Clockwork Dolls - FF

by R. W. Whitefield - FF

“What else could it be?” Frank said.

  “What else could it be?” Dave answered. “Did your I.Q. just drop sharply? What we have here is a coincidence. It can’t be any more than that.”

  “A pretty big fucking coincidence, don’t you think?” Frank said.

  Liz put a hand on her husband’s arm.

  “God does not play dice with the universe,” she said softly.

  “Don’t you dare quote Einstein at me,” Dave said, his voice rising until he was nearly shouting. “Don’t you dare.”

  Frank held up two white envelopes

  “Then how do you explain these? They were on the kitchen table when we got up this morning.”

  “How the fuck should I know?” Dave said. He still had a beer bottle in his hand as he motioned towards Maggie. Beer slopped everywhere. “Why don’t you ask the wicked witch of the west here? Or try asking the fucking Cosmos again.”

  Liz looked as if she was about to cry. Jim Barr had seen enough.

  “Dave. You’re being an asshole. Again.”

  Dave calmed down, but only slightly.

  “I’m sorry, Liz. I’m happy for you. I really am. But this is your and Frank’s doing. It’s got nothing to do with a big fairy in the sky, and it’s certainly not the Cosmos arranging your life for you. It’s just good old rhythmic gymnastics and sperm and ovum.”

  Now it was Maggie’s turn to get angry.

  “How do you know? Come on, Dave, tell me, why are you so sure?”

  Dave turned towards her.

  “How do I know? I’ve got a fucking brain. That’s how I know.”

  “I’ve got a brain too,” Maggie started to say. Dave didn’t give her time to finish.

  “No. What you’ve got there is a cabbage. I don’t need a fucking magic crystal to tell me where to find my ass.”

  Maggie looked him straight in the eye.

  “Jim was right. You are a dick.”

  “And who the fuck are you to be saying that? You don’t know me. You’re just some cheap street magician who has conned Frank and Liz into thinking they’re going to live happily ever after.”

  He turned to the couple.

  “I’d watch out you two. It’s only a matter of time before she asks you for money.”

  Maggie stood, knocking over her chair.

  “Say that again,” she said, softly.

  Dave was too drunk to notice the fire in her eyes.

  “Which bit? The bit where you’re full of shit or the bit where you’re a fucking evil bitch?”

  Maggie stepped up to Dave and socked him in the jaw, hard. He’d had far too much booze to roll with the punch. He fell off his chair and landed on the grass in a crumpled heap.

  Everything suddenly went quiet. Then Liz applauded, and Frank and Jane joined in. That, more than the ignominy of being knocked to the ground, made Dave feel about an inch tall.

  Jim, smiling, looked down at Dave and offered him a hand to get up.

  “Looks like the Cosmos knows your place in the scheme of things, Dave: flat on your ass and drunk as a skunk.”

  June 11th

  “The next morning I woke with a hangover, and a phone call. It was you guys, telling me that Frank and Liz were dead,” Dave said. He raised his head and looked the cop in the eye. “I never even got a chance to say goodbye. We never heard what caused the accident.”

  The cop spoke for the first time in a while.

  “Accident? Oh, I doubt it was that. I doubt that very much.”

  He opened a file and took out a sheaf of pictures, laying them out on the table in front of Dave. They showed blown out tires, fused electrics, a smoking engine, and a vehicle with a front end that looked like it had run into a wall at high speed.

  “The Connors’ SUV ran into something else on the road that night. Something bigger and heavier than it; something that didn’t hang around after the accident, something that left no trace at the site.”

  Dave stared silently at the pictures, horrified, as the cop continued.

  “Let’s go back a bit. After the woman knocked you down at the barbecue, what happened then?”

  Dave smiled sadly at the memory.

  “It put a damper on the party. I went home with my tail between my legs.”

  “No more was said between you and the Connors’?”

  “No. I never even said I was sorry.”

  “And you didn’t take your car out for a spin later that day to try to give them a fright, just for a laugh?”

