Black Chalk

by Yates, Christopher J.

  ‘Really? Are we always that boring?’ said Dee. ‘Well, goddammit, Theodore Chadwick Mason, you and I are going to punt. And we’ll buy Pimm’s and strawberries and I may even purchase a straw hat. Because, even though it’s such a ridiculous phrase, you should try everything once.’

  ‘That should be a defence for murder,’ Chad laughed.

  ‘Precisely,’ said Dee. ‘Then you’ll come with me?’

  ‘I have a tutorial over at Bethlehem at twelve,’ said Chad. ‘Will you still be here when I get back?’

  Dee riffled the unread pages of her book. ‘Absolutely,’ she said.

  LII(iv) Jolyon left Jacks’ room just behind his tutorial partner, Prost. He felt so tired he had to steady himself going down. ‘Bad luck in there,’ said Prost at the bottom of the staircase. ‘He’s incredibly hard on you,’ he said. ‘Look, I haven’t forgotten you lending me your essays on Roman law when I was struggling. If you ever want to borrow one of mine . . .’

  ‘Thanks, Prost,’ said Jolyon. ‘I’ll get through it, but thank you.’

  Jolyon felt his tiredness like a weight in the back of his skull. Did he want his room, did he need breakfast? He plodded randomly around college. And then he saw Dee and his uncertainty dissolved. He swayed from the path and toiled toward the shade of the ancient tree. And then when he reached Dee, without saying anything, Jolyon curled up beside her and fell asleep right away.

  Dee looked at him fondly. Jolyon’s hands were between his legs and his knees tucked in. His breathing stuttered on the way in but was smoother going out. She wished she had a blanket to tuck around his edges.

  Still asleep, Jolyon rolled over and his face fell against Dee’s bare leg. Then his arm stretched out and soon his fingertips were resting against the inside of Dee’s thigh an inch beneath the fray of her cut-offs.

  It felt good, the tingle, the fingertips cool. Dee stroked the hair from Jolyon’s eyes.

  LII(v) Chad crossed the Bethlehem bridge. There were two punts drifting on the river below, shallow and draped with young limbs. Three swans, the sky cloudless. Chad’s chest was light, the paths of his mind awash with delight.

  He took his favourite route back to Pitt via the narrow winding lane. The wisteria growing inside King’s College was slouched over its old stone wall. The lane twisted, turned and Chad passed beneath the old covered bridge that connected the two halves of Holyrood College. He could see the battlements of Pitt, felt himself nearer and nearer to Dee. He tried to rub the grease from his forehead with the back of his arm and wiped the shine from his nose with the hem at the neck of his tee.

  LII(vi) When Chad reached the garden, they were still there, Dee and Jolyon. A rock and a pool.

  Chad slowed down as he approached, as if he might be intruding.

  But Dee beckoned him and then gestured shush. Chad enquired with a shrug and Dee responded with a shrug of her own. And then, when Chad was sitting beside her, she whispered, ‘He came over, said absolutely nothing, and just passed out there and then.’

  Chad stayed with them but he felt uneasy, a sense of intrusion. At least he had not bought strawberries or Pimm’s already. So he didn’t look completely foolish. But even so his heart was breaking.

  When finally Jolyon awoke they asked him if anything was the matter. He looked at Dee’s leg an inch from his eyes and did not seem surprised to see it there. Jolyon said no, nothing at all was wrong. He sounded very convincing. And soon Jack arrived.

  LII(vii) Jack asked Dee what she was reading. She showed him the cover, Animal Farm.

  ‘Great story. I loved the analogy,’ said Jack, although he mispronounced the word as if the first syllables were pronounced analrather than annal.

  Dee decided not to correct him. ‘You’ve read it then?’ she said.

  ‘No,’ said Jack, lying back on the grass, ‘but I did watch the porn version on video.’

  It was Jack’s final joke, that’s how Chad remembered it. Within five minutes he would be gone. And along with Jack there would depart from the Game the last scrap of any lightness, any humour, any entertainment left in this world of their making.

  LII(viii) It began with a tease. Jack lifted himself to his elbows and suggested to Dee that in her outfit she looked like a geriatric prostitute. Dee responded that he should be careful, lest she decided to make it her mission to drive him from the Game.

