‘He’s not, that’s why they’re after him. Do you wanna buy this paper or...?’
I was in a corner shop just outside Birchwood Cemetery. I’d rather they ignored me, the old lady and the shopkeeper. I wanted them to carry on whatever they were gossiping about. But I knew that was asking a bit much, me out of breath, sweating buckets and covered in blood. The lady hobbled off out the door and the man tried to act like I was just another customer. He wasn’t doing too bad, actually, although you could hear his controlled breathing.
I asked him for what I wanted. All of it behind the counter stuff. ‘I can’t pay you,’ I said. ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘I’ll pay you tomorrow, right?’
‘No you won’t,’ I think he said as I was leaving the shop.
He was right, as it turned out, but I had every good intention at the time. When you look back, you can see that I, Leon, had nothing but good intentions at every stage along the way, and never intended to hurt no one.
It was quiet in the cemetery. No one was about except a couple of old dears, a middle-aged man in his Sunday best and someone on a sit-down mower. Still I felt quite tense, like this placid setting was about to kick off big time any second now. I looked again at the mower man. He was as old as the other three and about five foot tall, so I couldn’t see him causing me trouble. Unless he had a Glock under them overalls. You never knew with Graven. You could never tell who he had influence over, who he had corrupted. But it wasn’t the mower man who was getting me all keyed up. I didn’t know what it was.
Maybe it was just excitement.
I was going to find Kelly.
If only I knew where to look. What if Graven didn’t have her here, after all that? I’d chased him most of the way but lost sight of him at the end, and hadn’t seen him come in here. But it felt like he was here somewhere.
I trusted that feeling. I had to.
I went to shout her name. If she was here I was going to find out. But I held my tongue on the K. Someone was staring at me, right over there by the big angel-type statue.
It was the Sunday best man.
‘Leon,’ he was saying. Not shouting, but loud of voice. And firm, like someone getting respect from a dog. ‘Leon!’
I turned and went the other way, just wanting to get away from him. I know it doesn’t reflect well on me but I couldn’t abide his voice. I could sense things being derailed with that voice around, detailed plans getting fucked up just before they bore fruit. That’s why I was running.
‘Leon!’
I don’t know what it was, but I found myself slowing. Not to a stop yet, but back to walking pace. I knew I’d get away from him at this speed but I also knew it wasn’t going to work. All it was going to take was him calling my name in that way, just one more time.
‘Leon!’
I stopped. There was a bench there and I sat on it, looking down at the big V formed by my legs. There was a lot of bird-shit on the path. The old man had reached me.
‘You’ve caused me a great deal of trouble,’ he was saying, easing himself onto the bench next to me. Way too close for my tastes. I could smell the Fisherman’s Friend he was sucking. ‘It’s gone too far this time, Leon. You’ve caused a lot of people a lot of pain. Is that what you wanted?’
I could still run. Couldn’t I? I could go and hide behind that big headstone there. I could run past it and keep running until I was back in the road, then...
Then...
‘Leon!’
‘Yeah! I mean no, I never meant no one no trouble. All I’m trying to do is get things sorted.’
‘I see. And what do you say to me?’
‘Just... I dunno. Sorry, I suppose. I never meant it.’
‘Well, OK. But, you know, we could have talked about this. If I’d have known you wanted to try this again I could have helped you. It was always an option, but you never expressed an interest, Leon. You gave us to believe that all this was behind you. We’ve been exploring other channels, remember? Can you tell me some of those channels?’
I shrugged. I was watching a new figure, over the far side. Thought it was one of the old dears at first but no, this one was male. Couldn’t tell much more though.
‘Well, what about the buried letter? Remember that? You wrote down the thing you most wanted, the one thing that kept you awake at night and that you hoped to attain one day. Do you remember that, Leon?’
The male shape was getting closer. Seemed like he was looking right at me for a moment. It was hard to tell.
‘You dug it up, didn’t you? Before you escaped.’
I shrugged.
‘Can I have it?’
I got out the soil-stained letter. He opened it and read it, going: ‘Hmmm, I see.’ He folded it up again and gave it back to me.
But I didn’t want it.
I didn’t need it now.
‘While we’re at it,’ he said, ‘can I have my phone back?’
