Nicola Barker - Behindlings

‘This Internet stuff’s causing chaos, huh?’ Jo said. ‘Are you in direct contact with the site? I thought you were their man on the ground. Are they likely to sort it all out?’

Doc didn’t answer. He tipped his head stiffly towards the approaching threesome. ‘The Blind Man,’ he murmured, ‘have you had the pleasure yet?’

‘No.’

‘I strongly recommend you keep it that way.’

‘Why?’

‘Ex-cop.’

She glanced up. Doc gave her a straight look. Shrugged. Turned back to appraise the advancing party. ‘I’m a little worried,’ he mused, ‘that Shoes might’ve gone over to the other side.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Why not just walk on,’ Doc advised her, his voice suddenly lower, more urgent, as if he’d made a decision, a snap one, ‘and be casual. Say nothing about Wesley. Give nothing away. Meet me in the Wimpy. We need to talk privately.’

‘When?’

‘Ten minutes. If anyone starts bothering you, pretend you’re still crazy. They all really fell for that clever little tactic yesterday.’

‘But I…’

I wasn’t pretending

‘The whole shebang, ’ he expanded, raising his white brows at her. Jo scowled, gazed up at the sea wall. ‘What about Wesley?’

‘I’ve got it covered,’ Doc casually rested his hand on his coat pocket, tapped it ‘tracking device,’ he muttered, ‘Dennis is working undercover.’

‘The dog? ’

‘Scarper,’ Doc growled, ‘I’ll fill you in later. And for God’s sake… ’

He pointed towards her chest, grimacing.

Jo looked down –

Bollocks

The jumper

— she pulled her coat tighter, blushing, then cleared her throat and raised her voice, ‘Tell Hooch thanks for the bag. I suppose I’d better be getting back to my car…’

She thrust the thermos and the tupperware into his huge, old hands. Doc nodded, ‘You do that.’

She started walking; zigzagging across the road, to the opposite pavement, peering keenly to the right of her as if looking for something (a key or a sign or some money). As she drew adjacent to the others she could hear the sighted guide talking, ‘A young woman,’ he described, ‘skinny, wearing a knitted hat…’

‘The nurse,’ Shoes butted in, ‘the one from the bar.’

‘ Hey, ’ the Blind Man pointed his stick towards her. Jo pretended she hadn’t noticed. Walked even faster.

‘ Hey, ’ the Blind Man repeated. His tone was stentorian.

She continued to ignore it.

‘Jo,’ Shoes called, ‘ Jo. Hold up a minute. This is Herbie. He’s blind. He wants a…’

Jo turned around, still very much on the move. ‘I’ve got… uh… ’ she shouted back, then almost tripped up, ‘the AA, ’ she continued, jerkily, readjusting her posture, ‘coming over to check out my car. I have to get…’

She threw up her arms in a gesture of apology.

‘Did you get the book?’ Shoes asked (normal volume, making quite a mockery out of all the yelling).

‘Yes,’ she answered (still loud, still moving. But he didn’t seem to catch her).

‘ Yes, ’ she shouted louder. ‘Thanks. I’ll give it you back later… ’

‘HOW’S YOUR ARM?’ he bellowed –

Taking the piss

Has to be

She lifted it into the air, like a wing. ‘Good. Better. ’

The Blind Man turned and began saying something. Jo turned herself and started jogging. Her feet were heavy, though, and the ground was slippy.

Thirty seconds later, the young guide was bobbing along at her shoulder. He’d plainly been dispatched. She glanced over at him. He was black haired, wide-eyed, with a sprinkling of acne on his jaw.

‘So Doc got to you first, huh?’ he panted. He had a good accent. Well modulated.

‘What do you want?’ she asked.

‘Could you just…’ The guide was breathing heavily, ‘just stop for a second?’

He skidded.

Jo stopped automatically, grabbed his arm and steadied him.

‘Thanks,’ he blew out his cheeks, relieved.

She glanced behind them. The others had met up and were now all in a huddle. The Blind Man was tapping Doc’s leg with his stick. Doc was smiling, raising his voice… he seemed… he seemed jovial…

Was that…?

Was that the right…?

Jo realised that she was still clutching the tissue he’d given her. Her nose was dripping. She patted her face with it.

‘What do you want?’ she asked brusquely, finishing with it, screwing it up and pushing it deep inside her coat pocket.

‘ Uh… ’

The guide lifted his arm and inspected his right wrist (although there was patently no watch on it). ‘ Damn, ’ he cursed, ‘is it that time already?’

He wasn’t much of an actor.

‘You’re not wearing a watch,’ Jo said.

‘ Okay… ’ he swallowed and then looked up into the sky as if struggling to call something to mind, ‘just quickly, then. Herbie wants me to tell you,’ he counted each statement off onto his fingers (in case he should forget), ‘that Doc’s playing a double game. That he’s started keeping stuff back. That he’s got too involved. That he’s gone a little crazy. That he wants to spoil it for the rest of us… sorry…’ he chuckled, raising his brows, ‘the rest of them. ’

As he chuckled he made eye contact. He had cold eyes. And they weren’t chuckling. Jo’s expression remained impassive. The guide shrugged, ‘Don’t even ask me what this all means… ’ There was something engagingly feminine about him.

He lifted his right hand and checked his non-watch again (Jo presumed it was just some kind of crazy tick), ‘You’re not heading into the centre of town by any chance?’

‘Nope.’ Jo shook her head.

‘Oh. Okay. It’s just…’ he scratched his chin — the patch of acne there, ‘I was meant to be heading home hours ago but Herbie will insist on careering off at every given opportunity…’

‘I’m sorry,’ Jo was frowning, ‘I don’t…’

‘God it’s nothing, ’ the man interrupted, ‘I’m Herbie’s temporary careworker. Someone just happened to mention that you were in the nursing profession…’

Jo slowly began walking again. He paused for a second and then slowly walked with her.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘but I’m not… I’m on sick leave. I’m… I’m…’ she swallowed down her pride, ‘currently suspended.’

Hard to say it

‘A touch of depression.’

That was easier

The guide didn’t quite seem to hear her. ‘I had someone due to take over from me over twenty minutes ago,’ he persisted, ‘they’ll be waiting outside the library in a silver car…’

‘And?’

Jo stopped walking, faced him.

‘And I thought if you were in the area — and had a moment to spare — that you might nip on over there and tell him where I am. He’d be very…’ he tipped his head, ‘very appreciative, I’m sure.’

Jo smiled, sympathetically, ‘I already explained that I’m going back to my car. I’m waiting for the AA. My car’s way over…’

She pointed towards her car, then radically altered the direction she was pointing (almost hitting the guide, the swing of her arm was so spectacular) –

Oh Lord

‘Over there.’

‘Of course.’

The guide shrugged. He looked depressed.

‘Can’t you just phone him?’ Jo asked.

‘Forgotten the number,’ he shrugged again.

‘Can’t Shoes go and find him, then?’