Nicola Barker - Behindlings

Where on earth was Wesley, anyway? He’d taken the precaution of ringing his own phone (which Wes was still in firm possession of — no answer, turned off) and then the Police Station (on first arriving at the bungalow). They claimed they’d released him an hour before.

(Was he in trouble? Was he taking the Mick? Would it be sensible, or appropriate even, to go out and search for him; this being a man who evaded pursuit semi-professionally — made a kind of… of living from it?).

How the heck did we all end up here, Ted wondered, turning his glass over, superstitiously (they’d been placed upside down, as if in preparation for a game of Ouija) and glancing around the table at the other three. This whole situation just seemed so… so…

So infernally Wesley

— but what did that mean?

Ted still hadn’t entirely come to terms with the whole… the whole ‘Following’ wheeze. Couldn’t really grasp the ins and the outs of it; the numerous subtle permutations of what you were meant to do — or not to do — as the case may be.

One thing was for certain, though…

He suddenly sneezed –

Katherine’s perfume

Old-fashioned breath cashews

Industrial-strength fly killer

— snatched his hanky — with dispatch — from his top pocket (frowning fastidiously), patted his nose and the back of his wrist with it.

They were definitely –

Phew

That was better

(he shook his head, shuddering)

— they were definitely all waiting for some thing to happen. And it wasn’t just Wesley (the bugger) or the meal (Goddammit). It was… and this really did sound like a bit of a… uh…

A cockamamie…

— they were waiting –

I mean just look at them all…

(Ted lifted his head and gazed around the table)

— they were all waiting for life

— For life

Yes

— they were all waiting for life to take over; in all its sheer, crushing… the sap… the brutality… the horror… the actual, candid… the cruel… the unexpurgated…

Yes

— because that was what he stood for

— Wasn’t it?

— that was what he represented –

Didn’t he?

— the independent stroke — the cocking a snook — the kick in the pants — the gently raised middle… index … uh…

What am I thinking?

Ted abruptly abandoned his attempt to make sense of things –

Futile

He felt ridiculously ill-equipped for the struggle. He felt overpowered by circumstance; like a tiny fieldmouse (he told himself) foetal-ing up as it feels the plough’s first horrible tremor. I’m a purely defensive kind of rodent, he gently mused. I’m not a fighter. I’m a huddler. A curler. I cannot –

I will not

— flee.

I stay in place, no matter what. I do my best to hold my head up. And they can mock me, if they like –

And they do mock, too

— they can mock me, but it’s a kind of…

I won’t run

— a kind of… of…

Sincerity?

Was that it?

Ted glanced down at his watch. Wesley was two hours –

Free — he was — indisputably

— two whole hours late.

No gentle little field-rodent, he –

Not Wesley

— Ted visualised him as some kind of unashamedly big-boned, scruffy-whiskered, fast-perambulating, ginger-coated puss.

A predator to the core –

Never comes home on time

Won’t do as you say

Takes what he wants and then buggers off

Tail held high

Arse neat and tight as a spinster’s kiss…

With big old teeth (Ted smiled to himself, secretly), three-pawed, one-eared, vagabond-suited, hob-nail booted. Carrying a twig –

A stick

— with a spotted ‘kerchief held over one shoulder –

Whistling

— ridiculously jaunty. Sun shining down on him. Obligatory blue jay singing somewhere in the… in the…

Rear of the picture

Ted couldn’t help remembering — with a kind of perplexed awe — the way Wes’d reacted to the news about his daughter. The way he took those punches in the bar. The way he’d faced up to Katherine –

Just stormed on in there

The way he’d slaughtered that bird and forgave the… the… the…

Impostor

And the Pond –

The pond Ah

He also remembered (equally irresistibly) the way Dewi had behaved (just an hour before) when he’d turned up at the agency ready to mend the lock and reset that door. The hostility. The intensity. The… the…

Life!

… the magnificent involvement —

Yes!

Are you on his side, Edward? Has he talked you around? Has he worked his magic? Is it admiration, Edward, or confusion? Are you overwhelmed? Is it fear? ’

And Ted had said –

‘ Does it have to be a question of taking sides? ’

Taking sides?

Pshaw!

That was such… such…

Playground behaviour

And Dewi had shaken his head, and he had looked at him, sadly –

Like he’s never looked at me before —

Hang on

Hang…

Isn’t that because he’s never actually looked —

Never actually seen me before now?

Is this what it took?

To be visible?

And Dewi said –

It’s like bloodsports, Edward, or prostitution or public executions. It’s something that you instinctively take a side on. Look into your heart, Edward. Read what’s written there. ’

And Ted had looked (in all sincerity). And he saw –

A pond

In the summer

Heat sizzling on the algae

Releasing the sour scent of kelp

Angry spinach

Sticking to his fingers as he swished a limp hand…

As he…

Hmmn

— he saw nothing in particular.

Ted slid his tongue across his upper plate –

Bubbles from the fish rising to the top

The occasional water…

— and that was it, really –

The occasional water snail…

— that was –

Fin

Ted flipped himself back into the present. He found himself fingering his tie (mentally re-processing the neat lines of hand-stitching). He licked his lips, relinquished his grip, weaved his ten fingers together on his lap (feeling that reassuring callus on his index finger), jiggled his shoulders, stretched his neck, gazed over briefly at his table setting. He was missing –

A dessert spoon

He peered around. Everybody else had… had…

No pudding for Ted

He sank back down into his chair. Lowered his head (as if saying grace) and rested his chin (like a golf ball upon its tee) onto the hard, neat knot of his tie –

My poor back

In agony

He and Arthur were less ‘sat’ at that table, more ‘sunk’ (like two well-hammered tent pegs) into a couple of old-fashioned deck chairs which Katherine had dragged inside from the back conservatory upon Ted’s arrival (no comment offered on the fact of Dewi. Not a smile, a frown, a wisecrack. Just a quiet –

A howling

— indifference).

She’d looked on keenly as Ted’d battled to set the chairs up (refusing to let the others help him), clucking her tongue sarcastically with each more clumsy attempt, finally chastising him roundly –