The Day Aberystwyth Stood Still

him? Why else would they suppress the information? Why else would the Aviary be involved?’

‘I don’t know the answers to these questions, but I’m sure there are some, somewhere.’

Calamity pulled a face.

The caravan door opened and Raspiwtin walked in holding a gun. It was pointed at me; they usually are. ‘Poppet, are you all right?’ he asked Miaow.

‘Mr Raspiwtin, what are you doing?’ she asked.

‘He hasn’t hurt you?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Thank God I came in time. Phone the police.’

‘Don’t be silly.’

‘Do as I say, Poppet. This man is dangerous. He shot a man in cold blood.’

‘No, he didn’t, I did.’

‘No, she didn’t, I did.’ I smiled. He looked confused.

‘Look, Mr Raspiwtin –’

‘Please try and call me Iolo Yefimovich.’

‘Iolo Yefimovich, I know you are very keen on me, but that doesn’t give you permission to enter my caravan uninvited.’

‘But I came to save you!’

‘I don’t want to be saved.’

Calamity produced a length of connecting pipe from a camping-gas cylinder and pressed it into the base of Raspiwtin’s skull. ‘Drop the gun,’ she said.

‘I must advise you, I’m not afraid to die.’

‘We’re not afraid to kill you. Shoot him,’ I said.

‘Move out of the way first,’ said Calamity. ‘If you sit there you’ll get some of his face in your eye like you did with that lollipop woman we shot.’

‘Oh! Don’t remind me!’ I moved aside. ‘I hate it when it goes septic.’

‘Good Lord!’ said Raspiwtin, appalled by the image conjured up. Miaow grabbed the hand holding the gun, dragged it towards her and pressed the barrel into her stomach.

‘Poppet!’

‘Go on, shoot! I’m the one who shot Meici Jones.’

‘Might be a good idea to drop the gun,’ I said.

He loosened his grip and Miaow took the gun off him and handed it to me. I took out a handkerchief and wiped it, then held it still wrapped in the hanky.

‘As I said, I’m not afraid to die,’ said Raspiwtin. ‘In a way I have died many times.’

‘We don’t have to kill you, we could just shoot you in the knee. I hear it is very painful and you can’t bend your leg again for the rest of your life.’

‘Yes, a shot to the kneecap is a terrible wound. I must implore you not to consider that option.’

‘Tell me who you are.’

‘Iolo Yefimovich Raspiwtin.’

‘Who do you work for?’

‘Humanity.’

‘If he moves, shoot him,’ I said to Calamity, who was still holding the copper pipe to his ear. I stood up lazily, took a step forward, then cracked the gun barrel on his kneecap. He howled and crumpled to the floor.

‘Imagine how it must feel to get shot there.’

Tears welled up in his eyes. ‘Can I have a drink?’

I nodded. Miaow poured some wine into a paper cup and handed it to him.

‘And maybe some of your sweet-and-sour? I am very hungry.’

‘Do you want to play Ludo as well?’ I asked.

‘You would regret that decision; I am a most formidable opponent across the Ludo board.’

‘Sit at the table,’ I told him.

Calamity slipped the pipe into her pocket and we took up positions at the table. I kept the gun trained on Raspiwtin. He began to eat.

‘You are in a difficult position,’ said Raspiwtin with a mouth full of half-chewed noodle. He took a gulp of wine. His spirits had been raised by the turn of events. ‘Your hiding place here at this caravan has been revealed.’

‘Who to?’ I asked.

‘Me, of course.’

‘Anyone else?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Then it sounds to me like you are in a difficult position. It sounds like we might have to kill you after all.’

‘If the police find out,’ said Miaow, ‘I will turn myself in.’

‘Of course they will find out, where do you think we are? Outer Mongolia?’

I kicked Raspiwtin’s knee. He winced. ‘Don’t get too cosy,’ I reminded him. ‘Now, suppose you pay for your supper by telling us the truth about who you are. The real story.’

‘I have told you the real story. My name is –’

‘Your name is Iolo Yefimovich Raspiwtin. We heard that bit.’

‘I was born in the district of Ponterwyd, overlooking the Nant-y-Moch River in 1931.’

‘I think you told us that last time.’ I said.

Raspiwtin ignored me. ‘My story really begins before that, many aeons ago, at the very dawn of time when there were just tribes wandering across the great empty savannahs; simple hairy folk who sought food and shelter and were spiritually at peace.’

‘I’m not sure you need to go back quite so far,’ I said. ‘Maybe you could skip forward a few million years to somewhere around 1931 or possibly later.’

Raspiwtin scowled at me. ‘I was a child of notable piety. Already in the womb, through careful listening, I learned the rudiments of the Lord’s Prayer. As an infant I developed calluses on my knees from praying, and it is said I put aside my nurse’s pap during Lent. I was brought up by my grandmother, who sent a few pennies every month to the Catholic church to help the orphanage in the Gilbert Islands. She wrote a letter to the Vatican describing my precocious piety, and, to our great astonishment, I was offered an apprenticeship at the age of twelve in the Vatican laundry, under the tutelage of Father Theophrastus.’

‘I think you told us about the laundry, too,’ I said.

‘Yes, but this is an important milestone in the development of my apostasia. You must understand, you see, the effect it had on my second day when I told the boys how I had been selected on account of my piety. “Oh really!” they laughed, “is that what you call it?” “Yes, yes,” I said and told them about the scholarly essay I had submitted. How their mocking laughter echoed through the laundry! How my ears burned! How my eyes stung with tears! Those wicked imps! They told me that the clerics never looked at the essay, only at the photo which accompanied it. “Don’t you see how pretty we all are?” they asked. “Didn’t you wonder why they wanted a photo of you in your swimming costume?” Oh, those wicked boys!’

‘I think he’s playing for time,’ said Calamity. ‘Maybe he thinks the cops are coming.’

‘He’ll lose his kneecaps if they do.’

Raspiwtin continued unabashed. ‘You asked me who I was. And what I have just laid out before you is a very, very small part of the story of what I am.’

‘OK, what are you doing in Aberystwyth?’

‘I was coming to that.’

‘It didn’t look like it.’

‘I told you I was here because of a Burmese girl.’

‘You told me about her, you said you were in love with her and she was murdered; this you found greatly upsetting. So much so that you burst into tears.’

‘These are very tender feelings.’