by Jenny Colgan
‘I think if I put out my hand to pick up the cup it might stick in the position forever,’ said Marcus, who was barely visible between three layers of scarf – only his eyes could be seen.
‘I’m glad that, as the most sophisticated planner in the country, I’m being pulled out of my bed in the middle of the night to watch people’s arms fall off,’ said Sven.
‘Isn’t this great!’ said Rafe, striding up, looking pink-cheeked, his curly hair also crammed under a hat. He should be less tall, Arthur found himself thinking.
‘So – what’s the plan?’ said Rafe. ‘Is that soup?’
Cathy poured him a cup, beaming.
‘Well,’ said Arthur vaguely, and indicated the area. ‘This is our city, our home. I want us all to see it from different angles, in a new way. We’re just going to walk through, observing and taking notes, and get as many ideas as possible. Then we just pick out all the good ideas and hey, we’re on the way.’
‘Sort of, “chip off everything that doesn’t look like a tiger”?’ said Gwyneth.
‘Exactly! Here.’ He doled out the little disposable cameras he’d bought for everyone. ‘Let’s go!’
And they set off towards Market Street, a funny little group, completely isolated, huddling together for warmth under the ever burning fierceness of the sodium lamps, and the ring road still thundering overhead.
At first they didn’t know what to say or what they were looking for, apart from Rafe, who immediately started snapping all over the place. But as they looked longer, they started to notice all sorts of things impossible to see during the day when trying to avoid the uncollected rubbish.
‘Do you get much wildlife round here?’ said Rafe, taking a picture of a spider’s web spanning a bypass.
‘I don’t know,’ said Arthur. ‘We get foxes, I suppose. Spiders, obviously. Um … has anyone ever heard of there being wolves?’
The others looked at him.
‘Perhaps a hundred years ago,’ said Gwyneth.
‘Or in a country that actually has wolves,’ said Sven. ‘Denmark has them. They’re cool.’
‘Well, just a rumour then, obviously,’ said Arthur, looking at his toes.
‘God, look at that,’ said Gwyneth, pointing to the ring road overhead. ‘When there’s no cars in the way … That cluster of lamp-posts looks like a forest.’
They wandered over to catch the best angle.
Cathy looked around on the other side. ‘How far have we come? I’ve completely lost my bearings. It’s weird at night, isn’t it?’
‘That’s all right,’ said Arthur. ‘Lose your bearings. We’re in the car park – there’s just no cars.’
‘Oh, yeah.’
They wandered through the bylanes behind the cathedral. ‘It’s like a maze round here,’ grunted Marcus.
‘Oh, I love mazes, I do,’ said Cathy. ‘Have you ever been to …’
‘A maze!’ said Gwyneth and Rafe at the same time.
‘That’d be brilliant,’ said Rafe.
‘Yes,’ said Arthur as they turned a cobbled corner.
‘People do like mazes, don’t they?’
‘You could do it the same shape as these back streets,’ said Marcus.
‘That’d be stupid, wouldn’t it?’ said Sven. ‘It’d be obvious and dead easy.’
‘Well, it’s not really obvious in the dark. Without names on the streets, I bet it’d be harder than you thought. I bet you couldn’t do it.’
‘I bet I could,’ said Sven, covering his eyes. He immediately walked into a wall. ‘Well,’ he said, going overboard to recover his dignity. ‘You’d need a flat surface for a start. And a lot of calculations of people flows and timing and stuff.’ He became thoughtful. ‘It’d be really hard sums.’
Arthur looked at Gwyneth and she half-smiled back at him. In fact, he’d found it hard to take his eyes off her in her red cap, and was trying to keep a safe distance behind her.
‘It would need the application of some kind of … superbrain …’ the Dane continued. Then he paused expectantly.
‘Oh, Sven,’ said Cathy. ‘Maybe you could do it.’
Sven looked thoughtful. ‘Do you reckon?’
‘Oh, it would require a lot of computer modelling, though – possibly on superfast equipment,’ said Gwyneth. ‘Maybe that’s not your kind of thing.’
Sven’s eyes were wide. ‘Uh, I, uh –’
‘Where would we put it?’ asked Rafe, walking in circles across the cobbles as if he were crossing a labyrinth. ‘It’s got to be huge, otherwise it’s rubbish and only fun for four-year-olds.’