  ‘Well, that’s me shaking,’ said Jack. It was a mild comeback for Jack and he spoke it without his usual thirst for the fight.

  Dee pushed her cardigan sleeves to her elbows. ‘You don’t want to make an enemy of me, Jackie-oh. I’m in the book depository and your entire sense of self is sitting pretty in the car seat next to you.’

  ‘You’ve fired your best shot, Dee. Next session it’s me gunning for you.’

  ‘Jack, that was nothing, believe me.’

  ‘Yeah, sure, Dee, OK,’ said Jack, trying to look bored.

  ‘You see, the problem you face, Jack, is you know nothing about me. God, you’re such a man. You never ask any questions, it’s all just jokes and more jokes. So you’ve got nothing to go on. Whereas the things I sense about you, Jack, my female intuition, oh boy! I listen to you, Jack, hard though that sometimes might be. I actually pay attention to the things you have to say, I look out for your little twitches. Men can be such dimwits.’

  ‘Dee, you’re actually becoming tedious now,’ said Jack, lying back again and putting his hands behind his head.

  ‘The thing is,’ said Dee, ‘all of us here know that half your jokes are an excuse to tell your version of the truth, while the other half are a shield, a distraction from the truth.’

  ‘That’s right, Dee, it’s all just a shield that lets me tell pretentious bitches when they’re being pretentious bitches.’

  Dee smiled slyly. ‘No, I think it’s a little more than that,’ she said. ‘Don’t you want to know what’s next up my sleeve for you?’

  ‘Not really,’ said Jack, yawning. Chad and Jolyon were staring down at him. ‘But if you really, really want to,’ he said, ‘then just go ahead and wowus all.’

  Dee licked her lips. ‘So the next time you land yourself with your worst consequence – and let’s face it, Jack, you haven’t been playing so well recently and it can’t be that long – I’m going to suggest for its replacement that you have to go out on a date with dear David.’ Jack closed his eyes. ‘You don’t have to actually do anything,’ Dee continued, ‘that wouldn’t be in the spirit of the Game. You simply have to ask him if he’d like to go and grab a bite to eat one evening. And then after that one’s performed, we’ll replace it with one where you have to turn up naked at his room late one night. Again, it wouldn’t be fair to insist you go through with anything you don’t want to. But if you shouldwant to . . . Do you see a theme developing here, Jack? I can keep going if you like.’

  Jack’s eyes were still closed. ‘Oh, Dee,’ he said, laughing, his voice pitched higher than usual, ‘you’re just too hilarious for words.’

  ‘Oh, but I am, aren’t I? So,’ she said, turning to Chad and Jolyon, ‘can I count on your support?’

  ‘That’s one vote from me,’ said Jolyon.

  ‘And that’s a second from me,’ said Chad.

  Jack laughed again. ‘Funny guys,’ he said. He opened his eyes, sat up and then showed them his palms for the very last time. ‘Such a fucking funny bunch of funny fucking fuckers.’ He got awkwardly to his feet and pointed up at the tower. ‘They keep that place locked up ever since Christina Balfour jumped. But I heard from Big Dave there’s another way up. Apparently if you go up the organ stairs in the chapel there’s a window. You can get along the roof of Great Hall and climb up from there. Big Dave said it was pretty easy, a bunch of them got stoned there one night. I don’t know why, Dee, but I just remembered I’ve been meaning to pass that information on to you for a long time.’ Jack looked at his watch and woodenly acted surprise at the hour. ‘Funny guys,’ he said, ‘funny, funny guys.’ And then Jack wal
ked away, still laughing. Laughing and shaking his head.

  LII(ix) The next day, half an hour after they had arranged, Jack had not arrived. While Shortest beamed periodically at his wristwatch, the three of them agreed they would give Jack five more minutes and would then consider his resignation officially tendered. ‘In absentia,’ said Jolyon. And five minutes later, unanimously, they accepted.

  LIII Disappointingly, she plants her forehead kiss no more firmly than on previous occasions.

  It is a brisker night than the last few and Dee wears a cardigan, large and grey, she has hooked her hands through the holes in its sleeves.

  I think I remember this, I say, pulling at the cardigan as Dee sits down.

  Oh yes, Dee says, inspecting herself. From the good old days. How many good old days did we have before the bad old days?

