need some araldite) an old washing up bowl for washing the prints in, tape to light-seal the cupboard and plenty of discarded cat-litter trays that could serve as print-developing trays although he had all this, when he ran an inventory against the list he realized there were still things missing: some print fixer, developer, stop bath, a safelight. As he stared at the list a nervous tic started in the corner of his eye. Stop bath the book said he could make that from vinegar if necessary, but a safelight? A safelight, fixer and developer these were things he could only get from a supplier. Face twitching with frustration, he wandered around the flat muttering to himself, checking and checking again that there'd been no mistake, that there weren't bottles hidden in some dark corner. But no if he was going to get these photos developed he'd have to go down to Balham and maybe even spend some money.
Out of the living-room window the moon was bathing Brockwell Park in silver, but Roland Klare, immensely discouraged now, wasn't interested in the view. He drew the blind, dropped down on the sofa, clicked on the television and sat for several hours, staring at it blankly.
Seventeen.
(23 July)
He went to Shrivemoor. It was the only place to go. He was composed enough to put a suit in the car for the next day, to put the malt whisky into a carrier-bag on the back seat, and to pack most of Penderecki's stash away in the under-stairs cupboard. The video cassettes and the zip disks those he took with him.
The offices were empty. He switched on all the fluorescents, rinsed a mug in the kitchen, filled it with the malt, and went into the SIO's room, where he sat and watched the snake of car headlights down below.
Well, Jack, now look at your pretty little CV…
That was rape. Wasn't it? Everything had been a green light until No. He could turn it inside out, reinvent it, excuse it, but the hard fact remained it had been rape. He had hurt her, her mouth had been bleeding. Maybe it meant she was right, and maybe that was what she wanted, to prove that he was out of control. He sighed and put his head in his hands. There were so many games to play. So many obstacles.
Caffery sat at his desk into the early hours of the morning, facing out of the window, letting himself get drunk on Laphroaig and London tap water while outside the city folded down for the night.
Hal Church got up early and dressed in blue jersey shorts and a T-shirt. 'You look like a tourist,' he told the mirror. 'A middle-aged tourist.' He went round the house locking all the windows, set up a lamp on a security timer on the first landing and put his AA card on the dashboard of the Daewoo. He stopped for a moment in the garage, the smell of new paint and varnish overlaid with petrol, the sunlight a crack of white under the roll-up garage doors, the back seat piled with the polystyrene icebox and Josh's old Pokemons. Here he was, an adult, his own child to take on holiday, a wife. He had the sudden aching sense that his life was whistling past him, stirring the hair on his arms it was going so fast. Where did time go where did life go?
By eight the sun was hot in the back garden, the sky a still, absorbent blue, and Josh's paddling-pool had a thin scum of dead insects and grass floating on it. Hal turned it over to drain. 'Come on, Smurf.' He pulled the Labrador back by her collar, stopping her lapping the water from the grass. 'Time for a walk, old girl.'
When they got back Josh was in the kitchen eating Golden Grahams with a soup spoon. He was wearing his Obi-Wan Kenobi T-shirt, and Benedicte, dressed in a grey cord shirt of Hal's, capri pants and deck shoes, was opening a can of mandarins in syrup.
'Morning.' He leaned over and kissed Josh on the head. His son grunted and went on eating. 'Morning, darling.' He kissed Benedicte's cheek. 'Sleep well?'
'Yup.' She plopped the segments into a glass bowl, hooked one up into her mouth, and shoved the bowl in front of Josh, who scowled at it. Hal hung up Smurf's lead on the back of the door and watched Benedicte out of the corner of his eye. She was upset about something, he could see he watched her take her coffee cup to the fridge, smell the milk, frown, hold it up to the light, tilt it one way then another, then dribble some in her coffee and turn to face him. 'Hal.'
Here it comes, he thought. 'Yes?'
'Hal, did you let Smurf upstairs again?'
'What?'
Benedicte sighed. She wasn't in a good mood and there was so much to be done before they could leave, and when she'd gone into the bathroom that morning she'd found something that had upset her.
'She got up to the top floor and pissed on my laundry basket.' Hal and Josh looked at each other, Josh stifling a giggle, and that annoyed her. 'It's not funny, you know. You can clean it up if she pisses on the bed again.'
'Hang on. She was locked down here when I got up this morning.' Hal was serious now. 'Josh? You didn't let her out last night, did you?'
'Uh.' Josh clicked the spoon against his teeth, thinking about this. 'No.' He shook his head. 'I never. She must of got there herself.'
'And that,' Benedicte put the milk back in the fridge and went to the sink to rinse her fingers under the tap, 'that is the smoking gun. Mr. Hal Church, you stand accused.'
Hal stuck his tongue out at her. 'Well, I didn't do it, Miss Smart A-R-S-E.' He went into the hallway and took the keys from the telephone table.
'Where are you going?'
'To cancel the newspapers.' He turned and stuck out his tongue again. 'And get away from you, you big girl.'
Benedicte thumbed her nose back at him. 'See if I care.'
Hal checked that Josh couldn't see and quickly dropped his trousers, giving her a glimpse of his buttocks, then straightened and slammed the door behind him. Benedicte snorted loudly through her nose and Josh looked up.
'What?'
'Nothing.' She smiled to herself and put the cafetiere in the sink. You know how to get round me, Hal, you bastard. She banged around the kitchen a bit, emptying coffee grounds, putting ties on the cereal packs. Josh finished his mandarins and took Smurf into the family room to watch TV: Honey I Shrunk the Kids. Benedicte scooped a little water into her mouth from the tap her tongue was burred this morning, heavy in her mouth. Then she looked up at the clock and suddenly realized it was even later than she thought.
'Oh, fuckety-fuck.' She pushed hair out of her eyes. 'Only an hour. Josh, go and clean your teeth, tadpole.' She closed the back door and locked it. Over the fence the trees bristled with noise, a breeze rustling through the leaves, hissing like rain. God, but she hated that park. She turned to put the plates away, moving quickly. 'Josh, come on.' He was still on the floor in the family room, black currant juice round his mouth, his usual cushion on his chest why does he need a cushion clutched to his chest just to concentrate on the TV? Watching Ren and Stimpy… Funny, I thought he was watching Honey I Shrunk the Kids.
I'm going mad, she thought, it must be the stress. The moment Hal got back they'd have to get moving. 'O-o- oh, Ha-al,' she said aloud, to the closed front door. 'Hurry up. We're going to be late, Hal.'
'We're going to be late, Hal,' Josh imitated from the sofa.
'Yeah, very funny.' She put her hand to her head. 'Josh, I thought I told you to…' But she couldn't remember what she'd told him to do the colours on the TV were distracting her. They looked like they'd been blocked in by someone on PCP: the purples were the most saturated, like the juice of irises, the yellows the heartbreakingly pure yellow of pollen.
'The purple st purples,' she murmured, leaning against the sink. 'The blossom est blossom.' Outside, in the glaring sun, the grass seemed to be swaying in slow motion. For a moment she thought she might be sick, and there was that awful thickness in her mouth again. And, now she thought about it, hadn't the coffee tasted odd? 'Josh Come on, Ben, get yourself together 'Josh, Mummy's going to lie down, OK? Tell Daddy when he comes in.'
'Kay.'
Maybe I'll just lie down here, on the floor, it looks soft enough.