‘Chapel Fields,’ said Arthur. ‘Or Hearsall Common.’
‘Or you could take over the pedestrian precinct and make it a maze to get from one shop to the next. Given that it’s already a pain in the neck, you know, add a bit of fun to it,’ put in Marcus.
‘Yeah, maybe that wouldn’t be quite so popular,’ said Arthur. ‘Hard to get through without tripping over the triple buggies.’
‘Or as easy to grow,’ said Gwyneth.
‘Oh yeah – they take years, don’t they?’ said Rafe. ‘Can we still have one?’
‘I’m sure you can import them,’ said Arthur, as five middle management brains tried to get their heads round what a job involving real things moving around might conceivably entail.
They walked on. Some crows flew above the electric wires and instantly disappeared into the blackness as the little group strode down Salt Lane, pointing out the less hideous buildings to each other.
‘We should focus on the tops of these buildings more,’ mused Rafe. ‘Nobody ever looks up here. They ought to. Look at that gable – it’s absolutely beautiful. Might be Elizabethan. But because there’s a Whittard’s coffee shop underneath, nobody even gives it a second glance.’
‘We could light them up,’ said Sven. ‘Put lights around the window frames.’
‘Yes, well, I suppose we could ask them,’ said Arthur.
‘Is it just me or is it not quite so freezing around here?’ said Gwyneth.
‘That’s cos we’re busy, and working things out and, you know, getting things moving,’ said Rafe, smiling and clapping a hand around Gwyneth’s shoulders in a jovial manner. Arthur expected her to stiffen immediately and make some cutting remark, but she didn’t – she smiled, and, after a moment, moved on and out of his near-embrace.
Arthur watched, quite surprised at the sudden stab this caused him. I reckoned one salty dog was quite enough for our office, he thought to himself crossly. This was ridiculous. He shouldn’t fancy her, and he certainly shouldn’t care about anyone else fancying her. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a figure scurrying across the other corner of the square, about twenty yards away.
‘Who’s that, then?’ said Sven, loudly enough to alert the person, who stood stock still as they strained to make him out.
‘It’s a burglar!’ said Cathy. ‘Ooh, I hope it’s not my Ricky again.’
‘I think, if it was a burglar, you’d hope he might be running away from us rather than … What’s he doing, anyway?’ said Gwyneth, sounding rather less scared than Arthur thought he might sound if he opened his mouth. Did burglars have guns? He wasn’t sure.
They strained their eyes again. The person seemed to be sniffing the air. Then he set out towards their little group.
‘Oh, that’s all right – it’ll be a policeman, eh?’ said Sven. ‘What’s our cover story, then?’
‘We don’t need a cover story, Sven,’ said Arthur. ‘We aren’t planning a heist.’
‘Maybe we should tell him we’re planning a heist.’
‘We’ll tell him the truth! That this is a management exercise.’
‘Good luck with your cell mate,’ sniffed Sven.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Gwyneth. ‘They can’t arrest you for being outside. Unless there’s a curfew … There’s not a curfew, is there?’
They looked nervously at each other as the figure appro
ached. Arthur couldn’t help but be glad to see that Rafe and Gwyneth had moved apart entirely.
He looked across the square. As the figure came closer, he could see that this definitely wasn’t a policeman. Too many layers for one thing – pieces of material flapped in the cold breeze, cloaks and sheets wrapped on top of one another.
‘Oh, I think it’s a homeless person,’ said Cathy, her face full of concern. ‘Here, everyone, give me the rest of that soup. What a terrible night to be out.’
‘I’m not a homeless person!’ said the bundle suddenly, although surely he must have been out of earshot. He arrived in front of them, and suddenly Arthur almost jumped in surprise.
‘But I will take that lovely potato soup if you please,’ said Lynne. ‘It is rather a chilly night to be abroad.’
‘Lynne!’ Arthur was amazed. ‘What on earth are you doing out here?’
Lynne looked around the group. ‘Thought I heard wolves last night,’ she said. ‘Doesn’t seem to be much sign of them tonight.’
‘Who are you?’ said Sven. Lynne put out her hand.
‘Um, she’s my …’
Arthur really didn’t need Sven getting ammunition as to whether or not he was a mentalist.
