Wednesday, February 5th 1941, 9.38 pm.
The small figure ran hunched over, head swinging, both arms wide and flapping like some clumsy flightless bird that still thought it might leave the ground one day. Marigold was on his third zigzag, almost half way across the field and knew Caretaker was growing impatient. Marigold risked looking back and Caretaker waved him away then, in the glare of a headlamp, pointed at his watch. Marigold nodded, almost fell then stumbled on. Ten minutes later he stopped at the field’s northern fence, turned a slow circle then started back, the leather thong round his neck making its burden swing.
Caretaker leaned back against his car, lifted the microphone and said, ‘Here it comes.’
Marigold’s face set in a grimace, expecting pain. The radio sizzled loudly and a voice said, ‘Silly bugger; there has to be an easier way.’
Caretaker said, ‘Not according to him…Ouch! There it is.’ He made a disgusted sound through his nose. ‘So it’s eight for eight this week. Send the usual bollocks to disposal then tell the boss I’ll be back at twenty-three hundred plus or minus if this lunatic hasn’t hanged himself.’
The voice said, ‘Roger. Watch those lights.’
‘I’m not new to this, sergeant.’
‘Sorry sir.’
Caretaker switched the radio off and sighed; then looked down and began to pick his way across muddy ground towards the fallen man as if his Wellington boots had to stay clean.
***
Present day
Vickie tapped a knuckle on Sam’s skull and when the girl turned a pained face up to her said, ‘If I have to tell you again, it’s the coal-hammer not my dainty little fingers.’
Sam rubbed the place. ‘Dainty, since when?’
‘Who’s paying for those ridiculously expensive jeans?’
‘You and Jane.’
‘So how long have I had dainty little fingers?’
‘Always.’
Vickie leaned back and smiled; the one with teeth. She said, ‘We have such a wonderful relationship, darling; you’re almost like a daughter to me.’
‘I’d rather die.’
Sam grinned up from her position cross-legged on the carpet and Vickie ruffled the thick, dark hair then said, lowering her voice, ‘Just keep it gentle when Jane comes back; please.’
Sam swivelled on her bottom and pointed at the television. ‘I can’t help it; he’s such a liar.’
‘Politicians dissemble; have truth short-falls at the worst. They don’t lie.’
‘Shit!’
‘Or that. They’re a completely different species to the rest of us.’
Sam nodded hard. ‘From the face, I’d believe it.’
Vickie reached for the remote control, saying, ‘I’m sure his mother loves him; the un-dead are very caring I’m told.’
They were giggling when Jane came back into the lounge. She moved across to the second easy chair, flopped down then looked at Vickie and said, ‘I heard all that.’
‘Us or him?’
‘Both; and he was telling what he thinks is the truth about the percentage reduction and lying in his teeth about the cost.’
Sam hugged her knees and said, ‘How do you know that?’
‘I just do.’
Sam began drumming her fingers on the tight denim and said, ‘My tutor thinks this clown is a coming man. What do you reckon?’
Jane reached for the wad of papers beside her chair, hesitated for a moment then said, ‘He’s good: plenty of sincerity about long term plans; he even believes part of it.’ She looked at the silent screen. ‘But the body movement lets him down. I’d say he’s been studying with some spin doctor who spends more time with priests than he does with politicians.’
Sam laughed incredulously and Vickie put the set on stand-by. As the screen darkened, she said, ‘Ok, that’s the party trick done for this evening.’ She poked Sam with a foot. ‘Let Jane work now. Don’t you have some obscene music to listen to?’
Sam bounced up from the floor in one quick movement and said, ‘It takes all the fun out of it when you don’t disapprove.’
Vickie slapped her bottom. ‘Life’s hard, kid; disappear.’
Sam walked away, rubbing the place and trying for a misunderstood expression.
Vickie waited until her footsteps hammered on the stairs, then said, ‘How’s the pain?’
Jane gave her a cross-eyed grin. ‘Painful, but I’m soldiering on.’
‘And the ear?’
‘Noisy.’
‘Taken one of your magic caps?’
‘Two.’
‘Is that wise?’
‘They’re herbal, what harm can they do?’
Vickie sighed then stood up, saying, ‘Let’s not get into that again.’
‘I trust him.’
‘Do you want some coffee?’ Vickie moved towards the door.
‘Why not?’ Jane tried for a smile at her sister’s retreating back. ‘You think I was showing off to Sam.’
