The Kissing Fence

by B. A. Thomas-Peter

  So many thoughts and feelings began. He should not be doing this but could not stop Matron from touching him, nor could he prevent his body from reacting to the hand kneading between his legs. Every muscle in his body strained for and against it.

  “No need to be nervous,” she said. “No one will ever know about our talks and our arrangement. I’ll never tell. And don’t be embarrassed. It’s normal. It’s what every strong, young body does.”

  He struggled to push Nina from his thoughts. The prospect of her finding out what Matron was doing, what they were doing, was too much and he wrestled to distract himself. Outside there must be sounds of the night, which he strained to find. Pavel stared at the purple blue through the window and thought he heard, a long way off, an owl hooting. It was enough to hold onto and avoid giving Matron Cody everything. He would keep separate from this, what he was thinking and the sweetness of Nina. All of that would be kept for himself and other times, if he could keep it away right now and focus on that haunting noise. The buttons of his pyjama top were now undone, his skin blue in the moonlight. He was naked before her.

  5

  Vancouver, Christmas 2017

  Dirty snow edged the road and the quiet streets were wet with melt. William sat in the passenger seat of the Tesla. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

  “Kelly will be glad to have you home on Christmas Day. She’s been worried about you.” William heard that Julie might not be, but tried to ignore it. “You had us all worried for a while.”

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  Julie smiled. “I can be angry with you for lots of things, William, but having a brain tumour isn’t one of them.” The blood cracked at the end of his nose as they both smiled.

  “How is she?” he asked.

  “Kelly’s fine. Happy with her new snowboard; can’t wait to use it.” William heard Julie hesitate. “If you’re okay, I think she’s going up the hill tomorrow.”

  “Are you taking her?”

  “No. One of her friends will be. I might drive them to the mountain.”

  William’s head felt thick. He imagined being blind on the mountain. “I haven’t seen her on the mountain. How does it work?”

  “Not that complicated really. She follows someone and listens. Sometimes there’ll be someone trailing behind giving her directions. Her friends just kinda do it, without much instruction. On a wide piste, her peripheral vision is good enough to see light and dark.”

  “She must trust them.”

  “She couldn’t do a lot of things if she didn’t.” There was gentle quiet between them. “We’re so lucky that she has so many friends. They don’t seem to notice she can’t see very well.” William struggled with the idea of good fortune but thought better of challenging Julie on Christmas Day. There was nothing good about being blind as a teenager. It was hard enough with all your faculties.

  “It would be good if you spent some time with her while you’re off.”

  “I wouldn’t know what to do with her. Anyway, it sounds like she’ll be too busy for me.”

  The quiet hardened.

  “It’s up to you. She’d love to spend time with you. Why don’t you take her into work sometime?”

  “Maybe.” He thought it was a crazy idea. He did not want her to know the source of all their comforts.

  The Tesla came to a stop in the garage and began dripping on the floor as the door closed behind them. It was good to see the bikes lined up in their rack. It reminded him that the bicycle delivery and dispatching should have happened by now at the warehouse. William hoped it had gone as planned. The implications of something going wrong could not linger in the mind. Kelly could never know about such things. It was another reason to keep her away from work.

  William eased himself out of the car and followed Julie into the kitchen. The house was quiet. Christmas lights cheered the room. William could see through the living room into his study. The light was on and he followed it. Kelly sat cross-legged in his chair, noise-cancelling headphones on, head nodding to the time of the music on her phone.

  William bent into the edge of her vision and spoke. “Hi.” Kelly pulled off the headphones and reached to him. “Careful now. I’m still delicate.”

  “Merry Christmas, Dad.” It was an awkward embrace, and unfamiliar. Headphones, iPhone and body angles conspired to prevent an intimate exchange.

  “Merry Christmas.” William could feel the urgency of her affection and it surprised him. “Don’t be worried. I’m fine now. I just have to get rid of these panda eyes and I’ll be back to normal.”

  “I thought you might not come home.”

  “I was always coming home.” Bending over made his head pound and his legs unsteady. He tugged himself away from her and perched on the filing cabinet beside the desk. “I’m fine. Really.”

  “You just say that. That’s what you said after falling off your bike, and the first operation. You always say you’re fine.” It was an echo of her mother.

  “Sorry,” William said. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “I was worried, so it didn’t work.”

  “Would it be better if I said I was having some brain surgery and there are risks?”

  “It would be true.”

  “Sometimes, being ‘true’ isn’t the only thing that’s important.”

  Kelly pouted in mock defiance. “That’s what people say when they don’t want to be true.”

  William felt humbled at his daughter’s clarity. A few months ago, he would have dismissed her words as naïveté, but they were familiar now and landed on him like a dead weight. “Maybe you’re right. I wanted you not to worry. Sorry.”

  “Well, I want to worry. Just like you worried about your dad.”

