Web Site Story

'Why indeed not?' Kelly had said.

Kelly's breakfast plate was puce, as was the tablecloth it sat upon. Kelly's landlady, Mrs Gormenghast (daughter of the remarkable Zed and sister to Zardoz, the ornamental hermit, who lived all alone in a tree), stoked up the fire in the front sitter, where Kelly sat late-breakfasting. Mrs Gormenghast wore a pucely hued jumpsuit of a type which has happily gone the way of the split-knee loon pant and the Beatle wig. Not to mention the stylophone.

As if anybody would.

Kelly wore a simple summer frock of turquoise blue. It had no buttons to loosen, which given the fire's heat and all the closed windows, didn't help in the ever-warming atmosphere.

'Is that fire really necessary?' Kelly asked, as she mopped at her brow with a puce napkin.

'It keeps the Devil out,' said Mrs Gormenghast. 'Always keep a fire in your hearth and you'll never have to fear the Devil. My late husband used to say that. He knew what he was talking about.'

'Was he a preacher man?' Kelly asked.

'No, he was a coalman.'

'How do you get your fried eggs so puce?' Kelly asked.

'It's an old Indian trick, taught to me by an old Indian woman trickster. Puce is the colour of at-oneness. Did you know that if you take every single colour there is, about an ounce of each and mix them all together in a big pot, a very big pot obviously, the end result will be puce. Explain that if you will.'

'I can't,' said Kelly. 'But I suppose that…'

'You can split light with a prism, can't you?' asked Mrs Gormenghast.

'As far as I know,' said Kelly.

'Invisible light, it contains all the colours of the rainbow.'

Kelly nodded.

'So how come, if you mix all colours together in a pot they don't end up as an invisible transparent liquid?'

'Well…' said Kelly.

'Yes, that's easy for you to say. Well, well, I'll tell you why, well. Because prisms don't tell all of the truth. Nothing tells all of the truth. Nothing and nobody. The ultimate colour of the universe is puce. Mrs Charker down the road is of the mistaken belief that it is pink. Naturally, I respect her opinions, even if I know they are wrong.'

'Ah,' said Kelly. 'That would be Mrs Minky Charker, wife of Big Bob Charker who was in the bus crash.'

'That's her,' said Mrs Gormenghast. 'Her husband was carried off in The Rapture, I've heard. Not that it makes any sense to me, I've been keeping the Devil out of my fireplace and painting my house puce for years. If The Rapture's on the go, I should have been amongst the first of the blessed to be carried off to glory.'

'Perhaps it's happening in shifts,' said Kelly.

'Probably,' said Mrs G. 'God knows his own business best. The world can all go to pot at a moment's notice, my late husband used to say, but as long as you're all stocked up in nutty slack, you'll always have a welcome in your hearth. That man was a saint. It was a shame the way he met his end.'

Kelly didn't ask.

'Don't ask,' said Mrs Gormenghast. 'By the way, did you hear what happened to that nice Dr Druid at the cottage hospital, last night?'

'No,' said Kelly. 'What?'

'Raptured,' said Mrs Gormenghast. 'One moment he was giving an internal examination to a young woman suffering from verrucas, the next up and gone. I'm going to keep this fire well stoked today. I don't want the Antichrist coming down my chimney. And I shall be keeping this jumpsuit on indefinitely now. I want to look my best when my turn to be Raptured comes.'

'Dr Druid too?' said Derek. 'You really have to be joking.'

He was, as now was Kelly, in the saloon bar of the Shrunken Head. Derek had been there since half past ten, practising on the Space Invaders machine. He was chums with the barman. The barman had let him in early.

'I'm not joking,' said Kelly. 'I just heard. Dr Druid's vanished too. A young woman with verrucas saw it happen.'

Derek scratched at his head. 'There is something strange going on, isn't there?' he said.

'I really think there is,' said Kelly.

Derek now scratched at his chin. 'All right,' he said. 'I am supposed to be covering the annual over-eighties backwards walk between Kew and Richmond along the Thames towpath today. But I think it's a foregone conclusion, that old sod who had me with the Runese the night before last always wins it. I suggest we go to the cottage hospital and follow this thing up.'

'I think that's exactly what we shouldn't do,' said Kelly. 'I don't think we should go anywhere near the cottage hospital.'

'Why not?'

'It's just a theory.'

'I thought we were friends now. Tell me.'

'All right,' said Kelly. 'People are vanishing. Literally disappearing. The first one we know of is this Malkuth off the bus, after him go Periwig Tombs, Big Bob Charker and Malkuth's mum, off the bus, then goes Dr Druid. One after another. Like a disease which is being passed from one person to another, perhaps.'

'There's no disease that makes people vanish. Get real.'

'No disease that we know of, perhaps.'

'No disease. Period.'

'Period,' said Kelly. 'Your aunty said that. People are vanishing and it's all on the police computer. It all leads to Mute Corp Keynes. The black hole of cyberspace. This is somehow related to the country's computer system.'

'I can't imagine by what logic you can possibly draw that conclusion.'

'That is because you are a man, Derek, and I am a voman.'

'That is no argument at all. Are you calling this woman's intuition?'

'Do you have any theories?'

'The Rapture?' said Derek.

'I thought not. Let's go to your house. I only need about half an hour on your home computer.'

'Er, no,' said Derek. 'My mum will be up. She doesn't like me bringing ladies into my room.'

Kelly gave Derek one of those looks.

'We could use the computer at the Brentford Mercury.'

'I thought it wasn't unpacked. And I think you'll find it's now at the police station.'

'You heard about that, did you? Not much slips by you. But I have my own workstation. I'm not a Luddite like Mr Shields.'

'Then shall we go?'

Derek glanced towards the Space Invaders machine. 'There is that matter of the deciding game,' he said.

'Best out of three. But then we definitely go.'

Derek had his head down as they walked along the High Street. He'd pushed Kelly into best out of seven, but she still just kept on winning.

It was another joyous day. The sun swelled high in the clear blue sky. Birdies called and twittered. There was something about the High Street, however, that didn't seem altogether right.