by Jodi Taylor
‘There was no need.’
‘No, of course there wasn’t. Because you weren’t racing around the countryside making yourself ill and getting yourself into more trouble than even you could deal with at all, were you?’
He was becoming angry. ‘Cage – I swear to you – none of your reality is real. Sorensen – the clinic – it’s all still there. You banged your head, that’s all. Jesus, I can’t believe that you would think I would hurt you. I thought we … We said … You said … One minute we were going to try to build something together and the next minute you’re flying out of the door.’
His colour was boiling around him. The nasty dark patch over his heart was back, spreading its tendrils everywhere. His golden glow was fading. I could see his bewilderment and, deep down, his fear.
I hardened my heart. ‘Well it doesn’t matter really does it. You still betrayed me. Whichever reality is the right one, you still betrayed me. Either you beat me badly enough to put me in hospital or you colluded with Sorensen to bug my house. To spy on me. Neither is particularly commendable, is it?’
‘I don’t deny I worked with Sorensen,’ he said quietly, which took the wind right out of my sails. ‘I let you down badly. But that was in the past. I’m here now. You called. I came.’
‘Only so you can report back to Sorensen that you’ve re-established contact.’
‘He doesn’t know you’re gone.’
I was bewildered. ‘But – all the equipment in my house. They must know I’m not there.’
‘I dismantled it.’
‘But surely someone’s noticed I’m not there.’
‘Not so far. You’re pretty much known to be my responsibility so I’m left to get on with it.’
I was bewildered. ‘But what are you telling Sorensen?’
‘Well, I only have to report weekly – unless you take it into your head to run off into the night at eleven in the morning again, of course, but according to me you’re safe and well at home, leading the blameless and boring life of a suburban housewife.’
‘Oh God,’ I said with memories of the last few days still bubbling through my brain. ‘If only.’
‘Yes, I really don’t understand you, Cage. You’re the original 1950s housewife, aren’t you? You sit at home not doing anything in particular, but more happens when you’re around than anyone I know.’
‘That’s odd – I was thinking exactly the same thing about you.’
He looked surprised. ‘Me?’
‘Is there anyone else here? Really Jones, I sometimes think working for Sorensen is the best thing you could do. You know – free psychiatric care.’
He started the engine. ‘I’d better get you home before …’ he stopped. We both knew he’d been going to say, before I give you the thump you so richly deserve, and we both knew that suddenly, that wasn’t funny any longer.
I heard his clothing rustle as he turned to me.
‘It wasn’t me,’ he said quietly. ‘I swear I didn’t do that. I think you know, deep down, I would never do that.’
I saw again his cold-eyed emotionless face as he beat me and closed my eyes to shut out the picture.
‘I wish you believed me,’ he said, not looking at me. ‘But honestly, Cage, it wasn’t me.’
His colour said he was telling the truth. Or what he believed to be the truth.
I wanted to believe him. I so wanted to believe him. But my reality had happened. I knew it. He could talk about dreams and concussion as much as he liked, but I could taste the cold kiss of snow on my face. I could see his face as he systematically and efficiently broke my bones. It was what he did. It was part of his job. It was part of him. There was another side to him – as there must be to anyone who had a similar occupation – a side he kept hidden from me and I couldn’t rid myself of the fear that one day I would see it again.
He went on. ‘I did let you down, but if I’d refused to do what he ordered then Sorensen would only have put someone else on the job and I thought you were better off with me. As best I could, I’ve tried to make things right again. And so long as you don’t do anything that brings both of us to his attention, we’ll be fine.’
He turned his head away and said quietly, ‘I’m taking a chance here. Don’t make a liar out of me Cage, or we’ll both be in trouble.’ I live in Rushford, up by the castle and we arrived well before dawn. The streets were still full of happy revellers – another world away from Greyston and what had happened there. I’d tentatively mentioned going to the police about Veronica Harlow and Jones had snorted with amusement for the next five minutes.
‘But the police should know what’s going on up there,’ I said, panting beside him as he strode up the hill. ‘Or suppose someone from the village reports us.’
‘For what?’
‘Damage to property?’
‘Yes, because that’s so much more serious than murdering a young man every New Year’s Eve just to ensure the flowers bloom and they don’t turn the whole place into a giant motorway service station. They’re not going to report you, Cage.’
‘But suppose they do. My fingerprints will be all over my room,’ I said, years of watching CSI coming to the fore.
‘Not a problem unless your prints are on file. Are they on file?’
‘I don’t know. Are they?’
He shrugged and I didn’t push it. Did I want to know? Whether they were or weren’t, I couldn’t do anything about it, so why bother. It occurred to me that six months ago, the knowledge that the authorities had my prints on file would have frightened me to death. Now I could hardly be bothered to be bothered.
It seemed an age since I’d last been home. So much had happened that I wasn’t sure I was the same person I had been when I’d left it on Christmas Eve. Only just over a week ago.
I found my key and opened the front door. He switched on the light. My house was warm and welcomed me as it always did.
Both of us glanced at the empty space where Ted’s photo had stood and then looked away again.
He asked, ‘Where is it? The photo, I mean.’
