Nicola Barker - Darkmans

‘Then one day I looked into the mirror,’ she interrupted him, ‘and I saw his face staring back at me. I’d never considered the resemblance before. I mean I don’t think there even was one…But suddenly our foreheads, our jaws …’

She ran a gentle finger along the sharp line of her jaw.

‘Even tiny things — phrases he used, hand gestures, smells …’

‘They definitely settle on you once they’re gone,’ he said, ‘like a strange kind of powder …’ His mind turned, momentarily, to the bottle of pills in Isidore’s pocket. ‘Like a fine layer of chalk.’

‘But it takes ages, doesn’t it? The same way it takes a while for the dust to settle after you’ve replastered a wall or a ceiling…?’

‘Months,’ he nodded, ‘years, even…’

They were quiet for a while.

‘So what did she want for you?’ Elen suddenly wondered.

‘Want?’

‘Your mother. What were her dreams for you?’

Kane frowned. Then he smiled.

‘She always thought I’d be a carpenter,’ he said.

‘Really?’

‘Yup. I used to whittle away at things, as a boy. I was actually quite good.’

‘A carpenter?’ Elen considered this for a moment. ‘I can’t really imagine that.’

‘I used to make woodcuts. Old-fashioned, oblong woodcuts…’ He approximated the shape and size in the air with his hands (and as he did so he had a sudden, sharp memory of his father’s cheerful indifference to his painstaking endeavours). ‘I did these amazing Star Wars ones, full of all this incredible detail…’

He shook his head, fondly.

‘What happened to them?’

‘I don’t know. I guess they must be at the back of a wardrobe somewhere…’

‘So why did you stop?’

He shrugged. ‘I just lost interest, I guess.’

He never encouraged me.

I was never really good enough.

‘A talented carpenter can always find work,’ Elen volunteered.

‘I carved her a cross,’ he mused, ‘but it was never finished. God . I’ve not thought about that in years…’

‘Is she buried locally?’

‘No. There was a family grave just outside Aylesbury, in Buckinghamshire…’

‘Wood’s so mutable,’ she sighed.

‘Everything’s mutable,’ he responded blithely, ‘that’s why it’s important to savour the moment.’

‘Oh God ,’ she suddenly exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hand.

‘What?’

He jerked forward in his seat, concerned.

‘I’ve just had a thought …’ she turned to face him, her eyes full of wonder.

‘ What? ’ he repeated.

She grinned at him. ‘You must finish it.’

‘Pardon?’

‘The cross. You must finish it. Complete it. Take it to her…’

He frowned. He wasn’t especially impressed by the idea.

‘I mean finish what you started…’ she ran on excitedly.

‘Find closure , eh?’ he said, scratching four, tiny, deeply ironic speech marks in the air.

She looked hurt. Then, ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Why not?’

He reached for his cigarettes.

‘May I smoke?’ he asked, taking them out.

‘No,’ she slowly shook her head.

‘Why not?’ he demanded petulantly. ‘Doesn’t your husband like it?’

‘The smell,’ she explained, ‘will get on to Fleet’s bedclothes.’

She put out her hand and patted the small pile of linen. As she reached out he saw the mean line of bruises on her forearm.

‘Of course.’

He quickly put his cigarettes away again, frowning.

‘And no, Dory doesn’t actually like it,’ she expanded (somewhat unnecessarily, he felt).

As she spoke the dog — Michelle — appeared in the open doorway. Kane stared at her, moodily.

‘What happened to her legs?’ he wondered.

‘Her legs? Michelle’s legs?’

He nodded.

‘I don’t really know. I think she was probably born that way. The legs are malformed. They never grew.’

‘Have you had her for long?’

‘God, no. Only a month or so. She just… uh …she just kind of turned up.’

‘What?’ Kane scoffed, thinking of Beede and the cat. ‘Just landed on your doorstep with the special little cart attached?’

‘Isidore — my husband,’ Elen explained, frowning, ‘sometimes he does things— initiates things — and then forgets…’ ‘Did he build the little cart?’ Kane asked, smirking (still niggled, at some level, by the smoking ban).

‘No.’ Elen shook her head. ‘At least…’ she frowned, ‘I’m not entirely sure…Although it’s beautifully made, exquisitely made, like a tiny work of art…’

‘Did he bruise your arms?’ Kane wondered (as if this question was of exactly the same order — the same calibre —as all the others he’d just asked).

‘Pardon?’

‘Dory. Your husband. Did he bruise your arms?’

Elen turned to apprehend him, shocked.

Kane calmly met her gaze. ‘You said that sometimes he initiates things and then he forgets, I just presumed…’

‘No,’ she drew back from him, visibly appalled. ‘ God . How awful. What an awful thing to…’

She pulled down her sleeves, offended.

‘I’m sorry,’ Kane apologised, ‘I must’ve got the wrong idea. It was just something Beede said…’ He shook his head. ‘It was nothing.’

‘It was an accident,’ she persisted.

‘Good. Fine. You don’t need to explain.’

‘I slipped on a patch of black ice while out visiting a client, and someone — this man — they just…’

She paused. ‘Beede? Did Beede say something?’

‘No. Nothing important.’

‘What did he say?’

Kane looked uneasy. ‘He just warned me to keep my distance, that’s all.’

‘Keep your distance?’ she seemed surprised. ‘Keep away from me , you mean?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did he say anything else?’

‘Yes. He said the situation at home was complicated, that your husband wasn’t well…’

‘And that was all? That was all he said?’

Kane thought about the drugs.

‘Yes. That was all.’

‘So he warned you off? Beede warned you off?’

She looked forlorn.

‘He was right to,’ she added. ‘It is complicated.’

She glanced down at her arms. ‘But Dory didn’t do this.’

‘I’m relieved to hear it,’ Kane said, glancing over his shoulder. ‘So where is he tonight?’

He tried to sound nonchalant.

‘Dory?’

Her chin jerked up. ‘He’s at work. He’s just at work.’

‘I see.’

She suddenly drew her legs up, folded them tight into her body, pulled the baggy jumper over the top of them, yanked it down to her ankles, manoeuvred her arms from the sleeves (withdrew them inside), wrapped them around her legs and balanced her chin on her knees. She stared straight ahead of her like a grave, blue Sphinx. ‘I must put the dog to bed,’ she murmured, ‘otherwise she’ll just drag herself around, peeing all over the place…’

‘Can I give you a hug?’ Kane asked.

‘What?’

She turned, hostile. He didn’t dare repeat it.

‘I’m just so tired ,’ she sighed, ‘and it’s made me a little fractious, I’m afraid. I’m not quite myself.’

‘Then you should sleep.’

He prepared himself — mentally — to go.

She closed her eyes. ‘I can’t. I can’t sleep. I just keep on waking up.’ She opened her eyes again. ‘I wish I could sleep.’

‘I can give you something,’ he said, gauging her reaction, coldly. She quickly shook her head. ‘No. I need to stay alert in case Fleet…’