  The reference to his father came unexpectedly. “How did you know I worried about my dad?”

  “You took me once, when I was about seven, to that place. It was autumn.”

  “Riverview Hospital.”

  “It had big trees. You wanted me to see the colours. Maybe you thought I’d better see them while I could.”

  “I’m amazed you remember.”

  “You were so sad. You pretended you weren’t, and I pretended to be happy, to cheer you up.” She smiled.

  “I didn’t fool you,” he said, perplexed at her understanding.

  “No. It made me feel … terrible, I guess. I never wanted to go again. Did it always make you sad to visit your dad?”

  “Yes, it did.” William pondered how much to say. “It was always sad. He was angry at everything. He just couldn’t be happy.”

  “Why was he angry?”

  “So many things.” He paused, trying to shorten the story. “He and my mother were taken from their parents to live with other children. It was a bad place where they went, and lots of bad things happened there. He never really got over it.”

  “Why were they taken?”

  William could see the momentum of her interest rising and needed to escape it. “I’m really tired. Would you mind if we talked about it later? I need to rest awhile.”

  “Oh, Dad! I never knew this stuff. I want you to tell me.”

  “Perhaps later. Now, let me sit down and you go help your mum.”

  She slipped off the chair, reached the door and stopped. “What was the name of the place they were taken?” she asked.

  “It’s called New Denver.”

  “I won’t forget.” Kelly transformed to cheeky girl in an instant. “You said we’ll talk later.” She was gone.

  Like so many of his people, his father had been tormented by anger, betrayal and finally depression. William knew there would have been no forgiveness or consolation in his father’s last thoughts. The Canadian government, the Province, the Mounties and finally the hospital had taken everything from his father, because he was not strong enough to see the w
riting on the wall. His stubborn allegiance to a way of life was a frailty. As a young man William had promised himself he would never succumb to it, but now there was room for conjecture about his father. What would such a man think of what I have become?

  Boxing Day 2017

  He had settled to resting. Sleeping when needed, foraging in the kitchen for leftovers, watching television. There was little point in trying to concentrate on work or finding something else to do. He could do nothing but be there, with them. It was easier than he had expected, and he was expected to do nothing. Kelly had not pressed him on the subject of his father, but it was coming, he knew. Any moment now, Julie and Kelly would come in the door with tales of adventure on the mountain. With luck Kelly had not broken her leg with the new snowboard.

  The iPhone dinged with a message, an emoji, followed by an unknown telephone number. He knew who it was. William called the number and waited for the connection to be made.

  “William, Merry Christmas. How are you?” Uri’s voice was full of cheer.

  “I’m recovering. Still feeling a little slow. I’m not sure how long we have to speak. How was the shipment?”

  “There were problems, William. We need you to find out what happened.” There was no alarm in his voice, but a tremor rippled through William.

  “What happened?”

  “Some of the boxes had been opened and pieces from one box had been changed for pieces from another. We have one important piece missing.”

  “How could that have happened? You watch it until it gets to me and I have it for less than a day.” The implications were clear in his words.

  Uri said, “You understand, William. It’s important that you find out what happened and return the piece.”

  “What’s the piece?”

  “A large sprocket.”

  “Okay. I’ll look for it.” William hesitated. “Just to be sure, you’re saying one of your boxes has an original sprocket, and one of the real boxes now must have the counterfeit sprocket.”

  “I think that’s correct, but we should not talk of details on the phone,” said Uri.

  “I understand, but why is it so important?”

  “William, you must find it and tell me why it was moved.” William listened. “There are people who need to know. We need to know what dangers there are and what we must do. It will be a test for you.”

  “What do you mean, ‘a test’?”

  “Every relationship is tested. William, you know this. It is a test of our partnership. We need to know it is a good partnership, that we can rely on it.”

  “I understand.” His head thumped with his heart. “I need a few days.”

  “Okay, William. A few days. In a few days I’ll send you another number.” The line went dead.

  William deleted his call history, opened his messages and deleted the number he had called, doubting his caution would do any good if it came to it. There was menace in Uri’s calm. William thought Uri was giving him directions not to be ignored. There was nothing else to do but find out what had happened.

  He would have to go into the office, and his family would not like it. A plan came to mind. The ringing in his ears seemed prominent now. He had thought it had almost left him. Maybe it was always there, but he had not been listening to it.

  December 27, 2017

  “But you’ve only been home a few days.” Julie appealed to William not to drive, but he could hear it was without conviction.

  “I’ll be fine. I feel much better.”

  “I know, but it’s been just a week and you haven’t driven at all.”

  The new number from Uri had not arrived, but he could no longer pretend that there was time to spare. It had been easy to ignore the trouble brewing.

  “I’ll drop Kelly off, get into the office for an hour or two and then come home. It’ll be good to spend some time with Kelly.”