Vickie shrugged, still walking away. ‘She’s seventeen going on eleven right now and thinks you’re wonderful; easy to play into it.’
‘If I wanted to bask in admiration, I’d buy a dog.’
Vickie stopped and looked at her sister. ‘Ok, that priest thing; were you serious?’
Jane thought about it then said, ‘Yes; probably.’
‘You’re not sure?’
‘It’s all subjective: hunches and experience. That’s what I felt.’
Vickie said, fingers rubbing the door’s varnished wood, ‘You don’t even realise, do you?’
‘Realise what?’
Vickie walked through to the kitchen and made a lot of work from placing the kettle onto its base plate then said, ‘It’s all the time now: you comment on everything. Everyone’s a liar.’
Jane stood up and followed. Close enough to touch her sister she said, ‘That’s unfair.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘I don’t comment unless I’m asked.’
‘Rose Calhoun? The Daniels boy?’
‘Usually only when I’m asked.’
Vickie reached up for coffee mugs. ‘And now she knows you do it, Sam never stops asking.’
‘I hadn’t noticed.’ Jane knew that was a wrong answer by the noise their mugs made hitting the work top. Rubbing her sister’s shoulder, she added,’ ‘Ok, sorry. I’ll try to stop slandering people.’
Vickie shook her head again, harder ‘Not that, I don’t even think its slander when it’s true, is it?’
‘If you can prove it.’
Turning to the kettle as it rattled to a boil, Vickie said, ‘It’s not how true it is, just that you do it and sound so ….’
‘Mad?’
Vickie jerked round and glared at her. ‘No. So sure, as if it’s totally obvious.’
‘Well it is.’
‘To you!’ She poked Jane with a stiff finger. ‘Just to you. The rest of us live in the real world: we don’t care much about what’s lies and what’s not. As far as I’m concerned all politicians tell you what they want you to hear; that’s it. We all know they put a spin on the facts. That’s normal.’
‘Not if you’re trained to hear between the words.’
‘Like you.’
‘Like me.’
Vickie’s eyes searched Jane’s face. She said, ‘Who else does this like…like you?’
‘All of us working on the project in AMH, in our various ways. That’s the job: we sort the wheat from the chafe. It requires a fair amount of skill.’
‘Skill.’ Vickie’s voice held doubt.
Jane didn’t want to think about that and bent to the fridge saying, ‘It costs nearly five thousand for a complete course; and we have to get results if the grant is to be renewed.’
‘I don’t need the party line.’
Jane straightened her back holding a two litre carton of semi-skimmed milk. ‘Sorry, but it’s important to us. Gracewell put a lot of time into this.’
‘So did you.’
‘Yes, but he’s the one with the doctorate. I’m just part of the poor bloody infantry. No government department is going to take notice of anything I say.’
‘Although you’ve seen about ten times more cases than Gracewell.’
‘Quantity isn’t necessarily, or even often, quality. He’s the man.’
Vickie pulled Jane round and milk splashed between their cups. She said, ‘If I thought you believed that about Gracewell, I’d….’ She saw the grin on her sister’s face and relaxed saying, ‘You can be such a bitch!’
Jane ripped off a piece of kitchen paper from the roll and mopped oozing milk as she said, ‘Red rags and bulls have nothing on Gracewell and you.’
‘He’s a sanctimonious, back stabbing, self-serving, arrogant arsehole.’
‘And my boss.’
‘Doing the job they promised you.’
‘We’ve been through all this. I didn’t have the credibility that grant needed.’
‘A year ago you were ready to sink that charity for the way they treated you.’
‘I matured.’
Vickie picked up her coffee, took a sip and looked at Jane over the cup rim then said, ‘You changed, I’ll give you that.’
‘When permanent pain goes away, it lets you think of non-angry things. I owe him a lot. If he hadn’t made that offer I don’t know where I might be now.’ Jane watched her sister’s face change expression, knew where they were headed but couldn’t stop herself. ‘And then of course, there’s your personal favourite: Gracewell got to me and doped up my sugar lump before the race started; not trying to help me at all.’
‘Don’t start.’
Jane caught movement in the darkness outside and knew she had to twist their joke before something worse happened.
She said, ‘You know what you think is borderline paranoid. Lighten up.’
Vickie glared at her, put the coffee down too carefully and said, ‘I warned you about saying that again. Good night.’