  “No. I would never drive when I was drunk,” Dave said, then stopped. Suddenly he could see where this was leading.

  “Well, that’s not really true, is it? I’ve seen your record,” the cop said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  The cop opened a file on the table in front of him. The top page had Dave’s mugshot on it.

  “June, nine years ago,” the officer said, tapping the page with his forefinger.

  “That was an accident,” Dave said, dismayed to hear the whine in his voice.

  “You and I both know it was more than that, son,” the cop said.

  “I was young. And I was angry.”

  “No excuse then, and no excuse now. And the crash that killed the Connors’ was no accident.”

  He put down a pair of pictures on the table. The dead, staring faces of Frank and Liz Connors looked up at Dave.

  Dave looked back at them silently. It was a while before he spoke and then it was in a barely audible whisper.

  “No. You’re right. It wasn’t an accident. Not this time.”

  He stopped and looked into the corner of the room.

  “Did you see that?”

  “There’s nothing there, son. Quit stalling.”

  Dave started again, but didn’t take his gaze off the corner.

  “Have you ever had to bury a friend? It makes you have a look at yourself. And I didn’t like what I was seeing.”

  June 10th

  A small group of mourners filtered silently away as the funeral finished. The Barrs, Dave, and Maggie looked down at the twin grave where their friends had just been buried.

  “Christine,” Jane said, and started to sob. “They were going to call the baby Christine. Liz was so sure it was going to be a girl. She said that was what she’d asked for…”

  She buried her face in Jim’s shoulder.

  “I never got to say sorry,” Dave said. There was a hitch in his voice, and he was close to tears.

  Maggie put a hand on his arm.

  “Don’t knock yourself out over it, Dave. There’s nothing anyone could have done.”

  “I can’t help it…They were so fucking happy. And I ruined it.”

  Jim Barr put an arm around Dave.

  “Come away, Dave. Maggie’s right. After you left the barbecue, Frank and Liz laughed it off. Just Dave, they said.”

  Dave didn’t move, just stood, staring at the hole in the ground.

  “Just Dave,” he whispered. “Just Dave, being his usual dick self.” He looked at Maggie. “If the Cosmos wanted somebody, it could have had me. I’m just about ready to go willingly.”

  Maggie led Dave away, a hand gently pressing on his back. He let her guide him as the four of them stepped away from the graveside.

  “I need a drink,” Dave said. For once, nobody disagreed with him.

  * * *

  They managed to find a table in a quiet bar.

  Dave looked around and grimaced.

  “Nice choice, guys. The last time I was in here was just before the accident. Remember? I wanted to get back to the hospital, but you all insisted I stay for another beer and…”

  “That’s not how I remember it,” Jim Barr said. Dave waved him to silence.

  “No. It wouldn’t be. Then you’d have my life, and I’d have yours. And then…”

  Jane leaned forward and put a finger to Dave’s lips.

  “Don’t, Dave. Bringing all that up again won’t help. Not tonight.”

  Jim passe
d Dave a fresh beer.

  “Jane’s right, Dave. Don’t blame yourself for this. Let’s just have a drink and remember Frank and Liz.”

  Dave looked like he might be about to get angry again, but Maggie put a hand on his arm and squeezed. He turned, she smiled, and from somewhere he managed to smile back.

  Maybe I can get through this after all.

  “Besides,” Jane said. “Frank and Liz wouldn’t want you to be angry. You know Frank. Mr. Compromise.”

  “Wherever he is, I hope he can find a fence to sit on,” Dave said, and they all laughed, but there was little humor around the table and they soon lapsed into silence, lost in their own thoughts.

  It was Maggie who spoke first.

  “Isn’t this supposed to be a wake?” She raised her glass. “To Frank and Liz.”

  Dave clinked his glass against hers.

  “To Frank and Liz,” he whispered.

  Maggie seemed determined to lighten the mood.

