Cloud Cuckoo Land Page 17
Someone had stopped above Lena’s head, which was a bonus. He’d planted his big feet slightly apart and Lena watched, grinning, as a shadow grew and became a bag placed on the ground next to him. Sometimes the strangers stood there for ages hardly moving, then the orange butt of a cigarette would land nearby, still alight, and then the feet would move off.
‘Nan?’
‘Yes, dear.’
‘This might be a stupid question, but do you believe that the choices we make, I mean what we actually do in our lives, has anything at all to do with what actually happens to us in our lives?’
Beryl was struggling to lift the roll of paper onto its locating bar. She managed to get the end on and it slid down gently.
‘Yes and no.’
Someone knocked on the boiler room door.
‘I’ll get it.’
Lena rolled off her bed and ran to the door. She checked who it was through the broken glass, then opened it.
‘Hello, Leonard! Come in. Leonard?’
‘Yes?’
‘When you were young, what did you think you would be doing when you got old?’
‘I’m not old.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘I don’t know, I think I wanted to be an expert in something, something not too hectic, maybe a violin teacher. I wanted an ordered, genteel life, with a bust of Beethoven on the mantel, and climbing plants flowering on the outside of the house, and students jogging past in pairs from the nearby university.’
‘So it didn’t work out then?’
‘No, not really.’
Lena walked through the boiler room and Leonard followed. She ran over to her bed and came back with a blue bundle.
‘Here.’
Leonard shook out the material and held it up in front of him.
‘It’s your jumper!’
‘Looks great.’
He pulled it over his head and stuck his arms through the sleeves.
‘Feels good.’
‘Looks very, very good.’
Beryl was bending over the printing machinery watching some test sheets roll off.
‘How’s our hero, then?’
‘A bit pissed off, really.’
‘Do you really like it?’
Leonard rolled the roll neck over and turned back the sleeves.
‘Yes, it’s great. Thank you, Lena.’
Beryl came towards Leonard waving an empty sheet of newsprint.
‘Come on then, give me a full report. If I get going, I can run a last minute newsflash in this edition! You can be my roving reporter, my man on the ground. It’s quite a scoop to have inside information on the survival project. Well, what’s it like up there?’
Leonard looked at her; he smiled at her energy and her intention. Political activism had never been his thing.
‘In a nut-shell, it’s kind of disturbing.’
Beryl took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes; she looked him over.
‘Been in the wars, have you?’
‘Got chased around a bit, yeah. The place is full of dog-eat-dog characters, God knows how they’ll run things if they do survive the Ice Moon.’
‘Same as before, I should think. Don’t forget, Leonard, you are just one man and one man can only do so much.’
Leonard hadn’t thought of that. The history of the world was pretty sordid and the rise and fall of empires would probably continue. But it still pissed him off.
‘I’m a fool for coming to the city in the first place.’
‘Oh, I don’t agree, lad. It was either that or wait for doomsday at home with your feet up.’
‘I’m a bloody coward, Beryl. I’ve always been a terrible coward.’
‘Oh, I don’t think so, not from what I’ve seen you’re not. At worst you’re a bit of an introvert, but that’s no bad thing. I think you’re about ready to show your true colours.’
‘I’m not sure I’ve got what it takes to be a bloody hero.’
Beryl held her hand up to stop him speaking.
‘Something’s burning.’
‘What?’
Leonard followed her through to the kitchen where she adjusted the dials on the cooker, and fine-tuned them as if she were cracking a safe.
‘Where were we?’
‘I haven’t got what it takes.’
‘You’ll be marvellous, I know you will. Now what about a catchy headline for the paper? What about something like: Gangsters buy out survival project!’
Beryl grabbed Leonard’s hand and walked him back to the printing press.
‘Between you and me, Leonard, this was never going to be a fair fight, was it?’
‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me about the tag in my bloody lip?’
‘Hah! Bet you were glad of it when they scanned you though, eh? Did you know that anyone who turns up uninvited at the construction site and without a tag, is disposed of!’
‘What?’
Lena stepped up and peeled back her top lip.
‘Look, I’ve got one too.’
Beryl shushed Lena away.
‘They take themselves very seriously up there, Leonard. They’re far too paranoid about security to let anyone who isn’t tagged live after seeing the site. You found it though, so now you should believe me, and you should thank us, Lena and I, we’ve given you your ticket to the future. Sit down, Leonard. If you don’t mind me being direct, you look shagged out.’
He slumped down at the table and rubbed his face in his hands.
‘Why didn’t you tell me about the stapler gun business?’
‘Well, it was a bit of a test, really. If you did come back after finding out, you really didn’t have to, well then you were the right person to take care of Lena.’
‘Why didn’t you ask me to take her along, we could have gone up and just stayed there ‘til impact.’
‘First of all I wanted to be sure that the site was operational. Second, it’s too soon, there’s likely to be all sorts of monkey business going on over the next few weeks. I want to keep my eye on Lena for as long as I can.’
