Jasper Fforde - Early Riser

‘It’s possible she might do tricks,’ I said with some reticence, ‘perhaps we should—’

‘Did you ever wonder how I did this?’ asked Jonesy, holding up the withered remnant. She had only a finger and thumb remaining on her right hand.

I hadn’t given it a second thought. Consuls often left body parts littered around the Winter, and indeed, anyone who hadn’t lost a bit of themselves by their fifth season were clearly risk-averse. But if Jonesy mentioned it, it was probably for a reason.

‘It had crossed my mind,’ I replied obligingly.

‘I was jumped by nightwalkers,’ she said in a matter-of-fact way, ‘gone hive-mind over in Builth Wells. Rare but not unheard of. They took chunks out of any exposed flesh. I’d be nightwalker shit if it wasn’t for Toccata wading in. I’ll do any of them now. I’ve even,’ she added, with an excited gleam in her eye, ‘whacked a celebrity nightwalker. Guess which one.’

‘Was it Carmen Miranda?’

‘Oh,’ she said, disappointed that her dubious claim to fame had been scooped, ‘you heard about that.’

She nodded towards Birgitta.

‘But anyway: I don’t mind retiring them. In fact, I’m trying to set a new Regional Retiring Record. I’ve got sixty-one so far. So let me do it. Please?’

I thanked her but said that I should be the one to do it.

I returned a half-hour later. Jonesy was already in the Sno-Trac listening to a weather report on the shortwave, and I opened the rear door and picked my way through the cabin to join her. A Sno-Trac would usually take eight people plus driver, but this one was configured for freight. It was practical but not fast and, most importantly, had an efficient heater and a modern H4S radar set.

But it wasn’t the TechSpecs of the Sno-Trac that were forefront in my mind.

I’d wrapped Birgitta’s left thumb in a pocket handkerchief and I laid it on the coaming. It had been probably the least pleasant moment of my life so far, and I could still feel myself shaking. But I had done what had to be done.

‘You all right, Wonky?’ asked Jonesy, sensing my agitation.

‘No, not really – and I’d be a whole lot happier if you didn’t call me Wonky.’

‘We’re way beyond that now.’

She indicated Birgitta’s thumb.

‘First one?’

I nodded.

‘The first is always the hardest, but believe me, the feelings of nausea will pass. Toccata’s returned and you’re driving.’

The ride to the Winter Consulate would have been simple, but Jonesy insisted we went around the one-way system, which took an extra fifteen minutes at the excruciatingly slow 55 dB sound limit. She pointed out the theatre as we rumbled past.

‘André Preview drops in two weeks from now and a week after that there’ll be something from the Wolfitt Players. Last season we had the Reduced Shakespeare Company doing “Highlights of the Mostly Complete History of Condensing Stuff (abridged)”.’

‘Any good?’

‘Quick – even for them. Listen, have you thought up any more good reminiscences for us to talk about?’

‘I… haven’t really given it much thought.’

‘I’m working on a really good one about going to the Hotbox in Swindon like years ago and listening to the last performance of Holroyd Wilson. We kissed for the first time outside, but I was horribly drunk and then vomited on your feet.’

‘I still have those shoes,’ I said.

‘You kept them?’ said Jonesy. ‘You’re one sick sentimental puppy, Wonky.’

‘It wasn’t sentiment,’ I said, ‘it was economics. They were expensive. What does Toccata want to say to me?’

‘She’ll want to know about Logan, I imagine, then she needs to decide what to do with you. It’s possible you’ll join us. We’re shorthanded as we lost two Deputies recently; one to an ice storm and the other to stupidity – it was my ex-partner, Cotton. Found Dead in Sleep.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Tried to kip au Jeffries in an outhouse under skins and branches. Quite lovely but not too bright. We bundled once or twice, but only recreationally, of course.’

‘Of course,’ I said, now used to open talk about such matters. ‘So with those two missing, how many Consuls do you have?’

She counted them out on her fingers.

‘There’s the Chief, me, Fodder – we served together in the Ottoman. Despite a gruff exterior he’s quite the sweetheart. We’ve never bundled, but it’s a possibility what with Cotton dead. I always think it best to bundle with only one co-Winterer at a time, don’t you?’

‘That might be considered sound advice, yes.’

‘Also on the list is Danny Pockets, a freelancer from Swansea who was called in to assist with Pantry Defence. He’s on a Daily Rate, which isn’t really fair on the rest of us. Laura Strowger helps out but is civilian, so doesn’t count, really, and the last is the bondsman Jim Treacle, who is a hopeless twerp without a shred of charm, winterskills or decency. He thinks I’m going to marry him.’

‘Will you?’

‘I’d sooner marry Agent Hooke, but it’s complicated: my mum borrowed lavishly from Treacle to bag a rich widower from Sector Fifteen. That didn’t work out, so Treacle transferred the loan to my hand in marriage. Not sure how that happened. Anyway, we’re trying to spin out the Hard No for as long as possible, otherwise it’s a loan default and he can take my mum’s house. If you can get Treacle to write off the Debt and head elsewhere, there’s five hundred euros in it for you. Park anywhere.’

I pulled in and checked the compressed air reservoir was full before shutting down.

‘A tip about Chief Consul Toccata,’ said Jonesy. ‘Honesty is the only policy and don’t speak unless spoken to. She’s not so bad; just runs hot and cold. But don’t fret. If she respects you as a person, everything will be fine.’

‘Can I ask a question?’

‘Sure.’

‘Is it true Toccata eats nightwalkers garnished with mint?’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘That’s a relief.’

‘No, I heard she feeds them peppermint for several weeks beforehand – to make them more flavoursome.’

‘She keeps them alive until needed?’

‘Needs must in the Winter, Wonky. Believe me, if you were starving you’d eat your dead mother’s partly-decomposed foot. What do you think the Consular staff ate in Sector Eight North during the Winter of ’76? Snow?’

I said nothing.

‘C’mon,’ she added, smiling to try and dilute some of the less palatable truths about the Winter, ‘and if I were you, don’t mention eating nightwalkers to Toccata. It’s a touchy subject.’

Aurora’s four-wheel drive was still parked outside the Consulate, unchanged from when I’d seen it last. Eddie Tangiers and Glitzy Tiara were still tied to the back and had dropped into unmoving Rigor torpis as a defence against the cold.

‘Well, well,’ said Jonesy, ‘two more for the Sector Twelve retirement plan.’

‘They’re Aurora’s,’ I said, probably a mite too defensively. ‘She was planning to take them up to HiberTech.’

‘Must have run out of time. Treacle will be on the front desk. I’ll catch you up.’

She patted me on the shoulder and climbed into Aurora’s four-wheel drive.

I was buzzed in through the shock-gates, where little had changed. On the counter was a tear-off calendar telling me there were ninety-one days until Springrise, and at the rear I could see Laura, doing some filing. She looked at me curiously and gave a cheery wave, which I returned. Beyond the desks was a frosted-glass partition to an inner office with a half-glazed door, upon which were painted the words: