Caroline Graham - A Ghost in the Machine

“Someone rang up very late the other night and she went rushing out. Young people…” Benny sighed and shook her head looking so bewildered she might have been talking about young dinosaurs. Then she said, “I know it’s rude to make personal remarks so I hope you’ll forgive me but you’re looking so much better today, Ashley.”

Benny was not just being polite. There was colour in Ashley’s lips, his eyes were bright and his cheeks flushed.

“D’you think so?” Though he hadn’t noticed looking better – Ashley looked in the mirror as little as possible these days – he suddenly felt it might well be true. Actually he had felt pretty well the other day too, talking to Kate in her kitchen. He should be with people more. It wasn’t good for him and Jude to be cooped up here twenty-four hours a day. He wondered for the first time if his illness might be psychosomatic.

“Look, I’ve had an idea. Next time Polly comes down we must have a little supper – just the four of us – so Judith and I can get to know her better.”

“Gosh – that sounds lovely.”

“Maybe you could give me her London address? And we can sort dates out.”

“I’ll bring it over right away.” Life, thought Benny, was getting more interesting by the minute.

“It’s Judith’s birthday soon. We could make it a celebration.”

“What a wonderful idea,” cried Benny.

“Only…” Ashley put a finger to his lips and spoke very quietly, “I’d like it to be a surprise.”

“I understand.” Benny became equally hushed. “Mum’s the word.”

Judith sat in her dark cubbyhole, listening. Wondering at the sudden shift from clear audibility into whispering murmurs. There had been no fax, of course. She just had to get away. One more minute of Benny’s bouncing, indiscriminate enthusiasm and she felt she would scream. As for that ghastly soap…

Now they were laughing. She couldn’t remember when Ashley had last laughed out loud. It was a strong sound, reminding her of the old days. How could this stupid woman make Ashley laugh when she herself so often failed? Well, they would not shut her out. Judith closed down her computer and was about to return to the kitchen when the telephone rang. She snatched up the receiver and all her mental grumbling ceased. It was the clerk at their doctor’s surgery. Could Mr. Parnell manage a 4:30 appointment next Tuesday? She was irritatingly vague about the reason. Judith expected nothing else. People who worked in Appointments always pretended they didn’t know anything. It must be the results of his recent blood test. Her mouth suddenly dry she hurried away to tell Ashley.

Halfway through the afternoon of 20 July, the last day in his final week at the Ewan Sedgewick Comprehensive, Mallory was trying not to let his euphoria show. It would not be kind. He knew there was not a teacher in the school who did not envy him. Or who was not keenly aware that he had not earned his retirement fair and square. Like winning the bloody lottery he had overheard his secretary muttering and, in essence, Mallory had to agree. Except that he had won something far more important than money – he had won his freedom.

He was in his office, stripping the walls of posters, timetables, lists of sports fixtures home and away. Once, dates to remember and now to forget for ever. He picked up his heavy desk diary, sprayed the page edges fiercely against the ball of his thumb and seven months of inscribed misery spun by. Parents’ meetings, staff meetings, union meetings, governors’ meetings; meetings with the police, probation officers, janitors, ground staff, schools inspectors, caterers, admin. Old Uncle Dave Blunkett and all.

About to toss the hated book into the bin Mallory was suddenly seized by a gleeful, childish will to destroy. He wrenched the spine apart, then ripped out the pages a fistful at a time, ripping them up, tearing them again and again, then hurling the bits into the air like so much confetti. Halfway through this ridiculous display he stopped, the pointlessness of the whole business overwhelming him, making him sad.

Only forty minutes to go. He didn’t have to stick it out, of course. Indeed, he need not have come in at all, and actually got the impression that the Office was surprised to see him. But, by some strange reversal of feeling, now that Mallory could choose he chose to be present at the Ewan Sedgewick to the no longer bitter end.

He was trying not to regret too much that the celebration he had planned with Kate for tonight had had to be cancelled. Of course they must go down to Forbes Abbot if Benny was ill. But he had been so looking forward to it.

They hadn’t eaten at Riva’s, their favourite restaurant, for almost three years. The last time was Mallory’s birthday but he had been so tired and strung out that even the delicious food, discreet service and lovely surroundings could not make the evening a success. How different this time would have been.

At this point in his reminiscence the phone rang. He was disinclined to answer. What could it have to do with him? He had cut free of all duties, said goodbye to the handful of people he would be sorry not to see again and for sure there was no surprise party waiting in the wings. So why pick it up?

Afterwards he wondered what difference it would have made if he had gone then. Just put on his coat and left with it ringing in his ears. Possibly, in the long run, not a lot. Things would have been delayed, is all. The outcome would have been the same.

“Hello?”

The receiver made a strange, strangled noise.

“Who is this?”

“Aahh…” Crying, sobbing. “Dad…”

“Polly? Polly …”

“I’m in such…such…trouble.”

“Where are you?”

“Home. Oh, Daddy…please come…”

“What is it?”

“ Just come. ”

“OK, OK! I’m leaving now. Listen – don’t— I mean – stay where you are, all right? I might be— The traffic…”

“Don’t tell anyone, please! Nobody. ”

“I won’t.”

“Promise!”

Of course he had promised before racing out like a mad thing and throwing himself into the car. Driving off, scraping the metal gatepost, he suddenly realised he had not asked which home she meant. Perhaps she’d been ringing from her flat, which was in Dalston, miles from Parsons Green. What if she was waiting there now, distraught, watching for him through the window?

“Oh God.” Already in a solid jam he dialled home on his Nokia. When there was no reply he rang the number of her flat. Nothing. Mallory cursed himself for racing off in such a state. If he’d stopped even for a couple of minutes to think things through he might have dialled 1471. But then, if she wasn’t picking the phone up…

He reran the few brief sentences over and over in his mind. She’d been terribly upset, yes. Crying, yes. Frightened? He wasn’t sure, perhaps because he had never seen Polly frightened in her whole life. It occurred to him then for the first time that she might not have been alone. That perhaps someone was forcing her to make the call. Standing over her. She might have discovered a burglar trashing the place…The very thought drove Mallory mad. He started putting his terror into words, mouthing threats, muttering obscenities. Then he punched the dashboard, hurting his hand.

Two women paused on the pavement and bent to stare in through the car window at him. One of them mouthed what could have been, “Are you all right?” The other started laughing. The queue dragged itself slowly forwards.

Mallory inhaled deeply and struggled to keep his mind on the traffic. He was a rational man, he must think rationally. Try and separate what he actually knew to be true from the seething mass of frightening images now threatening to burst his brain. Concentrate on the facts. His daughter was distressed and in some sort of trouble. She was at home and almost certainly by herself. He would be with her soon and between them they would work it out. More deep breaths.