Kane withdrew his hand. ‘Don’t mince your words, eh?’ he smiled, obviously hurt, but trying to make light of it.
‘I won’t,’ Beede growled. ‘There’s already been far too much of that.’
‘Really?’ Kane looked intrigued. ‘From whom?’
‘From me, of course.’
‘From you?’
Kane almost laughed out loud.
‘Yes.’
Beede was indignant.
‘Wow…’
Kane slowly shook his head, amused, as he inhaled on his cigarette.
‘You still haven’t answered my question,’ Beede continued (infuriated – as always – by his son’s trademark combination of charm and cynicism).
‘Didn’t I?’ Kane shrugged, vaguely.
‘No.’
Kane inspected his phone again.
‘Would you put that infernal thing down,’ Beede snarled, ‘and just try and be straight with me for once?’ He brandished the diary like a Methodist minister preaching fire and brimstone from his roadside pulpit.
Kane refused to put his phone down. It was actually turned off, but he continued to stare at it. ‘The diary was in the Rover, on the dash,’ he murmured sullenly, ‘and he’d parked me in, so I just…’
‘You stole it?’
‘I borrowed it.’
‘Why?’ Beede demanded. ‘And no more of that ridiculous clap-trap about…’
‘Okay then,’ Kane butted in, turning to face Beede, full-on, ‘I’ll tell you why, shall I? I’ll tell you exactly why. I’m here because I followed him, and I stole his diary because – to put it plainly – I think he’s a lunatic and I was intrigued to know what he’d been writing in it.’
‘What did you discover?’ Beede asked.
‘That he’s crazy. That he’s losing his mind. That he’s totally paranoid…’
‘Really?’ Beede smiled, superciliously. ‘And who are you to make that kind of assessment?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Who are you to stand in judgement on a man like Dory? A decent, respectable, hardworking…’
‘He’s crazy,’ Kane interrupted, his temper rising. ‘I almost ran him down, earlier. He was just standing in the road, like a zombie…’
‘When?’ Beede demanded. ‘How?’
‘About half an hour ago. I was negotiating a sharp bend…’
‘Where?’
‘Just north of here…’
‘Why?’
Kane frowned.
‘I mean what exactly were you up to?’
‘Up to?’
‘Yes.’
‘I was making a delivery,’ Kane answered haughtily, ‘to a client, if you must know.’
‘To Elen?’
‘What?’
Kane stared at Beede, bewildered. ‘Why on earth would I be making a delivery to her?’
‘Why wouldn’t you be?’
‘Because she isn’t one of my clients, for one thing, and for another, she was actually with you all morning.’
Beede slowly processed the infallible logic of this statement. ‘Of course,’ he said, tightly, ‘so you were making a delivery. Fine. Then what?’
‘I was negotiating a sharp bend, I heard a horn sounding, I covered my brake, and the next thing I knew, I was swerving to avoid a man – him, Dory – standing in the middle of the road.’
‘What was he doing?’ Beede wondered.
‘Nothing. Just standing there, staring down at the tarmac. I swerved to avoid him – like I said – then I swerved to avoid a Metro which’d just done the same thing. I lightly clipped the back of it. There was a woman driver…’
‘But Isidore was unhurt?’
‘He was extremely lucky…’
‘And he was just standing there, you say? Looking down at the road?’
‘Yes. And crying. I think he was crying. He was obviously deeply upset about something…’
‘About what?’
Kane threw up his hands. ‘How the hell should I know?’
‘You didn’t speak to him?’
‘No. There wasn’t time. The Metro was obstructing the road and she couldn’t get it re-started, so I…’
‘Was she hurt?’
‘No – not so far as I’m aware. And by the time I looked around again, he’d vanished.’
‘I see.’
Beede looked perplexed.
‘Although a few minutes later,’ Kane continued, ‘he swept past in his Rover, like nothing had happened. He didn’t even glance over.’ ‘So then you followed him?’
‘Yes. No. I didn’t plan to – not to begin with – but his driving was so bad – so erratic – that I just thought it might be safer…’
‘Purely in the spirit of altruism, eh?’ Beede scoffed.
