“Here,” Kathryn tossed the spoon into the sink and reached across to gather the bags on the sideboard. “I popped out to get a little shopping. These are for you. I hope they’re okay! I had to guess your sizes.” Her face was beaming with pride and joy as she held them out to him. “I did try…with your old clothes…but they were…” She screwed up her nose and he knew immediately what she meant, feeling embarrassed at what she’d had to endure because of him…such a kind, elegant and fresh-smelling woman. He looked down at the bags and back at her face…such beauty…such compassion…such generosity. This was all too much! Malcolm tried to speak but his words stuck in his throat. A moment later his vision blurred as the tears began to stream down his cheeks and he began to weep like a child.
*
Malcolm felt like a new man. He was bathed, shaved, trimmed and dressed from head to toe in his new clothes. Most fitted, with perhaps an inch or two to spare, and Kathryn had ensured he would want for nothing – underpants and socks, several pairs of each, two plain Tshirts, two button-up shirts with collars, a thick jumper, a lined and waterproofed coat, winter gloves and scarf and walking boots, the kind preferred by hill-climbers. She’d also bought him cigarettes and a lighter.
“It’s a terrible habit, and I shouldn’t encourage you,” she said with a scowl, “but I guess dying of cancer is probably the least of your worries…out there. Those are better for you than what you have been smoking!” Kathryn pulled a face. “I resisted the urge to throw out your tobacco tin though. I put all the things that were in your pockets over there in that canvas bag…but I had to throw your old clothes…and boots…I’m sorry!”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m just sorry for you…having to…well…you know…and…” he could feel himself choking up again. “…spending all your money like that…I…”
“Like I said, it’s not as if I’ve got better things to spend it on. It’s not the best quality stuff or anything, top brands and that, but…”
“I just don’t know how to thank you. It feels like you have rescued me twice over…given me back my life! I’m…overwhelmed!”
They ate lunch together, cold meat and salad sandwiches. Malcolm had started to wolf down the food then remembered earlier and took his time. He wondered if he should tell her about the blood…but decided it was best not to, particularly while they were eating. After lunch she suggested he smoke one of his new cigarettes on the back step while she cleared up. It tasted nicer than his roll-ups but the smoke felt weak and didn’t kick at his chest when he inhaled. Afterwards they drank more tea and talked…about everything and nothing in particular…and while Malcolm was enjoying learning anew the art of polite conversation he also sensed the awkwardness of avoiding the topics he knew they really should discuss. He knew he should be on his way…every minute he delayed could be crucial if he was to save the boy. And he knew that her gun might give him a chance to do so. Yet the rediscovery of homely comforts and the charm of her wonderful company was lulling him toward a dangerous complacency he could ill afford.
Kathryn hinted that he should stay longer, to recover his strength sufficiently to make his way safely ‘home’ again. Malcolm had smiled with sadness, knowing it was not to be.
“I can see you’re thinking about your friend again,” she said at last, confronting the unspoken issue they had both been circumnavigating.
“Sorry?” her directness caught him by surprise.
“Your friend…the one you said you’d risked coming here among us to find?” Malcolm nodded, not knowing what else to say. “Well, if you won’t…can’t stay…then maybe at least you’ll let me help you find your friend? I can do that much for you, surely?”
Kathryn could not know what she asked, Malcolm thought to himself. She could not know because he had not told her.
“It’s not possible,” he said quietly. She looked wounded by his refusal. “In the same way as I would put you in danger if I stay here, you will be in even greater danger if you try to help me. I cannot allow that to happen, not after the kindness and generosity you’ve shown me. I cannot let you save my life, only to lose your own.”