  “So who’s got the best story? What’s the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to Frank or Liz?” she said.

  “Well, there was the time Frank walked in on Jim and I when he was drunk and tried to get into bed with us,” Jane replied.

  Jim laughed.

  “He did that with his mum as well. It was…”

  Dave finally broke into a grin. He put up his hand and snapped his fingers.

  “I win.”

  He sat back, smiling.

  “Go on then. Tell us.” Maggie said, punching him in the arm.

  Dave was now grinning widely.

  “I can’t. I promised Frank.”

  “Come on, you dick,” Jim said. “Is it the stripper story?”

  Dave milked the moment, taking his time over a sip of beer before replying.

  “No. It’s one even you haven’t heard.”

  He shut up again and just sat there grinning.

  Jane laughed.

  “I suppose you’d better tell us then.”

  “OK, if you insist,” he said, and paused again for effect until Maggie punched him, hard, on the arm. “It happened when we shared that dive of an apartment with no kitchen ceiling…Jim will remember that one well. The day Frank and I moved in we found a huge stash of porn under the floorboards…”

  Minutes later all four were laughing fit to cry as Dave finished the story.

  “So there’s Frank, trousers round his ankles, and a huge erection standing to attention. And his mum says, calm as you like, If you’ve finished with that tissue son, I need to blow my nose.”

  Jim laughed so much he snorted beer up his nose, and that set the other three off again.

  “You should have asked the Cosmos for a TV show, Dave, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in years,” Jane said.

  They all laughed again, but this time Maggie’s laugh was a little less loud than the rest, and Dave noticed that she was now watching him closely.

  Something changed, or I did something to change things. I wonder what?

  * * *

  The afternoon wore on, and the beer kept coming. They ate chips and burgers in the bar. For Dave is was just another reminder of better times, when they’d all used to meet regularly for lunches like this. Back then. Back before.

  He was getting through the beers faster than the others, but so far had forced himself to wait until their glasses were empty before getting another round in. He knew it was only a matter of time before he hit the hard stuff.

  All I have to do is wait. They’ll leave. They always leave.

  He was proven right in the early evening. Jim and Jane pleaded work in the morning and left. He expected Maggie to make her excuses at the same time, but she surprised him by not only staying, but by ordering another beer before Dave had finished his last one.

  “Don’t let me keep you,” Dave said as she put two beers on the table. She laughed.

  “Are you like this with every woman you meet, or are you making a special effort in my case?”

  Dave was silent, staring into his beer.

  “So, how did you all meet?” Maggie asked.

  Suddenly Dave found that he wanted, needed to talk, needed to articulate some of the rage and despair that had gripped him over the days since Frank and Liz’s deaths. He didn’t look up, couldn’t look Maggie in the eye, for fear of what he might see reflected there.

  “We were all students at the same time. Jim and I go even further back. We came up through school together,” he finally replied. He paused and took a long swig of beer. “I met Frank in a bar after a chess tournament and we shared a flat together. He met Liz on her first day at University, the first day of our second year, and they were inseparable ever since.”

  Although the bar was quiet and there were plenty of chairs, Maggie had moved to sit shoulder to shoulder with Dave, holding his arm. Dave found he didn’t mind it a bit.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he said. “Frank was the one who kept me alive after Jane and I, and after…”

  He stopped. He was getting close to talking about the thing he wouldn’t, couldn’t, mention, the thing that remained securely locked in a dark place at the back of his mind. The thing he drank to forget.

  Time to change the subject.

  “Listen, I’m sorry about the thing at the barbecue,” he said, finally looking up into Maggie’s eyes.

  She smiled and squeezed his arm.

  “What, the fucking fraudster bitch thing? I already got you back for that one.”

  Dave rubbed at his jaw and smiled wryly.

  “Maybe you did at that,” he said. “It was just that I wouldn’t believe. It goes against everything I know. I was such an asshole know-all that I upset them. And that’s the last time I’ll ever see them. This Cosmos of yours is one sick fucker.”

