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Lights in a Western Sky

Page 7

by Roger Curtis


  For the first time Graham felt relaxed. He joined the others at the bar and ordered a beer. He was about to ask for the phone to order a taxi home but, remembering George’s story about the bus, decided to wait. It seemed odd that all the couples had gone, and more so that there was now not a single woman in the place. He began to survey the prints and paintings on the walls, at first casually, then more intently. There were several of the stone circle. Some had the stones steeped in sunlight, while in another they were in darkness with just an orange glow in the position of the central stone. Disappointingly, there was none of Rebecca’s stone. Then he noticed something quite bizarre. Along the far wall – and previously invisible from where he was sitting – was a series of women’s heads. Or, rather, blank ovals of wood, the size of faces, topped with carefully arranged hair in a variety of styles and colours. He rose and walked over to them.

  The waiter appeared at his shoulder. ‘Interesting, aren’t they,’ he said, pointing to one of the more extravagant examples.

  Graham stood on tip-toe to see the small brass label on its base. ‘1876,’ he read.

  ‘Yes, that’s one of the oldest we have,’ the waiter said. ‘It’s a complete series, you know. The others are in the cellar. I could get the key if you’re interested.’

  Before Graham could answer the door to the moor flew open. A dishevelled figure whom Graham recognised as the successful Brian held itself momentarily in the frame before lurching towards the bar. He was breathing heavily and there was blood on his hands. Graham forgot about the hair-style collection.

  ‘My friend,’ the waiter said to Brian, ‘you seem to have a problem.’

  ‘There’s someone dying on the path from the stone… bleeding badly. Please… please call an ambulance.’

  ‘Where’s your companion?’ the waiter said, unperturbed.

  ‘She’s with him. She’s a nurse, but she can’t cope alone. Please get help, quickly.’

  ‘Was your union… consummated?’ the waiter asked.

  ‘Yes… yes it was, but that’s irrelevant, for God’s sake!’

  ‘Irrelevant? I hardly think so,’ the waiter said quietly, ‘but we’ll do as you suggest.’ He turned to one of the barmen. ‘Frank, can you call the… er, 999?

  ‘They’ll be a while coming,’ Frank replied. ‘So we’d better go and look ourselves. I suggest you come with me, Eric, and the rest of you remain here.’

  When the two men had gone Graham approached the stricken Brian, now abandoned on a bar stool. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘you need to wash the blood off. I’ll come with you to the gents.’

  On the way to the toilets they passed more of the hair-pieces. The last was a twirled construction in black hair that resembled the top of an ice-cream cone.

  ‘Bloody creepy, if you ask me,’ Brian said.

  ‘No time to look now,’ Graham said, whilst glancing quickly himself. He ushered Brian through the toilet door.

  They looked at each other in the mirror above the sink.

  ‘However did you get involved in this?’ Graham asked.

  ‘An advert in Aphrodite magazine,’ Brian replied. ‘An unusual but effective treatment for infertile couples, it said – and a pleasant weekend in the country. Looked marvellous. We all met up at a hotel in Derby. Then, to our surprise, they bussed us here.’

  ‘Had you heard of… this place… before?’

  ‘Well, yes, it’s quite well known in our… circle.’

  ‘What happened to the others?’

  ‘They were bussed back. It was over for them. Didn’t you see them go?’

  As the two men emerged into the bar a car crunched onto the gravel outside. A flashing light through the window sent streaks of blue chasing shadows around the walls of the room. There were raised voices outside which Graham did not recognise. A policeman in uniform entered the room, but the other voices were heard receding into the distance.

  ‘Everyone remain inside please,’ the policeman said.

  Brian went up to him. ‘Where’s my wife, where’s Fenella. I need to go with them.’

  ‘Please wait here, Sir. It’s all in hand. It’s dark on the moor and you could easily get lost. My colleagues will be back just as soon as they’ve assessed the situation.’

  A few minutes later Frank, Eric and another policeman returned from the moor. The second policeman approached Brian.

