‘I’ll see youdownstairs,’ Morton said, making a hasty retreat on the basis that if they weretopless they were probably also bottomless, and that wasn’t a sight he wantedto see at three in the morning.
It wasn’t too long before Morton wasjoined in the kitchen by his three weary accomplices. He wondered how hemanaged to look so damn rough in the mornings when Guy and Jeremy managed toeffortlessly appear like they’d just stepped out of the Next catalogue; rippedjeans, fashionable cardigans and ruffled, out-of-bed hair. But theirattire didn’t manage to disguise their deep-seated reservations about the planthat he’d cooked up last night. They were quite right: of course therewere far too many ifs, buts and maybes attached to hisplan but he had to give it a go. He was wearing suitably dark clothingand had repacked the breaking-and-entering rucksack that he’d almost used toget into Dunk’s house yesterday.
Juliette,Jeremy and Guy stared blankly in various directions around the kitchen whileMorton rehearsed, with military precision, exactly how things were going tohappen.
‘Since I’ll bethirty thousand feet in the air when this ridiculous thing unfolds, can I skipthis part and make a drink, please?’ Jeremy asked.
Morton accededwith a nod of his head and continued explaining the plan. He asked ifthey had any questions but there were none. For Morton and Guy, it wastime to say goodbye to Jeremy until he was next granted leave to come home.
‘Right,’ Mortonsaid, breaking a silence that was close to becoming uncomfortable. It wasweird, in the last few days Morton had learned so much about so many things,yet what he most cherished was discovering that he actually liked, no lovedhis brother/cousin, and now here he was about to disappear off with thepossibility of not returning for at least six months and an even greaterpossibility of being posted to Afghanistan. How could Morton puteverything he felt into something that even attempted to summarise hisfeelings? He couldn’t.
The silence inthe pre-dawn kitchen tipped over into the realm of discomfort as Juliette andGuy began to shift awkwardly. Juliette even resorted to a closeinspection of her fingernails, which was something in itself. Morton hadnever known her give a crap about her nails a single day that he’d knownher. It was just too fussy, too girly. He knew that he needed to bethe one to break the stalemate but the words wouldn’t come, they were stucksomewhere in his larynx, refusing to accept the fact that all was well betweenthe two brothers. Instead of speaking, Morton opened his arms and drewJeremy into a long embrace that he hoped would impart everything he needed tosay. As he held Jeremy, a tear escaped down his cheek.
‘Take care,’the pair of them said simultaneously.
The car radio blasted out a dulldocumentary about women in Uganda when Morton switched on the ignition,producing enough decibels to wake the whole street. Just what was neededat four in the morning. He switched it off and drove in silence, his carmimicking the movements of Juliette’s black Ford Ka in front. Juliettehad once suggested that he buy a Ka, a proposal at which he took greatoffence. It was times like that that he wondered if he was the marryingkind. One person forever, even when they suggest things like buying aKa. He knew that now the final bastion to their nuptials had beenunceremoniously crushed he had no reason not to marry her. But then, wasthat a good reason to marry someone? Just because you’ve run outof reasons not to? It seemed a little thin. At least upon marriageJuliette would be taking a name that kind of belonged to him, it was hismother’s maiden name after all. Née Farrier. He recalled the – whatwould it be now, thousands? – of marriage certificates that he’d seen in hiscareer. Would he do as many illegitimates had done before him on marriagecertificates and leave his father’s name and occupation blank, or should hewrite ‘rapist’ under occupation? He was fairly sure that hadn’t been donebefore and might raise the registrar’s eyebrows.
The villagestreets that he passed through were unsurprisingly silent; just the Mini andthe Ka playing pre-dawn cat and mouse.
The Ka slowedas it entered Sedlescombe village then pulled in beside the Clockhouse Tearoom,close to where Morton had woken with urine-soaked boxers and a large pair ofpendulous breasts staring him in the face. Such a fond memory. Morton tucked the Mini neatly behind the Ka and climbed out. The villagewas, as he expected, completely dead. Not a single light but for thesporadic sodium street lamps dotted along the road and not a single noise butfor Guy, climbing out of the driver’s side and unlocking the Ka boot.
‘Ready?’ Guywhispered.
Mortonnodded. Ready as he ever would be, he thought, acknowledging for thefirst time the prickling in his intestines.
‘It’s not toolate to go back, you know,’ Guy said. ‘Call this whole thing off?’
‘Nope. Let’s do it,’ Morton said, bundling himself into the tiny confines of the Kaboot. He wasn’t someone who had suffered claustrophobia before but thesplit-second that the lid came down and the lock crunched darkness into place,he felt as though he’d been mummified. It was a good job this was goingto be a short journey. He was grateful not to be in pitch darkness; amuted red glow penetrated in from the rear lights. Not that there wasanything to see squashed in the foetal position in a car boot at four in the morninganyway.
As the Ka beganto move off, Morton suddenly had the thought that he could just have walkedinto the biggest trap of his life. What if Guy was double-crossinghim? He might be an undercover operative working for theWindsor-Sackvilles. No, that would just be ridiculous, he’d seen theway that Jeremy and Guy got together at the Sedlescombe Village Fete; that was sonot pre-planned. Unless Jeremy was involved, too. No, thiswas just hysteria talking. Either way, it would be just a few secondsuntil he found out.
The Ka spedalong for a few seconds then drew to an abrupt halt. They were at thefront gates of Charingsby.
He heardtalking and strained his ears but couldn’t catch
