The Gawain Legacy

by Jon Mackley

  ‘Will you come with me?’ she asked.

  He shook his head. ‘Women don’t like men in the underwear department,’ he muttered. ‘They get worried if we know what they’re wearing.’

  Lara found a packet of knickers and a couple of lacy bras. She also bought another pair of jeans and a fleece. She found Will by the toiletries picking up shampoo and toothpaste. He also had a small bag to carry them in. He paid cash again. They had only been in the shop for ten minutes.

  Will walked quickly through the streets. Lara found herself struggling to keep up. His shoulders were hunched; the collar of his coat pulled up. He’s been running for a long time, she realised. He’s learned to look inconspicuous.

  ‘Will?’ she said gently.

  He started, as if suddenly believing she was one of the men following him. ‘What?’ he snapped.

  ‘Do you really think there’s a hidden code? Or are you chasing rainbows?’

  Will smiled at her. ‘“Thy substance, valued at the highest rate cannot amount unto a hundred marks.”’

  ‘“Therefore by law thou art condemned to die,”’ Lara said forlornly.

  ‘You’re not the only one who was forced to learn The Comedy of Errors as a child.’ Will grinned. Then his face turned serious, shadowed in the eerie orange of the streetlights. ‘Do not be afraid of greatness.’

  ‘Some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them,’ Lara completed the quotation. ‘Twelfth Night. So what?’

  ‘Just because you think I might be imagining a code, it doesn’t mean it isn’t there. And even if you don’t believe me, it doesn’t mean you’re not destined for great things.’ He smiled again. ‘Your father really forced those plays on you, didn’t he? What was he was telling you?’

  ‘Why should he be telling me anything?’

  ‘Come on, Lara, you don’t learn two plays and have the rest of Shakespeare’s canon excluded. Either your father believed Shakespeare was one of the Greats, or he was a waste of time. Did you learn anything else?’

  Lara shook her head. ‘Just to do my best and not to disgrace the family.’

  ‘No pressure then,’ Will said noncommittally, turning into Princess Street. He knocked on the door and Mrs Victor greeted them quietly. They mounted the stairs in silence. He walked with her to his room, but didn’t speak to her. Instead, he walked to the window and stood looking out at the streets.

  ‘They’re close,’ he whispered. ‘It’s like the air’s electric.’

  ‘Then they can wait until tomorrow. What’s to be done now?’

  He didn’t turn. ‘I know it’s only evening, Lara, but I think ‘bed’ is the best medicine you could take now.’

  ‘I think you’re right.’

  ‘Good night, Lara. Sweet dreams.’

  ‘You too,’ Lara whispered, closing the door behind her, wondering how long he would stand by the window.

  She went to her room and undressed. Lying down on the duvet, she felt her muscles unwinding. Her shoulders ached. She thought about the things she needed to do tomorrow. But tomorrow seemed a long time away. This was her first night of freedom, she thought, as her breath deepened. Her first night of peace.

  4

  Sleep clung to Lara the following morning, even after she had washed, dressed and come downstairs for breakfast. Will was already sitting at the table, looking surprisingly cheerful and sickeningly alert sipping a cup of coffee, when she had only the ability to point at objects and demand breakfast with single syllable words.

  She had learned to get up early. When Michael had been drinking and when he woke with the mother of all hangovers, she had been the one who had to be up early so she could be ready before he needed to go to work.

  She wondered if Will needed any rest. When she’d seen him standing sentinel at the bedroom window, contemplating the paths of the future, he’d seemed far from sleep.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said as she sat down. His hair was no longer swept back. He’d washed and shaved and now appeared less like an actor and more like a schoolteacher. Lara offered a vague smile as he poured her coffee and buttered some toast. He pushed the plate in front of her. She chewed thoughtfully, slowly pushing the fog from her mind. Will appeared to have forgotten his worries and seemed able to breeze through life without a care in the world.

  ‘Did you sleep well?’ he asked.

  She managed to nod. She devoured the toast and coffee, not wanting to be drawn into a conversation.

  ‘More coffee?’ Lara turned at the sound of a voice behind her. Mrs Victor offered her a wide smile that Lara suspected was false. ‘Ah, you’re up,’ she said and her smile widened. ‘Will was wondering if you were going to sleep forever.’

