Black Rabbit Summer

by Kevin Brooks

  ‘Nothing…’ I looked away from him, shaking my head again, forcing myself to concentrate. ‘Listen, Pauly,’ I said. ‘Have you seen Raymond?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he grinned, ‘he’s a funny-looking kid with a big head –’

  ‘Have you seen him?’ I repeated.

  ‘Why? Have you lost him?’

  I stared hard at Pauly, trying to show him that I knew what he was beneath his mask, that he didn’t have to keep being Pauly all the time. I don’t know if it made any difference, but at least he stopped grinning.

  ‘The last time I saw Raymond,’ he sighed, ‘he was with Stella Ross.’ He smiled faintly. ‘She was parading him around like he was her pet monkey or something.’

  ‘You haven’t seen him since?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure…’

  He took a bottle of Vodka Reef from his pocket. It was already opened, but the cap had been jammed back on again. As he flicked off the cap and took a quick drink, I saw him glance over at Eric and Campbell. He tried to make out that he was just looking around, not looking at anything in particular, but he didn’t do a very good job of it.

  ‘Are they still there?’ I asked him.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Eric and Campbell.’

  He looked at me, and for a fraction of a second I could see the confusion in his eyes as he tried to decide how to react. He knew that I’d seen them now, but he didn’t know if I’d seen him watching them or not. ‘Yeah…’ he said hesitantly, nodding his head and trying to grin. ‘Yeah… I thought it was them.’ He glanced casually at the square again, pretending to be mildly interested. ‘Yeah… yeah, they’re still there.’ He offered me the Vodka Reef. ‘You want some?’

  The night was still warm and sticky, and after all the throwing up and everything else I’d just done, I was feeling pretty thirsty and dry. My throat felt horrible too – sour and stale with the taste of puke.

  ‘Have you got any water?’ I asked Pauly.

  He laughed.

  I nodded at the bottle in his hand. ‘What’s in it?’

  He glanced at the label. ‘I don’t know… vodka, orange, something else. You want it or not?’

  I took the bottle from his hand and drank deeply. It was slightly fizzy, slightly orangey, but mostly just vodka-ey. It didn’t make me feel any better.

  ‘What are they doing over there?’ I asked Pauly.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Eric and Campbell.’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Are they friends or something?’

  He shrugged again.

  I looked at him. ‘I thought you were in with Campbell?’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So how come you don’t know what he’s doing with Eric?’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘They’re both friends of yours, aren’t they? I mean, you know Eric, you know Campbell –’

  ‘I know lots of people. Just because I know them doesn’t mean I know what they’re doing all the time.’ He grinned at me. ‘Do you know what everyone you know is doing all the time?’

  ‘That’s different –’

  ‘Do you know what Nic’s doing right now? And what about Raymond? Shit, you don’t even know where your Bunny Boy is, do you?’ He laughed. ‘I thought you were really concerned about him anyway.’

  I glared at Pauly, wanting to smash the bottle into his face, wanting to wipe that idiotic grin off his face… but I knew he was right. I’d forgotten what I was supposed to be doing. I shook my head in self-disgust. What the hell was the matter with me? Why couldn’t I do anything right? Why couldn’t I do anything?

  Even as I was trying to think about it, and I saw Pauly suddenly get up from the bench and start hurrying across the walkway, I still couldn’t seem to do anything. All I could do was sit there and watch him as he threaded his way through the crowds, heading for the spot where Eric and Campbell had been…

  But they weren’t there any more.

  And when I looked back to see where Pauly was, I couldn’t see him anywhere either. He’d gone, disappeared, melted away into the crowds…

  Just like everyone else.

  I felt so bad then, so dumb and dazed and overloaded… everything I felt was too much. I was too heavy to stand up. Too tired to do anything. The bottle of Vodka Reef in my hand was too cold and too glassy, and it looked too orangey not to drink. I knew I shouldn’t drink it, that it wouldn’t do me any good, but I didn’t seem to have any choice. The bottle just lifted itself to my mouth, tipped itself up, and the next thing I knew it was empty.