  Hundreds, I say, more good days than bad.

  But the score doesn’t matter, does it? Dee says.

  I decide a diversion is called for. Gloom is not good for seduction.Do you still see anything of the others? I say.

  Oh, yes, I see Jack and Emilia occasionally. I didn’t for the longest time but then I bumped into Jack quite by chance three years ago. And he was relatively easy to bump into – boy oh boy has Jackie-oh ballooned. So now we get together to cross tongues on occasion, the three of us have dinner sometimes . . .

  The three of you?

  Well, obviously Emilia’s there as well.

  Obviously?

  Oh, of course, Dee says, putting her hand to her mouth. You don’t even know that much, Jolyon, do you?

  I shake my head urgently.

  Sorry, Dee says. Well, they got married five years ago. Ms Emilia Jeffries has become Mrs Emilia Thomson, no P in Thomson.

  But that’s great, I say, hoping I have not lost the ability to lie after so many years on my own. And what else can you tell me? What do they do?

  Well, Jack spent most of his early twenties writing film scripts – and according to Emilia, several of them even nearly got made. Comedies, of course. Meanwhile he made just enough money to live writing snarky film reviews for underground magazines. Along came the Guardianand offered him the chance to go pseudo-underground. A few years later the phone rang, an ITV screen test was arranged and he landed the job of television presenter. So now he bounces round the screen being spiteful about artsy films and gushing for the mainstream. I’m really quite worried that soon there might be conferred upon our Jack the status of National Treasure.

  I pause to take this all in. And then I laugh. Well, I think that’s great for Jack, I say, and I think I nearly half believe this. But how did he and Emilia end up together?

  Emilia spent her twenties researching brain injuries, married to an enthralling Argentine. But that see-saw relationship ended in tears and she bumped into Jack at a Pitt reunion. So she never did get her vet named Giles. But maybe Jack became her safe choice. With his TV salary they moved into a big house in the country and Emilia was able to give up her research, which had been exhausting her. She became an interior designer, she specialises in something she calls Neo-Rural. I think that means a lot of wood and plastic, she’s very much in demand among the wealthier echelons of Hertfordshire. Jack’s determined she should follow him onto TV. Last thing I heard, she’s up for one of those home makeover shows. Well, Emilia always did have a face for TV. Secretly I think of them as the Chinese restaurant couple, sweet and sour.

  I laugh at Dee’s joke. Any children? I ask.

  Nooo, Dee says, and then she gives me a wink. And where would you like to cast your vote as to why this might be?

  My vote goes to – they prefer childless tranquillity, I say.

  Dee looks at me as if I have disappointed her hugely. Oh well, what do I know, Jolyon? she says. And Jack even seems to have found some strange Jack-twisted form of happiness. But you could at least have given me the small pleasure of a vote for impotence, Jolyon, she says.

  I’m so sorry, I say, using my apology as a natural opportunity to touch Dee on the shoulder. And how about Chad? I ask. Do you see anything of him?

  No, Dee says, and I don’t even have any idea what happened to him.

  I try to think of a next line but suddenly I am stumped, all this talk of old friends and there is one name we’re missing, of course.

  I can see that Dee knows what I’m thinking. Jolyon, please, she says, there’s one part of your story I have a problem with. This overwhelming sense of guilt. Look, I understand how you might blame yourself for what happened. But you’re wrong, Jolyon, you’re not to blame. If you’re a murderer then all of us are murderers. We all chose to play, Jolyon. What happened to Mark wasn’t in any way your fault.

  And what am I supposed to say to this? Oh, Dee, you just wait. Keep on reading and you’ll get there. And then you’ll find out just how wrong you are. So insteadI reach for Dee’s book of poems, there are three more I have marked for tonight. Would you like me to read for you again? I say.

  Dee looks as if her heart is breaking for me. She nods and I open the book to one of the pages I’ve marked.

  When I finish, the fireflies have begun threading the air with their lights. And soon our hour is up.

  Maybe we could stay a little longer tonight, I say to Dee.

  Oh, Jolyon, I’d like to spend more time with you too. But you need your rest, you have to finish your story. And then after that we have as much time as we like.

  After that. After that. Those words sound so sweet and thrilling to me. AndDee is right, there remains so much more to tell.

