to retain what little remained of his dignity). ‘I was actually searching for a pencil,’ he said.
‘Here…’ Kelly grabbed one from the desk-top.
‘I mean I dropped one…,’ he continued, vaguely. ‘Oh…Thanks.
Fantastic. Now I can finish off that pesky crossword…’
‘This is Gaffar,’ Kelly said, as Gaffar politely assisted him to his feet, ‘I told you all about him, remember?’
‘Yes. Absolutely. Charmed to meet you…‘
The Reverend dusted off his knees, tightened his dressing-gown belt and then offered Gaffar his hand.
‘How do you do?’ he enquired, eyeing Gaffar’s bruises somewhat trepidatiously.
‘He don’t always talk like he got a fist up ‘is jacksie,’ Kelly nudged Gaffar, confidingly, ‘just most of the time, like.’
Gaffar sniggered. The Reverend shot her a dark look.
‘So guess what?’ she demanded.
‘What?’
‘The doc says they’re finally gonna send me packin’…’
‘Wonderful news!’ the Reverend clasped his hands together, thrilled.
‘…Which means I can hang down here wiv’ you all day,’ Kelly prattled on blithely, ‘readin’ the Scriptures an’ shit.’
‘Oh…’ The Reverend’s joy rapidly dissipated. ‘Marvellous.’
Kelly’s phone started ringing (the tone having been recently altered to How Great Thou Art). She took it out and inspected it.
‘Mum,’ she growled, flashing the screen briefly in Gaffar’s direction. ‘I ain’t answerin’. Linda should be there by eleven, an’ I got bigger fish to fry…’
The Reverend stared at her, disapprovingly.
‘God’s Will an’ all that,’ Kelly shrugged, slipping the phone into her pocket.
The Reverend turned. ‘I think you’ll soon discover,’ he told her tartly, leading them both back out on to the ward again, ‘that not everything you think and feel can simply be attributed to God.’
‘Why not?’ Kelly demanded, hopping along behind him.
‘Because it can’t. If everything you ever thought and felt could be attributed to God then you would be God…’ he shot her a scathing look, ‘and I can hardly imagine The Almighty teaming moon boots and a mini-skirt.’
‘Huh?’
Kelly inspected her outfit, offended.
The Reverend flounced over to his bed and flopped down on to it.
‘So…’ Kelly gazed around her, inquisitively ‘…they’ve gone an’ stuck you on a ward wiv’ a load of pissy, old farts, eh?’
Comic pause
‘Well at least someone in this shithole’s finally got you pegged right!’
She elbowed Gaffar in the ribs, snorting. Gaffar winced.
‘I don’t believe God would’ve said that, for example,’ the Reverend snapped.
Gaffar pulled out a chair and helped Kelly to sit down on it.
‘So what would God say?’ Kelly demanded. ‘Just tell me an’ I’ll say it.’
‘God would say that he loves all of his subjects equally – young and old – although he’s especially devoted to the sick and the needy…’
‘That’s a crock for starters,’ Kelly interrupted.
‘How so?’
Kelly shrugged. ‘Well he either loves everyone the same or he don’t.’
‘When God created man,’ the Reverend’s voice took on a preaching tone, ‘he granted us a free will…’
Gaffar picked up a bottle of cologne from the Reverend’s bedside table and inspected the label. The lid promptly fell off and rolled under the bed. He bent down to retrieve it.
‘…so in all the decisions we make,’ the Reverend continued, irritably, ‘in all the things we say and do – God gives us the choice to lean either way: towards good or towards evil…’
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