I gave him his phone, wiping it first because I think it had some blood on it.
‘Thanks, erm... have you been hurt?’
‘Cut myself shaving.’
‘Right, well... Leon, can you recall any of the other channels we’ve been exploring? Do you remember we talked about destiny?’
I flinched. Felt like someone had lobbed a stone at me. I turned, rubbing the back of my neck, but no one was there. Strange. When I looked back to the front again I could no longer see the male shape in the distance. I could feel myself panicking a bit, thinking I’d lost him. But then I saw him, over to the side. Much closer.
‘Do you remember what your agreed destiny was? Synthesis, Leon. Do you recall what that means?’
It was Graven.
‘Well, I’ll remind you. It means reuniting disparate parts to make an organic whole. Now, we were trying to achieve that in therapy, weren’t we? But we could use the opportunity we have here. What do you think about that?’
It was Graven, plain as day and shameless, walking around in front of me like he owned the place. Which, in a way, he did. Graven was the boss around here. Graven had influence.
‘Of course, it’s preferable in a controlled, safe environment, but not essential. This is your destiny, Leon. Go to Graven.’
‘What?’
‘Go to him. Face him. Confront him. Accept him.’
‘Graven?’
‘Of course. Who else?’
‘What, you mean... You know Graven?’
The doc realised he was leaning in too close to me and sat back, trying to relax a bit. Any second now he’d cross his legs. All part of the show, trying to make it look like he was calm and in control.
He crossed his legs.
‘I have met Graven, yes,’ he said.
‘He’s a bastard! Did you tell him he’s a fucking bastard?’
‘That is not for me to say, Leon. If you feel that way, you should tell him yourself.’
‘Did... Did you bring him here? Did you tell him to prance around over there like he owns the fucking place?’
‘Graven is always here. This is where he lives. Remember?’
‘But...’
‘You need to make peace with him, Leon. Find a way to accept what he is and what he has done. Only then can you move on.’
I looked at Graven. Didn’t look like he’d seen me yet. He’d stopped strolling and was crouched down in front of a headstone, reading it. His back was turned to me.
I looked at the doc. He smiled and nodded. I think he might have spoken but I couldn’t hear it any more. My head was full of sound, howling voices and clattering metal. I was confused and excited, elated even. It was like I’d been set up on one of those TV prank shows, but the host had revealed himself beforehand and wanted me to go ahead and walk on, knowing full well it was a trap.
Alright, I said. I’ll do it.
Because I was one step ahead, wasn’t I?
I went to Graven.
23.
The doc m
eant well, I knew that. I’d tried going along with his synthesis thing but it didn’t work. I knew it could never work as soon as he’d said it involved coming to terms with things. Some things you can never come to terms with. Some things you just have to fight. To the death. As I walked I could see figures in the trees, darting around a lot faster than people normally do in cemeteries. I was sure some of them were watching me, but I didn’t care. I was up for it now. Graven was right there, only yards away. I’d found him. He was going to tell me where Kelly was. I was going to beat it out of him.
Only feet away now. I opened my mouth to shout his name but it didn’t seem right. He’d gone beyond that. I’d kick him. I’d run right up and aim a boot up his arse. I started positioning myself to do that when he got up and stepped to one side, facing me.
He’d been waiting.
I knew it from his eyes.
All of this, everything was planned.
He waved one hand at the headstone, compelling me to read it.
I tried not to. Why should I do what that bastard tells me? But I couldn’t fight it. He always got his own way. I looked at the headstone.
KELLY ROSE GRAVEN
BELOVED DAUGHTER OF
CARLA JANE GRAVEN
“SAPPHIRES IN THE DESERT”
‘They left my name off,’ he said after a while. ‘I can’t accept that. She was my daughter too, not just hers.’
He looked at me.
‘Fix it, will you?’
I stared at him, trying to burn holes in his brown skin, praying for that mole on his left cheekbone to burst open, all of his lifeblood pouring out and quenching this sacred ground. But I couldn’t seem to make that happen.
I couldn’t do anything.
‘Put it on,’ he said again. ‘Write our name.’
I got out the bag of stuff from the corner shop. I rummaged in it for the marker pen and knelt in front of the headstone, ready to write. I couldn’t stop myself.
