Jasper Fforde - The Well of Lost Plots

I turned to Ibb and Obb, who shook their heads. They didn't believe it either.

'Well …' said Arnold slowly. '… perhaps you might like to come with me to the concert?'

I shut the door again.

'He pretended to have the idea about going to see Willow Lodge tonight,' said Ibb slowly and more confidently, 'when in fact I think he had it planned all along that way. I think he fancies you big time.'

I opened the door again.

'I'm sorry, no,' I told him hastily. 'Happily married.'

'It's not a date,' exclaimed Arnold quickly, just a lift to a concert. Here, take the ticket anyway. I've no one else to give it to; if you don't want to go, just bin it.'

I shut the door again.

'Ibb's wrong,' said Obb. 'He really fancies you, but he's blown it by being too desperate — it would be hard for you to respect someone who would almost start begging.'

'Not bad,' I replied. 'Let's see how it turns out.'

I opened the door again and stared into Arnold's earnest eyes.

'You miss her, don't you?'

'Miss who?' asked Arnold, seemingly nonchalant.

'Denial of love!' yelled Ibb and Obb from behind me. 'He doesn't really fancy you at all — he's in love with Mary and wants a date on the rebound!'

Arnold looked suspicious.

'What's going on?'

'Subtext classes,' I explained. 'Sorry for being rude. Do you want to come in for a coffee?'

'Well, I should be going really—'

'Playing hard to get!' hooted Ibb, and Obb added quickly: 'The balance of power has tipped in his favour because you've been rude to him with all that door nonsense, and now you're going to have to insist that he comes in for coffee, even if that means being nicer to him than you originally intended!'

'Are they always like this?' enquired Arnold, stepping inside.

'They learn fast,' I observed. 'That's Ibb and that's Obb. Ibb and Obb, this is Arnold.'

'Hello!' said Arnold, thinking for a moment. 'Do you Generics want to go and see Willow Lodge and the Limes?'

They looked at one another for a moment, realised they were sitting just that little bit too close, and moved apart.

'Do you?' said Ibb.

'Well, only if you want to—'

'I'm easy — it's your decision.'

'Well, y-es, I'd really like to.'

'Then let's go — unless you've made other plans—?'

'No, no, I haven't.'

They got up, took the tickets from Arnold and were out the door in a flash.

I laughed and went through to the galley.

'Who's the elderly woman?' asked Arnold.

'It's my gran,' I replied, switching on the kettle and getting out the coffee.

'Is she … you know?'

'Goodness me no!' I exclaimed. 'She's only asleep. She's one hundred and eight.'

'Really? Why is she dressed in this dreadful blue gingham?'

'Has been for as long as I can remember. She came here to make sure I didn't forget my husband. Sorry. That makes me sound as though I'm labouring the point, doesn't it?'

'Listen,' said Arnold, 'don't worry. I didn't mean to come over all romantic just then. But Mary, well, she's quite something, you know, and I'm not just in love with her because I was written that way — this one's for real. Like Nelson and Emma, Bogart and Bacall—'

'Finch-Hatton and Blixen. Yes, I know. I've been there.'

'Denys was in love with Baron Blixen?'

' Karen Blixen.'

'Oh.'

He sat down and I placed a coffee in front of him.

'So, tell me about your husband.'

'Hah!' I said, smiling. 'You don't want me to bore you about Landen.'

'It's not boring. You listen to me when I hark on about Mary.'

I stirred my coffee absently, running through my memories of Landen to make sure they were all there. Gran mumbled something about lobsters in her sleep.

'It must have been a hard decision to come and hide out here,' said Arnold quietly. 'I don't imagine Thursdays generally do that sort of thing.'

'You're right,' I replied, 'they don't. But sometimes falling back and regrouping is not the same as running away.'

'Tactical withdrawal?'

'Right. What would you do to get together with Mary again?'

'Anything.'

'And I with Landen. I will get him back — just not quite yet. But the strange thing is,' I added slightly wistfully, 'when he comes back he won't even know he's been gone — it's not as though he's waiting for me to reactualise him.'

We chatted for about an hour. He told me about the Well and I talked about the Outland. He was just trying to get me to repeat 'irrelevant benevolent elephant' when Gran woke up with a yell, shouting: 'The French! The French!' and had to be calmed down with a glass of warm whisky before I put her to bed.

'I'd better be going,' said Arnold. 'Mind if I drop round again?'

'Not at all,' I replied, 'that would be nice.'

I went to bed after that and was still awake when Ibb and Obb returned from the concert. They were giggling and made a very noisy cup of tea before retiring. I lay back and tried to sleep, hoping that I would dream of being back at our house, the one that Landen and I shared when we were married. Failing that, on holiday somewhere. Failing that when we first met, and if that wasn't available, an argument — and lastly, anything with Landen in it at all. Aornis, however, had other ideas.

'Dear, sweet Thursday!' muttered a patronising voice that was chillingly familiar. I opened my eyes. I was on the roof of Thornfield Hall, Rochester's house in Jane Eyre . It was the time and place of the final showdown with Acheron Hades. The old house was on fire and I could feel the roof growing hot beneath my feet. I coughed in the smoke and felt my eyes begin to smart. Next to me was Edward Rochester, cradling a badly wounded hand. Acheron had already thrown Rochester's poor wife Bertha over the parapet and he was now preparing to finish us both off.

' Sweet madness , eh?' He laughed. 'Jane is with her cousins; the narrative is with her, and I have the manual!'

He waved it at me, deposited it in his pocket and picked up his gun.

'Who's first?'

I ignored Hades and looked around. The patronising 'Dear, sweet Thursday!' voice had not been his — it had belonged to Aornis. She was wearing the same designer clothes as she had when I last saw her — she was only a memory, after all.

'Hey!' said Acheron. I'm talking to you!'

I turned and dutifully fired and Hades caught the approaching bullet — as he had when this happened for real. He opened his fist; the slug was flattened into a small lead disc. He smiled and a shower of sparks flew up behind him.

But I wasn't so interested in Acheron this time around.

'Aornis!' I shouted. 'Show yourself, coward!'

'No coward I!' said Aornis, stepping from behind a large chimney piece.

'What are you doing to me?' I asked angrily, pointing my gun at her. She didn't seem to be in the least put out — in fact, she seemed more concerned with preventing the dirt from the roof soiling her suede shoes.