  ‘We found your wife, Sir, and are arresting you for her murder. We’d be grateful if you’d come with us. No trouble, now, Sir.’

  Brian suddenly made a run for the door, but was stopped by Frank with a vicious punch to the stomach. With a policeman on each arm, he was dragged from the room, protesting violently.

  Graham felt sick and bewildered. He needed to think, to be alone, to puzzle out what had happened. Nothing seemed to make sense. He made for the toilets, passing the last of the hair-pieces, which again caught his attention. Once inside he locked himself in the furthest cubicle. Lowering the seat, he sat heavily upon it.

  He was not alone in seeking seclusion. A few moments later he heard the door open. Through the gap between the cubicle door and its frame he could see Frank, the barman, talking to his former companion on the settle.

  ‘You were great, George. Hope you didn’t have to lie still too long. Better tidy yourself up, though, and get the grass out of your hair – and get rid of that shirt. I take it that’s sheep blood and not yours. That was a brilliant ploy to get rid of the husband.’

  ‘I always did have a penchant for theatrical solutions,’ George replied. ‘Much more satisfying than the last one, eh Frank? Never did get much credit for pushing that biddy over the edge. Some of the membership still think she just slipped. Only one small problem this time, though. Your steak knives are getting a bit blunt – or the cow had a neck like leather.’

  ‘Which reminds me,’ Frank said, taking a plastic bag from his pocket and opening it. ‘Here’s a fresh handkerchief – with the woman’s blood on it this time. Better fish his one out of the bin – we wouldn’t want to confuse the real police when they come looking tomorrow, now would we?’

  The walls of Graham’s cubicle seemed to shrink before his eyes, expanding the gap between the panels and the floor and the band of light where the door just failed to close. He imagined himself growing moment by moment like a metamorphosed pupa within its cracking case, ready to burst into a hostile and hungry world. For the first time he noticed the drops of water falling from the cistern above his head and the rivulet beside his feet that was advancing towards the shrinking door. On top of that he was fighting an urge to sneeze.

  But worse was to come. Into Graham’s mind came the image of the brass plate below the last of the female busts, and the year: 1996 – ten years before. His stomach churned. He spun around to be sick into the pan. But not so quickly that he did not hear the final snatch of conversation outside the cubicle.

  ‘Just one thing, though,’ he heard George say.

  ‘What’s that?’ Frank replied.

  ‘That bloke from the Sheffield chapter. Must have left with the others. Can we trust him?’

  ‘Sheffield chapter? There isn’t a Sheffield chapter.’

  Johnny’s Ride to Town

  I like riding on buses ’cause then I can think properly. So I was angry when Chloe poked me in the side and I caught her grinning with her hand in her armpit. She was in one of her taunting moods, sitting behind, like when I hate her most. Ma just watched, as usual.

  ‘He doesn’t remember where we have to get off,’ Chloe said. ‘He really doesn’t remember!’ She could be a real pain when she wanted.

  Actually I did remember, but it was no use telling them. I remembered the black gates and the big red letter for hospital. And the word, though I was no great reader. ‘Hos-pi-tal,’ I said.

  ‘Cor…ect,’ Chloe sai
d. I saw her sniggering.

  After we’d piled off – just to show I remembered – I ran up the path, darting in and out of the crowd. But Ma thought I was trying to lose them and came storming after. When she caught me she was breathing hard and her face was red. Her fat body wobbled like a jelly on two legs, ’specially when each foot came down. I could see her raise her arm to cuff me, but a look came into her eyes and she peeked around, like she does in the supermarket sometimes when I know she’s nicked something. Maybe she thought she’d look stupid, hitting a boy as big as her, ’cause I’m fifteen now, but that never stops her at home. She doesn’t do it to Chloe, though she’s just as bad, even when Chloe’s on my side. But Chloe’s a bit younger and perhaps that’s why.

  We walked up to the building with Ma in the middle, holding our hands. I wondered if she was squeezing Chloe’s like she was squeezing mine. But she couldn’t be, because she would have squealed. As for me, I’d learnt not to.