‘Yes. Why not?’ Kane enquired, piqued.
Beede didn’t respond. He stared down at the black jotter. ‘Well you had no right to steal his diary,’ he said.
‘In a perfect world,’ Kane conceded, ‘you’d probably have a point, but he’s out of control. He’s a danger to himself and to the people around him…’ he paused. ‘I mean what about poor Elen? All those awful bruises on her forearms?’
‘Poor Elen?!’ Beede parroted, scornfully, then he glanced down, surreptitiously, at his badly grazed knuckles. ‘Did she say Dory was responsible for those?’
‘No. Not in so many words…’ Kane shrugged. ‘But then she’s probably just protecting him – in the same way that you are…’
‘I’m not protecting him at all,’ Beede insisted, ‘and contrary to what you might think, I’m perfectly well-acquainted with how strange – even dangerous – some of Dory’s behaviour can be. But I’ve known him for a long time now, and while he may have a few problems – some serious, long-term health issues – underneath all the mess – all the confusion – he’s still a decent, gentle, highly intelligent…’
‘How about you?’ Kane suddenly butted in.
‘Pardon?’
‘How about your problems?’
‘My problems?’ Beede was thrown off-kilter. ‘What problems?’
‘Well you’re £38,000 in debt, for starters.’
Beede didn’t flinch. ‘And?’
‘And you’re in love with his wife.’
‘Rubbish!’ Beede hissed, his cheeks reddening. ‘Dory is my friend. Elen is my friend. I’m just helping them through a rough patch…’
‘Purely in the spirit of altruism, of course,’ Kane grinned.
‘I should’ve known I could depend on you,’ Beede sneered, ‘to put some kind of vulgar slant on it.’
Kane said nothing. He just continued to smile.
‘This strikes me as a rather good example,’ Beede continued, obviously riled, ‘of the pot calling the kettle black.’
Kane’s grin grew still wider.
‘What you seem incapable of realising,’ Beede snapped (finally losing his cool), ‘is that you’re meddling in things here which are none of your damn business…’
‘But they are my business,’ Kane interrupted.
‘How?’
‘They became my business when you stole drugs from me – to give to her, presumably…Or did you steal them for him? I don’t know. I don’t really even care. What I do care about is the fact that you let Kelly take the rap for it. That was shabby. If you’d wanted drugs you should’ve just asked. I would’ve handed them over, quite happily.’
‘Well here’s a turn-up,’ Beede snorted, ‘me receiving a lecture from you on moral probity.’
‘Amazing, isn’t it?’ Kane smiled (refusing to let his father wind him up). ‘And while you’re in the mood to exchange idle aphorisms…’
Beede stared at his son, unblinking.
‘The road to hell is paved with good intentions.’
‘Oh really?’ Beede smirked. ‘And you’d know all about that, I suppose?’
Kane nodded, with feeling. ‘Absolutely.’
Beede rolled his eyes. ‘Well I’ll take that und
er advisement, if you don’t mind.’
‘Dory may be your friend,’ Kane persisted (determined to get his point across), ‘but he’s still a bona-fide fruitcake. And while it’s perfectly understandable that you should want to help him – to protect him, to shield him from the harsh realities of everyday life – there comes a point beyond which that kind of interference – that help – is actually counter-productive; you only end up making matters worse…’
‘No,’ Beede refused to yield, ‘you don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Don’t I?’ Kane stared at his father, thoughtfully. ‘Why? Because I lack the relevant experience, perhaps? Because you never really cared for me in that way?’
Beede looked confused.
‘Okay,’ Kane stubbed out his cigarette. ‘What if I told you that it wasn’t just an accident that the scaffolding collapsed?’ Beede was silent.
‘What if I told you that Dory was perching on the roof and that he pushed it down?’
‘I’d say you’d taken leave of your senses,’ Beede declared.
‘I sat here and I watched him, Beede.’
‘Well I spoke to Kelly,’ Beede maintained, ‘and she said Harvey was all alone…’
‘Dory was on the roof. He pushed the scaffolding down.’
‘And you saw that? You actually saw him do that?’
