“I wonder what this is all about?” he said to Jenny.
“I don’t know. Perhaps there is a code somewhere in the house to open it. We can have a look after we have eaten,” she said.
Patrick nodded in agreement and closed the panel up again. They made their way through the living room and went upstairs to get changed.
As they were coming out of the bedroom they ran into Jack, who looked like he was very much the worse for wear.
“Christ Jack, how much did you drink last night?” said Patrick with a smile.
“Not as much as you think buddy. I just didn’t get much sleep that’s all. Jenny that friend of yours is a real firecracker ain’t she?”
“Oh I know all about that, I lived with her for years. I didn’t buy earplugs for nothing,” said Jenny.
They all laughed and then Patrick told Jack about their plans to go and get food.
“Good fucking deal my man. I will have the works. I dunno about Donna, but I know for sure she likes sausage.”
Patrick laughed and Jenny smiled and shook her head. They went downstairs and began to put their jackets on.
“I just realised, we have no way of getting back into town, unless Daddy dearest had a car stored somewhere.”
“Perhaps he has a garage.”
“Let’s go outside and have a look round.”
She nodded and they both headed out of the front door. It was cool outside but the sun was doing a pretty good job of warming things over. To the right hand side there was a large outbuilding with a huge metal shutter door covering most of the front. They walked over and almost immediately Patrick saw another box just like the one that had been on the mystery door in the kitchen. He pulled it open and there was an identical keypad located inside.
“Well, I guess we can’t get inside there,” said Jenny.
An idea popped into Patrick’s mind. He wondered what set of numbers he would program into a lock like this one. Most likely an important date...
Like the birth of a child.
He tapped his date of birth into the keypad and hit the button with a capital E printed on it and the light above the keypad turned green. The shuttered door roared into life and began to lift upwards. Patrick went and stood next to Jenny so they could both see what was inside the building. They both reached out for each other’s hand without even realising that they were doing it.
The shutter rose up and the contents of the out building revealed to them. They both took in a deep breath when they saw what was waiting for them. The building was full of cars. Not a single one of them looked like it cost less than the average sized house. There were cars of all shapes, sizes and ages in there and every one of them looked like it was in absolutely pristine condition.
“I think your Dad had a bit of a hobby,” said Jenny.
“No shit! Shall we go and choose one?”
They exchanged a smile and then ran forwards into the building. By Patrick’s estimation, there must have been fifty cars in there. On a board on the wall there were fifty sets of keys.
“Which one shall we use?” said Jenny.
Patrick swept his hand over the collection. “You may choose madam,” he said, putting on a posh accent.
She grinned and clapped her hands like a child in a sweet shop and then made a beeline for a very scary looking bright red Ferrari.
“This one,” she said.
Patrick nodded at her and then found the key with the matching fob. He threw it to her and she caught it deftly in one hand. She got herself in the car and looked at him with a mischievous look in her eye.
“Shall we go for a ride mister?”
Christ, even hearing her say those words gave him unclean thoughts. He went and got in the passenger side and she gunned the engine which roared like a wild animal.
“Hold on to something,” she said and then hit the pedal. The car shot out of the garage with incredible speed. Patrick had never felt so scared and yet so alive at the same time.
Jenny delighted in telling Patrick that she had done an advanced driving course but he wasn’t giving her his full attention. He was gripping the edges of the seat whilst she hurtled round the sharp bends of the road that led them back into Newtown. She handled the car like a pro racing driver, there was no doubt about that. At one point they had reached a stretch of straight road and she had floored the accelerator. The car roared down the stretch of road and Jenny whooped and yelled with delight. Patrick was pretty sure that if they didn’t get there soon then his bladder was going to let go. However, before it got to that they began to hit traffic so she was forced to slow down. Patrick let out a quiet sigh of relief.
When they reached Newtown they pulled up outside of the local shop. People were stopping to gawp at the expensive car as they got out. As they went inside Patrick felt a strange sense of loss. He had been coming into this shop every day since he first came to Newtown. After the events of the last few days everything felt a little bit alien to him, almost like his life before had all been some sort of strange dream. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to let go of his nice little house and his nice little life here in Newtown, but what would he do? He wouldn’t have the stress of working anymore and that took up most of his time with the endless planning and other paperwork that the job entailed. He figured that he would have to find some sort of hobby, perhaps go travelling. He and Jack had always talked about doing a tour of the English coast, making their way around the entire country, stopping to arse around the coastal towns and see every single beach that there was to see. But it had all be a pipedream, they would have never had the time or the money to do it, until now. Perhaps Jenny would go with him. Perhaps Jenny wasn’t such a good idea, perhaps....
Perhaps he needed to just get through today and then take a little time for himself to get his head back together. He mentally booked himself a time out for later on today, perhaps tomorrow if his penis had anything to do with it. Especially whilst he was watching Jenny walk just a few paces in front of him and recalling the island episode from that morning.
Tomorrow it was.
17.