  Julie smiled at him and approached. “I like having you home. Kelly’s liked it too. Let me see you.” She inspected his face, outlining the bruising with her finger and touching his cheek. “You’ve gone from blue to yellow. I guess that’s progress. Have you been getting any fluid in your mouth?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You will drive carefully, won’t you?”

  There was, strangely, a pleasure in being treated like a schoolboy. He had always disliked relying on others, but now he felt the need for someone to take care of him, just for a few days.

  “Will do. Promise.” For a moment he thought she would kiss him, but it passed. “I better get going.”

  * * *

  No heating for a week had turned the reception hallway to a fridge and the warehouse to an icebox. William kept his coat on, inspecting the stacks of bicycles. The clipboard hanging on the wall gripped the manifest that Dennis had left. William released it and checked the consignment of SynchronoX bicycles. The count was right. Then he began looking at the serial numbers. Each one of the genuine bikes had a number listed on the manifest, as did the counterfeit bikes that had already gone, but these were in sequence. He matched the list with the boxes and all was well. The manifest could be destroyed, and the real one filed upstairs.

  From the back of the stack he scanned up and down. At the top he could see two boxes with crumpled corners, and he shifted the rolling ladder into position to get them. William opened the first box where it was and picked out and inspected each part. They were matte black, perfectly engineered and light. They were genuine. He shifted the box to one side and turned to the second, and knew immediately that it had been opened. The matte patina of the large sprocket was grey rather than black, and the weight, four times that of titanium, gave it away. At least he had secured it and Uri would be reassured that it had been found. He might even return the real one, and the bicycle could become part of the consignment shipped across the continent.

  William tried to piece together how a counterfeit part had found its way into an original box. The crumpled corners of the top boxes suggested an accident. Genuine and counterfeit boxes had fallen and spilled open, and in the process of returning parts to boxes, a mistake was made. It sounded simple enough and plausible, but he had to check the security tapes before connecting the dots finally. He slipped the sprocket into his pocket and descended the ladder.

  Upstairs William went through the outer office to his. There was nothing on his desk. It was just as he had left it. The shredder was always ready, and the manifest was pulled through it quickly. He picked some paper from the scrap pile and fed the machine before opening the storage bin, mixing the shreds with his hands and lifting the tangled ball onto the desk. From his pocket he pulled a plastic bag and filled it with the shredded paper. It would find a home in one of the garbage cans or dumpsters on his way home and then on to landfill or incineration. The sprocket was then the only physical connection he would have to the counterfeit bikes. It too might be disposed of on the way home.

  William could feel the fatigue setting in, but there were security tapes to deal with. He found the key from Cathy’s desk and opened the doors of the cabinet. Every tape deck hummed and twinkled blue light. He stopped the warehouse and reception tapes and pressed rewind on both. The high-pitched whirring reminded him of the wind in his ears. They clicked to finish and he pressed play. Both tapes were started on December 24, just before 5:30 p.m.

  On the reception tape Cathy could be seen entering the picture from the stairs, going to the security alarm and setting it, before walking out the door. Through the glass she could be seen locking the building. William wound the tape back to the shot that captured her face and paused it. She looked terrible. He increased the speed of the replay and raced through hours of video. There was no one else coming or going. There was no point going through the other tapes if no one had entered the building. William pressed rewind on all the tape decks and stood up, waiting to restart the recordings before he left.
Just the effort of squatting and standing caused him to feel dizzy.

  The lid of the photocopier was up. A green light blinked. There was nothing on the glass or in the trays. Normally, Cathy would turn off everything but the cameras before leaving, especially over a holiday, but why would she be using the photocopier when her errand was simply to turn on the security cameras and leave? There was something to figure out.

  William struggled to recall how to interrogate the machine. It had come as a surprise when the copier salesman told him that most photocopiers had hard disks and stored data of the documents they reproduced. He had set it up to do just that, but had not used this feature before. He pressed Menu, then Options invited him to cycle through a series of choices: History, Servicing, Troubleshooting. He returned to History. The first choice was Pages, then Last 24 Hours, Last 7 Days, Last 30 Days, Select Time Period, Delete All. He selected the time period and fiddled with the arrow buttons until he had isolated December 24, then clicked OK. Nothing. He went back to Pages, selected Last 7 Days and clicked OK. One photocopy had been made in that time period. William scrolled back to History. The second choice was Documents. He clicked OK. A list of dates emerged and he scrolled to December 21 and clicked. One document was shown. OK. Two choices appeared: Print, Delete. He selected Print and pressed OK.

  The photocopier spread light through the outer office, casting a shadow that ran the length of the room and back again. A crisp sheet of paper emerged and the machine went quiet.

  William read from the sheet but could not fully comprehend it. Fear rose from his gut and pulsed in his chest. The manifest confused him. Original and counterfeit bicycles were listed, connecting him, the company, and the abyss. It was out, and no longer in his control.