While Beede was certainly no expert, the attacks themselves seemed to have become far moremore perversemoreuhtricksy of late
For want of a better word
More dangerous (even). They were stealthy. They seemed almost to creep up on him. They had no sense of propriety; were untimely, inexpedient and often socially embarrassing. They never (or very rarely) stood on any kind of ceremony. They were merciless. They were indecorous. They were delinquent.
Previously and again, this was chiefly relying on the information which Elen had given him theyd had a much more controllable evolution. They were constant but reliable. Were predictable. Were minimal. Had exhibited an internal logic of some kind.
Now there was something almost cruel, almost
Vindictive?
Is that too emotional?
Now there were flashpoints. And the paranoia was terrible. Really terrible. Much more severe than it had ever been (ever, Elen said). And the denial was absolute. But worse than all of this worst of all Dory had become and this might not seem like much, superficially, but it was actually the most heartbreaking element of the whole thing hed become humourless.
Hed lost his ability to just laugh it all off. He was reallyreallybrought down by it. He was depressed. He kept saying (for example) that he was finding it hard to focus (hed been twice to get his eyes tested over the last six weeks. His eyesight was pronounced perfect, on both occasions).
He was barely sleeping. Insomnia. Hed always been a light sleeper (needed only four good hours, at most like Margaret Thatcher), but there was no doubt no doubt whatsoever that sleep was a major factor in the whole scenario; a trigger.
Nobody dared use the word narcolepsy, and certainly not in front of him (he was German. Self-reliance was his watchword and clarity, and precision). There was a stigma Dory felt with this particular condition, because of its inevitable connection with childhood trauma; the underlying sense of an inability to cope. At some fundamental level Dory closely aligned coping with his masculinity (coping was something he needed to do, and do well, to be a successful male).
Isidores finer feelings aside, however, narcolepsy was definitely one of the medical conditions which best fitted his particular combination of symptoms. It didnt fit completely (symptoms could be like that). Elen said it was as though Dory was missing a shoe, and narcolepsy was a slipper (ie they were related, but not entirely compatible). Beede found this description telling. He found it apt.
The other unsayable word was but of course schizophrenia. This word made everybody panic (even Elen). But it was not a fearful word for Beede. For Beede it was just a combination of letters which didnt even feature in his old Pocket Oxford. The closest they came to it there was schist; a kind of crystalline rock, whose components were arranged in distinct layers. Beede liked that. Hed tried to tell Elen about it (the layers ie the concept of something separate but unified), yet for some reason she seemed to gain no palpable sense of relief from the idea.
Of course Isidore had been medicated for his condition in the past so far as it was possible (which wasnt very far at all), because every doctor he visited seemed to have a different opinion (and these medical practitioners were few and far between). Dory hated doctors found them meddlesomeflew into a blind panic at the idea of a diagnosis. To be diagnosed was to be boxed up, to be compartmentalised, to be made separate, to be lost. For Dory a diagnosis represented the death of hope. His optimism and he was optimistic, by and large thrived in unknowing.
There were some things (some symptoms side-effects, you might say) which Dory simply wouldnt factor in during medical consultations (refused to, point-blank, Elen said), and this obviously made it very difficult for any kind of practitioner to complete their medical assessment of him. He could be extremely secretive (for such an extraordinarily open person), as if protecting something precious something vulnerable inside of him.
And like nearly all people with serious long-term medical conditions, Dory associated medicationbeing medicated with a lot of the bad stuff from his past (things from his childhood which hed never openly discuss: his mother was over-protective, his father very controlling, the usual stuff). So he was heavily resistant to any kind of help (medical, analytical), which obviously made things incredibly difficult
Damn!
Beede suddenly (and unexpectedly) ground to a halt. He put a hand to his chest and drew a deep breath (he was surprisingly short of puff). As he exhaled, he quickly checked his watch. He cursed again. Dory who was at least ten paces ahead (not even a vague sheen of sweat on him; he was fit as a cheetah) heard the horse come to a stop. He turned, quick as a flash. Beede? Something wrong?
Beede glanced up, almost guiltily. No. Nothing. Just a meeting he shrugged, Im late. In fact Ive already missed her. I completely forgot
A meeting at work?
No Beede shook his head. Not at work.
At home?
Dory looked flabbergasted (this was for comic effect, Beede presumed).
Yes, Dory, at home.
Beede crisply enunciated his response to try and railroad any potential ribbing. It wasnt a successful ploy.
