using it ...
Charlie Graham! I rocked on the edge of the carpet, as though it could be the edge of a precipice. Now I had him, my friend of that afternoon. Charlie Graham.
And at once, my mind having been distracted, the memory crumbled, and I was standing again in a dark room, the window faintly grey, the furniture dim and uncertain shapes, and my breathing heavy and slow. Then I realised it was not my breathing. Somebody was asleep in the bed.
My awareness seemed to be telepathic. The breathing broke rhythm. A woman’s head rose against the window. I knew it was a woman because of the silhouette of the hair, and because a man cannot scream like that, so piercingly, so frantically.
I reached behind and whipped open the door, and clattered in panic down the stairs.
I did not see Charlie Graham until I was half-way down. As he was half-way up at the time, we met solidly. The impetus was mine, so that, with just one cry of surprise and anger, he went away from me backwards. I jumped over him at the bottom and paused, glancing back. He was stirring and groaning, so I ran into the street, just as Nicola screamed to a halt in front of me. The tyres matched the screams still coming from upstairs.
‘ Let’s go!’ I shouted, yanking open the door.
We took the next corner with the nose well in and the rear wheels hopping. She slowed, turning her head.
‘ Why’re we running away?’
‘ What?’
‘ You’re big enough to have handled him.’
‘ There was a woman sleeping in that room.’
‘ Are we running away from a screaming woman?’
It was true that screams in Rock Street could be more normal than silence. I shrugged, though my pulses were still racing. ‘All right. Turn back if you like.’
She grinned at me. ‘Sorry. I couldn’t warn you. But he came on foot, and I wasn’t expecting that.’
I stretched out my legs, settling down, now. ‘I’ve been warned not to expose myself to stress.’
‘ Poor you. That’s going to restrict your activities.’
‘ It doesn’t seem to have done me any harm, though. His name’s Charlie Graham, by the way. That chap. I remembered.’
‘ Did you remember anything else?’
‘ Some.’
I told her what I’d recalled. As a completed statement by George Peters it could well have been an account of an accident he’d had, resulting in a crushed right arm. As he’d been telling it in reference to a claim to Industrial Injuries benefit, he’d plainly been claiming that the accident arose in the course of employment by somebody else. That somebody must clearly have been Pool Street Motors, which would explain why I’d phoned in to see what we had on them, and then gone along there after my lunch at the Winking Frog. Or so my logic dictated.
But what George Peters had in fact written had not been a statement of an accident, it had been a withdrawal of his claim. At the realisation of what that meant I felt the hair prickle on my neck, and a shudder ran right down to my toes. If my memory was recalling incorrect facts, then my brain was wandering into the realms of fantasy. It was possible, as the psychiatrists had warned, that I was stressing my brain too soon.
‘ Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘Cliff?’
I tried to smile. ‘How’d you like to meet my Aunt Peg?’
‘ That’d be fine. Round off a quiet evening beautifully.’
She was quite serious, I thought.
4
Aunt Peg rounded off the evening very well, attempting to prove she had as good a sense of humour as anyone, and dredging from her memory salacious stories of her dubious past. Nicola seemed drunk with laughter when I escorted her to her car. I kissed her on the end of the nose, mainly because I liked the way it tilted. Then I went inside and straight up to my room, at last able to settle down and face myself.
I took my shoes off in order to pace in my socks, not wishing Aunt Peg to be disturbed. Finding me there, struggling with my mind, she would at once recognise I was
Charlie Graham! I rocked on the edge of the carpet, as though it could be the edge of a precipice. Now I had him, my friend of that afternoon. Charlie Graham.
And at once, my mind having been distracted, the memory crumbled, and I was standing again in a dark room, the window faintly grey, the furniture dim and uncertain shapes, and my breathing heavy and slow. Then I realised it was not my breathing. Somebody was asleep in the bed.
My awareness seemed to be telepathic. The breathing broke rhythm. A woman’s head rose against the window. I knew it was a woman because of the silhouette of the hair, and because a man cannot scream like that, so piercingly, so frantically.
I reached behind and whipped open the door, and clattered in panic down the stairs.
I did not see Charlie Graham until I was half-way down. As he was half-way up at the time, we met solidly. The impetus was mine, so that, with just one cry of surprise and anger, he went away from me backwards. I jumped over him at the bottom and paused, glancing back. He was stirring and groaning, so I ran into the street, just as Nicola screamed to a halt in front of me. The tyres matched the screams still coming from upstairs.
‘ Let’s go!’ I shouted, yanking open the door.
We took the next corner with the nose well in and the rear wheels hopping. She slowed, turning her head.
‘ Why’re we running away?’
‘ What?’
‘ You’re big enough to have handled him.’
‘ There was a woman sleeping in that room.’
‘ Are we running away from a screaming woman?’
It was true that screams in Rock Street could be more normal than silence. I shrugged, though my pulses were still racing. ‘All right. Turn back if you like.’
She grinned at me. ‘Sorry. I couldn’t warn you. But he came on foot, and I wasn’t expecting that.’
I stretched out my legs, settling down, now. ‘I’ve been warned not to expose myself to stress.’
‘ Poor you. That’s going to restrict your activities.’
‘ It doesn’t seem to have done me any harm, though. His name’s Charlie Graham, by the way. That chap. I remembered.’
‘ Did you remember anything else?’
‘ Some.’
I told her what I’d recalled. As a completed statement by George Peters it could well have been an account of an accident he’d had, resulting in a crushed right arm. As he’d been telling it in reference to a claim to Industrial Injuries benefit, he’d plainly been claiming that the accident arose in the course of employment by somebody else. That somebody must clearly have been Pool Street Motors, which would explain why I’d phoned in to see what we had on them, and then gone along there after my lunch at the Winking Frog. Or so my logic dictated.
But what George Peters had in fact written had not been a statement of an accident, it had been a withdrawal of his claim. At the realisation of what that meant I felt the hair prickle on my neck, and a shudder ran right down to my toes. If my memory was recalling incorrect facts, then my brain was wandering into the realms of fantasy. It was possible, as the psychiatrists had warned, that I was stressing my brain too soon.
‘ Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘Cliff?’
I tried to smile. ‘How’d you like to meet my Aunt Peg?’
‘ That’d be fine. Round off a quiet evening beautifully.’
She was quite serious, I thought.
4
Aunt Peg rounded off the evening very well, attempting to prove she had as good a sense of humour as anyone, and dredging from her memory salacious stories of her dubious past. Nicola seemed drunk with laughter when I escorted her to her car. I kissed her on the end of the nose, mainly because I liked the way it tilted. Then I went inside and straight up to my room, at last able to settle down and face myself.
I took my shoes off in order to pace in my socks, not wishing Aunt Peg to be disturbed. Finding me there, struggling with my mind, she would at once recognise I was
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