  I carefully put it down.

  Burped sweetly.

  And closed my eyes.

  Nine

  Do you know what it’s like when your head keeps roaring and whirling and spinning, around and around and around, and you feel so sick that you think your body’s going to turn itself inside out, and it hurts so much that you wish you’d never been born?

  Do you know what that’s like?

  It’s like the end of the world, only worse.

  The end of the world that never ends.

  It’s shitness, sickness, guilt, regret… an inner pain that kills you for ever, a pain that’s always been there, and will always be there, whether you’re dead or alive or anything in between.

  That’s what it’s like.

  And that’s pretty much what it was like for me for the rest of that night.

  I didn’t know if it was just the drink that was screwing me up – the tequila, the vodka, whatever else I’d had – or if it was something else. The weirdness of the night, the heat, the noise, the lights… or maybe it was just me. Maybe I was losing it, cracking up, going mad. I really didn’t know. But whatever it was, it didn’t really matter, because there wasn’t anything I could do about it anyway. All I could do was keep going.

  So that’s what I did.

  After I’d finally managed to heave myself up off the bench and get moving, I just kept going – walking, stumbling, searching all over the fairground, trying to find Raymond. I didn’t have much sense of the time, and although I kept looking at the clock on my mobile, I also kept forgetting what it said, so I don’t really know how much time I spent wandering around the fair. It felt like a couple of hours or so, but I’m really only guessing.

  It was all too vague.

  I was trying to be rational in the way that I searched, trying to follow some kind of plan, but the layout of the fairground didn’t seem to have any plan. Everything was just all over the place. There was nothing to guide me, no sense of direction, and no matter how hard I tried to follow a route, I just couldn’t do it. All I could do was keep going, keep wandering, keep looking, and keep hoping.

  I looked everywhere.

  Every walkway, every ride, every stall. The gaps between the rides. Around the backs of the rides. The dodgems, the waltzer, behind the Portaloos. The burger kiosks, the twisters, the roller coaster…

  Nothing.

  The fortune-teller’s tent was all closed up. The deserted spot near the children’s rides was still deserted…

  Nothing.

  No Raymond.

  No sign of him anywhere.

  I didn’t come across Pauly either. No Pauly, no Eric, no Campbell, no Stella. The only familiar face I saw was a very quick – and very dazed – glimpse of Nicole.

  I was heading down a walkway at the far edge of the fair, in between the roller coaster and the place where all the fairground vehicles were parked, when I saw Nicole and the waltzer guy coming towards me. He had his arm round her shoulder, and they both looked pretty unsteady, staggering and weaving all over the place as they walked. The waltzer guy seemed happy enough in his drunkenness, all loopy smiles and rolling eyes, but it was hard to tell how Nic was feeling. Even if I hadn’t been so out of it myself, I still don’t think I would have known what to make of her. She was smiling, but her eyes were dead. She was holding on tight to the waltzer guy, but
at the same time she looked as if she couldn’t bear touching him. And as they both approached me, she looked right into my eyes, but she didn’t seem to recognize me.

  ‘Hey, Nic,’ I said, stepping in front of her. ‘Have you seen Raymond anywhere? I’ve been looking all over the place… Nic? Nicole?’

  She didn’t answer me. I don’t think she even heard me. And before I had a chance to say anything else, the two of them had veered off the walkway and were stumbling off into the darkness towards the fairground vehicles.

  I didn’t carry on looking for much longer after that. It was getting pretty late by then. The crowds were beginning to thin out, some of the rides were closing, and I’d just about had enough. I must have walked round that fairground at least a dozen times, and I couldn’t see any point in walking round it any more. I’d already looked everywhere. There wasn’t anywhere else to look. What more could I do?