He was stronger than me.
‘Synthesis, Leon!’ the doc was shouting far behind me. I could barely hear him. At least two helicopters were hovering above me. ‘Synthesis!’
Still banging on about it, even now. He thought he knew the truth, that this brothel bouncer stuff was all a fantasy based on that film I’d seen on telly in the rec room, that I’d split myself into two: the knight and the dragon. Yeah, that was all true, but it was only half of it. The other half was that I knew it. I was fully aware of the game I was playing in my head. But there was no other way. This was the only way to slay my dragon. As long as I went through with it.
I dropped the pen and sprayed lighter fluid all over Graven.
The men were coming out of hiding now, running towards me. Some were holding walkie-talkies to their faces, others pointing guns at me. All of them were coppers.
The only thing left in the bag was a box of matches. I lit the whole lot and dropped it on Graven.
I crumpled alone onto Kelly’s grave, paying for what I’d done like that man in the stained glass. The last thing I saw before the flames took me was the name I’d just added to the headstone, before the epitaph:
AND LEON GRAVEN
A note from the author
This picture is from a stained glass in Worcester Cathedral, and shows some luckless bishop burning for his beliefs, dying with a quiet dignity that both impresses and appals. I was looking at it when I had the idea for this book. Suddenly it wasn't me looking up at this grim scene, but a new character. And straight away I knew everything about him - his name was Leon, he was involved in the seedy side of commerce, he thought he went about his life the right way, he was black, he had a daughter. Also the premise - he was in trouble for some act that he felt was fully justified. And like the man in the stained glass, Leon knew he would have to pay.
Sometimes this can happen - a fully fleshed character and situation falls into your lap. It's not often that I get the opportunity to start writing an idea straight away, but this time I did. I wanted to find out what was going to happen to him, and what had happened already. Maybe that sounds strange, if we take it that the author is in control and can manipulate each character like a puppet master. But sometimes it's better to just see what happens, to keep digging and unpeeling those layers. I also knew from the start that Leon was going to end up like this stained glass bishop, paying the ultimate price, but I needed to know why. And would he bear it with this same quiet dignity?
About the Author
Charlie Williams was born in Worcester, England. He wrote the books Deadfolk, Booze and Burn, King of the Road and One Dead Hen - all featuring off-the-rails nightclub doorman Royston Blake - and Stairway to Hell, about a pub singer who finds out that his soul was switched at birth with that of David Bowie... by Jimmy Page. Many of his short stories have appeared in magazines and anthologies. In 2008 the short film Ark, written by Charlie, screened at festivals globally including Cannes. He lives near Worcester with his wife, children, cats, dogs and a giant African land snail called Ryan.
charliewilliams.net
Also from Charlie Williams
Deadfolk
"The more politically correct among you can read this as social comment, the rest can just enjoy the ride" - The Guardian
Deadfolk at Amazon UK
Deadfolk at Amazon US
Booze and Burn
"Anyone who's ever grown up and put up with the rude boys, growlers and thugs of a crappy, rain-soaked market town in the middle of nowhere, will no doubt fall in love with this all-too-fictional nonfiction" - FRONT magazine
Booze and Burn at Amazon UK
Booze and Burn at Amazon US
King of the Road
"Royston Blake is a boastful, aggressive, foul-mouthed, psychopathic hard-man of the utmost political incorrectness, a failure at everything he does but an indomitable believer in his own cleverness and sex appeal. Why, then — this is a great mystery — is it so enjoyable to read about him?" - The Times
King of the Road at Amazon UK
King of the Road at Amazon US
One Dead Hen
"An excellent book... one of the most challenging social commentaries you are likely to read this year" - The Guardian
One Dead Hen at Amazon UK
One Dead Hen at Amazon US
Stairway to Hell
"Brilliant... at once pathetic, tragic and wonderfully entertaining" -The Guardian
Stairway to Hell at Amazon UK
Stairway to Hell at Amazon US
Copyright
© 2011, Charlie Williams
Charlie Williams has asserted his rights in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
charliewilliams.net
Published by Gibbous Moon
First published by Five Leaves Press in 2011
First published in e-book format in 2011
Cover image: M. Markus
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Graven Image Page 7