  Mark’s new abode. Emilia’s return. My fight with Chad.

  LIV(i) And then there were three. Chad, Jolyon and Dee. And they were happy, they were in the mood to celebrate their success and this fine thing, this game they had whittled with their minds. They played and no one pushed excessively hard.

  The final three. Gold, silver, bronze. Had Jolyon known that Jack would not arrive then perhaps he would have bought Pol Roger for champagne cocktails. A sugar cube in each glass dissolving, throwing up sparks like Roman candles. But instead a burst of warm weather had prompted the buying of rum and Coke and a bagful of limes. They dealt and tossed dice, they drank Cuba Libres as they bickered playfully over the cards.

  A bottle of rum between three and Dee fell asleep soon after they finished playing, soon after Shortest had left, taking with him his frenzied notes on Jack’s departure. Jolyon recounted the story, it was a shame that Jack wasn’t there to tell the tale himself.

  Chad and Jolyon drank a little brandy and then when it seemed time to leave, Jolyon told Chad that perhaps he shouldn’t wake Dee. She looked so peaceful in her sleep. And this was true, so Chad left resignedly on his own.

  The next day, it simply became known that Dee and Jolyon were together now. There was no need for any announcement because gradually the news became apparent, like a distant billboard being driven toward in a car. A suspicion on the horizon and then very quickly it’s there, looming large on a hillside, spelling out the truth in giant red letters.

  LIV(ii) They performed a few trifling consequences over the next several days, during which time an envelope was pushed across a table by Tallest. Jack’s name was displayed on the front, scrawled across a brown paper plateau sustained from within by a bulge of twenty-pound notes.

  Meanwhile there was a lull in the play, as if they were all saving their strength for the finale. Jolyon was grateful for this pause and grateful for Dee to hold, Dee to stroke, Dee to love.

  Because despite having someone to soothe him at night once more, Jolyon’s days were entering one of their dark ages. The once placid pace of his routine was becoming a stumble. And the mnemonics that nudged his days down the right path were beginning to lead him astray. He had started to eat his breakfast cereal midway through the afternoon. He hadn’t showered in three days and when at last he did cleanse his body, it was not an object that reminded him but Dee, a gentle suggestion that he might wish to consider a shower. And he ha
d abandoned writing his diary, he didn’t remember when, he must have tossed it deep in a drawer at some point. It had become a grind in any case, he liked to write his essays at night and the diary would cut into his work time.

  These shifts in his life were making him feel increasingly uneasy. As a child Jolyon had noticed that while other children seemed perpetually sunny, he passed periodically through bouts of bleakness. During these black spells, he suffered from a sense as if entering a room only to forget why one is there. But for Jolyon this feeling could last for days at a time. Sometimes weeks.

  Slowly he had learned that a structured life could help lighten his darker spells. At twelve, he had begun keeping the diary to record his days as a series of lists. Gradually his system of mnemonics developed and his diary was no longer needed. But writing it every night had become part of his routine, so he continued. Instead of a book of lists, Jolyon’s diary became a more traditional record of the days. Its conversations, his observations. Or somewhere to vent his opinions in secret, a way to cleanse himself of his darkest thoughts.

  And so, while eating cereal at an unfamiliar hour would not be a concern for most people, for Jolyon it felt like a symptom. Or perhaps it was a cause. And then he realised that the sock was no longer hanging from its hook on the door. He thought about replacing it but perhaps he had removed it so that Dee could come into his room unannounced and surprise him at his desk with a kiss, could leave his room early in the morning to work for an hour before climbing back into his bed. Dee’s sleek dark hair on his chest, her limbs like the key to his lock.

  LIV(iii) Chad had told them he had work to catch up on, so it was just the two of them that night, Jolyon and Dee. They crossed Hallowgood Court hand in hand and took the steps down into the swirling currents of the bar, the sounds and the smoke and the crowd. They saw Jack right away, telling one of his stories to a full table, Dorian and Rory and several more first years. Jolyon knew all their names and which subject each was studying but little more than that. He let go of Dee’s hand and waited awkwardly at the edge of the table while Jack finished speaking. Jack’s shoulders had become stiff and he didn’t turn once the tale was over. Everyone was laughing, slapping their thighs, the table.