Nicola Barker - Darkmans

‘So Kelly found God,’ he murmured, shaking his head. ‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know. It just is.’

‘She said everything suddenly fitted together, like a puzzle. She claimed we were all somehow a part of it. She was completely hyped up.’

‘She was probably just stoned. They gave her something to calm her down at the hospital. She was climbing the fucking walls when I spoke to her earlier…’

‘Well she was perfectly lucid when we chatted at around twelve…’ ‘Oh.’

Pause

‘I’m still a little confused,’ Kane said.

‘But it is quite weird — quite confusing — I mean when you actually stop and think about it…’ Winifred persisted.

‘What is?’

‘The coincidence. She falls off the wall — yeah? — delivering this book to Beede. She breaks her leg. She goes to hospital. She acquires the book again — I’m not entirely sure how. An old Reverend predicts her brother’s death. Her brother suddenly dies. She reads the book and realises that she’s related to this crazy religious nut, this monk …’

Pause

‘Sorry? A monk ?’

‘Yeah.’

‘But you said he was a doctor.’

‘He was a doctor — or a Physic , as they called them back then — but he was also a monk. Underneath . A Carthusian. They’re a very strict…’

‘Yes,’ Kane interrupted her, ‘I know who the Carthusians are.’ ‘They’re totally fanatical…’

‘Yes , Win, I know .’

‘Hair shirts, fasting, the whole kit and caboodle…’

Kane took a long drag on his cigarette. A tall man in a uniform was now climbing from the driver’s side of the car behind him. Kane glanced out of his window, casually exhaling, then he froze–

Fuck

It was Dory . It was Isidore. His forehead horribly disfigured by this terrible bruise .

Kane quickly sank down in his seat, choking back the smoke.

‘Kane? Hello? ’

Winifred again.

‘Hi.’

Kane suddenly had a huge frog in his throat.

‘Kane?’

He coughed into his hand to try and dislodge it. ‘Hi,’ he croaked, his eyes watering, ‘I’m still here…’

‘Is there actually any point in my talking this through with you?’ ‘Yeah. Sure . I’m just…’

He coughed again. Then he sniffed.

‘Late for a client,’ she finished off, bored.

Kane watched through streaming eyes as Dory approached the town house, took out a key and unlocked the front door. He’d barely pushed it open, though, when a blonde woman appeared and invited him inside.

Kane pulled himself up straight again, with a grunt, rubbing his face dry with his sleeve.

‘Okay,’ he said, struggling to gather his thoughts into some semblance of order. ‘So just tell her, Win. Be straight up with her. That’s my advice. Ring her. She’ll be fine about it. She’s a very sensible — very practical — girl, beneath all that mouth…’

‘But I wish you could’ve heard her…’ Winnie interrupted. ‘I mean it was incredibly…I don’t know…incredibly touching , somehow…’ ‘What was?’

‘How happy it made her feel. How delighted she was that her family weren’t all bad. She thought it was important — a sign , a portent… ’ ‘But she was wrong. She simply got her wires crossed.’

Silence

‘I mean you said this monk guy was a lunatic — a nut — so where’s the loss?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘Yes you did.’

‘No. I said he was a little flakey ,’ Win rapidly rallied to the monk’s defence, ‘but he was an astonishing character. This seething mass of contradictions. He was released from his vows — as a bishop — after twenty-odd years of strict observance, but he still continued to wear the hair shirt, fasted — the whole deal — right up until his death. He was totally hardcore, in other words. It just transpired that his real love, his real calling was medicine. He was talented at it, by all accounts. He travelled extensively — all over the world — working as an ambassador for Britain — a diplomat, even a kind of spy , on occasion. He wrote some of the earliest known texts in the English language. Stuff about building, astronomy, medicine, comedy …’

‘But I thought you said…’

‘Yeah. There’s some doubt over his authorship of the Scogin book. It may well have been written later and just attributed to him. The Prologue kind of sets out his store — I don’t know if you read it — all this stuff about how “honest mirth” preserves health…That’s very Boardian. But the same introduction also claims he was the King’s Physic, which he definitely wasn’t. He may’ve attended Margaret — Henry’s daughter, once or possibly twice…I mean he was a Catholic — a bishop — he was imprisoned intermittently even after he swore the Oath of Conformity. He died in jail — Fleet Prison…’

Kane frowned.

‘…1550 or thereabouts, although he wasn’t locked up for treason. He was imprisoned for maintaining three loose women in his chamber, “for his use”—I quote—“and that of the other priests”.’

‘The old dog,’ Kane murmured.

‘Yeah. He was a passionate adherent of the humoral theory of the body; this idea that the body of a man contains four main humours which have to be perfectly combined for good health — blood, phlegm, yellow bile, black bile…And then a similar — equally important — combination of the four elements : hot, cold, wet, dry…The theory originates with Hippocrates. Sounds a little crazy to begin with, I’ll admit, but when you sit down and really think about it, it’s actually quite a cool idea…Kind of modern… Holistic , even…’

‘Sure.’

Kane wasn’t concentrating. He was staring over at the house. ‘So what’s this guy’s name again?’

‘Andrew Board. B-o-a-r-d.’

‘But that’s completely different.’

‘I know. That’s what Kelly thought. That’s why she had her doubts, initially. But I told her how the language was in flux back then. English was only just being established as an official tongue. Nothing was set in stone. How a name sounded was just as significant as how it was spelled…’

‘Board/Broad…’ Kane tried this on for size. Then his hand shot into the air — quite spontaneously — and hurled his cigarette on to the dash.

‘ Shit! ’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing. I just…’

Kane reached out to retrieve it.

‘I re-examined the Scogin text this morning,’ Winifred blithely chatted on, ‘a very early edition, even earlier than the one I photocopied for Beede…’

‘ Huh? ’

Kane was dusting flecks of ash from the top of his speedometer.

‘John Scogin, the jester…’

‘John?’ He glanced up. ‘ John Scogin?’

‘Yeah. I was bearing in mind all these academic theories on why it was that Board hadn’t written the book — and then it suddenly occurred to me, as I worked my way through it, how the story adheres — and in the weirdest way — to the Hippocratic theory…’

‘You’ve lost me, Win.’

Kane dabbed at his eyes again.

‘It’s a fascinating business. Kind of like solving a crime. Like unravelling a mystery story. All the clues are in the text and your job is simply to sniff them out.’

‘I see.’

‘I mean it’s hardly rocket science or anything — my reading’s simply based on the loosest possible literary interpretation…’