‘Yes.’ Kane nodded, then he paused. ‘Or as good as…I mean I turned away for a split second when the scooter pulled on to the road. Kelly was making such a racket…’
Beede gave a derisory snort.
‘He’d planned it all out in advance,’ Kane back-pedalled, furiously. ‘It was obvious. Just look where he parked his car, for Christsakes…’
Kane turned and pointed.
Beede turned himself to inspect the Rover.
‘That doesn’t prove a thing. The scaffolding was always unstable…’
‘I sat and I watched him, Beede,’ Kane refused to be gainsaid, ‘I was right here. I watched him parking his car, I watched him climb out of his car and remove some kind of heavy wrench – or spanner – from inside the boot, I watched him stare over at the house for a while and then stroll over to the scaffolding and begin hammering away at it…’
‘He was tightening it up,’ Beede shrugged. ‘He was shoring it up.’
‘Yeah. That’s exactly what I thought to begin with. But the more he bashed away at it, the more unstable the whole structure grew, to the extent that he was actually forced to grab on to the roof at one point to save himself from falling…’
Beede stared down at Kane, scowling. He said nothing.
‘He kept inspecting his watch, as if he was waiting for someone.’
‘He was waiting for me. I was late…’
‘Then perhaps he was intending to kill you,’ Kane volunteered (although not entirely seriously).
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Beede exclaimed (visibly spooked by this idea).
‘And here’s another thing,’ Kane continued, emboldened by his father’s fearful look, ‘there was a history of bad blood between them…’
‘Between whom?’
‘Between him and Harvey Broad.’
‘Well what does that prove?’ Beede scoffed. ‘Everybody hates Harvey Broad. He’s an incorrigible crook…’
‘No. This was serious. This was personal. This was the continuation of an argument that’d started some twenty-odd years ago when they were both working together on the Channel Tunnel. It seems that Dory was actually there – in person – when those tiles were stolen. He was working as a guard. In fact they both were – him and Harvey. I heard them arguing about it…’ he paused, thoughtfully. ‘Although maybe you already knew that…’
‘Which tiles?’
Beede seemed bewildered.
‘Which tiles?!’ Kane taunted. ‘Oh come on! The tiles. The antique tiles. The tiles you got so steamed-up about. The tiles from the old mill.’
Beede stared at him, blankly. ‘You remember that?’
‘Remember?!’ Kane cackled, indignantly. ‘You seriously think I wouldn’t remember? The fucking tiles? The antique, fucking tiles?! Of course I remember!’
Beede looked stunned. ‘But you were so young…’
‘How could I possibly forget?’ Kane demanded. ‘How could I forget what it did to you? How it totally messed you up? How you let it eat away at you. How you let it…’ he struggled, momentarily, to find the right word, ‘how you allowed it to…to…’ he clenched his hands into fists, ‘to completely eviscerate you?’
‘No.’ Beede shook his head. ‘That’s not true…’
‘Yes it is!’
Kane suddenly realised that he was shaking, that his eyes were full of tears.
‘How could I not remember?’ he yelled, furious at himself.
‘How?! When it changed everything? When it ruined everything?’
Silence
‘I didn’t realise…’ Beede finally murmured, shocked.
‘No…’ Kane shook his head. ‘Me neither.’
‘Well I’m sorry,’ Beede said, ‘I’m very sorry.’
His father suddenly looked haggard – old, Kane thought. But instead of feeling sorry for him, instead of wanting to reach out to him, to help him, Kane felt a strange, warm sensation in his stomach, a kind of glow, a deep feeling of contentment, as if seeing his father so horribly diminished was – in some sick, subterranean way – profoundly empowering to him.
‘Perhaps you should call Elen?’ he volunteered, proffering Beede his phone. ‘And tell her what’s been going on?’
‘Yes,’ Beede answered, vaguely, ‘maybe later.’
‘Later? You don’t think she needs to know now?’
Beede frowned.
‘You don’t think she needs to know now?’ Kane repeated (an edge of hysteria re-entering his voice).