“Why not? Surely that’s my choice…my decision to take such risks? Besides, how can it be so dangerous for me to help find your friend? It will be more dangerous for you…”
“Believe me,” he cut her short, denying himself the tempting seduction of her offer, “I would love you to help me, I really would! In the same way as I’d love to stay and never have to return to my life…out there. But I could not live with myself if anything happened to you, or if I failed to…at least…try…”
“It’s the boy, isn’t it?” It was his turn to be silenced. “The one you told me about last night, in the market place…when you lost Rachel. You came back to try and find him…to rescue him! Of course! It all makes sense! You feel guilty!” Malcolm bowed his head. He didn’t need to say anything. Kathryn suddenly leapt to her feet, her face overflowing with enthusiasm. “Please Malcolm! You must let me help you! It’s the only way! You can’t do this alone, can you?”
“I must…try!” he moaned. She had already done too much for him and still she wanted to do more.
“You asked me if I believed in angels, remember?” He studied her quizzically. “Last night, you said ‘do you believe in angels?’, remember? Well…maybe this was meant to be! Me…meeting you…rescuing you. Maybe it’s my…destiny…yours too! And the boy’s! Let me be your guardian angel! Please Malcolm! Let me achieve something with my life! Make it all…worthwhile!”
For a moment she looked like Rachel, full of youthful hope and optimism that denied her years. It puzzled him that she had so much…so much more than he could even dream of…and yet her plea made it clear that her comfortable life…here…among the citizens…seemed empty to her…meaningless.
“How? What can you do? How can you help? If it was as easy as walking into their police station and asking for him, don’t you think I’d have done that? Even a citizen…they wouldn’t…it makes no difference. We would just both be risking our lives for nothing!”
“I could say…I could tell them he’s my son! That I’d lost him.” She refused to let her enthusiasm or determination diminish and he loved her all the more for it.
“They would insist on proof…insist on seeing his identity…and yours! They would know you’re lying and that would be the end of it…of him…and you! You would lose everything you have…everything you are…and become like me!”
“I can think of worse things to become!” she huffed.
They sat in silence for a few moments and he watched the energy drain from her as she pondered the impossibility of it all. Just when she seemed to reach the verge of despondency she leapt up from her seat. “I know!” Before he could say anything she left the room and disappeared into the hallway. He heard rustling noises and seconds later she returned, holding the gun.
Malcolm flinched at the sight of it, gleaming in the artificial light. “We could use this!” His mouth opened and closed wordlessly as his mind reeled through a variety of scenarios, none of them ending well. “I mean…I wouldn’t shoot anyone…of course I wouldn’t! Nobody would get hurt. But I could threaten…unless they release the boy!” He shook his head slowly and once again the fervour fell from her face. She was so like Rachel, so willing to embrace the positive, and naïve to the realities of this cruel life. For an instant she had truly believed her futile gesture would work and that nobody would be hurt…and Malcolm knew from bitter, painful experience that life just wasn’t like that. She placed the gun on the table between them. “Sorry,” she muttered, “I guess I’ve been watching too many old movies where that kind of thing seems to work!”
Malcolm knew he should say ‘thank you’ for everything she’d done…even the offer of help…but most of all for not judging him and making him feel human again. He should thank her and leave, perhaps even taking the gun…one more favour to call from her…and that way it was only his own destiny he needed to wor
ry about. He was already to blame for Rachel’s and the boy’s…he could not be responsible for hers too. He studied her, wanting so much to reach out and hold her…tell it will all be fine…that there will be a happy ending, like in the movies. And then inspiration came to him…an idea began to form and, for the first time he could remember, he felt grateful for the harsh lessons of living in the wastelands!
“You can help me!” He saw the excitement flicker in her eyes and she edged forward to hear him better. He felt suddenly reborn, and with a purpose. All he needed was a little faith…that was what the ‘Good Book’ said…faith! “I have an idea that might just work. It won’t be…pleasant…but…”
“Tell me! Let me decide what is and isn’t pleasant!”
“Come with me to the police station,” Kathryn was nodding. “Later, as it’s getting darker. Come to the station, and tell them you were attacked by a boy…a non citizen boy, one of the nomads from the nearby wastes, on…the night before…what…day…is it?”
“Wednesday. It’s Wednesday November 5th.” He ran the days through in his head, slowly recalling the sequencing that no longer had meaning for him…until now.
