Wouldn't you be?' Bloody fool.
'Yes. Of course.'
'Then shut your teeth.'
'Certainly.' He dithered in the oblique light. 'What do you want me to do? You're all bleeding.'
I was, too, both hands. My left thumb was a pulp. I couldn't move my right hand which was swelling rapidly. It looked huge, but things always look worse badly lit.
'Shall I get a vet, Lovejoy?'
I peered at him suspiciously. 'What would you get a vet for?'
'Er, to tell you…' He ground to a halt.
'To tell me what, Algernon?' I whispered savagely.
'Nothing.'
'Go home, Algernon.' I was suddenly finished.
'Home?'
'Home,' I nodded. 'Now.' I watched him back away towards his motor-cycle. It was tilted crazily on the grass. I remember feeling surprised. He's mad about his pop-pop, yet he must have just rushed the machine across the garden and flung it down with the headlamp on.
He pushed it on to the gravel and started up. I heard him call something but that's typical of Algernon, start up a motor-bike and assume it's inaudible. Stupid. He slithered down the driveway and out on to the metalled road. Gravel everywhere, of course.
Manton and I watched the lights swathe the hedgerows. Finally only the sound remained, faintly humming through the village. We heard him change up, sudden as ever, on the Bercolta road. Then he faded and we were left alone, sitting on the grass in the wretched flight.
The lights of Lexton were shining in the distance, an unpleasing orange. The sky picks up the illuminance and casts a faint tinge on the starglow. I talked to Manton, trying to make him feel that maybe the nightmare was over now and things were at least moving towards normal.
'It's my fault, Mantie,' I told him. No use trying to shelve the blame.
He'd normally have chirped there, but it's sensible to harbour your strength if you've had a bad shock, isn't it? You know how it is when you've been ill, how conversation takes it out of you. It's best to stay quiet.
'There's a sensible bird!' I praised, still in a whisper. 'Keep warm, Mantie.'
No good getting one place warm and moving to another, is it? That would be stupid.
They know what to do when they're off colour. Not like people. We're daft as brushes.
Animals are practical. They have an innate sense, haven't they?
I don't remember much of the rest. I remember feeling a cold wind springing up, but maybe that was just the effect of the blood loss. I saw blackish gobs and strings of blood on the ground, and all over my leg, and wondered how the hell that had happened. I fell over a few times, mercifully avoiding where Manton huddled. Janie came. I cursed her from habit, and told her to shut the light off.
I remember arguing with her and calling her a stupid obstinate bitch. She tried bringing an umbrella from the car to shield us from the driving rain which started up. Good old Algernon had telephoned her. It must have been some conversation.
About dawn I vaguely remember hearing a man's voice asking if this was the one, something like that, and Janie's defiance. I had to pee in situ, which can't have improved my appearances much. The blood on the mud was like those Victorian oil-layered flyleaf bindings. I told Janie to get his seed for him, as he was probably hungry.
I woke in the early light. The rain had ended. No wind. No noise. The robin was looking down at me. I came abruptly out of the nightmare. The robin flew, suddenly sticking like glue to the twig as they do in midflight. I made myself turn and look at Manton. He was crouched because he was impaled on a stake driven into the ground through his little back. Janie was there, a blanket over her dress and almost concealing her mink coat. Stiletto shoes and all. I remembered her husband's voice saying, 'And people in our position, Janie,' and asking, 'What are you thinking of?'
After a bit I told her to help me up. I leaned on her like a drunken matelot, quite unable to see much that wasn't swivelling round and round. She fetched a spade and I dug a hole, alternately yelping and fainting from the excruciating pain and bleeding all down the handle. I wouldn't let her do it. I buried them between the lovely Anne Cocker rose and a pink grandiflora. Then Janie got me stripped indoors and on the divan for a wash.
I was all filth and blood.
'You're in a worse state than China, Lovejoy,' Janie called from the alcove.
'Your slang's dated,' I gave back. 'Gives your age away.'
'The doctor will go mad.'
'Oh, him,' I said.
I wasn't up to repartee. For the first time in the entire business I was aware of the slightly disturbing fact that I was up against a madman. Nichole might be the sweetest woman on earth, but she sure as hell had no control over her tame lunatic.
It was beginning to look as if old Bexon's find was as precious as he'd thought it was.
CHAPTER XI
Contents - Prev/Next
ONCE UPON A TIME I was a virgin. No, honestly. A bit sweaty and newly hairy, but the real thing. You may remember how it was yourself. I exchanged it for a fob watch. A kindly