  There were lots of people on the path. Each side there were miles and miles of grass and trees, but no-one there, well not many. I wanted badly to go there and run about, like you couldn’t do at school ’cause the playground is all concrete, or at home ’cause the back yard – the garden Ma calls it – is all bricks and broken bottles. You’d only fall and cut your knees, Ma said, and Chloe said why don’t you clear them up and Ma gave her one of her looks and that shut her up.

  We reached the hospital steps and I remembered the crowded entrance where we’d come before and I’d run off ’cause the people pressed in on me and I got scared. It took them ages to find me and in the end Chloe did, in the blanket room. It was warm and safe in there, and smelt a bit like Chloe when she was a baby and had just been washed. I was glad it was Chloe what found me. Play scared, she said, then they won’t be so angry. But the nurse – the one with the yellow hair – wasn’t angry at all, nor was the doctor. I liked them for that and was quite good when he examined me, though I got a bit fidgety towards the end.

  Anyway, we were walking up the steps. At the top there were two ladies in front of the big doors who weren’t there last time. They were rattling cans and you could see they wanted to shake them in front of people’s noses, but couldn’t because their feet seemed stuck to the ground. Funny that. I couldn’t read what was on the tins, but Chloe could.

  ‘Tsunami appeal,’ she said

  I knew what that was, ’cause I’d seen the waves coming in on television. Chloe cried when she first saw it, but I liked the way the cars floated along like boats and got bashed. Then she said about the people and I cried too. Actually I cried until I went to bed then dreamt about how it was for the dogs and cats though I hadn’t actually seen any. I suppose the water got them first ’cause they’re not so high.

  ‘We should put some money in the tin,’ Chloe said. Ma said we didn’t have enough money to put any in and pulled on our hands. Then Chloe whispered to me she’d given me a pound for an ice-cream and I could put that in. And I said no way would I give up my ice-cream and for once Ma was on my side and tugged Chloe’s hand harder than mine. Then Chloe was angry.

  ‘You never help anybody,’ Chloe said. ‘You just think about yourself, all the time. Doesn’t he, Mum?’

  ‘He can be a right selfish little bugger sometimes.’

  And I thought about that.

  When Ma got us to where the chairs were I started to think Chloe might be right, ’cause Miss Mabbs my teacher sometimes says the same thing. I never could see why I should help anybody, but maybe the Tsunami thing changed that. I felt bad about not putting my pound in the tin.

  When Ma’d finished doing something at the desk we seemed to walk miles along the corridor. At the end there were magazines and toys scattered around and Chloe said they were the same ones as before. Ma said, ‘You do remember why we’re here, don’t you Johnny?’ and I said I did, and that pleased her. So she took superman out of her bag and gave him me. Then she watched me playing with him and got angry ’cause I made superman noises a bit loud and when people told me off she shouted at them.

  It was Chloe who spotted the nurse coming towards us like before and I liked her yellow hair even more. I didn’t remember her name, but Chloe could. ‘Hello Miss Willetts,’ she said.

  ‘Mrs Tranter, Johnny… and Chloe. You see, I remember too,’ she said.

  This remembering thing was making me uncomfortable.

  ‘Sorry to have kept you waiting,’ she said. ‘Dr Scundrel will see you now.’ It was the first time I’d heard doctors called by bad names.

  ‘Put superman in my bag, Johnny,’ Ma said. ‘You won’t be needing him.’

  ‘I want to keep him out,’ I said, and Carol said I could give him to her, but Ma wouldn’t let up.

  ‘Johnny, you’re not going to see the man clutching that toy, so put it in here.’

  ‘It’s alright, Mrs Tranter,’ the nurse said. The doctor won’t mind in the least. There’s a whole shelf of toys in there.’

  But Ma wouldn’t stop. ‘Johnny, I won’t tell you again,’ she said.

