ft Duration: 3 minutes
my eyes
my teeth
Tape 1, Tuesday 11.30 pm
Duration: 1 minute
oh god
horrible
: The office door opened. Nathan jumped.
It was Justin. He leaned, cross-armed, in the doorway -- working ,, at being rakish and hungover. 'Christ. You look awful.'
Nathan crushed Bob's letter in his fist. 'Cheers.'
'Can't take the pace?' He walked in, closing the door behind him.
His perfumy bulk took up much of Nathan's little office and the smell -- stale booze and tiny breath mints and too much Issey Miyake - was intimate and revolting, like busy airport toilets. Nathan breathed through his mouth.
Justin said: 'Just like old times.'
'Yep.'
'Before she tied you down.'
'She didn't tie me down.'
'Anyway. We should do it again.'
'Yeah.'
Justin said, 'Cool,' and left the office without bothering to close the door. Nathan leaned over to close it, then called Bob from his desk phone.
'Bob. It's me --'
'Did you get it?'
'Yes, I got it. What the fuck did you think you were doing?'
'Did you read it?'
'No,' said Nathan, and glanced through the office window. The new graduate trainee stood, infinitely bored, at the photocopier.
Every few seconds, he was scanned by a bar of light.
Then Nathan said, 'Listen, Bob. We've been through a lot of stress, all right? I mean, really a great deal of stress. And stress does funny things. It's dangerous. What you need, you need to get away for a while. Get away for a few days. Book yourself a holiday.'
'Don't patronize me. You're the one who's denying the evidence.'
'Evidence
of what? A voice you think you can hear on a blank iT3V
tape? Jesus Christ, have you got the slightest idea how mad that sounds? I mean, even the faintest inkling?'
In the silence that followed, Nathan could hear Bob, breathing through his nostrils, until he said: 'I know about this stuff Nathan wanted to light a cigarette. Instead, he pressed on his temples with his thumb and second finger and spoke very carefully.
'Okay. We're not going to agree about this. We're just not. So answer me one question. What bearing does this have on the rest of-- the project?'
'Are you referring to the recovered materials?'
'Yes, I am referring to the recovered materials.'
'Well, obviously it changes everything. We can't just destroy them.'
Nathan stood up so abruptly the telephone lifted from the desk and hung there, spinning on its cord.
'And why not?'
'Because we need to give her a proper burial.'
'And how do you propose to do that?'
'I don't know.'
'Bob, this is totally unacceptable, this is completely unacceptable.'
'It's completely non-negotiable.'
'There's no way I'm doing this.'
'There must be a way. Even if it means we go to prison.'
I'm afraid I don't see how that would improve the situation.'
She's haunting us. Do you know what that means?'
What are you talking about?'
She's lonely. And she's angry. She's really, really angry.'
Incredibly, Bob began to snivel.
Nathan took this in. And said: 'We'll talk about this later. Don't do anything hasty. Please. Promise me that.'
Fine.'
'Hasty about what?' said Angela, who was standing in the doorway, about to offer him a cup of tea.
Nathan screamed.
31
He and Bob met in the park. They sat on a bench, watching children play. The wind flapped at the tail of Nathan's coat. He was smoking a cigarette.
Nathan said, 'Bob, what you have -- what we both have - is a burden of guilt. All right? You've got to face that. You've got to face it head-on, and you've got to deal with it. You've got to get through it.'
'I don't feel guilty. Why should I?'
'Because we both fucked a nineteen-year-old girl who died. And we buried her in secret. We buried her naked and face down in the fucking woods with our come still dripping down her legs, and nobody ever found her.'
Bob shrugged again.
'Guilt isn't the problem.'
Nathan stood. 'This is going nowhere.'
We have to bury her. No choice.'
'I have to get back to work. So let me think about this. Don't make any rash decisions. We'll work this out. Okay?'
'Fine.' Bob stood too, massive hands buried deep in the pockets of his blue-grey overcoat.
'Okay,' said Nathan.
They walked away in different directions.
Even before reaching the park gates, Nathan had called Justin's mobile. They agreed to meet in the Cricketer's in half an hour. By the time Nathan arrived, Justin was on his second pint. He stood, shaking Nathan's hand. He and Justin were always shaking hands; they shook hands half a dozen times a day. It was a ritual they had fallen into, long ago.
There were drinks waiting for him: a double whisky and a pint of lager. Nathan had downed the whisky before unbuttoning his coat.
Justin asked, 'To what do I owe the privilege this time?'
Nathan removed his coat and laid it over the empty stool. His phone rang. He turned it off. He sipped lager.
Justin said, 'I wish you'd tell me what was wrong.'
'Nothing's wrong. Except that, of all the possible best friends in the world, I end up with you.'
'It's not so bad.'
'Nah,' said Nathan. 'It's not so bad.'
He was late home. Holly was waiting. She was pretending to watch television. 'Where have you been?'
'With Justin. Having a beer.'
