[Phoenix Court 02] - Does It Show?

by Paul Magrs

  ‘It’s very sweet of you to ask, but Penny has her own travelling to do.’

  * * *

  This walk tonight put Penny in mind of where she and her father had walked in Durham. Forests by the river, winding through hilly, ageless countryside. On nights when their pretend laundry seemed dull or the car outside too claustrophobic, they took torches and explored the misty, squelching woods. Not for nature rambles. Neither of them were into nature. In the dark you could see nothing anyway. They went for the atmosphere and the magic. She was never afraid of the dark places with her father there. She grew up with a high tolerance of fear. Tonight Andy was jumpy. Vince was stroppy, quiet and drinking. Penny wandered along, quite at home.

  In the forest when she was little there were particular magical places. Her father gave these names for her, some of them based around books she had read. Once, when she said a leafy gap in a hedge led to Narnia, he pulled a face. He said she should watch out for people with a subtext. He thought Narnia was too much like godbothering. Penny didn’t really know what he meant. It was just magical to her. She didn’t see why it had to be exclusively Christian, middle-class or elitist, even if her father did.

  She could see him here tonight, her father, standing in the blue light at the foot of the ash tree. Andy was crouching there, staring at the moon. Her father was in his intermediary stage, very thin and skeleton pale. It was as if he was waiting to put on new flesh, new clothes.

  But aren’t you off up the motorway with the bus driver? she wanted to ask. Here heshe was, making herself apparent.

  Do you know who you’re like? she thought, gazing at Liz’s blue and gold smear of light in the glade. You’re like Alec Guinness in Return of the Jedi, coming back as a know-it-all ghost. Shimmering and edifying and explaining the past. Use the force, Luke. Or you’re like Marlon Brando and Suzannah York in Superman: the Movie. When they made holograms of themselves for their son when he grew up to be Superman. All around them Krypton is burning and Marlon and Suzannah are emptying crystals of knowledge and advice into the baby’s crib. That’s what you’re like, Dad, Mam, Liz.

  Liz was saying, ‘This light is from the moon, Penny. Sometimes the moon is said to be entirely feminine. This is wrong. This kind of light is the harshest to be under; it is the light women are often under. In this sense it is feminine. It is the light that forces you to reflect upon yourself, as the sun reflects upon it, as the day reflects upon night. Where we are now, we might as well be on the moon. When you were born, I told you you would go there, didn’t I?’

  She looked at her blackened, lightning-struck fingerends. Did she still believe a single word he said? Oh, but his tone was seductive. She would listen to anything he said.

  And here I am, in moonlight once more. Andy here, Vince here. Andy was scrutinising the bark of the ash. ‘There are so many things living in a tree,’ he said. His voice was harsh. His face was wet with tears. She had seen before, as they walked through the woods, that he was upset. She hadn’t know what to say to him at all. Something was going on between him and Vince. Vince didn’t seem to care. This reminded her that she hadn’t seen him for a few minutes.

  Penny followed a familiar hissing noise across the glade and through the rough, sticky grass. There was an enclosure, accessible by a narrow gulley through the trees. Here she found Vince, the hissing sound petering out, standing nonchalant at the mouth of this hidden province.

  Penny pushed him aside. ‘Vince! You’ve been pissing on Narnia!’

  He tucked himself back in with an amused laugh. ‘Yeah, right.’ He walked off to see what Andy was doing.

  Andy was staring at the insects lining the bark. In the moonlight they were glowing, globular bodies invested with a radiance of their own. They ran up his wrists, into his jacket. He didn’t try to stop them. Four-legged insects with antlers, black eyes, in primary colours.

  ‘I’m going back to my roots,’ he breathed.

  ‘Typical. I have a piss, you have an epiphany.’ Vince walked away from him. ‘You were always seeing things I wasn’t.’

  Only Penny was listening to him as he tramped away, back out of the dell.

  It was a wonderful surprise. Not really a surprise, but wonderful. The Dog Man did what he said he was going to do.

  I love him more than ever. He brought our disguises in from work with him. I have just tried mine on and I look terrific. Now I’m waiting for him to show me his.

  Fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking bloody hell!