  Lara tried to smile. Will grinned, then spoke to Mrs Victor: ‘I saw newspapers on the mat as I came down. Could I have a look?’

  Mrs Victor hesitated, then nodded uncertainly. She took away a dirty plate and returned a short while later. Will unfolded the tabloid and Mrs Victor retreated quickly.

  Will paled. Lara’s instincts prickled. ‘What is it?’ she wondered, her voice still croaky.

  ‘This isn’t good,’ Will said. He turned the paper towards her.

  Two photographs were on the front page. She recognised one of them instantly. It was taken just after her wedding. She was reclining in a wicker chair on the veranda of a hotel near Keswick, where she and Michael had gone for their honeymoon. Her hair had been longer then; she’d had it cut a few months ago as Michael’s violence had become more frequent. It was one less thing for him to grab her by. She hated that photograph. It showed he’d once made her happy.

  The photograph of Will was a mug-shot with his criminal record number beneath his face. Lara felt her blood running cold. Will inhaled as if about to speak, but she silenced him with a freezing look and returned to reading the article.

  “Police are looking for a couple who were last seen in Stamford in the early hours of yesterday morning.

  “William Stevens and Lara Greaves were last seen in Stamford as they caught a train towards Birmingham. Stevens is being sought by police following the death of 22 year-old Janet Rose.”

  She didn’t read any more. Whoever was following them would already have contacted Michael. He would have told a series of half-truths about her. In turn, the newspapers would have warped these. Even so, she could not hold back the inevitable question. ‘Is it true?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That the police are looking for you? Was Janet’s death under mysterious circumstances?’

  Will glared at her acidly. ‘That’s not what it says. It says police are looking for me, following Janet’s death. It’s worded so you believe she died under mysterious circumstances to paint me in a bad light.’ There was coldness in his eyes. ‘Janet died because of bad luck and bad driving. It was her bad luck and someone else’s bad driving. It was a tragedy, but there’s nothing I can do about it.’

  ‘How can you be so cold about it?’

  Will’s eyes became stony. ‘Don’t you think I wish there was a way I could turn back time? Bring her back? Believe me, if there was a way to play out time again, I’d take it. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to try and save her.’ Now he seemed to be seeking her approval. ‘But it’s too late for that now,’ he whispered in a hollow voice. ‘It was always too late. It’s natural selection: when your time’s come, there’s nothing you can do about it. You’re going to die whether you’re in a bus crash and you’re the only one to go, or whether one of your bedsprings bursts through the mattress and kills you because you think it’s safer to stay in bed all day. You can’t avoid it.’ He took a long, drawn out breath. ‘You can run from it, like I have, but eventually, it catches up with you.’ He smiled, but there was no joy in his face. ‘You’re not going to believe this, but when I met you, I wanted you to come with me because I felt there was a kind of magic about you. I had decided it was time to go. I’d, quite literally, laid my life on the lines. You pr
evented it, like an intervening angel, like the Ghost of Christmas Future: when I saw you, my purpose became clearer.’ He held up the newspaper and grinned. ‘It’s hardly a flattering photograph.’

  Lara’s hands were clenching the table. ‘Why are you being so flippant? You didn’t tell me you had a police record!’

  ‘You didn’t tell me the last time you had sex,’ Will countered. Lara was about to retort, but Will cut her off. ‘We know nothing about each other. What I know about you I’ve gleaned from vague comments you’ve made. You’ve not told me a single fact about yourself. I know you’re frightened and you’re running from your husband.’ Lara gasped, but Will shook his head. ‘There’s no magic. Your wedding finger: the skin’s white and worn, so you’ve recently taken off the ring. You rub that area because you’re not used to the bare flesh there.’ He calmed down, taking a long, deep breath. ‘This is what they want: they want us to fight amongst ourselves. So, I’ll tell you: I was arrested in London a few years ago. It was the stag night of a friend of mine and we’d all got a bit drunk. None of us were actually doing anything wrong, but we were rowdy and charged with breach of the peace. We were all photographed, fingerprinted and thrown into cells to sober up.’ He grinned. ‘There were five of us and only one policeman. He was shorter than me. But he had this great Doberman pincher with him and that made all the difference.’ He looked back at her and there was gentleness in his eyes again. ‘Does that answer your question?’