Patrick had insisted on driving on the way back. Not only were his nerves shot from Jenny’s high speed rally into Newtown, but he wanted to drive the posh car too. He had only ever driven scrapheaps before and he wanted to see how the other half were supposed to live. He found that he rather liked the feeling of driving something with such an incredible amount of power did make him feel pretty good. Whether it was going to be a long term thing or not, he didn’t know for sure, but it sure was fun for the moment. When they got back to Layton House, Jack and Donna were up and about. They were both in the process of having a good look around the house, exploring all of the different nooks and crannies that the place had. They had managed to find enough cooking utilities for making the breakfast with the supplies that Patrick and Jenny had brought back. Soon they were eating and drinking and killing off the last remainders of hangover with a plateful of greasy food each. A few cups of tea to wash it down and Patrick felt fully equipped to take on the day ahead.
“Did you see that door that leads off the kitchen?” said Jack wiping the last remainders of ketchup off his face.
“Yeah I did, it’s coded. I’m going to go and try and open it in a min. I did also find a shit load of expensive cars out in the garage. You can go and pick one if you want, I’m not going to drive them all,” said Patrick.
“Thanks buddy, been after a new set of wheels for a while.”
Patrick smiled. Jack hadn’t owned a car for about four years, he said it was because he liked to use public transport but Patrick knew it was because Jack couldn’t afford to run one. He would have rather spent his money on going out and misbehaving than practicalities. It wasn’t his way of doing things but he understood it perfectly.
“Before I do that though, I want to see what’s behind that door. It must be something pretty cool if it is locked away like that,” said Jack.
Patrick sighe
d and rolled his eyes, “O.K. fine. The code for the door on the garage was my date of birth, so I’m guessing that this one will be the same.”
He stood up and walked through the living room and into the kitchen. HE lifted the covering on the control panel and punched in the numbers. There was a small mechanical beep and the light on the panel stayed red. Patrick looked at it for a moment puzzled, then he tapped in the number again. The same thing happened, same beep, same red light. He looked up at the others and shrugged.
“I guess the code is different for this one,” he said.
They all went back to the living room and sat down on the furniture. They were silent for a few moments.
“Do you not think it is a bit weird?” said Jenny suddenly.
“What do you mean?” said Patrick.
“Well, there doesn’t seem to be much evidence that your father even lived here. There are no clothes, no ornaments, nothing really.”
Patrick looked around the room. She was right. It was almost as if they had been given a brand new home that nobody had even lived in before. He kept on scanning the room and then his eyes fell on something that grabbed his interest. Above the fireplace was a painting in a black frame. It was the “Persistence of Memory” by Salvador Dali, a painting which he had mounted in his living room too, also in a black frame. He stood up and went closer to the picture. It occurred to him that it was the only framed picture that he had seen throughout the entire house. Why would one be here and nowhere else?
Unless it was hiding something.
He grabbed the picture and lifted it up off its hook. He leaned it against the fireplace and stood up again. Sure enough there had been something behind it, a metal square with a keypad in the middle. A safe. The others stood up and gathered round him. He punched in his date of birth again, expecting it not to work, but the light on the keypad turned green and the door popped open just enough for them to pull it open all the way. Patrick peered inside. He could see a small notebook at the front of the safe and a very large stack of money. He hesitated for a moment and then took the note book out. As he did so, something fell out of it and clattered to the floor. Patrick looked down and saw that it was a DVD inside a clear plastic wallet. He scooped it up off the floor and had a look to see if it was labelled, however, the front of it was blank. He looked over at the television to see if there was a DVD player, but the space under the television was unoccupied. He would have to take it home and try it there, or use his laptop.
“What do you think is on there?” said Jack.
“Got no idea, probably loads of boring science stuff. I will have a look when I get home.”
He flipped open the notebook. There was a single word written on the first page.
PHARMACON
“What the hell does that mean?” said Jack.
Jenny had her phone out and was tapping the screen. “Hold on a moment, I’m looking it up.”
She tapped for a few more moments and then she stopped to read the screen. “It says: A medicine, or drug which is also a poison.” She looked at Patrick who had the same puzzled look on his face that she did.
He closed the book. He didn’t want to read it whilst everyone else was around. This was between him and his father, for now at least. It was time for him to go home. He needed to be around his own things and his own life for a little while.
18.
Patrick came in through his front door and closed and bolted it behind him. The smell of his own home immediately made him feel better. He could feel that strange feeling of being knocked out of his comfortable and familiar life starting to recede again. He was home and he was amongst his own clutter. He thought about having a few beers, but he decided that he needed a clear head to process everything that had been going on for the last few days. But first, he needed the basics. He put all of the things he had brought from Layton House and his mobile phone down on the side, grabbed the kettle, filled it halfway and put it on to boil. Then he bounded up the stairs two at a time to his bedroom and stripped off his posh clothes. He found his favourite pair of lounge trousers and a loose fit T-shirt and put them on, then he scrabbled under the bed for his secret slippers. They were dark blue, scuffed to pieces and his best friends in all the world. He slipped his feet into them and stood for a moment enjoying his new found comfort. He heard the kettle reach boiling point and then snap itself off so he made his way downstairs. He set about making himself a large cup of tea in his oversized weekend mug. He was letting the tea brew for a few moments when his eyes fell upon the notebook and the DVD that he had set down when he had picked the kettle up. He desperately wanted to look at it but he needed to set himself straight first. He poured milk into his mug and removed the teabag and stirred. He was just about to head downstairs to his basement living room when he paused to grab a pack of cigarettes and a cheap disposable lighter from the kitchen drawer. He stacked them on the DVD and the notebook, grabbed his mug of tea and set off down the stairs.