  It was backbreaking work. Jane had to pull herself across the slanting landscape like a bear on all fours. Her tights were in shreds, she had leaves in her hair, and she was swearing like a bastard. It felt good to have a good swear. When you’ve got kids you can’t swear. You have to pretend that it’s only kids who swear.

  Fucking fucking fucking nothing! Not a sausage. Not a single scrap of evidence that Nesta hadn’t simply shot off to Barbados or somewhere for a while like that Shirley Valentine in the film. Jane had liked that video. She’d watched it with Fran and a couple of bottles of Country Manor one Sunday afternoon. They both thought that whoever wrote it must have known a lot about women and what they have to put up with. ‘Don’t you wish you could just piss off to Greece then, Fran?’

  ‘I haven’t got the guts to do that. Who has?’

  Jane got up to wind the tape back. She knocked on the window to stop the kids kicking their ball against the wall. They’d hit the glass three times during the film. You can’t watch anything in peace. ‘But someone must have. That must have been drawn from real-life experience, mustn’t it? It looked just like real life.’

  ‘I suppose someone must have done it, some time.’

  Now it looked like Nesta had gone and done it. Maybe Shirley bloody Valentine wasn’t all that real after all. It didn’t show all her family and friends — even the ones who never liked her much — searching the countryside, rummaging in the bins for her. On the film she had written a letter, she had been clever. Nesta could barely write her name. And everyone knows, film actors and actresses are posh in real life. They pretend to be stupid and common.

  ‘Shirley!’ Jane yelled out. ‘I mean — Nesta!’ She sighed out loud. She was so pissed off now that she didn’t care any more. From behind some nearby bushes a policeman shushed her. Oh. Right. They were doing important work, remember.

  Wanker! Bending up double again, she went on looking, even though it was dark and she wasn’t sure what the object was. In a minute I’ll look for Fran, offer to take the kids home.

  The policeman had sidled over. ‘Hello,’ he said.

  Fuck off, she mouthed.

  ‘How’s it going?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, you know. Nothing as yet, but we’ve got to keep going, haven’t we?’ She cursed herself for simpering. She took a good look at the policeman. She didn’t like men in uniforms. She’d gone right off bus drivers. And as for that wanker in the camouflage pants next door, playing kids’ games… Still, this one didn’t look so bad. About thirty-five, pudgy, a nice beard and friendly, squinty eyes.

  ‘When… um…?’

  ‘Yes?’

  His single um prevented any further simpering; it put her straight in pole position. He was obviously being coy. Jane straightened up. God, don’t let him be a pervert dressed up as a copper.

  ‘I was thinking, when all this is over, would you fancy coming out for a quiet drink somewhere?’

  ‘With you?’ She started looking for the nearest streetlamp. ‘Oh, right. OK, as soon as we find the dismembered corpse of my best friend in the whole world, then we’ll fill in a few forms, get her carted off, and pop off for a quick half and a shag.’

  She stalked off towards the footpath, the chalky streetlights. He called after her, ‘I didn’t mean it like that!’

  ‘It didn’t sound like it.’ She carried on. People like him just came out with stuff. It was as if they had nothing to cover up. It really narked her. They didn’t care how it came out or what effect
it had. There were people like that and people who hid the things they wanted. They kept them closer to their hearts because they were scared. Only occasionally were those things, or the ghosts of those desires, brought out for people to see. It was these people who seemed to have the worst time of all. Jane knew.

  She saw that Fran and Frank were standing under a streetlamp some way along the path. They had all seven children with them. All of them were crying or shouting or whingeing. Fran and Frank were arguing, sealed against the darkness in their envelope of light; they couldn’t see Jane as she approached.

  Turning back to the policeman, Jane said, ‘I want your name, your serial number and your address.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet.’ They stood thirty yards apart, shouting to be heard above the kids’ increasing racket. ‘Write it down and pass me it before I catch up with my friends and my children.’ He became cagey and did as he was told. I only asked her out, for Christ’s sake. Children, for Christ’s sake. No, that’s cool. I can deal with someone having kids. ‘What’s this for?’ he asked worriedly, squelching down the hill to hand her the note. Jane took it with a smile, looked at it and started walking away again.

