The Book of Evidence (18 page)

used c o n d o m s , I think, discoloured w a d s of cotton, even bits of clothing — f r o m which I quickly averted my eyes. A single tap on a green c o p p e r pipe stuck out of the wall where the handbasins had been. W h e n I turned the spigot there w a s a distant g r o a n i n g and clanking, and presently a rusty dribble c a m e out. 1 w a s h e d my hands as best 1 could and dried t h e m on the tail of my shirt. Y e t w h e n I had finished, and w a s a b o u t to leave, I discovered a d r o p of b l o o d between my fingers. I don't k n o w where it c a m e f r o m . It m a y have been on the pullover, or even in my hair. T h e b l o o d w a s thick by n o w , dark, and sticky.

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N o t h i n g , not the stains in the car, the smears on the w i n d o w s , not her cries, not even the smells of her dying, none of it affected me as did this d r o p of brownish g u m . I p l u n g e d my fists under the tap again, whining in dismay, and scrubbed and scrubbed, but I could not get rid of it.

T h e b l o o d went, but something remained, all that long day 1 could feel it there, clinging in the fork of tender flesh between my fingers, a moist, w a r m , secret stain.

For a while I sat on a broken bench on the platform in the sun. H o w blue the sea was, h o w g a y the little flags fluttering and snapping on the hotel battlements. All was quiet, save for the sea-breeze crooning in the telegraph wires, and something s o m e w h e r e that creaked and knocked, creaked and knocked. I smiled. I might have been a child again, d a y d r e a m i n g here, in these toy surroundings. I could smell the sea, and the sea-wrack on the beach, and the cat-smell of the sand. A train was on the '

w a y , yes, a puff-puff, the rails were h u m m i n g and shivering in anticipation. N o t a soul to be seen, not a g r o w n - u p anywhere, except, a w a y d o w n the beach, a few felled sunbathers on their towels. I w o n d e r w h y it was so deserted there? Perhaps it wasn't, perhaps there were seaside c r o w d s all about, and I didn't notice, with my inveterate yearning towards b a c k g r o u n d s . I closed my eyes, and something s w a m up dreamily, a m e m o r y , an i m a g e , and sank again without breaking the surface. I tried to catch it before it was gone, but there was only that one glimpse: a d o o r w a y , I think, opening on to a darkened r o o m , and a mysterious sense of expectancy, of something or s o m e o n e about to appear. T h e n the train c a m e through, a slow, rolling thunder that m a d e my d i a p h r a g m shake.

T h e passengers w e r e p r o p p e d up in the w i d e w i n d o w s like manikins, they gazed at me blankly as they were borne 1 2 6
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slowly past. It occurred to me I should have
turned
my face away: everyone was a potential witness n o w . B u t I thought it did not matter. I thought I would be in jail within hours. I looked about me, taking great breaths, drinking my fill of the world that I w o u l d soon be losing.

A gang of boys, three or four, had appeared in the grounds of the hotel. T h e y straggled across the unkempt lawns, and stopped to throw stones at a for~-sale sign. I rose, with a leaden sigh, and left the station and set o f f along the road again.

I took a bus into the city. It was a single-decker, on an infrequent route, c o m i n g f r o m far out. T h e people on it all seemed to k n o w each other. At each stop when someone got on there was much banter and friendly raillery. An old chap with a cap and a crutch was the self-appointed host of this little travelling club. He sat near the front, behind the driver, his stiff left leg stuck out into the aisle, and greeted each n e w c o m e r with a start of feigned surprise and a rattle of his crutch. O h ! watch out! here he comes! he would say, m u g g i n g at the rest of us over his shoulder, as if to alert us to the arrival of s o m e terrible character, when what had appeared up the step was a ferret-faced y o u n g man with a greasy season-ticket protruding f r o m his fist like a discoloured tongue. Girls p r o v o k e d gallantries, which m a d e them smirk, while for the housewives o f f to town to do their shopping there were winks and playful references to that stiff limb of his. N o w and again he would let a glance slide over me, quick, tentative, a little queasy, like that of an old trouper spotting a creditor in the front row.

It struck me, indeed, that there was something faintly theatrical about the whole thing. T h e rest of the passengers had the self-conscious nonchalance of a first-night audience.