I sighed. ‘Back at Greyston with the rest of my stuff.’
‘You’re not to go back there.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’ And I wouldn’t, but I’d miss my picture of Ted. I had others, but that one was my favourite. The thought of Veronica or, more likely Becky pawing over my things wasn’t very nice.
I waited for him to leave, but instead he said, ‘I’d better take a look at your wrists before I go.’
I hadn’t even noticed. Each wrist was rubbed raw where I’d struggled with Joanne, the flesh red and swollen.
I sat down and he bathed each one in warm water with a drop of disinfectant. ‘I’m not going to bandage them because then everyone will think you tried to slash your wrists rather than spend Christmas with me.’
I sat quietly until he finished.
‘Thank you. They don’t hurt very much at all.’
‘They will,’ he said. ‘Just take things easy for a couple of days.’
I nodded, suddenly very tired.
‘I’ll call you tomorrow or the day after.’
‘You don’t have to.’
He looked suddenly tired as well. ‘Yes, I do.’
An awkward silence fell.
‘Well,’ he said eventually. ‘I’ll be off then.’
I didn’t want him to stay but I wasn’t sure I wanted him to leave, either.
He stood up. ‘I don’t know, Cage, it’s easier to keep safe half a dozen foreign despots wanted for war crimes the world over than it is to keep you out of trouble. What is it with you? You don’t seem to have any friends – you have no social life to speak of – you rarely go out and yet everywhere you go – it’s mayhem. What is it with you?’
Since I couldn’t answer that question I remained silent.
‘Look, I know things aren’t very good between us at the moment but I’d feel a lot better if I knew you felt you could contact me if you needed
me.’
I nodded again, keeping my eyes lowered so he wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes.
He waited a moment and then said again, ‘I’ll be off then.’
I saw him to the door and locked it behind him.
Chapter Nine
I didn’t think I would, but I slept for what was left of the night, deeply and dreamlessly. In fact, it was my throbbing wrists that woke me. Jones had been right. They did sting.
I had a long, hot bath, revelling in the luxury of being in my own home again. I made a resolution that come what may in the future, I would never allow anything – anything at all – to drive me away again. This was my home and this was where I lived.
There was hardly anything to eat in the cupboard because I’d run everything down before Christmas, but I found a frozen loaf and made myself a massive pile of toast. I was just tucking in when the telephone rang. Thinking it was Jones checking up on me I picked it up. It wasn’t Jones – it was Jerry.
‘He asked me to check you’re all right.’
I was to discover he was uncomfortable naming names.
‘I’m fine.’ I paused. ‘Thank you for yesterday. I don’t know what I’d got myself into there, but I’m very grateful you were able to get me out of it.’
‘You’re welcome, missis.’
‘What about Dermot?’
‘No problems at the hospital. I took him back to my place, found him some old clothes and a pair of trainers and he pushed off. Don’t think he could get away quick enough. Anyway, he said to say he’d gone back for your stuff and he’ll be round about tennish.’
‘Who? Dermot?’
‘Course not. Why would he go back for your stuff? Kid’s an idiot.’
My heart stopped. ‘What? Jerry, say all that again.’
He repeated himself patiently. ‘He said to say he’d gone back for your stuff and he’ll be round to see you about tennish.’
‘Jerry, no, he can’t. He mustn’t.’
‘Too late,’ he said simply. ‘He set off well over an hour ago. He’s probably on his way back by now.’
‘But it’s New Year’s Day,’ I said. ‘According to them, the first man into the village on New Year’s Day is the new Year King. Jerry, we have to go after him.’
‘No, we don’t,’ he said calmly. ‘He’ll be fine. Have you seen the size of him?’
‘They’ll drug him or something.’
‘Yes, because he’s certainly stupid enough to sit down and have a cup of tea with them, isn’t he? Listen, missis, he’ll walk straight in, demand your stuff, get it, and walk straight back out again. The state we left that place in last night there’s nothing they could do to him.’
‘The stones,’ I said faintly.
‘Well, I wasn’t in any position to look around me, but I know for certain one of them stones fell down, and for all we know it might have brought the others down with it. And that old lady didn’t look none too good neither. Believe me, they’ll be running around like headless chickens up there.’
I couldn’t make him understand.
‘No,’ he said, cutting me off short. ‘He’ll be fine.’
‘Trust me,’ I said sarcastically.
‘No,’ he said, seriously, ‘trust him. Anyway, gotta go. I just rang to make sure you’re all right.’
He put the phone down.
I paced up and down. How could Jones be stupid enough to do such a thing? After everything I’d said, how could he be so stupid? He saw what we were up against last night. How could he possibly be so reckless as to go back there? And on New Year’s Day of all days. In my mind, I saw him disappearing under a heaving crowd of vengeful women. I saw revenge running red down the stones, rejuvenating and restoring. And then, illogically, I saw him with Becky, naked in the moonlight, both of them laughing as the crowd urged them on. I saw him turning into the same drink-sodden Year King we’d saved last night, full of befuddlement and a sense of entitlement.
Suddenly, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I wrenched open the front door and ran down the steps. I’d go to the top of the hill and wait for him. I’d watch for that familiar figure striding up the hill, his golden-red colour streaming out behind him.
