Frank was very nearly coherent. ‘I thought it would be useful if we found Nesta. It’s what she drinks, isn’t it? We could sort of… revive her.’
Jane broke in, ‘She drank Woodpecker anyway…’
‘Can we go home now, Mam?’ Peter asked the side of her neck, where his face was pressed. ‘I’ve had enough of this now.’
‘We’ve all had enough,’ she said and tried again to intercede but Frank was getting annoyed. ‘Look, I’ve put myself right on the line for you and your stupid bloody friend today —’
‘She’s not my bloody friend
‘Getting me out of work early an’ that. Don’t say I don’t do owt, ’cause I came straight home when you asked me to.’ Fran conceded the point, tried to come back, as did Jane, but Frank continued.
‘Gary didn’t leave work. That slimy sod didn’t offer to help. He’ll be buggering up all my good work.’
Fran had stopped dead with her mouth open. Frank hammered the point home.
‘Yeah, maybe you’d rather be married to someone like that Gary. Someone who doesn’t give a shit. But his wife left him, didn’t she? Took the kid and left him. So what would you —’ He stopped, noticing her expression. ‘What’s the matter now?’ Even the kids had fallen quiet, looking at Fran, who was staring at Jane. At last she said, ‘Gary. Gary didn’t come on the search party.’
‘Yeah? So?’ Frank asked. ‘He’s a wanker.’
Fran blinked, looking down as if she had something in her eye. Jane felt she knew something Fran knew, and couldn’t figure it out.
‘Nothing,’ said Fran with a brief smile. She took little Jeffs hand. ‘It’s getting really late. Let’s all go and find out whether this search is any nearer being called off.’
This is so much better than my wildest dreams. We’re going out tonight in our disguises.
Then we’ll wear our disguises all night, all tomorrow and the day after. By then we’ll have forgotten who we used to be. We’ll be our new people.
It’s going outside that’ll do this to us. Inside we could be anyone, anywhere. When there’s just the two of us to see. It could just be a pack of lies. We could both be mad, even, and not like real people at all. But not when we go out. When we go out in our disguises, then people will see us.
The Dog Man said, ‘This will fix our new identities.’ He means being seen by people outside will make us into what they see us as. I like that. It’s all people outside are good for.
That and for giving you bottles of milk. But you have to beg off them. I hate that. I would like to give. It must make you feel great.
Tonight I gave the Dog Man his milk. I put it in a saucer on the top landing. He came to get it and I kicked it away from him. It flew down the stairs, milk all over his carpet. He went away for a bit to be angry.
When he came back he was calm again. He knows he has to be calm. It’s in our rules. Then he said, ‘Let’s put our disguises on,’ and I could see he was excited.
So I said, ‘All right.’
‘Compromise, compromise, compromise.’
‘But we always have to compromise.’ Liz didn’t want to argue about it. She slung their shopping into the bag compartment and Cliff, still muttering, eased himself back into the driver’s seat. It was dark outside. Other buses with their blue fridge lights were moving in and out of the station.
People were drifting towards their stand.
‘Close the doors,’ Liz instructed, sitting down. She crossed her legs. The doors shut with a pneumatic hiss. The people heading towards them with their carriers from Burtons, House of Fraser, St Michael and their soggy parcels from McDonald’s, frowned in puzzlement. They pressed in closer to see.
‘I’m going to be in deep fucking shit over this,’ Cliff said. It was the first time she had really heard him swear. He must be under stress, under duress. Bless him. He should try being under a dress.
‘We’ll ditch the bus in Kendal. On the way.’
He looked around, shoulders hunched at the wheel. Someone banged on the doors with a brolly and was ignored. ‘But the Lake District, though… we could escape to anywhere . ..’
Liz had seen his bank statement from the cash machine. He was right but she was firm. ‘I want to be able to return when I want to. It’s escape enough for me.’
‘But the adventure —’
‘Stealing a double-decker bus should be sufficiently adventurous for any man, Cliff.’
Muffled shouting could be heard through the glass. ‘Are you going to…’
‘Now, come on. Let’s take off. Or whatever it is you do.’ Cliff mumbled something and started the engine.
The queue of pensioners at the bus stop, laden down with their shopping, gaped in disbelief as their bus pulled away and roared off, too fast and in the wrong direction.
‘That woman’s got a whole bus to herself!’ someone cried out. ‘Who does she think she is?’
Liz gave them all a regal wave.
Detective Inspector Collins met them all on the bridge. They clustered around her, wet, scratched, bruised and depleted in numbers as if she was their teacher on a school nature ramble. She was trying to shake Tony off. He had been following her around for hours. She called one of her coppers over. ‘Take him home and make him some tea.’
‘Distraught, is he?’ asked the young copper.
‘He’s getting on my tits.’ Collins raised her voice. ‘Everyone. Thanks for all your help. We’ve got a few more leads to go on, but no real success as yet. We’re carrying on through the night and widening the search. I suggest you all go home and get some rest. The TV people and the papers will be round tomorrow to take your pictures and have a word. Thanks again.’
‘Right,’ Jane said. ‘Let’s go and buy some more cider.’
Andy was like a lost puppy standing by