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T h e y t o o had a, part of sorts to play. B e h i n d the chatter and the j o k e s and the easy familiarity they seemed worried, their eyes were full of uncertainty and tiredness, as if they h a d g o t the text by heart but still w e r e not sure of their cues. I studied t h e m with deep interest. I felt I had discovered s o m e t h i n g significant, t h o u g h w h a t it was, or w h a t it signified, I was n o t sure. A n d I, w h a t w a s I a m o n g t h e m ? A stage-hand, perhaps, standing in the w i n g s e n v y i n g the players.

W h e n we reached t o w n I could not decide w h e r e to get off, o n e place s e e m e d as g o o d as another. I must say s o m e t h i n g a b o u t the practicalities of my situation. I should h a v e been shaking in fear. I had a f i v e - p o u n d note and s o m e coins — m o s t l y foreign — in my pocket, I l o o k e d , and smeiled, like a t r a m p , and I had n o w h e r e to g o . I did not even h a v e a credit card w i t h w h i c h to b l u f f my w a y into a hotel. Y e t I could not w o r r y , could not m a k e m y s e l f be concerned. 1 seemed to float, b e m u s e d , in a d r e a m y detachment, as if I had been given a great dose of local anaesthetic. Perhaps this is w h a t it m e a n s to be in shock?

N o : I think it w a s j u s t the certainty that at any m o m e n t a hand w o u l d grasp me by the shoulder while a terrible voice b o o m e d o u t a caution. B y n o w they w o u l d have m y n a m e , a description w o u l d be in circulation, hard-eyed m e n in b u l g i n g jackets w o u l d be cruising the streets on the l o o k - o u t for m e . T h a t n o n e of this w a s so is still a puzzle to m e . T h e Behrenses m u s t h a v e k n o w n a t once w h o i t w a s that w o u l d take that particular picture, yet they said nothing. A n d w h a t a b o u t the trail of evidence I left behind m e ? W'hat a b o u t the p e o p l e w h o saw m e , the R e c k s , the senorita at the g a r a g e , the m a n in the h a r d w a r e shop, that w o m a n w h o l o o k e d like m y m o t h e r w h o c a m e u p o n m e sitting like a l o o n at the traffic lights? Y o u r lordship, I w o u l d not wish to e n c o u r a g e potential w r o n g d o e r s , but I 12 8

must say, It is easier to get a w a y with something, for a time at least, than is generally acknowledged. Vital days —

h o w easily one slips into the lingo! —
vital days
were to pass before they even began to k n o w w h o it was they were after. If I had not continued to be as rash as I was at the start, if I had stopped and taken stock* and considered carefully, I believe I might not be here n o w , but in s o m e sunnier clime, nursing my guilt under an open sky. B u t I did not stop, did not consider. I got o f f the bus and set o f f at once in the direction in which I happened to be facing, since my fate, I was convinced, awaited me all around, in the open arms of the law. Capture! 1 nursed the w o r d in my heart. It comforted me. It was the promise of rest. I d o d g e d along through the crowds like a drunk, surprised that they did not part before me in horror. All round me was an inferno of haste and noise. A g a n g of men stripped to the waist was g o u g i n g a hole in the road with pneumatic drills. T h e traffic snarled and bellowed, sunlight flashing like knives o f f the windshields and the throbbing roofs of cars. T h e air was a poisonous hot blue haze, I had b e c o m e unused to cities. Yet I was aware that even as I straggled here I was simultaneously travelling smoothly forward in time, it seemed a kind of s w i m m i n g without effort. T i m e , I thought grimly, time will save me. Here is Trinity, the Bank. Fox's, where my father used to c o m e on an annual pilgrimage, with great ceremony, to b u y his Christmas cigars. My world, and I an outcast in it. I felt a deep, dispassionate pity for myself, as for s o m e p o o r lost wandering creature. T h e sun shone mercilessly, a fat eye stuck in the haze a b o v e the streets. I b o u g h t a bar of chocolate and devoured it, walking along. I b o u g h t an early edition of an evening paper, too, but there was nothing in it. I dropped it on the g r o u n d and shambled on.

