Nicola Barker - Darkmans

‘But you’re being ridiculous…’ Kane was down on his hands and knees (his phone gripped, unsteadily, between his shoulder and his ear), digging through an assortment of junk in the back of an old wardrobe ‘…I mean he didn’t actually say anything, did he? He didn’t actually mention that we knew each other…?’

Pause

‘I know, but Beede’s not like that. I already told you, he has his own shit to deal with — trust me…’

Pause

‘Well if you’ll just calm down for a minute…’

Pause

(Scowling) ‘ Where , exactly?’

Pause

‘ Why not?’

Pause

‘The parrot ?’ Kane burst out laughing. ‘Now you’re really being paranoid.’

Pause

‘I’m not laughing, I’m just…’

Pause

‘Fine. Yeah…Although I’m definitely not increasing the amount, because you’re actually doing really…’

Pause

‘ Listen. You’re doing really well . There’s no need to jeopardise all the hard work we’ve put in just because…’

Pause

‘Okay. Well it’s your funeral…’ Kane rolled his eyes, straightened up, withdrew a smallish, oblong object wrapped up in newspaper from the wardrobe, crouched back on to his haunches and inspected his watch. ‘I know the area. I’ll look for your car. But just calm down , all right? And give it about half an hour…’

Pause

(More eye rolling) ‘I know. Yup . Bye.’

He threw down his phone and began unwrapping the parcel. As he pulled off the paper it became clear that the single object was in fact two objects which had been carefully stored away together. Kane smiled as he flipped them over to take a proper look. He stared at them both, intently. His smile slowly faded.

‘ Man. But these are just shit ,’ he murmured.

He held one up even closer to his face to inspect the finer detail—‘ Jeez. This is dreadful …’

He held it at arm’s length again. ‘I mean I can barely even tell…’

His musings were interrupted by the sound of the front door slamming–

Eh?

He tossed the woodcuts back into the wardrobe, grabbed his phone, shoved it into his pocket, checked for his car keys and sprang to his feet.

‘ Gaffar? ’ he yelled, striding through the flat and out on to the landing (only pausing to grab a pop-tart from the toaster and stuff it, whole, into his mouth). ‘I’m on to you, you sneaky fucker …’

He bounced down the top three stairs, then ground to a sudden halt. There, just in front of him, stood Elen and Beede. Gazing up at him. Together.

Beede had his hand resting lightly–

Paternally?

— on Elen’s shoulder. She had her hair in two sweet plaits. She was wearing slim-fitting black boots.

Kane nearly choked on his pop-tart.

‘Sorry,’ he put up his hand to his mouth, ‘I thought you were someone else…’

‘Kelly’s brother died,’ Beede observed stiffly, trying the handle on his door, then realising — with a small start — that it was locked. ‘Did you know?’

‘Uh, yeah,’ Kane murmured, noticing a tiny, little blood blister on his father’s lip. ‘She rang me last night. It was all very sudden. Very quick…’

His eye shifted to Elen. She was standing at Beede’s side, completely at her ease, gently smiling up at him. She indicated, with her finger, to the side of her mouth. Kane frowned, then, ‘ Oh …’ He rubbed at his cheek.

Jam

‘Well that’s something , I suppose,’ Beede conceded as he retrieved the key from his coat pocket.

‘And a little more… uh …’ Elen pointed to her chin.

‘I actually need to have a quick word with you about Gaffar,’ Beede muttered. ‘Later, perhaps?’

‘Is something wrong?’ Kane enquired, still dabbing and swallowing. ‘Absolutely not,’ Beede frowned, as if shocked by the suggestion (by Kane’s patent lack of faith in his Kurdish pal). ‘It’s a kind of… well …a kind of cultural issue.’

‘Cultural?’ Kane frowned.

Beede unlocked the door and pushed it open. He politely waved Elen inside and then promptly followed her, closing it — firmly — behind him.

‘Thanks. Great . Nice to see you, too,’ Kane muttered, remaining where he was for a while, scowling — deeply irked — like a schoolboy dismissed by a peremptory headmaster. Then he quietly descended the remaining stairs, inspected his teeth in the hallway mirror–

Urgh

— rubbed at them, vigorously, with his index finger and grabbed his ancient, grey, crombie from the coat-rack. He slowly put it on, listening out — quite nonchalantly, he felt — for any audible snatches of conversation from inside Beede’s flat.

‘…this weird, old…uh… habit I guess you’d call it,’ Elen was speaking, and her voice was much louder — much clearer — than Kane might’ve anticipated, ‘I mean this was way back when we very first met — before things got quite so…’ her voice quavered a little (did it? Or was she just bending down as she spoke — or sitting ? Perhaps sitting down on the sofa?) ‘…so horribly complicated …’

‘Damn,’ Beede swore (making a rattling sound), ‘I’m all out of Anadin.’

(Kane visualised Beede’s First Aid tin — bright blue, rusty-hinged — which was generally stored on a top shelf in the kitchen).

‘I’ll run out and get you some…’

Elen’s voice grew still louder.

Kane sprang away from the door, panicked.

‘No. It really doesn’t fmwah-fmwah . I’m actually fmwah-fmwah-fwah-fmwah .’

Kane grimaced and drew closer to the door again. It sounded like Beede was filling a pan — or a kettle, perhaps — with water.

‘I thought we both agreed that you’d try and put your feet up,’ Elen gently chastised him, her voice growing fainter.

‘Don’t be silly,’ Beede insisted, ‘it’s much fwah-wah-fmwah-fmwah-fwah .’

‘Well at least let me fmwah-wah fwah-wah wah fmwah ,’ she demanded.

‘How maddening ,’ Beede suddenly exclaimed, ‘the washer’s playing up inside the cold tap…’

(Strange squeaking noise as the tap is manipulated.)

‘…It must’ve perished, I suppose…’

(Sound of cupboard door being opened and shut.)

‘Sorry,’ he apologised, ‘you were telling me about Dory —this strange habit of his.’

‘Oh…’ Elen sounded momentarily distracted. ‘ Yes …Well he’d just fmwah-wah-wah fwah fmwah fmwah-wah fwah …’ she returned — somewhat haltingly — to her anecdote, ‘I mean without fmwah wah fwah fwah, and when the person answered he’d tell them that [ her voice grew much clearer again ] he’d lived there, as a boy, and that I was his girlfriend, and that he’d told me all about it, and would they mind terribly if we just took a quick look around…’

‘You never mentioned this before,’ Beede’s voice suddenly sounded incredibly close — so much so that Kane leapt back towards the mirror again (where he frantically pretended to readjust his fringe).

‘I honestly hadn’t thought about it in years…’ Elen sounded guilty, ‘I mean he only ever did it a few times…’

‘How many times?’

(Beede again, still close, sounding rather tense.)

‘I don’t know — five, maybe six…’

‘And what part did you play, exactly, in this curious, little deception?’