  And, besides, I was starting to feel sick again. And my head was throbbing. And my feet hurt. And I was still feeling so weird … hearing weird noises, imagining weird sensations inside my body, seeing weird things. I just didn’t know what was real any more.

  And I still don’t know, even now.

  All I know – or think I know – is that I was sitting on a pile of wooden boards near the exit, trying to decide what to do next, and the last few fairground stragglers were wandering past me, heading back home, and I was beginning to think that maybe I should join them. Just forget about everything. Forget about Raymond, call it a night, and go home.

  Get some sleep.

  Get up in the morning.

  Get back to normality.

  I was trying to imagine it: Sunday morning, the church bells ringing, the sun shining brightly as I made my way down the street towards Raymond’s. Along the alleyway, turn left, down to Raymond’s back gate, feeling for his presence…

  And that’s when I felt it.

  His presence.

  Right here, right now. And when I raised my head and looked across the fairground, I saw him.

  He was on a merry-go-round – an old-fashioned, brightly coloured merry-go-round. It was about twenty metres away from me, just to the right of the fairground entrance, and I couldn’t understand why I hadn’t seen it before. I’d been everywhere, I’d searched every inch of the fairground, I’d seen everything there was to see – every ride, every stall… absolutely everything. So why hadn’t I seen this merry-go-round? I mean, how could I have missed it? It was right there, right in front of me – a beautifully painted carousel, like something from a dream. A rainbow circle of wooden horses – white horses, silver horses, bright-red horses, spotted horses – with golden saddles and sparkling blue eyes and luscious flowing manes…

  And Raymond.

  He was right there too. Sitting astride a jet-black horse, holding on tightly to the scrolled silver pole, smiling at me as the merry-go-round slowly revolved…

  I knew it couldn’t be real.

  A fairground organ was playing, pipes and drums swirling in the air, and I could hear the sound of children’s laughter – excited voices, faint cries of delight… but there weren’t any children around. There was hardly anyone around at all. The only other person I could see was a slightly odd-looking man with a moustache, standing in the shadows, watching the merry-go-round. He looked like an over-concerned father, keeping an eye out for his child… but there weren’t any children on the merry-go-round. There was no one on the merry-go-round.

  Only Raymond.

  I watched him as he came round again. He was still smiling at me, still gripping the curlicued pole, but this time his jet-black horse was a rabbit. A horse-sized rabbit. It was a beautiful thing – glossy and smooth, with shining black eyes, a necklace of flowers, a painted face that seemed to be frowning…

  I smiled to myself.

  The carousel kept turning, taking Raymond away, and as I waited for him to come round again, I wondered what would happen if I went over and joined him. There was plenty of room for me, plenty of horses or rabbits to ride… we could sit there together, like two lost cowboys riding in circles, both of us going nowhere, and I could ask Raymond how he was feeling and where he’d been and what he’d been doing…

  But after a while I realized it was too late. He wasn’t there any more. The merry-go-round was still turning, but the horse-sized rabbit was just a horse again, and its golden saddle was empty.

  Raymond had gone.

  And so had the man with the moustache.

  I wasn’t really aware of much after that. I suppose I must have known what I was doing, and where I was going, and I remember thinking to myself at the time how wonderfully clear everything was… and it was. Everything in and around me was clearer than it had ever been before: my thoughts, my senses, my feelings, the world. But it was the kind of clarity that only works in isolation – like the concentrated beam of a spotlight, lighting up one thing at a time – and every time the spotlight moved on, focusing brightly on something else, I’d forget what had been left behind in the darkness.

  It was like existing in a series of perfectly lucid moments, none of which were connected. It was just one thing, then another thing. One thought, another thought. One step, another step…

  One step at a time.