‘I’m a friend of Arthur’s – I work at the office. I’m surprised you don’t recognize me – you’ve got a dog, yes?’
Sven nodded guardedly. He was clearly thinking that he’d have remembered a crazy old lady wrapped up in fifteen layers of hessian. ‘He’s a lovely creature.’
… On the other hand thought Sven, maybe she’s not too bad.
‘This soup is still hot,’ said Lynne, looking at it confusedly.
Nobody spoke.
‘Um, yes, it’s in a thermos,’ said Cathy tentatively.
‘A what?’ She took it from Cathy and studied it closely. ‘Whoever heard of such a thing?’
‘Hi, I’m Rafe,’ said Rafe, openly, breaking the slightly awkward silence.
Lynne eyed him for a second before taking his hand. She seemed almost … Arthur couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Lynne had to be the least stand-offish person in the world, but he was sure he could detect a certain frisson.
‘Yes.’ She stood back and looked him up and down. Then she turned, abruptly.
‘And you must be Gwyneth?’
Gwyneth raised her eyebrows. ‘Hi?’
Lynne studied her. ‘Yes, you really are very pretty,’ she said, in an almost casual, objective fashion.
‘What is it you’re doing out here?’ said Gwyneth. ‘I didn’t quite catch what you told Arthur.’
Lynne polished off the last of the soup. ‘Oh, couldn’t sleep, my dear. One rarely does at my age.’
‘What’s that, seven hundred and forty-two?’ whispered Sven to Rafe. Lynne turned her bright eyes on him again.
‘You’re under-estimating, dear,’ Lynne said. ‘Now, let’s go down to the river.’ She was already marching off down a side street. ‘Seeing as it’s such a beautiful night.’ And it was, the morning star rising high, a promise of the dawn that was still a long way off, frost crackling at the coldest point of the morning.
‘Why don’t we take a walk down by the river?’ Lynne said again, loudly. ‘Rafe, walk with me,’ she continued. ‘I want to get to know you.’
Amazingly they all followed her, down the steeply sloping wynd, Gwyneth and Arthur at the rear.
‘What a peculiar person,’ said Gwyneth. ‘How did you say you met her again?’
‘Well, actually, it was your lot that sent me to her,’ said Arthur.
Gwyneth whipped round, looked at Lynne then turned her attention back to Arthur. ‘Oh, my God – she’s the company therapist?’
‘Well, yes.’
‘Oh, ho, oh …’ It took Arthur a while to realize she was laughing. ‘Oh my God, no wonder the department’s in such a state.’
‘Now, hang on!’ Arthur found himself getting cross. ‘She’s very good, actually. If a little unconventional. And we are planning to make the department rather better than a state, if you recall.’
Gwyneth couldn’t stop laughing.
‘Oh, ho, listen to you! Now you’re properly coming over all presidential, and we’re out in the freezing cold at five o’clock in the morning!’
Despite himself, Arthur started to smile. ‘What’s funny about that?’
‘Nothing! Every company should do this! Oh my God, Arthur, do you realize …’
He grinned, not knowing what she was going to say, but revelling in the way the cold wind had brought the red to her cheeks and her laugh brought a sparkle like the ice to her eyes.
‘What?’
‘By not being stupid enough to come out tonight, Sandwiches is a better project leader than we are!’
Finally Arthur caught the mood and started to laugh too, painfully as he pulled the freezing wind into his lungs.
As he laughed, he made to lunge for her. ‘How dare you say that to your superior officer? Hey! Come back here!’
She had started to run from him, giggling incoherently and shouting over the wind. ‘I’m sorry Sir couldn’t understand any remarks vis-à-vis his managerial competence versus that of a big slobbery dog.’
‘Right, that’s it!’ He chased her as she backed down the hill. ‘It’s going to be a bit more than a verbal warning for you, young lady.’
‘What’s that? Woof woof woof what?’
And, near hysterical, they didn’t notice Lynne watching them curiously, almost sadly – didn’t notice anything at all, until Gwyneth nearly fell into the river.
‘Oh, watch it!’ shouted Arthur, and reached out an arm to grab her as she tottered on the tow path. But before he could catch her hand, Lynne was there, grasping Gwyneth by the shoulders.
‘Look,’ she whispered very faintly into Gwyneth’s ear.
