He took the gun and cartridges and returned to the desk. The music had reached piece number seven: Dreaming. He sat down with the weapon across his lap, broke it and loaded it. From his pocket he took a piece of string about a foot long with a loop at either end. He slipped one of the loops over the trigger, and leaned the weapon against the desk.
He checked his watch. Waited another thirty seconds. Picked up the fountain pen. Wrote in bold capitals on the envelope FOR SUE-LYNN. Set the pen down on the desktop. Checked his watch again. Stood up and went back to the gun case.
Up to this point he had done everything with steady purpose. Now he seemed touched by a sense of urgency.
He peeled off the gloves and tossed them into the secret recess, followed by his lighter, the matchbook, the microcassette, the hip flask and the prescription bottle. Next he replaced the panel, twisted the gun clip, shut the cabinet door, and went back to the chair into which he slumped with a finality which suggested he did not purpose rising again. He let the music back into his ears. Piece eleven was finishing. Something Frightening. Then piece twelve began. Child Falling Asleep.
He listened to it all the way through, asking himself, where had they gone, those thirty years?
As the music faded, he drew the book on the desktop towards him.
The final piece began. The Poet Speaks.
He opened the book. He did not need to look for his place. It fell open with an ease that suggested that this was a page frequently visited.
And now the observer saw that other part of himself, that disembodied swirl of feeling, start to drift back into the corporeal chamber from which it had been temporarily expelled. Like Action Man, it had its calmness too, but this was the calm of despair, the acknowledgement that the end was near, a process perfectly captured by the words the eyes stared at but did not need to see. He scanned it-staggered Dropped the Loop
To Past or Period Caught helpless at a sense as if
His Mind were going blind Feeling Man, the observer saw, was absolute for death, so completely separated from hope and time and sense and feeling and all the threads of experience which tie us lightly to life that he was far ahead of the meticulous preparation of Action Man for that journey from the familiarity of now into the mystery of next
The music was coming to an end. The observer could hear it but Feeling Man had ears for nothing but the words of the poem as if they were being read aloud by the soft American voice of their creator Groped up, to see if God was there Groped backward at Himself
while Action Man still went quietly about his business, removing his left shoe and sock, bringing the gun between his legs with the stock firmly on the floor, slipping the loop of string over his big toe, grasping the barrel with both hands and holding it steady against the edge of the desk, then leaning forward and pressing the soft underpart of his chin hard against the muzzle.
Now the quiet voice in Feeling Mans mind speaks the final words while Action Man lowers his left foot, and Observing Man, rather to his surprise, has time to see the ball of shot burn its way up through jaw and palate, squirting blood from mouth and nostrils and punching out the eyes before emerging through the top of his skull in a fountain of bone and brain which spatters floor and desk and open book. Caressed a Trigger absently and wandered out of Life
For a millisec reason and sensation and observation are reunited in one consciousness.
Then the empty body slumps to one side, the record dies away, the fine ash from the wastepaper bin slowly settles, the candle gutters.
Pal Maciver exists no longer.
Except in the hearts and minds and lives of those he leaves behind.
2
Sue-Lynn Maciver stretched her naked body languorously against her lovers hand and laughed.
What? said Tom Lockridge.
I was thinking, first time I felt you inside me, it cost me a hundred quid.
Wait till you get my bill for this.
He spoke lightly but she knew he didnt like being reminded he was still her doctor. When Pal had dropped him, his first reaction had been that her husband suspected something. Once reassured, his second reaction had been that this was a good opportunity for her to come off his list too.
Dont be silly, shed said. Why give up the perfect cover for me visiting your surgery, you coming to the house?
Its just that, if it ever came out, the GMC dont take kindly to doctors screwing their patients.
Really? How else do they expect you to become stinking rich?
When he didnt laugh, she said, Relax, Tom. Its not going to come out, not from me, anyway. Ive got even more reason to keep it from Pal than you have from your precious Council. Or your precious wife for that matter.
Shed meant it. But nonetheless it wasnt altogether displeasing to feel she had a hold over her lover that went beyond his desire.
He removed his hand from between her legs and pushed back the duvet.
She glanced at her watch and said, Whats the hurry? Weve got another hour at least.
Just going to the loo, he said, rolling out of bed.
Why do men always have to pee after sex? she called after him.
