The Body

by Dean Clayton Edwards

  What would happen to the car if they never came back? She could be there for weeks. Months. When the car was towed, would anyone even think to look in the back? And if they did, what would they do with her? An old stool. They'd take the suitcase and leave the stool at the side of the road, or under a desk for some sweaty manager to put his dirty feet on.

  "Go for a walk now," Isla said once when she was alive, in the early days when she had shared the room with them, on the wall opposite Imelda, reflecting each other's reflections into infinity, because it was something to do.

  "How can I?" Lara had replied. "We're stuck here until it's our turn and the others are driving me mad!"

  "Let's go for a walk now," Isla insisted, demonstrating how to block the other sisters out. "The two of us."

  "How?"

  "Go out the door, down the stairs and open the front door," she said. "Do it in your mind. Do it now. Is it warm or cold?"

  Great. A mind game. As if Imelda's mind games weren't bad enough.

  "Neither!" Lara said.

  "Lara," Isla insisted. "Is it warm or cold outside?"

  Lara caved. "Cold!"

  "Then put on your coat. The white one. Now, you're out the door. Do you turn left or right?"

  "Right," Lara said.

  "So you're going into town."

  "No," said Lara. "I turn left."

  "Okay. So you're going to the park. Are you walking or running?"

  "... I'm running," Lara said.

  "Why? Are you late?"

  "No," Lara said. "It's starting to rain."

  "Good," said Isla. "Is there anyone else outside with you?"

  "A little doggy. A sweet little thing. He's all brown and shaggy."

  "Is he running with you?"

  "I'm following him. I'm at the park now. It's empty, because of the rain. I'm throwing the dog a stick."

  "Does he fetch it?"

  "Oh yes! He loves to fetch it. He ..."

  "What's wrong?"

  "There's a man," Lara said.

  "What's he doing?"

  "He's getting wet," Lara said. "He's watching me."

  "What's he wearing?"

  "A long, brown coat. And a hat. He's standing under the trees. I think it's his dog."

  "Nothing can go wrong here, Lara. This is your imagination. You can make anything happen."

  "He's not frightening me," Lara said. "He's beautiful. He's tall and he has a moustache and his eyes are kind and smiling ..."

  "What's wrong?"

  "There's somebody with him. She was in the trees. He was waiting for me after all, he just wondered what I fool I was standing here getting wet with my mouth open."

  "It's your fantasy, Lara."

  "I'm running again. I'm running and running and running and now I'm getting the ferry. I've got the passport, because I've taken it and I'm sitting on the deck, sipping a martini, and I can see France in the distance. It's getting bigger and bigger. And greener. It's so green. Roger's car has been clamped and I can see him and Matilda shaking their fists at it, but I look away and the ferry is pulling in and alarms are going off to tell us to get ready and then the captain ushers us off the boat and I'm here. I'm here by myself and I'm free and I don't mind."

  She was silent for a while.

  "Where are you now?" she imagined Isla saying.

  "I'm in a field," Lara said. "It's like being in a painting. The sun's going down and it's the most beautiful place. I've thrown my coat off. I'm running. I can feel the grass beneath my feet. It's warm, and slightly wet. It's an amazing combination. I'm running. It's an amazing feeling."

  When Roger and Matilda finally returned to the car, she didn't recognise their voices. She only realised it was them when the doors opened and they got in.

  Roger was laughing, but in a way Lara had never heard before. He couldn't quite get his breath. Listening to him, she realised that the way he laughed when he was with her had often been patronising. She'd been happy to be his silly little thing, because she was at least his silly little thing. But she didn't want to be a silly little thing anymore. She wanted to be up front, in the passenger seat.

  "Come on," Matilda said with a laugh in her voice. "We're going to be late. We've got to make this ferry. I'm not waiting another two hours."

  (Two hours. Was that only two hours?)

  The engine roared and they began moving immediately at what seemed like high speed. Bumps jostled her in the back and then they were idling again, crawling along. In a queue.