Jane watched her walk, stiff-backed to the stairs, slumped onto the kitchen stool and listened until her sister’s going to bed noises started; then switched off the light and put both hands to her head. She thought that as disasters went this wasn’t the worst; at least she’d pulled Vickie away from the thing that frightened her sister most. Jane’s head wanted to turn and she made it stop; telling herself that ‘thing’ didn’t mean the huge yellow creature staring in at her through the kitchen window.
As Jane reached for the ignition; a familiar figure walked across their garage gate opening. The flutter in her stomach and her palm tapping the horn came in the same instant. Gavin flinched then looked round.
Murmuring, ‘That was really stupid,’ Jane lifted a hand and waved it close to the misting windscreen.
Gavin hunched forward, peered into the car and smiled. She smiled back and he straightened, pushed the wavy brown hair back from his forehead and walked the five paces that brought him to Jane’s window.
She buzzed it down as he reached her and said, ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.’
‘No problem.’ He glanced from her face to the road then back again and said, ‘Was that a ‘get out of my way’ toot; or a ‘Hi, do you want a lift,’ toot?’
Jane could tell he was joking but couldn’t keep the heat from her cheeks. She said, ‘You’re welcome to a lift.’ Then as he made no sign of moving. ‘I…I didn’t know you lived round here.’
Gavin gestured right with the jerk of a thumb, saying, ‘I rented a flat near Duke’s Parade. My car’s in for service but I didn’t tell my alarm clock, so….’
Jane nodded. ‘So we’ll both be late unless we go right now.’
‘Sounds like a plan.’
She watched him move round the front of the car thinking that the excitement in her stomach was embarrassing for a woman of her age; in fact for any female over the age of thirteen. But he was so damn gorgeous; and from what Gracewell had said, unmarried.
She muttered, ‘For God’s sake; get your mind out of your knickers,’ as Gavin reached for the passenger door.
He slid onto the seat making it look easy, looked at her and asked, ‘Did you say something?’
Jane shook her head, ‘Just thinking out loud.’
He smiled again and fastened his seat belt. Jane looked down at the pedals and had to tell herself silently how they all worked.
Sam answered her phone, tone full of laughter. Jane heard young people talking in the background, raised her voice a little and said, ‘Hi, it’s me.’
Sam whispered something then said, ‘Hi, what can I do for you?’
‘I was going to offer you lunch, but if you’re busy…’
‘No, lunch would be nice. I’ve got nothing holding me here that a cold shower wouldn’t solve.’
Jane heard a boy laugh too loud close to the phone. She said, ‘Are you ok?’
‘Sure; just this spotty guy gawping at my tits.’
‘Nothing new then.’
A boy’s voice said, ‘Coming to Paul’s, Sammo? He’s got some new rips. Chill and view?’
Jane said, ‘No!’
Sam said, ‘What?’
‘Don’t go with him.’
There was a small silence then Sam said loudly, ‘Piss off Scutter!’ The background voices quietened and choppy breathing told Jane her niece had begun to walk. Then Sam said, ‘What was all that about?’
‘Just don’t go with him.’
‘I wouldn’t, he’s a twenty-four carat freak.’ Jane could almost hear the girl’s mind working as Sam took a few more paces then she said, ‘Did you pick up something in his voice? That’s so cool!’
‘Nothing. It must be the heat getting to me.’
‘It’s freezing.’
‘Lack of heat then.’
‘If you say so.’ Jane heard her sigh as if she’d sat down. Sam said, ‘Ok, tell me. What did you hear?’
‘Forget it.’
‘I have classes with him. I have a right to know if he’s off the wall.’
‘I only heard about ten words.’
‘What’s your point?’
Jane took the phone from her ear, looked at it as if that might help then put it back and said, ‘Just something off centre. He had another agenda.’
Sam giggled then said, ‘Tell me about it. Some of these idiots, you don’t blow them off and they think you’re up for a shag.’
‘Don’t be coy, say what you mean.’
Sam giggled then said, ‘Hey, that reminds me. I spoke to my tutor about Count Dracula.’
‘Who?’
‘That talking head we saw last night on television. He said you were right: the new guy they have is out of the USA; fresh from helping some big time evangelical group.’
‘You told him what I said?’
‘Naw, I pretended it was me being intuitive. He was so impressed I thought he was going to kiss me.’
Jane worked for light hearted and said, ‘Is that a good thing?’