  Lara nodded. ‘I guess.’ But she was not totally assuaged. His answer had been too ready, too prepared. Despite fleeing with him, despite wanting to know if there was a code, she realised how little she trusted him. ‘This changes nothing,’ she grumbled. ‘I’m not telling you the last time I had sex.’

  Because I can’t remember that long ago, she thought.

  Will laughed, but his face darkened suddenly. He leaned forward. ‘We have to get away now,’ he said. He indicated to the kitchen. ‘She’s no doubt seen this.’

  ‘Do you think she knows it’s us?’

  ‘Sure to,’ Will said, but then his voice lowered. ‘I bet she’s listening at the door right now.’ His tone became more conversational. ‘We don’t have a choice. We’ve got to get away while we still can.’

  Lara shook her head, tapping the newspaper. ‘This is serious if we can make the front pages. There isn’t going to be anywhere safe.’ Now she was leaning forward. ‘We follow up what we discussed yesterday and see where it takes us. Your friends in Bath aren’t going to give up and we won’t ever be able to get back here.’

  ‘We could split up. You can go wherever it was you were going.’

  Her shoulders slumped. ‘I don’t have anywhere else. This is all I’ve got now. And they’re looking for me. They won’t stop, whether I’m with you or not.’

  ‘This has become personal,’ Will observed.

  ‘Damn right,’ Lara said, shaking her head in frustration. Her voice was becoming louder, indignant. ‘I don’t like their methods. I don’t like the fact they can drive someone to suicide. What’s at the end of this? Why would someone kill for it?’ She realised her voice was raised. And spoke in a whisper. ‘This is something Hitler spent a lot of time on. The other thing he spent a lot of time on was the conquest of Europe. Do you see what I’m saying, Will? We have to find this. It’s our duty to keep it out of their hands … whoever they are.’

  Will smiled as he took a long draught of coffee.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Lara asked, frustrated.

  ‘I didn’t think I’d find someone as passionate about this as I am.’ He peered over his shoulder again. ‘All right. We’ll play this your way.’ He looked down at the paper. ‘We have only known each other a short while. There’s going to be a lot of things we don’t know about each other. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was once arrested: it didn’t seem relevant.’ He stared past her and his eyes became dreamy. ‘When I woke up this morning, I thought, this is the sunrise I wasn’t supposed to see. Yesterday, I didn’t know if I should give up, or catch the other train. You made that choice for me. I trusted you then; I placed my fate in the hands of someone I’d never met. Now I’m asking you to trust me the way I trusted you.’

  Lara shifted uneasily. ‘Any more dark secrets?’

  Will smiled. ‘Hundreds, but none are relevant now.’ He reached out to her across the table and touched her hand. She did not flinch as she had expected, but she was uncomfortable with the contact. His skin was warm. ‘Trust me,’ he said again.

  When she nodded, Will called in Mrs Victor. ‘My guess is she doesn’t know whether or not to turn us over, so I’m going to put the ball in her court.’

  Mrs Victor entered with another pot of coffee. Her eyes flicked to the newspaper, which Will had laid open so she could see the photographs. She was flustered and embarrassed, perhaps imagining they were crazed murderers.

  ‘More coffee?’ she said in a shaky voice. Will shook his head.

  ‘Perhaps you wouldn’t mind sitting down,’ he said in a calm voice. Mrs Victor looked uncertainly at the empty chair. Will smiled gently. Lara thought he had the air of a doctor about to tell a patient bad news. The return smile was delayed and nervous.

  ‘Mrs Victor,’ Will said in a low voice, but there was no menace behind the words. He tapped the newspaper. ‘You’ve read this article.’ Mrs Victor made no comment. Will continued. ‘I’m not going to explain it. I could deny everything, but that would be lying, because there’s a little shred of truth in it. I don’t want to lie to you.’

  ‘You know your own business,’ Mrs Victor said in a quiet voice.