  Voices.

  A male voice asked for their passports.

  (Please, please, please let it be okay).

  And then they were through.

  The car moved on, the engine masking the sound of Roger and Matilda's voices.

  Eventually, the car stopped again and this time Lara could hear the sound of many wheels trundling around them and engines of various pitches clattering and sputtering and growling, motorbikes, cars, maybe lorries.

  "Let's stretch our legs," Lara heard Roger say.

  (This time. This time they'll open the boot. Just to make sure I'm okay.)

  One by one, the engines around her were shut off. Voices. Footsteps. All went away. Doors closing. More than that. They were sealed.

  Her thoughts were morose. She was excited, because things had already changed so much and were continuing to do so rapidly in ways she had never imagined, but she should have been up on deck with Roger, sipping that Martini and looking out at the waves. She'd heard about the white cliffs of Dover, but it looked like she would never see them. She would just have to imagine them instead, as she imagined everything else. The kid on the deck with a red balloon and her mother fussing over him and his scarf, ready to snatch at the string of the balloon the moment he let go. The old couple shuffling out of the blustery air to get their hot chocolates at the bar and perhaps do a scratchcard or read a paper. Matilda and Roger grinning at each other as the spray slowly drenched them. Roger leaning against the railings and Matilda taking a photo with his camera. Then they were holding each other, against the swaying of the boat and against the cold, looking out for the first sight of their destination country. His arms around her waist. His head on her shoulder and her leaning into him as if he were carrying her from shore to shore, not the ferry.

  Matilda had made this happen. She deserved to enjoy it, in whatever manner she chose. Lara knew that she would have her turn, when the coast was clear so to speak, when it was safe and right. Matilda knew best. She had got them this far.

  Oh, but the waiting!

  "Don't wait," she heard Isla say.

  "Oh, I can't help it," Lara said out loud. "She's with him, on the deck, and it should be me."

  "Tell me about the deck," her imagined Isla said. "What else is there?"

  "A little boy, with a balloon."

  "I know about the boy. What else?"

  "Deck chairs."

  "What kind of deck chairs?"

  "Stripy. Green and white. They're flapping in the wind like sails. Nobody's sitting in them, because it's too cold."

  "What else?"

  "There's a seagull. No, a whole flock of seagulls. They're circling us, like a good omen. They're saying that everything's going to be okay."

  Isla didn't respond.

  "There's something in the water. It could be a whale."

  "Why not?"

  "It's following us too, eating mouthful after mouthful of fish. It's devouring everything in its path. It's so hungry. I remember what it was like to be hungry."

  "So what are you eating?"

  "Fish and chips," Lara laughed. "From paper. Because we won't be able to get them in France. It will all be coffee and croissants and fine pastries. We'll eat outside, on a balcony, and there'll be a statue in the garden. A fountain. We'll have to get it working, but it's still pretty to look at. Kids come to throw money inside. The bottom is lined with francs."

  "Euros," said Isla in her head. "They use euros now."

  "Yes, of
course. But they're still shining. Glowing, with the strength of their desires. And they're all going to come true, all those wishes. Every one of them. The moment I set foot in front of the fountain, with Roger at my side, my wish will have come true, you see, and all the others will follow, like dominoes. It'll be beautiful."

  "That's a beautiful thought," said Isla.

  "Yes."

  The car trembled, because the ferry was really moving now.

  (This is it. It's happening. We're almost there. We're almost in our new home. It's not my home, but it will be. I should be excited. I should be excited.)

  "There's a rock," Lara said later. "It's jutting out of the water like an iceberg and we're heading straight for it."

  "That's France," Isla assured her.

  "It's a rock. The captain hasn't seen it. Nobody's seen it. Roger's got his back turned. Matilda's still taking photos. Nobody's seen it. We're going to hit it at full speed and it will dash us apart."

  "That's France," Isla said.