  She said, ‘I’m not sure yet whether I’ll report you or fuck you. Anyhow, Bob, I’ll be in touch.’

  She picked her way determinedly towards the sodium umbrella of light to rejoin Fran and Frank and Peter and Vicki and Jeff and Lyndsey and Tracey and Kerry and the baby who, Fran was finding, needed changing again.

  ‘Liz, don’t make me beg you.’

  Cliff was trying to grab her attention from the pinpricks of light on the black ceiling. She ignored him, surveying the fake night sky over the fake Greek fishing village. They were standing on a fibreglass humpbacked bridge, a shallow pool before them.

  Clustered around were tavernas bulging with custom, shoppers sucking on bottles of Newcastle Brown. The shops, disguised as peasants’ hovels, were closing down for the night: the toy-train specialist, the Egyptian jewellery specialist, and the perfumed pic-n-mix confectioners with the inflatable pink lips stuck in the window.

  ‘I won’t make you beg me.’

  ‘Good.’ He relaxed. He looks good in a Greek fishing village, she thought. Even an indoors one. Dead Mediterranean. ‘Because I won’t give you the opportunity to.’

  Cliff paused a beat. Suddenly the hollow bridge seemed a long way up. He was looking down on the dusty tavernas from a great height. The family groups, the thirsty pensioners, the lads starting out on a night on the piss — everyone craned their necks, staring at his predicament.

  ‘What does that mean?’ He was carrying all their shopping bags. ‘Yes or no? Will you run away with me or not?’

  Liz had decided on a one-syllable reply. She stopped looking at the underbright stars and gave him a brilliant smile.

  Peter flew into Jane’s arms as soon as she stepped into the light. He was a sensitive child, not used to the racket that the others were making. ‘I don’t believe you!’ Fran was yelling. ‘I sent you to buy sweets for the bairns and you come back with bloody Strongbow!’

  Frank was very nearly coherent. ‘I thought it would be useful if we found Nesta. It’s what she drinks, isn’t it? We could sort of… revive her.’

  Jane broke in, ‘She drank Woodpecker anyway…’

  ‘Can we go home now, Mam?’ Peter asked the side of her neck, where his face was pressed. ‘I’ve had enough of this now.’

  ‘We’ve all had enough,’ she said and tried again to intercede but Frank was getting annoyed. ‘Look, I’ve put myself right on the line for you and your stupid bloody friend today —’

  ‘She’s not my bloody friend

  ‘Getting me out of work early an’ that. Don’t say I don’t do owt, ’cause I came straight home when you asked me to.’ Fran conceded the point, tried to come back, as did Jane, but Frank continued.

  ‘Gary didn’t leave work. That slimy sod didn’t offer to help. He’ll be buggering up all my good work.’

  Fran had stopped dead with her mouth open. Frank hammered the point home.

  ‘Yeah, maybe you’d rather be married to someone like that Gary. Someone who doesn’t give a shit. But his wife left him, didn’t she? Took the kid and left him. So what would you —’ He stopped, noticing her expression. ‘What’s the matter now?’ Even the kids had fallen quiet, looking at Fran, who was staring at Jane. At last she said, ‘Gary. Gary didn’t come on the search party.’

  ‘Yeah? So?’ Frank asked. ‘He’s a wanker.’

  Fran blinked, looking down as if she had something in her eye. Jane felt she knew something Fran knew, and couldn’t figure it out.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Fran with a brief smile. She took little Jeffs hand. ‘It’s getting really late. Let’s all go and find out whether this search is any nearer being called off.’

  This is so much better than my wildest dreams. We’re going out tonight in our disguises.

  Then we’ll wear our disguises all night, all tomorrow and the day after. By then we’ll have forgotten who we used to be. We’ll be our new people.

  It’s going outside that’ll do this to us. Inside we could be anyone, anywhere. When there’s just the two of us to see. It could just be a pack of lies. We could both be mad, even, and not like real people at all. But not when we go out. When we go out in our disguises, then people will see us.

  The Dog Man said, ‘This will fix our new identities.’ He means being seen by people outside will make us into what they see us as. I like that. It’s all people outside are good for.