A personal arrangement?
Still, Dory maintained his little act.
Beede found himself blushing. He had no idea why. He said nothing.
Dorys eyes flew even wider. What? Beede Mr Daniel Beede actually socialising?!
Beedes flushed but sombre face cracked into a smile (Ah yes. This was the real Dory. The real him. He could be tender yet mocking, could needle you in that special, gentle way of his which even the most ferocious curmudgeon would do well to take umbrage at).
A date? Dory rapidly expanded on his theme, his blue eyes twinkling. An assignation?
Yes. No, Beede scowled. I didntIts just some
He started to walk again, then stumbled, slightly, on the narrow pavement some insignificant person, he finished off, clumsily.
Dory seemed utterly delighted by Beedes coy evasiveness. Well perhaps you might ring her?
He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket, then grimaced, and tried his other. Nothing.
We need to cross before we reach the fly-over. Beede quickly changed the subject, staring first down the road, then up it. He started off (firmly grasping his trousers) at a slow trot. Isidore glanced left himself, then followed.
They reached the other side (Beede now a little ahead) and walked rapidly onward. But after only a few moments, Beede abruptly stopped for a second time. Isidore found himself hard-up against the horses rump. He took a quick step back. They were standing at the near-end of the fly-over. Cars and lorries were roaring past. Isidore frowned, glanced behind him, saw a small gap in the traffic and took his chance. He speedily overtook the horse.
Beede was staring down over the embankment to his left and frowning. He seemed deeply preoccupied. A large field lay ahead of them a semi-circular meadow, full of bleached grass, young trees (huddled inside their protective, plastic sheaths) and a muddle of bushes. They were almost at the point where the road they were taking divided into three separate parts: one section charging boldly onwards, the other two curving sharply off and around to form the different sides (the valves, the ventricles) of a divided heart (or in the pursuit of absolute anatomical accuracy the two segregated cheeks of a pair of buttocks). Snuggled into the hinterland of that voluptuous curving were two good-sized plots. The one on their particular side currently contained a thin sprinkling of mixed livestock.
But Beede wasnt interested in the meadow (nor even in the animals). He was staring past it, towards the Brenzett roundabout which lay a short distance beyond.
Isidore silently followed the line of Beedes gaze. Oh shit, he whispered.
It was his car definitely his car. It was parked in the middle of the roundabout with the drivers door left wide open (a total hazard to all other traffic). A police car was pulling up behind it (no siren, but with its blue light rotating). Dory blinked (he didnt generally respond well to anything that flashed).
Superb timing, Beede said dryly. But dont worry (he was extraordinarily composed)tell them the car was stolen while you were on the job, that youve just been phoned and informed that its been dumped here. You can imply that the kids in question mightve released the horse, he glanced up at the filly, as part of the prank.
Dorys eyes made sudden contact with Beedes for a split second, perhaps even less.
Quick thinking, he murmured (instantly breaking his gaze), his clipped voice tinged with something corrosive
Fastidiousness?
Suspicion?
Disgust?
Naval training, Beede demurred, with a casual shrug.
Dory half-smiled then jogged on, across the fly-over and a few yards beyond. Here he turned sharply, preparing to swing himself, lithely, over the crash barrier (this was a short cut), but before he did, he paused, glanced back towards Beede and shouted, You wont tell her, will you?
Beede didnt respond at first.
Elen, Dory yelled. You wont tell?
Beede shook his head, automatically. Of course not, he shouted back. Hurry. He waved him on.
Dory sprang over the barrier, scissored his way between the saplings and then hurdled a second (wood and wire) fence, before clambering and lurching down the fields muddy embankment. At approximately the half-way point, his trousers started slipping; the fabric locked just above his knees, and he tumbled. It was a dramatic fall a jesters fall with all the additional frills and embellishments.
Beede closed his eyes (in an effort to repress a sharp bark of laughter
Where did that urge come from?)
then he turned his face away, waited patiently for a slight lull in the traffic, and moved implacably onward.
FOUR
An entry-phone engineer was taking what Kane could only (in all detachment and impartiality) call an obscene amount of interest in Kellys thigh area. She was collapsed on Kanes front step, both her legs stretched out stiffly in front of her, drinking from a flask of coffee and eating a Mars Bar (pulling back her lips as she bit down on it, almost in horror like a donkey taking a Polo Mint from a suspicious-seeming stranger). He was crouched over her and gently massaging her upper knee as Kane drew closer.