  *

  Their voices were different again. Not least of all, because there was so much talking. They chatted easily, without cutting each other off and with easy silences between periods of garrulousness. Although she strained to hear them, she still could not make out the words, only the tone. Easy. Friendly. As if they were friends who had known each other a long time. Lara should have been happy that they were getting on so well.

  The car slowed and the engine stopped.

  (We're here! Are we here?)

  "I need to rest," she heard Roger say. "I just want to close my eyes for a minute. I'm going road blind."

  "Let me drive," Matilda said.

  Roger laughed.

  "You don't have your licence," he said.

  "No," Matilda said. "But I can drive."

  "When did you learn how to drive?"

  "A long time ago," she said. "I'm a little out of practice, but the roads are quiet. If we stay on the motorway, there'll be no police."

  "What else don't I know about you?" Roger asked.

  "There's lots you don't know about me," Matilda said. "Swap sides now. Let me drive while you rest."

  They argued for a while, but Matilda persisted until he began to consider it.

  "Since when did you obey the rules?" Matilda said.

  "Since when did you not?"

  "I'll do what I need to do to get where I need to be," Matilda said.

  To her amazement, Lara heard the sound of their seatbelts unfastening and then the doors opened.

  "I promise to look after your little car," Matilda said, strapping herself in on the driver's side.

  "For some reason, I'm wide awake again," Roger said.

  Matilda started the engine and after a few more minutes' of Matilda's reassuring tones, they pulled away.

  Matilda drove slowly at first, but after twenty minutes Roger must have fallen asleep, because the engine roared and they began hurtling along. Lara was afraid, but she reminded herself of Matilda's words to Roger. She had no intention of involving herself in a wreck. That wouldn't serve anyone. And this wasn't about making a point. This was about getting to where they needed to be in the most convenient fashion possible.

  There were no blaring horns or squealing tyres or sirens. Matilda really did know how to drive and she would get them to their destination. They had defeated their sisters, passed through passport control and circumnavigated an iceberg in the Channel. They were going to be just fine and they'd be home before the day was out.

  *

  "They call me Matilda." She was speaking quietly, but the engine was off and Lara could hear almost everything. "My real name is Augustine Mathilde Soullat-Renaux. I was born in Marseille on March the 14th in 1886, making me old enough to be your great-grandmother, if not your great-great-grandmother, and yet here you are, thinking that you're my husband. That's a funny, right? Funny for me. I've never been married nor have I ever had any intention of being part of such a team. I reached 43 without a single serious partner. I was ready to stop living when my life changed entirely. I was 43 when I found the shop.

  "There were plenty of things to escape, not least of all myself. That was the reason I chose to seek refuge there. The chest of drawers was empty and I moved right in. The owner of the shop showed me how to get in and how to get out and then I didn't have to run anymore. It was good then. There was no age. There was no pain. There was peace. I think we all found that shop to find peace, but it didn't last. It never lasts. There is always someone who comes along and ruins it."

  "But I'm willing to try again. One last time.

  "Are you awake?"

  "I slept like a log," Roger said. "Are we there yet Ms Mansell?"

  "I don't know why you're calling me that," said Mathilde, "but no, we're not there yet."

  "Okay, my turn to drive."

  "Your eyes are red."

  "I need a few minutes to wake up. And a coffee. Then I'll be fine."

  "Let's get to the next service station and take it from there."

  Lara listened to her managing Roger expertly. There was no point attempting to control Roger with blunt force trauma. It was necessary to give him enough leeway to think that he was in charge and enough room to back down without losing face. She understood him so well. They both did. This was going to work.

  "Well done, Mathilde," Lara said, but Matilda said nothing. "Thank you, Matilda," she went on, despite receiving no acknowledgement in return. "Thank you for everything you have done and for everything that you are doing."

  Then they were back on the road again, what seemed like miles and miles of it.