“Monday night, tell them it was Monday night you were attacked…near the market place…you were on your way home. Give them a description…say he was about…so high…” he demonstrated with his outstretched hand. “Say he was quite young…thick black hair, matted, and grubby face. He was with a girl…and tell them he didn’t speak…he just made noises…grunts…squeals…that kind of thing…”
“He’s mute?”
“Yes. Nobody knows why. We thought it was just his…mother…not teaching him, but we tried…even Rachel and Harry…but he didn’t even seem interested.”
“Poor child!” It seemed to strengthen her resolve to rescue the boy. “How awful!”
“So when you’ve told them that, they will bring him out for you to identify…if he’s still alive…and they still have him, of course. There’s no guarantee…”
“Then I grab him, right?”
“No! No, you mustn’t! You must shout out…when they bring him…and that will be my signal. I will hear, if it’s loud enough, I’ll hear you and I’ll rush in and grab him! Then you must distract them…delay them…pretend to be terrified…faint or something…to give me time.” Kathryn beamed at him. He felt instantly proud. “And we don’t need the gun, that way, and nobody gets hurt.”
“Oh, you’re a genius! Of course that will work! Unless…”
“Unless he’s dead already…or gone…I know…but then it won’t matter. You’ll still be innocent in their eyes, either way. You won’t shout out and I won’t rush in. It will be over. You will return home…and I will go back.”
“No…I mean unless they won’t bring him out. They might insist I go in to look at him in his cell or something…and you won’t hear me, or be able to grab him!”
She was right. He hadn’t considered that possibility though, in fact, that was more likely than his version. He tried to remember where the cells were located in the station, though that was the last thing he wanted to remind himself of. “But…I could…pretend…I could pretend to be too terrified to go and see, if they do that! I could say I’m…claustrophobic…and insist on them bringing him out to me!”
“Yes!” he exclaimed, chiming with her excitement. “That will work! I’m sure!”
Suddenly her arms were around his neck and she had pressed her lips firmly to his cheek. Malcolm’s tummy somersaulted within. He wanted so badly to wrap his arms around her and hold her, squeeze her, kiss her…but he was frozen. Kathryn was, after all, a citizen…and, however she made him feel right at this moment, he knew he was not. He wasn’t entitled to return her affection. He needed to remember his place in the world or this could end very badly.
“You must not follow me…when I grab him,” he said quietly as she released him. “You must stay and pretend to be utterly shocked. And when they let you leave, go straight home. Don’t try to find me, whatever you do…or they will connect…”
“So that will be goodbye then?” Sorrow shrouded her eyes. “Won’t I see you again?”
“You can’t! You must not…or they will find out and hold you responsible. I’m afraid it will have to be…goodbye.”
“I could come to the wastelands…after enough time has passed…just to bring you some provisions…and maybe meet Harry and Ma?”
“No!” he snapped. “That cannot be allowed! It’s far too dangerous for you! There’s…all kinds of horrors…nomads…I couldn’t bear it if…” Malcolm stopped himself. “Please, Kathryn, believe me, you will have done enough…more than. Let that moment of victory…let that be our goodbye. I will never forget you…or what you’ve done for me.”
*
As daylight began to fade Kathryn went upstairs to ready herself for this great adventure with a new sense of purpose. Malcolm pulled on his new coat and boots and carefully tied the laces before packing away his new belongings in the canvas bag she’d given him. Then he stood and studied his surroundings…her home. How easy it would be to concede to her and stay, he mused, to forget the boy…and Ma and Harry. How long would it take for his guilt to subside? How long before he was discovered…a friend, a neighbour, a random stop-and-check? He knew that, even if he managed to bury his guilt about abandoning the others, he couldn’t live with himself if Kathryn suffered because of him. He had no choice but to leave this behind…to lay down his life, as the ‘Good Book’ said.