‘Totally.’
‘I’m happy for you. Now hang up and I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Usual place?’
‘Yes. Love you.’
Sam disconnected and Jane looked at her phone again, knew it for a dramatic gesture but took comfort of a sort from staring at the silver case.
A voice close to her ear said loudly, ‘Is that thing talking dirty to you again?’
Jane pulled away from the car window yelping, ‘Bloody hell!’ She looked up. ‘Why not shout at me?’
The round face grinned. ‘Sorry, thought you were a bit deaf.’
‘Not that deaf.’
The young man nodded and rested both hands on the window sill. He said, ‘Are you back this afternoon?’
Jane shook her head. ‘A visit near Hallenbury. It’s in the book.’
‘You know I can’t read unless it’s on a screen.’
‘I forgot.’ Jane reached for the window button. ‘Get your paws off my car and go away, Max.’
‘You could buy me lunch.’
‘I already have a lunch date.’
‘Can I come?’ Jane pressed a button and the window began to rise. Max stepped back and said, ‘A simple no would have done.’
‘What didn’t you understand about ‘go away’?’
Max grinned. Jane dropped her phone on the passenger seat, put the car in gear and rolled it towards the car park entrance wishing again that the scars on her ear didn’t so easily remind people that she had a hearing problem. Turning left towards town she looked at the thought, wondering if it was bigotry. She said, ‘Handicap-ist’ out loud to test the feel of it. There was nothing much as usual; just the resentment that she carried a sign, letting people believe they could define her. Jane thought about that one and smiled to herself, thinking that if the other problem was visible she’d be in real trouble.
Sam climbed out of the car, tugged at the seat of her jeans then turned and bent to look through the open door. She said, ‘I choose, right?’ She transferred a hand to her crotch.
Jane said, ‘If those new pants are so uncomfortable, why wear them?’
Same straightened; grinning and said, ‘A real lady would have pretended not to notice.’
Jane climbed out and set the central locking. She said, ‘And a nice girl wouldn’t adjust her underwear in public.’
Sam turned arms wide. ‘Public? This is a people-free multi-storey car park.’
Jane looked at the rows of cars. ‘I can see three that are occupied.’
Sam walked out into the central driveway, calling, ‘Where?’
Jane yelped, ‘Get over here! Don’t embarrass them.’
Sam came back and said, ‘Ok, where? I don’t see anyone.’
Jane waved a hand. ‘Fogged windows; maybe you’re too young.’
Sam clicked her fingers and as usual they didn’t make a sound. ‘The lunch time shaggers! Right!’
She turned to look again and Jane tugged on the hood of her coat pulling her backwards.
She said, ‘This way brat, before we get set upon.’
They walked up three flights of stairs to the restaurant area. Jane began to relax with the girl at her side, anticipating pleasure to come: the frank admiration in people’s faces; the gentle smiles as they watched her talk to Sam and thought they were seeing a mummy’s best girl. In the five months Sam had been living with them while her parents were in Africa, she had been a joy that Jane savoured with only the smallest touch of guilt. She knew this child was the daughter she had always wanted.
She glanced at Sam’s beautiful profile and could visualise the expression on Martin’s face if he could see her now. There would be spite, fuelled by the guilt she had never intended to put on him. And he wouldn’t be able to resist telling her Sam was just a niece with nowhere better to go. Jane held the picture of that in her mind and let it festoon with memory of countless, poisonous arguments in their two years of marriage.
Sam said, ‘What was that about Martin?’
Jane nearly stumbled then said, ‘What?’
Sam put out a hand to steady her aunt, face uncertain. ‘You said, ‘sorry, Martin’.’
‘God, I’m going senile.’
‘Nah; thirty-four is too young. Settle for crazy.’ Sam reached for the door handle at the top of the stairs but didn’t turn it, giving Jane no choice but to stop. She said, ‘Why are you sorry?’
‘Just thinking about him. Divorce doesn’t stop the thoughts.’
Jane pushed on the door and they walked into bright light and noise.
Sam followed, stood for a moment, looking round then said, ‘Potato in its jacket with cheese, onions and chilli, I think; and a double, full sugar Sprite.’
‘God, I’ll keep the windows open on the way back.’
Sam made a face and squeezed Jane’s hand then said, ‘You go and line up and I’ll grab that table by the fountain.’