  Again, she only heard snatches of their conversation. Not enough to put together any sense of what they were talking about, but enough to notice that Mathilde's tone had changed over the last few hours and that the two of them had settled into a rhythm. They were collaborators on this big adventure and Lara couldn't help feeling a spike of jealousy that she was tucked away in the boot, like a genuine spare wheel, and had had nothing to do with it at all. She would come into her own later, but she would always regret that she had not had a hand in helping them escape the sisters and getting to another country.

  It had always been Matilda's wish to come to France, but Lara had wanted it too. It was a new start for Matilda, but for Lara she was still an accessory, waiting for her time, waiting for her turn.

  The trick to waiting was not to wait at all.

  "Not now, Isla. Leave me be."

  She couldn't help listening to Matilda and Roger's muffled conversation. There were miles and miles of it, winding back and forth, picking up pace and easing off. There were side roads and corners, hills to climb and incredible views at the top of them and she was missing it. She had no doubt that this was something Roger would remember for the rest of his life and she'd have to work hard for it not to irk her that he'd shared the entire experience with Matilda, thinking that she was Lara.

  As they rolled on, she wondered how Roger really had mistaken Matilda for her. Matilda could be brash and rude. She was not at all gentle. Not meaning to be offensive, but they were poles apart in that way.

  She and Roger had been married for less than a month, and Lara couldn't help thinking that Matilda had had too great a share of that time already.

  (With me, it's always boring. I'm always asking him not to do things and saying no. With her, he's changed his life. He's paid his debts, left the country and is starting new. What would have happened to us if I had been in charge of the body? Nothing, probably. We'd have died in that house. I'd have kept asking to leave and get a place of our own and he would have kept saying tomorrow, tomorrow, and we'd have died there, with our hands around each other's throats).

  They were no longer arguing about what they should do next in life, but about whose turn it was to drive; a much healthier argument that Matilda and Roger seemed to enjoy.

  Eventually, the car rolled to a stop again and the engine halted.

  "We're exhausted," R
oger said. "And we're not much further than halfway."

  "I just wanted to get there. I don't want to sleep anywhere but my own bed tonight."

  "We'll never get there unless we rest. We've got the whole of our lives ahead of us. What difference is one more day going to make?"

  Both doors opened and closed. One of them locked the car remotely and all the doors clunked at once, like a gulp swallowed in darkness.

  Another night alone.

  *

  In the morning, their voices were different again. They didn't speak so often, but when they did they were co-operative. The bickering was gone entirely.

  *

  "We're nearly here," Matilda said. Her voice was flat and calm, but Lara could tell that she was excited. She was excited too; excited to get out of the car at last and to see this fabled place, to see anything. She had become sick of the dark. She was afraid of how deep it was and how interminable. She would have been glad of Katja's pendulum and to know that, eventually, its swing would signify her release.

  The ground was bumpy and the car roared. Lara slid as the car mounted a great, winding hill.

  "We did it," Matilda said eventually. Now her voice was full of wonder.

  Roger killed the engine and the quiet swept in.

  Lara tingled with anticipation. Even if they hadn't said a word, she would have known that they had finally reached their destination. If she'd had a breath to hold, she would have held it, waiting for the doors to open and shut and then for one of them to open up the boot and lift her out.

  She waited.

  Waited.

  "It's beautiful," Lara heard Roger say.

  Matilda laughed, an incongruous sound to which Lara was becoming accustomed. At first, hearing her sister laugh had made her feel reassured, but now it made her feel as anxious as if it were a long fuse. It was something to be stamped out and stopped in its tracks. It was Lara's turn in the body, but only Matilda had the power to make that happen and that laughter - easy and light and completely unlike the stories she'd heard of her - put that in danger.

  "You're wonderful," Roger said. "I knew that I loved you almost from the moment I saw you, but I'd never expected these hidden depths. There's so much more to you than I had realised. I thought I'd seen it all, but you've managed to surprise me every single hour of every single day. I love you more than ever. If I could propose to you all over again, I would."