It was always dark in the basement living room, save for a small chunk of light that managed to creep in through the small window that led to the street on the opposite side of the house. He quite liked it that way, especially today. The late afternoon sun was beaming through the glass giving the room an almost eerie orange glow. He set his mug and other apparel down on the table next to his favourite chair. His favourite chair was a white leather recliner that had a matching footstool. He had originally tried stacking cushions on it when he first bought it, but the chair worked best when it was naked. His body seemed to fit it perfectly. Many a time after he had arrived home from work he would retire to his chair with a cup of tea. It would soon be followed by a nap, which he could facilitate by planting his hands on the arms and pushing backwards. He had ended up inadvertently sleeping all night in the damn thing sometimes, that was how comfortable it was. If he had his chair, the soft mumbling of the television, his cigarettes and his mug of tea then he could truly be content. Layton House was spectacular, but it didn’t have any of his home comforts, like this dark room and his chair. He was about to think to himself that all the money in the world couldn’t buy him that, but then he realised that it probably could.
He reached for the television control and pushed the button. The news channel came on, which was his favourite for background mumbling. He pulled a cigarette out of his pack, poked one into his mouth and snapped a light to it. He took a deep drag. Wonderful. He picked up his mug and chased the drag with a slurp of hot tea. He could feel his strung out and somewhat manic thought processes slowing down and becoming more coherent. He had some immediate problems to solve and this was the perfect environment to get it done.
So, let’s get to it, he thought.
Problem 1
Layton House or 76 High Street.
Could he really up sticks and move out to that huge house in the middle of nowhere? It was weird how disjointed he felt when he was in that place and even though he was now a man of money he didn’t feel quite right in that place. He supposed that he would get used to it given enough time there but did he really want to? He liked his home here, it fitted him like an old shoe. The house was his haven, his hide away from the bullshit and the horrors that went on out there in the big bad world. He had spent so long trying to find himself a good place to live where he was going to be comfortable and happy and when he first looked round this house he was taken with it almost immediately. It was unconventional and quirky, some would say ugly even, but he loved the place, just like a mother would love a child that everyone else said was ugly and unwanted. Perhaps, with the money he had now he could afford to finally buy the place outright and do what he wanted with it. He had been itching to replace the basic bathroom suite with something a little bit more up to date. It was a possibility. He slurped his tea and took another large drag from his cigarette. The issue was generally undecided. He certainly had enough money to keep both houses and he could flit between the two as he saw fit. O.K. What was next?
Problem
2
Jenny Phillips
“Now, that’s a good one,” he said out loud and drank more tea. Contrary to every basic instinct that he had, he found that he really rather liked Jenny. He had never been on the hunt for a relationship of any kind for many years. He had given it a go before with a girl called Sophie Dexter. They had lasted just over two years and then he had finally got fed up with her constant demands for him to change his life around to accommodate her needs. She had pestered him to let her move into his house with him but he had constantly said no. The kill switch between them had been when he had overheard her talking to one of her bitchier friends about the possibility of them getting married. That had been the curtain call, enough was enough. She got on his nerves before they were married and before they had even tried living together so the idea of being married to her was just too much to bear. There had been an almighty row, he had been totally honest about the way he felt, perhaps too brutally honest. But there was no point in pretending any more it wasn’t fair to either of them. She had walked out on him in floods of tears telling him what a complete bastard he was and that he would die alone in his shitty little house. After she had gone he had drunk four cans of beer and phoned Jack up. Before long they were in the pub celebrating his newly won freedom. He had even caught himself singing in the shower the next morning.
But Jenny was a different story. She was far different than Sophie. He didn’t feel like he was a trophy to her. She was into him and it was fair to say that he was into her. He had certainly never had sex like that in his whole life. He was relishing the memory of them fucking on the kitchen island, how she had propped herself up so she could watch him thrusting himself into her. She had certainly been a snugger fit than all the other girls he had been with too. The pleasure of intercourse had been far more intense than anything he had ever experienced in his whole life. There was a huge physical attraction, there was no doubt about it. He liked the fact that she wasn’t the slenderest of girls and that she was perfectly comfortable with having curves. Her confidence and intelligence was also a major factor. He hated stupid giggly girls whose ideas of sophisticated conversation was the latest celebrity gossip. He felt that she was his intellectual equal and that was a rare commodity. Could he make room for her in his strange little world? A slurp from his mug said that he could. Could he allow himself to compromise enough to let her feel comfortable? A drag from his cigarette said that he could.
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