Jane smiled and turned away. The yellow creature stared at her. It crouched near the wall, one joint-less arm pointing out into the seating area. In her head, Jane screamed. The voice levels around her dropped as if something had put soft hands over her ears. Jane told herself it was a mistake. It didn’t appear to her in places like this. She stepped through the creature, denying it with everything her brain could generate. Pain took her an inch below the navel. Jane gasped and bent forward, one hand touching the thing’s slick skin.
Sam’s voice slashed through the rest, shouting, ‘Jane!’ She looked at the girl. Sam said; face shocked, ‘What are you doing?’ Jane’s eyes followed where she was pointing and saw her hand on the plastic surface of a child’s ride: a small, plump, doe-eyed yellow elephant, trunk pointing at her groin.
She clamped her teeth together until it hurt then said, ‘I didn’t see it.’
Sam sniggered. ‘Well, I didn’t think you were trying to commit Hara Kari.’ She pulled on her aunt’s hand. ‘Come away, before you embarrass me to death; God.’
Jane let herself be pulled to a table and sat down on the nearest chair; mind working too hard for anything but compliance.
Sam said, ‘You stay here. I’ll get the food. What do you want?’
Jane wanted to vomit but managed to say, ‘Coffee and a toasted cheese sandwich.’
Sam nodded, turned and walked away.
Jane tried to focus her eyes on the girl as she moved towards the service bars. Looking at that slim young body as she joined the line, Jane told herself Sam was no substitute child where all emotions could be safely focused; no barrier between Jane Stapleford and permanent terror. But the need to have this girl close felt so intense and so infantile at that moment, it closed her throat. She clamped both hands on the table edge and begged the emotions to stop then cursed herself silently but it didn’t help; just intensified the self-contempt.
Jane looked round, visualising reactions from the people who sat close by if she cried as loudly as her body demanded. Sam glanced across and smiled, one arm lifting slightly to wiggle fingers at chest level. Jane thought, please don’t do that; don’t make it any easier to lose control.
Two black youths stepped into her line of sight and stopped, looking at Sam then moved behind her and one made stroking gestures two feet from her buttocks. The other nudged him and produced a mobile phone. Jane watched the two position themselves and knew they were setting up a dirty film.
As the one with both hands free moved them for the shot, Jane said, aloud, ‘Thank you,’ stood up, pushed her chair back and started towards the counter.
The youth yelped in falsetto as Jane snatched the camera from him. The other took a step back.
Jane said, ‘You dirty little bastards!’ The first youth reached for his camera and Jane said, ‘One more move and I’ll stuff it down your throat!’
Behind her, Sam asked, ‘What’s going on?’
Without looking at her, Jane said, ‘These sportsmen were taking pictures of your backside!’
The smaller youth said, ‘What’s it to you?’
Jane said, ‘She’s my daughter, you toe-rag!’
The two youths looked at each other. The camera owner glanced at Jane’s hand and said, ‘Give it back.’
Jane said, ‘How about I toss it over the balcony and you go and pick up the pieces?’
The smaller youth said, ‘Then we’ll have you done for a racist attack.’
Jane poked him with the phone. ‘And I’ll report you for assault by camera. Didn’t anyone ever tell you doing that is illegal, you pervert?’
The phone owner stared at her while he released a noisy breath then snatched the tiny box from Jane’s hand and the two youths sprinted for the stairs.
Sam came into Jane’s peripheral vision as they disappeared and said, ‘Wow!
Jane said, ‘Little yobs!’
‘Not so little; they were both bigger than you.’
‘I was talking intellectually.’
‘Oh, that’s all right then.’ She smiled and added, ‘I’m your daughter am I?’
‘Honorary, ‘til your mother gets home.’
‘That’s very nice.’ She tapped her aunt’s arm hard. ‘Are you back in the real world now?’ The smile grew as she watched Jane’s face. ‘I thought I might need a séance to reach you, the way you looked five minutes ago.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘A little threat cum violence does that for you?’
‘Can’t beat it.’
‘As long as I know.’ Sam turned to the counter as a steaming dish of potato and toppings slid towards her. Then she looked at Jane and said, ‘Ok, let’s talk about something really important. Has that hot new guy tried to get into your pants yet?’
Jane resisted the impulse to put a hand over Sam’s mouth and said in a whisper, ‘Kindly keep your inappropriate interest in my non-existent sex life to yourself.’
Sam grinned at her. ‘So, that’s a no then. Oh well, early days.’