I ran down the path. Castle Close was just beginning to wake up after its New Year’s Eve celebrations. I could still faintly smell spent fireworks in the chilly morning air. Curtains were being drawn back. Somewhere a faint electronic beeping denoted someone’s alarm clock being ignored after a night of celebration.
The entrance to Castle Close is through an archway between two well-preserved black and white Tudor houses. I stood, panting slightly, staring out down the hill. The streets were deserted. I went to look at my watch and realised I’d forgotten to put it on. And in my haste to get out, I’d forgotten my coat as well and it was a frosty morning. I wrapped my arms around myself and paced up and down, up and down, my breath frosting in the air around me, never taking my eyes off the street. I couldn’t miss him. He’d be on foot because the streets up here are too narrow for cars and this was the only way in.
I don’t know how long I stood there. Long enough for my feet and hands to grow numb with cold. Long enough to frighten myself to death with my own imaginings. Occasionally there would be the odd flash of common sense and Jerry’s prosaic, ‘Have you seen the size of him?’ would intrude into my worst fears, but mostly I paced to stay warm and worried myself nearly sick.
Time dragged and there was still no sign of him. I’d got to the stage where I was considering summoning Jerry and mounting some sort of rescue – don’t ask me how – when Jones appeared at the bottom of the hill, sensibly wrapped against the cold and with my suitcase in his hand.
The wave of relief nearly knocked me over.
He lifted his head, saw me and waved.
I couldn’t help myself. I bolted out from under the archway and straight into his arms.
‘Well, this is a nice welcome,’ he said, dropping my suitcase with a thud and holding me tight.
I hit him on the arm.
‘Ow. What was that for?’
‘Are you out of your mind? What did you think you were doing? You saw them last night. We barely got away. How could you be so stupid as to even think about going back there? And for something so unimportant as a bloody suitcase. What were you thinking? Why …?’
He caught my flying hands. I was still feebly slapping at his arms and generally causing him slightly less inconvenience than a mayfly terrorising an elephant.
‘I don’t know, Cage, I turn my back on you for one night and standards plummet. Did you know you split an infinitive back there?’
‘That’s not the only thing I’ll split,’ I said, struggling to repossess my own hands. ‘What were you think …?’
‘Let’s not discuss it here in public,’ he said, taking my suitcase in one hand and me in the other. ‘Good God, you’re frozen. Where’s your coat?’
‘I forgot it,’ I said in a small voice.
‘Yes, that’s what every noble rescuer wants to hear. That he’s risked life and limb rescuing his princess and the next morning the daft bat goes out without her coat and dies of pneumonia.’ He shrugged off his coat and placed it over my shoulders. It was very warm and very heavy.
‘Thank you,’ I said in an even smaller voice.
It soon became apparent my coat wasn’t the only thing I’d forgotten. We stood on the top step. And stood …
‘Come on, Cage, unlock the door. It’s freezing out here’.
‘Um …’
He sighed. ‘You forgot your key as well, didn’t you?’
‘I might have. A little bit.’
He sighed again and pulled out his wallet. ‘Close your eyes.’
‘Why?’
He took out his credit card. ‘So you don’t see this next bit.’
‘What are you going to do – bribe it to open?’
‘I gave you my coat, Cage. Can we dial back on the sarcasm, please?’
‘Sorry.’
‘So I should think. Just close your eyes will you, before I’m accused of corrupting you even further.’
‘What are you going to do?’
There was no answer.
‘Jones?’
There was no answer.
Alarmed, I opened my eyes to find myself alone on my doorstep. Michael Jones was inside filling the kettle. No one should have to put up with this sort of thing. I stepped inside, closed the door and laid his coat over the back of the sofa. ‘How did you do that?’
‘Neatly and with great skill,’ he said. ‘Can you check your suitcase? I think I got everything, but things were a little confused and they seemed to want me to leave as quickly as possible.’
I unzipped it and rummaged. ‘Yes, everything’s here.’
‘Good, because I really didn’t want to have to go back there. I have to say, Cage, I don’t know what on earth possessed you to stay there in the first place.’
‘Well, it was so pretty and …’
‘Pretty?’
‘Well, yes. It was like a picture on a chocolate box. All those little cottages, and the thatched roofs, and the gardens were so neat, and the pub was lovely and … what? Why are you staring at me like that?’
‘Cage, it was an awful place. It was dirty, run-down, there was rubbish everywhere, the houses were falling down, and far be it from me to cast aspersions upon our country cousins, but the whole grungy bunch of them looked as if they’d been marrying their own brothers for generations. I kid you not, I saw sheep up there that took more pride in their appearance.’
‘No, it wasn’t like that at all. It was picture perfect. She said it was part of the covenant. They looked after the stones and the stones looked after them.’
‘The stones are damaged,’ he said quietly, filling the teapot.
‘What? I know you hit one …’
‘We did. The blocky one on the end – but the other two don’t look good either. Although I’m not sure that was anything to do with us. Looks as if the whole lot could come down any moment. They must have been very unstable. You could say we did them a favour. They were an accident waiting to happen.’