Natalie gasps, but not with delight. Mark giggles, to some extent at her reaction, I think. Tubby flaps out from behind the board and advances to the footlights, which lend his pallid face a waxy glow. His shadow reaches back to the faceless figure as if to question which of them is casting it. He twists his head around so far that I wince on his behalf. Having admired the spectacle behind him, where the faces have begun to sag and simper, he clutches his stomach and bares his teeth in an expanding laugh. His body shakes until its outline is a quivering mass of blackness. His mouth stretches so wide that I hear his chortling, if only in my head. He's still laughing as he flutters to the steps that lead down to the auditorium. He means to entice somebody onto the stage, to frame their face alongside five of his. As he advances towards us like a gleeful storm, however, the screen turns black.
Of course the blackness of his suit hasn't overwhelmed it; the film has cut off. In a few seconds it recommences, but in a different theatre, where identical-twin young women are performing a song and dance with ukuleles. 'I think that's all of Tubby,' I tell Mark.
'Maybe that's enough,' Natalie says. 'I don't know if I like him.'
Mark is using the miniature onscreen control panel to run the disc backwards. The blackness above the mayor's collar reconstitutes a face that retreats like a worm into earth, and then the other faces withdraw into their burrows one by one. 'I know I didn't like that,' says Natalie.
'Watch him again.'
I'm not sure whether that's an exhortation or an untypically childish plea. Tubby has retrieved his face from each member of the parade. As he repeats his performance I'm still unable to determine how he manages to dodge behind the board so instantaneously, and the emergence of his face above neck after neck puts me in mind of worms before the balloons do. When the mayor's head bursts, Natalie releases a sharp breath that sounds determined not to be a gasp. 'Show's over for tonight,' she says. 'Bed.'
'Thanks for sorting it out for me, Mark. We're a good team.'
He freezes the image as Tubby comes for the audience. 'Can I keep it in my room?'
'Better let Simon have it for safety. I expect you'll be able to watch it again if you must.'
Mark springs the disc and plants it in its case. 'Can I have the comic to read in the morning?'
'Simon will want to look after it if it's going in his book.'
'I may want another glance at it,' I say, feeling feeble. 'You can see it tomorrow if you're good.'
'You're only saying that because of her. I never spoil things. Grandma and grandad trust me all over their house.'
'You're spoiling things now, Mark. Give that to Simon and switch that off and into bed.'
'I should do as your mother says or you'll have her blaming me.' I keep my voice steady, although he has jabbed my palm with the corner of the plastic case – unintentionally, I hope. 'Thank you, Mark,' I say and walk quickly out of the room.
I lay the DVD on my desk and rub my bruised palm while I listen to Natalie's maternal murmur. As soon as she shuts his door and the one to the corridor I say 'I'm not a bad influence, am I?'
'Only on me.'
'Good job your parents can't hear you say that.'
Her inviting smile winces and grows straight. 'Seriously, I wouldn't mind if you backed me up a little more.'
'With your parents?'
'I don't need that. With Mark,' she says, and I feel as if I've been diverted from the link I was trying to make. 'I realise he's still getting used to having you here all the time, but I don't want him losing his sleep even at the weekend.'
'I'm getting used too. I haven't had all that much experience of being part of a whole family.'
'Don't undersell yourself, Simon. He was very proud to be seen with you at school.'
'Is that what he said?'
'He didn't have to. I can tell. I'm his mother.'
Is that my cue to mention Nicholas? I attempt to begin, but it's more of a struggle than I was anticipating: it feels as if my face has turned into an unmanageable mask. Before I can speak Natalie says 'So when are you off on your travels again? I may need to book him into the after-school club.'
'I'll see, shall I?'
'You could let me know tomorrow,' Natalie says, but I've already switched on the computer. Any action might be a relief from my inability to raise the subject of Mark's father. As Natalie stretches out on the couch, the Frugonet screen takes shape.
hi agn move buf!
fli 2 lax + wel pic u up. i havnt lookd @ the old gis films 4 yers. u can sort them out + c whats ther. im sur theres sum tub thacera. sta as long as u lik. i ma b filmng but no problem. mab i can giv u a standup rol if yor up 4 it. lookng 4wad 2 it! let me no whn soon as u can.
wille
'Maybe I should leave this until I'm more awake.'
Natalie swings her legs off the couch and rests her fingertips on my shoulders. 'Hi again movie buff,' she says at once. 'Fly to Los Angeles and we'll pick you up. I haven't looked at the old guy's films for years...'
When she reads to the end without hesitation I say 'Maybe I should take you along as my interpreter.'
'It sounds as if I ought to be there.' She moves to face me as she says 'What kind of film is he inviting you into?'
'The kind you think. I'm sure he's joking. I'll see that he is.'
'You'd better. You're still planning to go up to Preston as well, yes?'
'If the library has anything I can't find on the net.'
'Will you look in on your parents while you're there?'
'Possibly.'
'I should give them a call at least.'
'I'll see if I've time.' When she looks wistful I point out 'They've had plenty.'
'Not so much recently, I suppose. Perhaps you needn't blame them when you've come out the way you have.'
'So long as you're satisfied.'
'They were a bit vintage when they got married, weren't they? We don't know how much of a shock you turned out to be.'
'Enough to split them up when I was little.'
'You know I don't mean it was your fault. Didn't they both do their best for you?'
'I expect they tried.'
'And they did invite you – '
'Don't bring the wedding up.' It shrinks my mind into a hard spiky lump of emotions I'd rather not identify. 'Can't we just go to bed?'
'Let me say one more thing. Maybe they really did marry again because you were out of the way, but don't you think that could have been because they were lonely without you?'
'All right, if it makes you happy.'
Apparently this doesn't. 'Anyway,' she says, 'I thought you were busy on your computer.'
'Never too busy for you, Natty. Shall I hang on here while you get ready for bed?'
Surely she's looking resigned only to the end of our discussion. She eases the door open and listens for a few seconds. 'Just don't waken Mark,' she whispers.
As she closes the door I find the Frugojet site. I could bill the university for a more expensive pair of flights, but my Frugo Visa gives me several hundred air miles, and I don't want to take too much advantage when they've yet to publish me. The earliest available flight to Los Angeles is next week, and there's a return three days later. I buy the tickets with my card and email my arrival time to Willie Hart, and set about searching the web.
The Harris Library in Preston does indeed have the entire run of the