  That and for giving you bottles of milk. But you have to beg off them. I hate that. I would like to give. It must make you feel great.

  Tonight I gave the Dog Man his milk. I put it in a saucer on the top landing. He came to get it and I kicked it away from him. It flew down the stairs, milk all over his carpet. He went away for a bit to be angry.

  When he came back he was calm again. He knows he has to be calm. It’s in our rules. Then he said, ‘Let’s put our disguises on,’ and I could see he was excited.

  So I said, ‘All right.’

  ‘Compromise, compromise, compromise.’

  ‘But we always have to compromise.’ Liz didn’t want to argue about it. She slung their shopping into the bag compartment and Cliff, still muttering, eased himself back into the driver’s seat. It was dark outside. Other buses with their blue fridge lights were moving in and out of the station.

  People were drifting towards their stand.

  ‘Close the doors,’ Liz instructed, sitting down. She crossed her legs. The doors shut with a pneumatic hiss. The people heading towards them with their carriers from Burtons, House of Fraser, St Michael and their soggy parcels from McDonald’s, frowned in puzzlement. They pressed in closer to see.

  ‘I’m going to be in deep fucking shit over this,’ Cliff said. It was the first time she had really heard him swear. He must be under stress, under duress. Bless him. He should try being under a dress.

  ‘We’ll ditch the bus in Kendal. On the way.’

  He looked around, shoulders hunched at the wheel. Someone banged on the doors with a brolly and was ignored. ‘But the Lake District, though… we could escape to anywhere . ..’

  Liz had seen his bank statement from the cash machine. He was right but she was firm. ‘I want to be able to return when I want to. It’s escape enough for me.’

  ‘But the adventure —’

  ‘Stealing a double-decker bus should be sufficiently adventurous for any man, Cliff.’

  Muffled shouting could be heard through the glass. ‘Are you going to…’

  ‘Now, come on. Let’s take off. Or whatever it is you do.’ Cliff mumbled something and started the engine.

  The queue of pensioners at the bus stop, laden down with their shopping, gaped in disbelief as their bus pulled away and roared off, too fast and in the wrong direction.

  ‘That woman’s got a whole bus to herself!’ someone cried out. �
��Who does she think she is?’

  Liz gave them all a regal wave.

  Detective Inspector Collins met them all on the bridge. They clustered around her, wet, scratched, bruised and depleted in numbers as if she was their teacher on a school nature ramble. She was trying to shake Tony off. He had been following her around for hours. She called one of her coppers over. ‘Take him home and make him some tea.’

  ‘Distraught, is he?’ asked the young copper.

  ‘He’s getting on my tits.’ Collins raised her voice. ‘Everyone. Thanks for all your help. We’ve got a few more leads to go on, but no real success as yet. We’re carrying on through the night and widening the search. I suggest you all go home and get some rest. The TV people and the papers will be round tomorrow to take your pictures and have a word. Thanks again.’

  ‘Right,’ Jane said. ‘Let’s go and buy some more cider.’

  Andy was like a lost puppy standing by her gate.

  ‘Penny?’

  She knew what he was about to ask.

  They were back in Phoenix Court. All around the dark cul-de-sac there were garden gates slamming shut. The neighbours were calling good night to everyone. Their voices were going out to each other in a way they rarely did. They were checking on each other. This search had got to people. Big Sue had been the first to leave, worn out and emotional. Charlotte from the bungalow said she was going through a crisis of faith and she helped her home. Everyone, in fact, was looking slightly shaken as they made their way back from the Burn.

  ‘I can’t go back with Vince tonight,’ Andy said.

  ‘No…’

  Something deadening and awful had been happening to those two down in the woods, too. It was as if they had worn each other down, just in the few days they had been together. Once Vince had left them alone, Andy muttered a few things to her about him. He sounded as if he didn’t even like Vince. And me, Penny thought, I don’t know Andy at all. He could be anyone. She felt burdened with him.

  Up at Phoenix Court the searchers were going in and turning on their lights, their kettles, their tellies. Pressing their doors and windows closed against the night. The sky was an inky blue, a brush dropped in a jar of water. Penny shivered. She was tingling despite herself. That didn’t bode well.