Nicola Barker - Darkmans

Beede blinked. The wave smoothly withdrew. Quick as a breath, his anger retreated. He shook his head, confused.

‘Beede?! ’ Dory sounded terrified.

‘You phoned,’ he said tiredly, ‘you called me.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

‘But why ?’

‘Because you said…you said you needed my help.’

‘Did I?’

‘Yes .’

Silence

‘Oh God,’ Dory groaned (as if suddenly remembering). ‘He’s been whispering things, Beede. I’ve told him to go away. I’ve pushed him away — with the yoga, the Pranayama, I’ve tried to block him out. But it’s almost had the opposite effect. It’s brought him even closer. And now he keeps telling me all this…all this stuff …’

‘What kind of stuff?’

Beede gnawed on his lower lip.

‘Things about you. About Elen. The boy. He calls Elen the most terrible, the most unforgivable …’

‘What does he say about me?’ Beede interrupted, coldly.

‘About you? Strange things. Stupid things. He keeps telling me that you made your own key. He keeps repeating it. He keeps going on and on and on and on …I mean at first I didn’t understand— he speaks differently to us. He kept repeating the word kay and I just couldn’t…but then he said l¯uk …then loch… and I knew he meant lock. Like a lock and a key. A key…’

‘He seems rather confused,’ Beede snapped, ‘rather incoherent .’ ‘Yes.’ Dory sounded forlorn.

Pause

‘So I suppose…’ he sighed, ‘I suppose we’ll just be waiting for you on the roef , then.’

‘No,’ Beede butted in, ‘that’s not a good idea. It sounds too dangerous.’

‘But he…’ Dory’s voice was dreamy, now, and quite resigned, ‘…he simply insists , Beede.’

‘Then you should be strong with him. You should refuse him.’

‘I know,’ Dory yawned, tiredly.

‘Try and stay lively,’ Beede said. ‘Buy yourself a coffee. Or eat a bar of chocolate. Conserve your energy.’

‘Yes.’

Dory yawned again.

‘You need to stay awake, Dory. You’re driving. If you’re going to fall asleep then you must pull over.’

‘I know. I know . I already did. I pulled over earlier. But I don’t have too far to go now…’

‘Then just keep on talking,’ Beede said. ‘Tell me where you are. Tell me where you’re going.’

‘I’m going…’

Pause

‘Dory?’

‘Yes?’

‘Tell me where you’re going.’

‘I’m going…I’m going on the…I’ve got…’

‘Then tell me where you’ve been …Tell me about your morning.

Did you drop Fleet off at school yet?’

Pause

‘Fleet?’ Dory sounded very vague.

‘Your son, remember?’

Beede was gripping the phone so tightly now that the receiver was almost cutting into his ear.

‘Dory? ’

He automatically switched hands (and ears) to relieve the pressure.

‘Damn!’

His grip failed. He dropped the receiver.

‘Damn! ’

He swooped down, wincing, to retrieve it.

‘Dory?’

Silence

‘Dory? Hello? I’m sorry about that. I just dropped the…’

Silence

‘Hello?’

Silence

‘Hello?’

Silence

Beede peered down at the phone, confused. He shook the receiver. He stared into it. He gazed over towards the wall. The phone was unplugged.

He blinked–

Eh?

He blinked again–

But how long…?

Then slowly, very cautiously, he peeked over his shoulder.

Tenterden. He’d planned to head for Tenterden–

Peta—

Peta Borough—

The f-forger…

The f-fabricāre…

She’s definitely the k-k-kay, here

— but when he drew up at the roundabout–

Eh?

— the Rover was just one car ahead of him–

Kay?

— so he calmly proceeded to follow–

F-f-fabric-what?!

— almost without thinking — ignoring the first turn-off (for Canterbury and Willesborough), the second turn-off— his turn-off — (for Hastings, Lydd and Hamstreet), indicating at the third (Cedar Wood) and slowly pulling on to the brand-new (still only partially completed) access-route into the estate beyond.

At first — fearful of blowing his cover — he tried to maintain a certain distance between his Merc and the Rover, but Dory’s progress was so gradual, so erratic, so halting–

Brake—

Accelerate—

Brake—

Accelerate…

What the hell is he playing at?

— that it was about as much as Kane could do not to plough straight into the back of him.

He promptly solved the problem by casually over-taking; furtively observing — as he roared past — that Dory appeared to be deeply embroiled in a telephone conversation–

Yeah?

Well that certainly explains a lot…

Three short minutes later and The Blonde was neatly slotted into the driveway of a vacant property (just two doors along from Dory’s home address) with Kane hunched down low in the driver’s seat, both eyes glued to his side-mirror. Twenty long seconds ticked by–

Shit…

Was this completely the wrong call?

— and then–

Ha!

— just as he’d anticipated, Dory pulled into the street, kangarooed his way along it, and brought the Rover to a juddering halt at the end of the very driveway on which Kane himself was parked.

Eh?!

Kane immediately began to panic–

Why’d he do that?

— crouching down still further–

Has the swine blocked me in?

— uncertain where to look, taut, agonised, all his senses on red alert, when–

YAAARGH!

— his phone began shuddering inside his coat pocket–

Jesus Christ!

He almost leapt out of his skin–

Fuck!

He grabbed a hold of it, turned it off, hurled it, furiously, on to the back seat–

There!

— then sat, staring down at his tightly clenched hands, barely even daring to draw breath.

Ten seconds–

Twenty–

Thirty–

Forty—

Kane slowly lifted his chin and peeked into his side-mirror–

Diddly-squat

Just the back bumper

He glanced over to his left, but the mirror on that side–

Damn!

— had been knocked flat (by his earlier collision, he presumed), so all that was currently reflected back at him was the crown of his own, terrified head–

Huh?

He blinked–

Am I thinning out a little on top, there?

He gently patted his hair. Then he blinked again–

Now just hang on a…

He covered his face with both hands–

FUUUUCK!

WHAT IN GOD’S NAME AM I DOING HERE?

Kane remained in this position for a further full minute, then he dropped his hands and began hunting around inside his coat pockets for the small, polythene bag of tablets which he’d recently offered to Laura. He couldn’t find them. He noticed a small hole in the lining and poked his finger through it. His search became increasingly frantic…

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

He found his cigarettes and pulled them out, hoping to unearth the spare spliff which he generally kept for emergencies in the bottom of the packet. He opened the box and peered into it–