Nicola Barker - Behindlings

Stuck

The indignity!

How did she…?

How had she…?

And to be discovered by Dewi. To be found that way — Spare key under the little pot-bound bay tree

— and then to try and explain, but the words wouldn’t come and… And the way he’d looked —

‘ Did he do this to you? ’

He kept… He kept…

‘ Did he push you in here? ’

‘ Did he tie this wire around your throat? ’

‘ Why do I smell burning? ’

‘ Why are you bleeding? ’

‘ Why all these feathers everywhere? ’

When he lifted her — like she was a newborn kitten — so gently –

Those reliable hands

Voice running fast and smooth as a sea-bound river

— and pulled her free and untangled her and re-aligned her and rearranged her…

She was…

She felt…

But to see her so…

Urgh!

‘ Just… just hold on a second, Katherine… Why are…? Where are you…? ’

Hand over her mouth, she ran to the toilet, nearly pissing on the tiles before she made it there. Found the door — the bolt — pulled it sharply across — lunged for the bowl — the pan — the sink –

Anywhere

He kept on calling through the door –

And calling

Like in a dream

— and the calling would only –

It must end

It must end

— the calling would only stop once she’d told him where they were–

The bar. The fucking BAR.

It was torture.

And then, once she’d told him –

I TOLD YOU, DIDN’T I?

— he’d only go when he was entirely certain that she was… That she’d be…

Oh the caring! So unbearable!

‘I’M FINE. GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! ’

She told the towel and the tiles and the toilet paper. She told her knickers and her elbows and her pubic hair –

So sordid, this thin body

So soiled

– ‘GET OUT AND J UST LEAVE ME! ’

He promised her faithfully — pressing down on the door handle, whispering, his lips pressed first into the wood, then into the metal — that he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t…

He would not interfere.

Ted made them pause for a moment under the bus shelter so that he could call his aunt and warn her…

‘Just leave it in the oven, Auntie. I can’t… Well, if you’re worried, turn it off. I can always heat it up later… No, that’s… I… It’s very… Don’t miss your…’

(Wesley’d kindly loaned him his phone for the call’s duration, then briskly took it off him again once the conversation was over.)

And they’d hardly… they’d barely got in through the door –

Smoke and beer and condensation

Fug

The sudden quiet

The stink of chicken wings in spicy…

— before this crazy fucking Welsh mountain came tumbling in after them; howling, wounded. Like an injured stag after the rut. Tossing his head. Baying. Rearing up.

Wesley (in the three previous seconds) saw the thin man — Art — straightening up by the bar — his face — a look of…

The Policewoman, deep in conversation…

The ceiling fan…

A spare chair by the…

Huh?

Ted had… Ted put out his… Ted was grabbing his…

Didn’t…

Tried to …

Turned towards …

FUUURRGH!!

Nose-spit-teeth-splinter-feet-neck-hand-table-elbow

Floor-Floor-Floor

Had to –

Wuh?

— had to stand up –

If I am to die then let it at least be on my…

— stand up –

Woooooooo-oooo-ooooh!

That was… that was…

Air like a merry-go-colour-spiattered-whizzz-sniff-blood

He glanced around him –

Each and every individual thing as bright as bright as…

CRUNCH!

— Was felled like a tree for a second time.

Hang on…

— Wooden boards. Soles and shoes and fag butts and bottle tops and –

Dé-jà…

Did I not just do this before?

Must… must get up…

I am…

I am…

Geauuuurgh!

— Up.

He cocked his head –

If only I could just…

Wesley blinked, bemused –

Ox, bellowing

— he blinked again –

Is this connected to me?

These strange sounds?

This garble?

Should I perhaps…?

Uh…

Ears: atten- shun!

‘WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO HER?’

Ox-arm swings to contain the entire… the entire…

Wesley glances around the room, but not really seeing anything.

We are all in this, he thinks, with satisfaction — even glasses and ashtrays are implicated. What a grand sweep he has there. What a grand…

But why am I the only one he’s hitting? Wesley focusses, finally, on the ox-mountain, the fist –

Jeeeees!

— light smearing out of him –

Hooooo

Nearly slipped over…

Feel of table under palm — so firm — so solid

He loved that feeling, then.

This table feeling goes straight into my top ten

Oh shit

He’s going to hit me again

Prepare for it

(Preparing makes it worse, actually)

Who said that?

Uh…

Wah?

He spun around, unsteadily –

There is other stuff

Other

Something high-pitched

From the… the… the…

Back

I hear a little bird singing

She is saying…

Hang —

Hang —

Hang on…

Whisky-whisky-whisky-eyes?

I think I saw this girl in a dream once and she stabbed me to death with an icicle

And Ted is… Ted is…

Wesley turned his head –

The thin man…

I am…

There is a big, black gap, and it…

Wooahh!

… and it doesn ‘t make any…

Wesley took one huge, exploratory step –

I am Mr Neil Armstrong,

And I need to… to… to… to… guh…

Barflies,

This is just a stopover;

105, maximum.

Please do not tarry,

For the sense God gave you will not do you good

Where all is equal — twelve foot under.

Remember The Phoenician

Whose handsome bones were picked in whispers?

Remember Phlebas?

Listen to the waves,

Hear them calling…

Kew-we-we-wu

Leading you ever-onward to sweeter nothing

A tall, rather ineffectual looking, ginger-haired man was suddenly introducing himself to Arthur — gently and very formally — halfway up the seven front steps of the old Rio Bingo Hall (or, to give it its proper title — and neither man was anything if not absolutely punctilious in such matters — the Canvey Leisure Centre; substantial physical evidence of which buzzed and blinked balefully above them in foot-high, luminous, black and yellow lettering).