  ‘Yes, we do,’ Will replied. ‘You’ll be apprehensive if we stay any longer, so we’ll be moving on.’ He smiled. ‘I don’t want anyone who has shown us hospitality to feel anxious.’

  Mrs Victor nodded.

  ‘The article suggests anyone who sees us should contact the police immediately. Have you done that?’

  Mrs Victor opened her mouth to speak. She stammered, then shook her head.

  ‘Thanks,’ Will smiled gently. ‘I hoped you hadn’t.’ Lara realised Will’s voice had become soporific. ‘But I understand you might feel obliged to do so. So, I’m going to go upstairs and pack, while you sit there with Lara. Then she and I will leave so we won’t be here if there’s an embarrassing scene.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of notes. ‘This is for last night’s bill,’ Will explained. ‘I won’t insult you by offering you something for your silence, Mrs Victor. I don’t think you’d believe us, whatever we told you. I think even Lara and I find it hard to believe sometimes. Once we’re gone it’s up to you what you do. There won’t be any retribution from us, whatever you do.’ He placed the money on the table. Mrs Victor made no move towards it as though the notes had been poisoned by their guilt. He stood up. ‘Talk amongst yourselves. I’ll be back before you know it.’

  He left. Lara shifted, unable to make eye contact with Mrs Victor. What he had said had made sense. Pleading with her not to call the police, would only emphasise their guilt. ‘We won’t hurt you,’ she promised.

  Mrs Victor stared coldly at her. Eventually, after a long silence, she spoke. ‘You’d do better to turn yourself in, love. If what he says is true and you’ve not done anything wrong you’d do better explaining yourself, rather than waiting to be caught.’

  Lara said nothing, although the woman probably had a point. Whatever trouble Will was in, it wasn’t any of her business. Except guilt by association.

  But he had piqued her curiosity. She knew she couldn’t leave Chester until she had proven Will’s theory, one way or another.

  Will returned a couple of minutes later with his bag over his shoulder. ‘Okay, Lara. Time to go.’ He smiled gently at Mrs Victor. ‘Sorry for the inconvenience. I’d hoped this wouldn’t happen. I guess we don’t always get what we want.’

  ‘Just leave,’ Mrs Victor said, seeming to find hidden courage.

  Will nodded. ‘Time to go. I doub
t we’ll ever come back to Chester, so don’t worry.’

  He led Lara outside. She stared up disdainfully at the leaden sky. The air was charged with electricity. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘I’ve not come this far to let some geriatric scarecrow tell me how long I can stay here. We came for a reason. But we need to make it look like we’re running away from Chester.’ He broke into a run. Lara kept up with him. She’d been on the cross-country team at school. Will, however, seemed to have hidden reserves of stamina.

  He stopped suddenly. Lara almost bumped into him. She tried to control her breathing. ‘Do you think she’ll call the police?’ she asked eventually.

  Will nodded. ‘I think so. Even if she hasn’t, we can’t chance hanging around for long.’

  ‘Damn,’ Lara said. ‘She seemed like such a nice lady.’

  ‘Fear corrupts,’ Will told her. ‘In her eyes we were criminals, she probably feels she has to do something.’ He smiled. ‘Present fears are less than horrible imaginings.’

  ‘Is that an observation?’

  ‘No, Shakespeare. Macbeth: act one, scene three.’

  Lara shook her head. ‘Sorry, that wasn’t on my Father’s reading list.’ She looked up at the red stone walls of the cathedral. ‘I don’t suppose we have time to look around?’

  ‘That depends how long Mrs Victor gives us to get away.’

  ‘It’d be inappropriate for us to go back and ask her, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘I doubt she’d thank you.’ He stroked his chin. ‘I think she’d have given us a few minutes head-start before she called the police. For your sake, not mine.’ His eyes were serious. ‘Those aren’t the police, though. They’ve been told to hand it over to someone else. This is ultra vires: above the Law.’ He glanced around them, making a quick calculation. ‘As the crow flies, we’re about a hundred and fifty miles away from Bath and a hundred from Stamford. Those are two places where I know they are. They could be here in two hours by car.’ He shook his head. ‘But they won’t send the cars. It’ll be the helicopters.’