  “I don’t think it cares,” Maggie said, softly. She touched the back of his hand and started to stroke it. “Let it be. You heard Jim. Frank and Liz didn’t hold anything against you. And neither do I. Besides, I’ve got a confession to make. I was at that dinner party under false pretences. It’s true that Jane asked me. But she did it because she thought I might be able to talk to you.”

  “Talk to me about what?”

  “Anything you like. That’s what I do. I’m a therapist.”

  “You’re a small turtle?”

  Maggie laughed, and Dave realized he didn’t mind that either. He didn’t mind it at all.

  “I help people,” Maggie continued. “But it would be all a bit too New-Wave and Californian for you. I realized that straight after meeting you.”

  “And how about now? What’s the prognosis, doc?”

  Maggie smiled again

  “I need more time. But let’s get saying goodbye to Frank and Liz over with first.”

  Dave looked down into his drink for a long time before speaking.

  “Frank was so worried that they wouldn’t be able to conceive. I had to get him drunk before he’d tell me. He was blaming himself, afraid that he was firing blanks.”

  A light wind seemed to blow across the table, ruffling Dave’s hair. There was a hum in the air, like an engine idling in the distance. Dave didn’t notice, too engrossed in his own thoughts.

  “Getting pregnant was all Liz ever wanted. They’d been trying for years; Frank gave me a running commentary every time we met for a beer. I know more than I’ll ever need to about the optimal temperature inside a pair of jockey shorts and how to calculate ovulation cycles, or how to optimize orgasms for maximum reproductive efficiency.

  “Then along came this Cosmos thing, and bingo, they’ve got a bun in the oven. Liz was so happy at that barbecue. And I had to go and be an asshole about it.”

  Maggie took his hand in hers and held it gently. The breeze faded to nothing, and a new song kicked in on the jukebox, replacing the sound of the idling engine. Tears rolled down Dave’s face, but he didn’t take his hand away…and Maggie showed no sign of letting go.

  * * *

  A
fter the bar shut, they made their way by cab to Dave’s flat where the drinking continued. Dave, if he’d been on his own, would have dived straight into the whisky bottle, but with Maggie there, he made do with wine.

  “Come on, Dave. Tell me. There’s something bothering you,” Maggie said. They were sitting side by side on a sofa. Dave had gone quiet again, almost sullen. He drank quickly, finishing a large glass of wine in one gulp and pouring himself another. He laughed hollowly, but didn’t reply, just took another swig of wine.

  Maggie pressed on.

  “It’s to do with your question, isn’t it? I saw the look on your face when Jane mentioned it.”

  Dave sighed heavily.

  “It’s just all this Cosmos shit. I can’t believe there’s anything in it.”

  “But you’re starting to wonder?” Maggie said quietly.

  Dave nodded.

  “Now I’m starting to wonder. I’m starting to wonder whether I got my friends killed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Remember,” Dave said defensively. “I was drunk when I wrote it. Drunk and angry.”

  “You were angry with Jim all right. What did you wish…that he really did have a pole up his ass?”

  “I could handle that,” Dave said.

  Maggie laughed loudly, trying to lighten the mood. “Whoaa! There’s an image I don’t need in my mind.”

  She didn’t even get a smile in reply. Dave was lost in his thoughts, staring blankly at the wall opposite them.

  “Frank and Liz are dead. And it’s all my fault,” he said, barely above a whisper. “That stupid fucking note I wrote to the Cosmos.”

  “What did you ask for?” Maggie said.

  “I can’t remember the exact words. But it was something about taking us away from everything to save us from our own stupidity.”

  Maggie got to her feet, agitated.

  “And you got your envelope back. Didn’t you?”

  Dave looked sheepish.

  “I found it in my pocket when I got back from Jim and Jane’s. I had a sore jaw, I needed more booze, and I figured you’d planted it on me, to teach me another lesson. I ripped it up into little bits and threw it away.”