‘It’s very complicated,’ Beede murmured. ‘It’s a complicated situation…’
‘Yeah,’ Kane snapped, frustrated, ‘so you persist in saying…’
‘It just has to be…’ Beede scowled, ‘it just has to be handled…’
‘Handled?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then perhaps I should tell her,’ Kane suggested, ‘if you feel like you’re too embroiled in the whole thing? Do you happen to know her work number, offhand?’
Beede didn’t answer. He stared down the road, deep in thought, then he turned back to his son again, impetuously. ‘I’ve never made a habit of ordering you around, have I?’ he asked.
Kane frowned, disconcerted. ‘Uh…’ he thought for a minute, ‘No. I guess not. I mean not in so many words…’
‘I’ve never nagged at you, tried to manipulate you, bullied you into decisions that you didn’t feel comfortable with…In fact I pride myself on it. I’ve always encouraged you to make your own choices, your own mistakes…’
‘Sure – and then oozed disapproval,’ Kane smirked, ‘or – better still – disappointment, from a sensible distance.’
Beede looked hurt. ‘I’m sorry you see it that way.’ ‘I don’t,’ Kane jumped in, ‘I was just…’ he shrugged.
‘Well here’s the nub of the matter,’ Beede quickly moved on, ‘I’ve never made a habit of asking you for anything – not directly, not outright – but if there was one thing, one special favour – father to son – that I needed to ask from you, one request, one heartfelt appeal…’
‘What?’ Kane demanded.
‘Stay away from her.’
‘Who?’
‘You know who.’
‘Why?’ Kane was outraged.
‘For no other reason than that I’ve asked you to,’ Beede said. ‘Because I care about you. And because I care about Dory.’
Kane was quiet for a while, and then, ‘What if I can’t?’ he said. ‘I know you can,’ Beede countered. ‘You can do anything you set your mind to. You’re young. You’re strong.’
‘Then what if I just don’t want to?’
Beede closed his eyes.
‘She’s inhabiting you,’ he muttered, ‘she’s invading you. It’s all very subtle, very artful. You may not even fully realise – you may think it’s all happening on your initiative – but trust me, it isn’t. This is her talent, Kane, it’s what she does…’
‘Inhabiting me?’ Kane scoffed.
‘Yes.’
‘Did she inhabit you?’ he asked, suddenly jealous.
‘Yes…’ Beede shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. Perhaps…’
‘But isn’t that just love?’ Kane demanded. ‘Aren’t you just in love with her?’
‘No. No…’ Beede seemed horrified. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘But isn’t that what love’s all about?’ Kane persisted. ‘Isn’t it always an invasion of sorts? Isn’t that why people like to say that their hearts have been conquered or…or taken prisoner, or overwhelmed?’
‘No.’ Beede shook his head. ‘This is different. This isn’t love. It’s just a strange kind of…of congruity. She looks for a weakness…’
Kane flinched. Beede couldn’t help but notice. ‘That was a poor choice of word…’ he paused for a second, flustered. ‘Let me put it this way: in your particular case, for example, she knows that you have an amazing capacity to care, this deep reservoir…’
‘Do I?’ Kane butted in, surprised.
‘Yes. Yes. Because of your mother. She senses this feeling of hurt within you, this…this vulnerability…’
‘No,’ Kane shook his head, ‘you’re wrong. I didn’t have an infinite capacity. Quite the opposite, in fact. I actually had a very limited capacity…’
‘Okay,’ Beede shrugged. ‘Then perhaps – at some level – she’s feeding on that knowledge, on the guilt you may well feel as a consequence of it…’
Kane stared at his father, suspiciously. ‘You can’t have it all ways,’ he said, and then, a few seconds later, ‘You seem different,’ he murmured cruelly, ‘smaller, less…less…’ he wanted to say square, but suddenly, for some inexplicable reason, he was struggling to separate his words from each other, ‘less-es-esquare,’ he finally stuttered, and then, ‘es-es-esquire…’ he tried to correct himself.
Beede stared back at him, frowning.
‘I feel smaller,’ he said, ‘I don’t really know why…’ he gazed down at his knuckles. ‘It’s like everything suddenly closed in on me – caved in on me. I started thinking about the past,’ he sighed, his face full of regret, ‘and then, pretty soon, it was all I could think of…’
Darkmans Page 78