‘What?’ said Gwyneth, turning around.
‘Hi,’ said Sven, coming through the passageway and onto the river bank. ‘It can’t be work if you’re laughing.’
The others came through the passageway.
‘Oh my God,’ said Cathy. ‘Oh my God,’ said Gwyneth.
Cathy was exclaiming about the beauty of the scenery – a faraway glimmer of pink light had just started to catch over the top of the water, illuminating the canal boats moored on the far side, and the frost covering the trees and icing over the water at the edges.
Gwyneth was standing stock-still, peering into the dark, looking terrified.
‘Is that …?’
She turned round, her face full of fear, looking for Lynne.
‘I thought I saw a hand – a white hand …’
‘Is there someone in there?’
Arthur craned his neck. ‘I don’t see anything,’ he said.
They stared and stared into the blackness.
‘No,’ said Gwyneth, still staring straight ahead. ‘I must have imagined it.’
Arthur looked closely at the brightly-painted houseboats which seemed to rise out of the water – he’d caught the reflection of the new forming ice, and tried to work out how the houseboats could be moored in it. It had looked to his eyes as if there were buildings set on the ice.
‘Wow,’ he said.
‘What?’ demanded Sven impatiently.
Arthur turned round, but this time he was smiling and looked genuinely excited. ‘Guys – imagine if this river were iced over completely? We could walk all the way to Warwick!’
‘What would be the point of that?’ said Sven.
‘I don’t know if you could do the whole thing,’ said Rafe. ‘I’ve lived near here all my life. The bridge …’ He indicated it further downstream over the Black River; ‘Its arches are too close together or something. I don’t quite understand.’
‘Basic thermodynamics,’ said Sven loftily, but declined to explain further.
‘Wouldn’t it be brilliant, though?’ said Arthur, still caught in a reverie.
‘We could have tents and stalls … and people could skate …’
‘An ice carnival!’ said Gwyneth. ‘A big festival! All through the winter! That’s what I’d call bloody culture!’
Arthur stared at her.
‘Yeah, guys, I don’t want to stick a spanner in anything, but this river doesn’t necessarily ice,’ said Rafe again.
Arthur looked round. ‘There’s fake ice, isn’t there?’
Sven looked at him. ‘To ice over a whole river?’
‘I don’t know – is it impossible?’
Sven looked like he was working something out in his head.
Meanwhile, Gwyneth moved towards Arthur, and touched him lightly on the elbow. He opened his arm slightly, and let her small hand slip inside the crook.
‘Nothing’s impossible, surely?’ she said, softly.
Lynne was watching Gwyneth. ‘Did you say you thought you saw a hand, my dear?’
Gwyneth turned. ‘Yes, it must have just been the dark playing tricks.’
Lynne patted her on the arm. ‘Watch out for things in rivers.’
‘Er, yes, okay,’ said Gwyneth, moving her arm away from the mad old lady.
Meanwhile, Arthur had closed his eyes. Surely nothing was impossible now, out here in this freezing night, all alone together? He turned to Sven.
‘Well?’ he said again, with a more commanding tone of voice this time. ‘Is it impossible?’
‘I’d need to work it out with Marcus. This amount of nitrogen, over a moving current – I mean, maybe it could cost, like, millions of pounds.’
‘But it’s possible,’ said Arthur, eyes shining.
Sven shrugged. ‘I guess.’
Arthur smiled and turned round. ‘Did you hear that, Lynne? I think things are taking a turn for …’
‘Where did the old lady go?’ said Rafe.
Chapter Five
‘’Ere’s what we’re doing, right?’
It was another grey day in Slough. Sometimes Fay imagined that the rest of the world was bathed in sunlight, with just a canopy over this conurbation west of London where concrete came to die.
She’d been surprised that this job had happened at all. It had seemed so sudden. But she got a grim enjoyment from working long hours – it saved time spent at her mother’s chopping up Arthur’s CD collection. She didn’t think he’d even noticed she’d taken it. It was as if, in his life, she’d been a mere passing cloud, come and gone in an afternoon. But as she looked at her thickening figure – too many G and Ts with her mother – in the full-length mirror of her bedroom, and grimaced close up at the tiny lines on her forehead, she still thought of him as a thief. A thief who was going to get what was coming to him.