Nicola Barker - Behindlings

Wesley just smiled.

‘You need to help me, Wesley, to help yourself,’ the doctor yapped.

Over by the front door, meanwhile, Art noticed how –

Oh come on

— greasy-locks was trying to persuade Ted (through the window and by a series of intimidating mimes) that he should open up. Ted was at the point of yielding when Art swung rapidly past him to check on his bag. The buckles were all secure, but he still wasn’t…

‘Journalist?’ he muttered, keeping his head down.

‘Uh, yes, ’ Ted said, nodding, smiling bravely at Bo, trying to look obliging.

‘Hand the keys over,’ Arthur straightened up. He tried his best to look officious. To look menacing.

This small charade had little effect, however, since Bo had already been distracted by a second man at the window who was mouthing the words, ‘My case… he’s got my…’

‘Go keep an eye on Wesley,’ Art said.

Bo was now engaging in conversation with this second man. A woman joined the fray. She seemed equally fascinated by what he was saying.

‘I don’t know if Wesley mentioned,’ Ted murmured as he made his way haltingly over to the back room, ‘but he did say you might take a look at my…’

He pointed, limply –

Computer

The woman was now indicating to Arthur that he should unlock the door. She was very pushy. Arthur recognised her from the bar as the infernally opinionated blabbermouth who’d been bending the local girl’s ear — Bitch

‘Not now, obviously,’ Ted continued, ‘but maybe…’

He stopped abruptly.

‘Oh.’

Art glanced over his shoulder, ‘What’s up?’

Ted was frowning back at him, through the half-light. The bossy woman was now knocking on the glass, very emphatically.

‘I’m afraid the doctor’s locked the door,’ Ted announced.

‘ You locked the door,’ Art answered, ‘and I’m glad you did. This woman’s a bloody menace.’

‘Her name’s Anna,’ Ted mumbled, ‘and she’s a plain clothes police officer.’

‘ Balls, ’ Art turned back to inspect her properly. She’d taken out her wallet and was holding up her badge.

‘… although for what it’s worth I actually meant the bathroom door,’ Ted tentatively continued.

‘ Huh? ’

Arthur wasn’t concentrating.

‘I said the doctor’s locked himself in with Wesley. I just heard the catch slip…’ Ted tried the handle. It was definitely locked.

‘ What? ’ Art was befuddled. He turned back around again. Ted had his ear pressed to the crack.

‘and whatever’s going on in there, it doesn’t sound… well not… not medical… more…’ Art jogged over, tried the handle, pushed the door, swore.

‘more like a kind of water torture,’ Ted finished up.

Art put his own ear to the doorframe.

Yes indeed

Something…

Something distinctly liquid…

The policewoman was now knocking so loudly that he could barely make out the words… but what he could hear sounded suspiciously…

Phlebas? What’s that all about, huh?

(Water splashing)

Huh?… The… stupid cat poems. I know exactly what you’re playing at…

(More water)

Are… hearing me, you slippery little…

(Still more water)

‘How could we be so stupid? ’ Arthur yelled, and kicked the door in fury, then looked down at the offending boot, slightly shocked –

Did I just say that?

Out loud?

Did I just…

He spun around. ‘We need to get inside there, and quick,’ he said, ‘that guy’s obviously some kind of maniac.’

Ted nodded — but nervously — as if Arthur himself might just as easily be the one worth worrying about. He stood awaiting instructions, though, perfectly obligingly.

Arthur was inspecting the handle. He tested it again with his hand. His mind was turning –

If this man…

If he…

It’ll save me the…

‘We’ll have to knock it down,’ he announced, ‘go and let the cop in.’

He threw the keys to Ted. Ted missed the catch. Arthur took a few steps back and braced himself. Ted picked up the keys and ran. ‘You could always try…’ he called.

Arthur threw himself, bodily — shoulder first — against the doorframe. The door shook.

‘ … reasoning with him,’ Ted concluded, wincing in tandem with the wood’s shuddering. He unlocked the front door and Anna charged in, dragging another straggler behind her but slamming it — unceremoniously — in Bo’s face.

‘This man has had his case stolen,’ she announced. ‘Where’s the light?’

She found the light switch and turned it on just in time to see Arthur flinging himself against the door for a second time. It shook again, but not very impressively.

‘ Police! ’ he gasped, trying to put the impostor on his mettle.

‘Don’t be yelling that,’ Anna calmly interrupted, walking over, ‘it’s not your place.’

Arthur turned and gave her a look of critical incomprehension.

‘The doctor’s got Wesley locked in the back,’ Ted jumped in, ‘we think he’s…’.

‘It wasn’t one of these two,’ the new man clarified (over the babble), ‘but a tiny, funny-looking little chap…’

A loud crash resounded inside the small room. A subsequent kerfuffle (rather drawn out) sounding not unlike a fist fight interspersed with successive shards of glass falling.

Ted covered his mouth with his hand. ‘Not the mirror, ’ he whispered.

‘Stand back,’ the officer instructed. Arthur was barely out of the way before she’d karate kicked the door open (it shuddered defiantly in its frame, but remained aligned) and entered. Shit

Wesley stood, his hair, face and chest dripping wet — eyebrows raised slightly — over by the toilet cubicle, brown tape looped around his wrists and covering his mouth. The doctor was crushed behind the door, bent over the sink, his forehead bleeding (the swivel chair pinning him into an uneasy submission).

‘I want to charge this man with assault,’ he gurgled in a worryingly high-pitched voice, pointing over towards Wesley.

‘I want this man charged with theft, ’ the second stranger announced, pushing his arm around the door and pulling his briefcase out of the fray.

The officer yanked off Wesley’s mouth tape, ‘Well we’re certainly keeping very busy tonight, aren’t we, sir?’

Wesley drew a deep breath.

She was standing very close to him.

Arthur could’ve sworn –

Oh God forbid

— that some kind of subterranean sexual frisson passed between them.

Wesley turned to Arthur. ‘ Never the shoulder, Art,’ he panted informatively, trying to flick some of the water from his eyes, ‘ always the foot…’ he tiredly re-enacted the relevant manoeuvre, ‘and as near-as-dammit to the lock.’

The policewoman pulled the tape from his wrists as Arthur watched on. Ted continued staring at the doctor as if still unable to entirely comprehend his shattered credibility. The doctor — apparently in no hurry to make any kind of escape — was gazing into the only remaining piece of mirror still hanging above the sink — a tiny oblong — hungrily exploring the depth and extent of the wound to his forehead.

‘I just don’t understand…’ Ted said (suddenly almost angry), ‘why you’d tape up his mouth if all you wanted was answers… ’