An urchin picked it up — Eh, mister! — and ran after me

*

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with it. I thanked h i m , and he grinned, and I almost burst into tears. I s t o o d there, stalled, and l o o k e d about me Wearily, a baffled hulk. P e o p l e c r o w d e d past m e , all faces and e l b o w s . T h a t w a s my lowest point, I think, that m o m e n t of helplessness and dull panic. I decided to g i v e m y s e l f up. W h y had I not t h o u g h t of it before? T h e prospect w a s w o n d e r f u l l y seductive. I i m a g i n e d m y s e l f being lifted tenderly and carried t h r o u g h a succession of cool white r o o m s to a place of c a l m and silence, of luxurious surrender.

In the end, instead, I w e n t to W a l l y ' s p u b .

It w a s shut. 1 did not understand. At first I t h o u g h t wildly that it m u s t be s o m e t h i n g to do with m e , that they had f o u n d out I had been there and had closed it d o w n . I

<

pushed and pushed at the d o o r , and tried to see t h r o u g h the bottle-glass of the w i n d o w s , but all w a s dark inside. I stepped back. N e x t d o o r there w a s a tiny fashion b o u t i q u e w h e r e a pair of pale girls, frail and blank as flowers, stood motionless, staring at nothing, as if they w e r e themselves a part of the display. "When I s p o k e they turned their s o o t - r i m m e d eyes o n m e w i t h o u t interest. H o l y hour, o n e said, and the other g i g g l e d w a n l y . I retreated, simpering, and w e n t to the p u b and p o u n d e d on the d o o r with renewed force. A f t e r s o m e t i m e there w e r e d r a g g i n g footsteps inside and the s o u n d of locks being undone.

Wliat do y o u w a n t , W a l l y said crossly, blinking in the harsh sunlight slanting d o w n f r o m the street. He w a s w e a r i n g a purple silk d r e s s i n g - g o w n and shapeless slippers.

H e l o o k e d m e u p and d o w n with distaste, noting the stubble and the filthy pullover. I told h i m my car had b r o k e n d o w n , I needed to m a k e a phonecall. He g a v e a sardonic snort and said, A phonecall! as if it w e r e the 130
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richest thing he'd heard in ages. He shrugged. It was nearly opening time anyway. I followed him inside. His calves were p l u m p and white and hairless, I wondered where I had seen others like them recently. He switched on a pink-shaded lamp behind the bar. There's the phone, he said with a wave, pursing his lips derisively. I asked if I could have a gin first. He sniffed, his sceptic's heart gratified, and permitted himself a thin little smile. H a v e a smash-up, did you? he said. For a second I did not k n o w what he was talking about. O h , the car, I said, no, no it just — stopped.

And I thought, with bleak amusement: There's the first question answered and I haven't lied. He turned away to make my drink, priest-like in his purple robe, then set it before me and propped himself on the edge of his stool with his fat arms folded. He knew I had been up to something, I could see it f r o m the look in his eye, at oncc eager and disdainful, but he could not bring himself to ask.

I grinned at him and drank my drink, and gleaned a grain of enjoyment f r o m his dilemma. I said it was a g o o d idea, wasn't it, the siesta. He raised an eyebrow. 1 pointed a finger at his dressing-gown. A nap, 1 said, in the middle of the day: g o o d idea. He did not think that was funny. F r o m somewhere in the shadowy reaches behind me a tousle-haired y o u n g man appeared, clad only in a drooping pair of underpants. He g a v e me a bored glance and asked Wally if the paper was in yet. Here, I said, take mine, go ahead. I must have been twisting it in my hands, it was rolled into a tight baton. He prised it open and read the headlines, his lips m o v i n g . Fucking bombers, he said, fucking lunatics. W'ally had fixed him with a terrible glare.

He threw the paper aside and wandered off, scratching his rump. I held out my glass for a refill. We still charge for drinks, y o u k n o w , Wally said. We'll accept money. I gave him my last fiver. A thin blade of light had got in through XJI
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a chink in a shutter s o m e w h e r e and s t o o d at a slant beside m e , e m b e d d e d in the floor. I w a t c h e d "Wally's p l u m p back as he refilled my glass. I w o n d e r e d if I m i g h t tell h i m w h a t I h a d d o n e . It s e e m e d perfectly possible. N o t h i n g , I believe it. I i m a g i n e d h i m l o o k i n g at me w i t h a twist of trying not to leer as