He paused in the doorway and said, Ill draw you a diagram when I get back.
She made a face at the prospect. Sometimes it wasnt altogether comfortable screwing a man who knew so much about the internal workings of the human body. She reached out to the cigarette packet lying by the phone on the bedside table and lit one. Hed probably give her the anti-smoking lecture, but it was better than a conducted tour of his innards.
The phone rang.
She picked it up and said, Hi.
Sue-Lynn, its Jason.
She stiffened then forced herself to relax.
Jase, shouldnt you be chasing a little ball around a squash court with my husband?
Thats why Im ringing. He hasnt turned up. My mobiles on the blink and I thought he might have left a message with you.
She stubbed her cigarette out, swung her legs off the bed, found her panties on the floor and started tugging them on one-handed as she replied, Sorry, Jase. Not a word. But I shouldnt worry. Probably a customer showed up as he was on his way out. You know Pal. Hed miss his own funeral if he thought there was a deal to be done. Hows Helen? Must be close now. Give her my best. Look, got to go. Bye.
She put down the phone and was crouching on the floor searching for her bra when she heard the toilet flush. A moment later, Lockridge came through the door. He was smiling and there was evidence he was having serious thoughts about how to spend the next hour. The smile faded as he saw her rise on the far side of the bed with her bra in her hand.
Pals loose, she said before he could speak. Get dressed.
Shit. You dont think hes on to us? Jesus wept!
Hed started dragging on his trousers with more haste than care and done something she didnt care to think about with the zip.
Shouldnt think so, but better safe than sorry oh hell. Did you hear that?
What?
I dont know. A noise. Downstairs. No on the stairs.
They both froze, mouths agape, eyes staring, she with her bra round her neck, he with his hand on his fly zipper, like a tableau vivant of Guilt Surprised, and were both in a state to take the flash of light that came through the open door as the harbinger of one of heavens avenging angels.
3
The mist was definitely getting thicker. Much more and theyd be calling it fog, which was bad news. There were enough idiots out there who couldnt drive properly in broad daylight without making things even more problematic for them.
Ignoring the obvious impatience of the cars behind her, Kay Kafka drove her Mercedes E-Class down the quiet suburban roads at five mph under the permitted speed limit and signalled a good hundred yards before she turned into the driveway of Linden Bank.
With the mist and encroaching darkness toning down the unfortunate shade of lavender the Dunns had chosen for their outside woodwork, she was able to re-experience her feelings on first seeing the house. Helen had rung full of excitement to tell her that she and Jason had found a place they both liked but she wanted Kays approval before committing. Kay had gone along prepared to lie, and had instead been delighted. Shed liked the clean modern lines, the harmonious proportions, the use of rosy brick under a shallow-pitched roof of olive tiles. The prepared lies had come in useful later, however, once the newlyweds had moved in.
At the door Kay only had to ring once before it was flung open by a young woman hugely pregnant.
Youre late, she said accusingly.
You too by the look of you.
The young woman grimaced and said, Still a couple of days to go-Kay, its lovely to see you.
The two women embraced, not without difficulty.
Jesus, Helen, you sure its only twins youve got in there?
I know-its terrible-I may have to let out my smocks.
You too by the look of you.
The young woman grimaced and said, Still a couple of days to go-Kay, its lovely to see you.
The two women embraced, not without difficulty.
Jesus, Helen, you sure its only twins youve got in there?
I know-its terrible-I may have to let out my smocks.
They went into the house. Outside the evening temperature was dropping fast. In here as usual the central heating was set a couple of degrees above Kays comfort level. In anticipation she was wearing only a sleeveless silk blouse beneath her chic sheepskin jacket.
As Helen hung it up she brushed her hand over the fleecy collar and said, Hey, have you been on a building site? This is a bit dusty.
Is it? You know these old houses. I wish Tony had bought somewhere modern like this, said Kay removing the silk square with which shed protected her short black hair from the mist and shaking it gently. He sends his love.
Give him mine. I really love that blouse, said Helen enviously. Wish I dared let people see the tops of my arms.
In fact pregnancy became her. Big she was, but with the roseate carnality of a Renoir bather. In the glow of that aura many other women would have been reduced to attendant shadows, but Kay Kafka, pale faced and pencil slim, was not diminished.