A sudden wave of nausea swept over him and he felt giddy, thrusting out his hand to steady himself against the table. It passed as quickly as it came, but he felt a pain gnawing at his insides and he remembered earlier, the blood he’d vomited. How much life did he have left to lay down? His eyes fell on the gleaming gun, still lying invitingly where she’d left it. He ran through their plan in his mind’s eye, imagining the scene inside the police station if it went wrong…if she panicked…if she produced the gun from her handbag and threatened. He pictured her dying in a hail of bullets…her precious blood seeping from the holes and clouding the floor. He could not allow that…he could not even risk that happening…her blood on his hands! She must live, unharmed, even if he failed and perished.
Malcolm picked up the gun. It felt heavy. It was for her own good, he told himself as he thrust it deep into his coat pocket. She could always buy another for her protection, after this was all over and she was not in any danger.
They walked through the rain-soaked streets as the last of the daylight faded behind the ugly grey skies. Malcolm’s initial nervousness quickly subsided as he realised none of the faces passing him by were staring, or paying him any heed. He was anonymous in his clean, bright camouflage! He looked like them, smelled like them…they could not tell him apart…and, with this woman, his new friend, by his side, he could not have seemed less like what he really was. His confidence was growing and he began to consider the possibility that his plan might actually work! As he walked, absently gazing in on the shops and houses as they passed, he began to refine the plan in his mind…improve it…improve his chances of success and hers of walking away from this unscathed.
They passed the market place and he felt a slight unease again, watching the stall-holders clearing away their unsold wares as twilight unfolded. He saw them tossing aside the spoiled detritus he would have gladly and hungrily scooped from the muddy flagstones on any other night…and wondered if he would ever be doing so again. The pain in his side and stomach had not faded and was now a constant ache as he walked. Somewhere, among the emptying stalls, was the dark stain of Rachel’s blood…where she’d fallen just two nights ago…and just beyond was the alley that would lead him home again…hopefully with the boy at his side. He shut out the pain and pressed on, trying hard not to let it show on his face.
In the distance, in the gaps between the terraces sprinkled with lights, he could see the flickering of flames against the growing night. Surely the houses weren’t so clo
se to the wastelands!
“They look like campfires!” he exclaimed. Suddenly the sky above them exploded with a flash of rainbow colour, trails of crackling sparks emanating out from the centre. He caught his breath. Kathryn was smiling at him.
“They’re bonfires,” she assured. “Of course, I’d forgotten…it’s Bonfire Night! That could help us…the police are always very busy so hopefully most will be out of the station…out and about dealing with youth nuisance.”
Several more rockets lit the darkness above them and a distant memory tugged at the edges of his mind. ‘Remember…remember…’ he thought. He smiled up at the magical world unfurling above his head, knowing it would soon be gone.
They reached the police station minutes later, three storeys of stern stonework beneath a slate roof glared down at them. All the lights were on, including the solitary blue lamp that glowed beneath the words ‘Heddlu – Police’ over the steps leading up to the entrance. Malcolm shuddered at the memory.
“If only there was another way,” he whispered quietly. “Take this cup…” If Kathryn heard him she gave no acknowledgement. They stopped at the foot of the steps and both stared up at the doors, as though they faced a mountain to climb. Neither spoke for an age. Finally Malcolm swallowed his fear and turned to her. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for all you have done for me…and for what you are about to do. You know I could never replay your kindness if I lived a thousand lifetimes.” There were tears in her eyes. She pulled him close and squeezed him as tight as she could. He winced at the pain in his side but said nothing. He did not want this embrace to end. This time he reached around her and held her tight.
“Thank you,” she said in his ear. “It is you that has saved me…given my life meaning…belief…this has been such a special day…one I shall never forget…even if I lived a thousand lifetimes!” He felt the trace of his own tears like cold rain down his cheeks. How was it possible to feel so joyous and yet so melancholy within the same moment of time, he mused. Suddenly her lips were pressed against his and he tasted her hot breath. The kiss was over as quickly as it had begun but his mouth still tingled and his heart was left fluttering. “I hope that, somehow, we will meet again one day…in better times,” she said. “Until then, please don’t forget me…and if angels exist then I pray a host of them will watch over you!”
Experiment With Destiny Page 27