  That’s all I was doing as I left the fairground and headed back across the recreation ground – taking one step at a time. One step, another step… along the pathway, away from the lights, into the darkness… one step, another step… one step, another step… all the way down to the recreation ground gates. They were still open, and I wondered briefly – and pointlessly – if they’d stay open all night, or if someone was supposed to shut them… and if so, who? A fairground worker? Someone from the council? A policeman?

  I paused outside the gates and looked around, trying to decide which way to go. The little street that led up to Back Lane was on my right, and the street on my left would lead me round to Recreation Road, then along the other side of the old factory, and eventually back to the north end of St Leonard’s Road.

  I checked the time on my mobile.

  I don’t know why I bothered – whatever time it was, it didn’t matter. And by the time I’d put the phone back in my pocket, I’d already forgotten what time it was anyway.

  As I looked over to my right again, I thought I saw someone turning off the little street into Back Lane. It was only a very brief glimpse, and the street was pretty dark, and I was finding it really hard to focus on anything more than a few metres away… but just for a moment I was convinced that it was the odd-looking man with the moustache. I didn’t actually see his face, so I couldn’t tell if he had a moustache or not, but there was just something about him – a feeling, a sense… his slightly hunched posture, the way that he moved…

  He moved like an odd-looking man with a moustache.

  I didn’t know why the sight of him bothered me, and I knew I was probably just seeing things anyway. In fact, a few moments after he’d gone, I was already pretty sure that he’d never been there in the first place. But even so, I could still feel my heart beating hard as I turned left and started heading away from Back Lane, and I didn’t stop looking over my shoulder every ten seconds or so until I’d reached the street-lit security of Recreation Road.

  Eric and Nic’s place is about two-thirds of the way along Recreation Road, about thirty metres or so past the main entrance to the old factory. It’s a big old detached house, set back from the street, with a small front garden, a gravelled driveway, and posters all over the windows. Mr and Mrs Leigh are the kind of people who like to put posters in their windows: local theatre productions, protest meetings, Green Party politics… that kind of thing.

  I didn’t know if I’d been meaning to go to Eric and Nic’s place or not, and even as I opened the front gate and started walking up the path, I still didn’t know what I was doing there. I was so tired and wrecked by now that my brain seemed to have shrunk. It was still there, still thinking, but it felt so s
mall… so far away. It was as if my skull had thickened, so most of my head was solid bone, and all that was left of my thinking mind was a tiny little cavity deep down inside.

  What are you doing here? it said.

  What?

  What are you doing here?

  I don’t know.

  There’s not going to be any farewell party…

  I know.

  Nicole won’t be here, she’ll be off somewhere with her waltzer guy.

  I don’t want to see Nicole.

  So what are you doing here?

  I don’t know.

  Are you looking for Eric?

  No.

  Pauly?

  God, no…

  Raymond?

  Yeah, that’s it. Raymond. I’m looking for Raymond. That’s what I’m doing here – I’m looking for Raymond.

  And why would Raymond be here?

  I don’t know.

  Did you tell him you were coming round here after the fair?

  I can’t remember…

  Christ, it’s hot…

  I was at the front door now, swaying slightly, trying to remember if I’d told Raymond anything about coming round here after the fair… but it was too hard to think any more. My head was too thick.

  I leaned back and gazed up at the house. The lights were all out, the curtains drawn. Everything felt still and empty. I knew there was no one home, but I reached up and rang the bell anyway.

  It sounded the same as it had always sounded – a distant ding dong – and just for a moment I remembered all the times I’d stood here before, ringing this bell, calling on Nic, calling on Eric, awkwardly saying hello when one of their parents answered the door. Mr Leigh, with his craggy face and his shoulder-length hair and his slightly unsettling blue eyes. And Mrs Leigh, always embarrassing me with her low-cut dresses and her black-haired beauty and her dark and sexy French accent…

  But there was no one home now.

  No one was in.

  The house was empty…

  What are you doing here?

  I couldn’t remember… it was something about… I was trying to remember something, but I couldn’t remember what it was. Something about Raymond… something about…