  So I did what she said. I don’t even like superman. I only brought him to annoy her. I like soft toys, like Chloe’s bunny, but Ma caught me nicking him before we left. Chloe wouldn’t have minded, though. She was kind to me today. ‘This is your big day,’ she said. ‘They’ll help you.’ ‘Why will they?’ I said, looking into her eyes. But she wouldn’t look at me straight, just turned away. When I ran round to look at her face she was crying.

  The doctor didn’t seem quite as big as before. That nice nurse followed us in and I liked that because she smiled at me. Then she went out and closed the door and the room felt all cold.

  ‘Take a seat, Mrs Tranter. Johnny, you sit here by me,’ the doctor said. So I did, and he smelt a bit like the flowers in the shop we’d just passed. Better than Ma’s smell though, when she has her hot flushes. She’s always talking about a change, so maybe she should. ‘Now, Mrs Tranter,’ he said. ‘How have we got on? Did the tablets help Johnny?’

  Ma said it was difficult to know as sometimes it seemed they did and other times I was as bloody-minded as ever. He stopped her there, which was a pity for her ’cause she was on the right track.

  ‘How about you, Johnny? Have they helped, do you think?’

  ‘Tell the man what you think, Johnny,’ Ma said.

  ‘Dunno really,’ I said.

  Dunno really. Useful that. Use it a lot in class. That Miss Mabbs, likes asking questions – you know, for info, like. Dates, places and that. When she first started on me you could see she was embarrassed ’cause her cheeks went pink, though I was sorry when she gave up too soon. But we weren’t at school, and I’d promised Chloe to give it a go. So I told him they worked sometimes, and he looked at me real hard. I think he knew how horrible they were and that half the time I kept them under my tongue and spat ’em out when Ma wasn’t looking.

  I don’t remember too much else, ’cause I was thinking again, except that the doctor said the new tablets would taste a bit better. I wanted to try one but the doctor said he didn’t have any on him.

  Then he said, ‘Right, Johnny, there’s just one more thing you can do for me, then we’re through. Look out of the window and tell me what you can see.’

  ‘Look out of the window, Johnny,’ Ma said.

  ‘Two cows and a lot of people,’ I said.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ he said. ‘I can see the two cows – just. And lots of grass and trees. But people?’

  ‘That’s how he is, doctor,’ Ma said.

  ‘Where are the people, Johnny?’ he said.

  ‘A bus just went by,’ I said, clever like.

  ‘Ah, I see. And we missed it. But that was far away – how do you know there were lots of people on it?’

  ‘Sick people like coming to hospitals,’ I said.

  That seemed to s
et him thinking, and he began to get up, and he looked at Ma.

  ‘Well, fortunately they do. Mrs Tranter – a quiet word with you outside. Johnny, we’ll be back in just a moment. Here’s something to keep you busy.’

  He pushed a comic into my hands. But I was still looking outside, and through a door window to the outside. Then I saw there was a key in the lock. Sod the comic, I thought, let’s see if it turns.

  It was a cinch. As I opened it the sound of the birds came at me and the wind blew my hair. I remembered to close the door. Somehow getting out had made me think better.

  Out on the grass everything seemed… well… clearer. People coming out and going in, not on top of me anymore, and that was nice ’cause I could choose what to do. Then I saw that nurse, with a coat on, but I knew it was her from the legs and the wiggling bum. So I got in behind her on the path with all the people going to the gate, keeping just behind, but she never turned, even with me thinking about her hard. I liked the yellow hair touching her shoulders and how she moved, not fat or anything, you know, straight and nice.

  When we got to the bus stop that feeling came again, with people pressing in, like when I go into class. I saw her join the queue, and I stayed near but still she didn’t turn, maybe ’cause there were people between.

  Buses come at you like elephants, except that they don’t have ears that flap and the people stay put. This one was a number five, the one we’d come on from the town, so I knew where we were going and that made me feel better. When it stopped I just climbed in with the rest.

  The driver was not very nice. He said, ‘You waiting for Christmas, son? Do you want a ticket or not?’

  I thought, hell, no money! Then I remembered the pound in my pocket Chloe’d given me for an ice-cream.

 

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