… had been lying face-down among a scattering of books. Black books. Hands frozen like claws. Hands which had torn the book's from the shelves in a frenzy, nail marks scored down black spines.
Morgan had turned him over with one hand, effortless. His bloodless lips pulled back in a snarl. Eyes glazed- over but still screaming. How could eyes scream? Bethan had turned her head away and run from the house. Ran down the path, between the sycamores, leaving the iron gate swinging behind her.
Oh, Giles.
Oh, God.
'Where'd the guys go?'
He was addressing the Nationalist candidate, Evans. Nobody else in the bar he recognised, apart from a couple of MPs drinking Scotch and examining a map. 'Buggered if I know, Keith.' one of the MPs was saying. 'By tomorrow night. I'll have done my stint, so I couldn't care less.'
'Charlie and Ray,' said Guto, 'and young Gary…have gone for a meal. I recommended the Welsh Pizza House.' He grinned malevolently. 'Serve them right.'
Berry Morelli noticed how Guto's beard split in half when he grinned. The guy looked like some kind of caveman.
'American, eh?' Guto said.
'Sure am.' Berry said, like an American. 'Just great to be in your wunnerful country.' he added wearily.
'Yes, I bet' said Guto. 'You want to ask me any questions before I get too pissed?'
'No,' said Berry, who wasn't expected to file a story the following day, unless something happened — and Addison Walls's definition of 'something' usually meant several people dead.
'Good,' said Guto. 'Bloody shattered, I am. I think I shot my mouth off again.'
'I thought that was what politics was about.'
Clearly less inhibited in the presence of someone who was neither English nor Welsh, Guto affected a drawling English accent ' 'Seeaw! Tell us about yourself, Guto! Why does it say in your Press handout that you're only a part-time lecturer?'' His voice sank bitterly. 'Because this is Wales, pal. I could only get a
'You wanna drink?' said Berry.
'Aye, why the devil not. Pint of Carlsberg? What can you say, eh? One day in politics and I've had it up to the bloody eyeballs.'
'One day in politics is a long time, buddy.'
'You know what else they asked me? What was the name of the rock and roll hand I played bass guitar with? What was the name of the flaming band? Why the hell would they want to know that?'
'You really are new to this game, aren't you?' said Berry.
'Is it that bloody obvious?'
'They had to know the name of the band so they could have it checked out in the morgue.'
Guto looked mystified.
'Most members of most rock bands.' Berry said patiently, 'have stuff in their past that doesn't lie down too easy with a career in politics. Like getting busted for dope, smashing up hotel rooms. Yeah?'
'Ah… right,' said Guto. 'But no. Not me. Once got busted for Woodbines in the school lavatories. I did. But drugs, no.'
'Hotel rooms?'
'The hotels in these parts, nobody would notice.'
'Mr. Clean, huh?'
'Mr. Bloody Spotless.' said Guto. 'Well, you know…'
'Yeah.'
Guto grabbed his pint with both hands. At which point, a thought seemed to strike him and he put the glass tankard down on the bartop and said seriously. 'I never asked — are you a reporter?'
Berry started to laugh. He laughed so hard he thought he was going to lose control of his bladder. He laughed so hard people began to stare at him.
'What did I say?' said Guto.
Berry shook his head, tears in his eyes. He was thinking of the po-faced front-bench bastards in the House of Commons. He was thinking of the Energy Secretary making a careful statement at the bottom of his manicured lawn in the Cotswolds. He was thinking of his dad and a particular senator.
In the normal way of things, none of this would have seemed funny enough to make him lose control in a public bar.
He wondered, after a few seconds, if what he was really doing wasn't crying.
'I'm sorry,' Berry said, getting his act back together. 'Yeah, I'm a reporter, but I don't think I came here to report. I think I came to go to a funeral.'
Guto said nothing.
'My pal died.' Berry said. 'Tomorrow he gels cremated.'
'Oh Christ,' said Guto. 'Giles Freeman, is it?'
Berry looked hard at the Nationalist guy. What did he know about Giles Freeman? 'I'm looking for someplace to stay.' he said. 'One night, maybe two.'
'Every hotel in this town is booked solid,' said Guto.
'That's what I heard.'
'Giles Freeman, eh?'
'Yep. You knew him? I guess he knew you.'
'We met,' said Guto. 'Just the one time. But memorably. Looking for a posh place, are you?'
'Huh?'
'To stay.'
'I'm looking for a bed.'
'My Mam is feeling aggrieved.' Guto said. 'She does bed and breakfast all through the summer. Now, when everybody wants to stay in Pontmeurig, I have to tell her: forget it. Mam. What is it going to look like, you taking in party workers or reporters? English reporters, for God's sake! Me out there on the hustings and you cashing in. So, very aggrieved she is feeling.'
'What's the charge?' Berry noticed Guto was suddenly looking at him the way business people the world over looked at Americans.
Guto's eyes gleamed. 'Thirty-five quid a night?'
'Th..?'
'Big breakfast, mind,' said Guto.
Guto's mother was a small, scurrying, squeaky creature with an agonisingly tight perm. In a living room so crammed with little jugs and vases and thousands of polished plates that Berry didn't like to move his arms, she told him seriously that Guto would be the death of her.
'She is delighted, really,' Guto said. 'She's never had an American to stay. What's your name anyway?'
'Morelli.'
'That's an American name?'
'Don't be so rude, Guto.' Mrs. Evans snapped. She smiled at Berry and her teeth moved.
'We had some Morellis, we did, at the back of us in Merthyr. Do you know Merthyr…?'
'Of course he bloody doesn't, Mam. Listen, Morelli, we can't do hash browns or steak and eggs for breakfast. Well, eggs are OK, but…'
Berry told them he was vegetarian.
'Oh dear, oh dear, we haven't any of that.' wailed Mrs. Evans, squeezing the corners of her apron in anguish. 'What will you think of us?'
'Toast?' said Berry. 'Marmalade?'
'An American vegetarian?' said Guto, aghast.
'He'll be the death of me, this boy,' said Mrs. Evans.