‘I can make sure Lena gets to the site.’
‘We’ll see, but you’ll have to watch your back you silly sod, I don’t want you being arrested now, do I!’
‘I’ll do my best.’
‘Do you want to eat with us?’
‘OK.’
‘Lena, set the table.’
Beryl waited for Lena to disappear, then she turned on Leonard.
‘If I’m not very much mistaken, you’ve been a busy boy, haven’t you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know full-well what I mean. I told you to watch yourself. Didn’t I say it was a bad idea to get involved with Adeline?’
‘Look, it’s my bloody business!’
‘What’s left of it is important to me too! I wonder what it’s going to cost you, this bit of adult recreation? What’s the C.O.D.?’
‘Tony’s credit note says that I have to leave the city. But I don’t know for sure. If I get picked up now, I’ll probably just be thrown in jail.’
‘Brilliant! Well that’s no good to me is it, not now your job is to look after Lena!’
‘I had no choice, I’m sorry, I…’
Leonard’s face coloured up.
‘I understand, Leonard, you couldn’t think straight and you made a mistake. Do you have any feelings for the girl?’
Leonard shrugged.
◊
You wouldn’t have imagined it but Beryl was a convenience cook, a woman formed by her time, stuck in the era of prawn cocktails for starters, where you make the sauce with half salad cream, half ketchup. Then Coq au Vin and a jacket potato for main course, and you finish up with syrup pudding and custard, whipped cream and ice cream, all the stuff that’ll kill you.
Beryl had been quiet at the table, she’d let Lena go on about this and that. When Leonard had finished stuffing himself, he looked across at her and she seemed anxious. She was clearing u
p and she was worried because she couldn’t find the top of the mustard. She backed her chair away from the table and excused herself. She found the lid in the kitchen, then washed up and wouldn’t let Leonard help.
Lena stopped talking and watched him for a few minutes. They were still sat at the table, but with everything except the tablecloth cleared away. Leonard was studying the white weave up close because it wasn’t just white, there was a foliage pattern hidden inside the white.
‘You’re a silly sod aren’t you, Leonard?’
He looked up at Lena, with her elbows on the table and her head in her hands.
‘Oh, and how did you reach that conclusion?’
‘Nan says so, but you’re quite nice, and the main thing is you’re capable; Nan says that that’s really the main thing.
‘Lena?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’ve got a plan, but I need the tagging gun.’
‘A plan?’
Leonard stood up and started to fold the tablecloth.
‘Can you get me the tagging gun?’
‘It’s a pistol.’
‘Where is it kept?’
‘Warden keeps it in his apartment.’
‘OK, I’ve got my interview tomorrow so Warden’ll be busy and his apartment will be empty. So what do you think, can you get it?’
‘But you said there was a plan, what’s the overall plan?’
‘I want to start an alternative passenger list, Lena. I’d like to add a rebellious element and tag some outsiders.’
◊
The pudding was lying heavy in his gut but it was warming too, all that sugar and suet, high-energy food. So he was slow up the stairs to the lounge. He probably needed to sleep but the idea of lying flat out with his eyes closed was not good. He felt vulnerable now, it seemed like every avenue might lead to a sticky end.
Harry was slapping the top of the reception desk with his hands, in a rhythm known only to himself because he was wearing headphones. As soon as he saw Leonard, he stopped slapping and switched off.
‘Leonard.’
‘Harry.’
‘Ah, there seems to be some bad news in your pigeonhole.’
‘Do you read my mail, Harry?’
‘Of course I read your mail, how am I supposed to provide a first class service if I don’t know what’s going on?’
Harry passed the envelope over and Leonard opened it.
‘What’s it say?’
‘You know what it says.’
‘Well, yeah but…’
‘It’s the C.O.D. for last night, says I’ve got twenty-four hours to leave the city. When did this arrive, Harry?’
‘I didn’t see, but some time this morning I suppose. You’d better tread carefully.’
‘Has anyone been in looking for me?’
‘Well yeah, people have been in looking for you, all right. That one in particular has been keeping a lookout, on and off for days.’
Leonard turned and recognised Raymond sitting in one of the dusty, raspberry-coloured armchairs, with his head in a newspaper.
‘Look, don’t worry about it, Leonard. One day we’ll all be sitting on a beach somewhere and we’ll laugh about all of this.’
Leonard folded the envelope and tucked it into his back pocket.
‘No, Harry, no, we won’t.’
◊
Raymond waited in the lounge while Leonard went up to his room. He lowered the newspaper and stuck a finger in between his shirt collar and his neck. It was warm and his throat was dry so he wandered over to the bar and asked for a glass of water. He just had time to knock it back before Leonard came through the lounge with a rucksack and a shoulder bag.
Raymond followed him out and watched him pile into a white Mercedes. Raymond jogged across the street to where he’d parked his car. He loved his car, a blue Austin Morris 1300 with balding tyres. Not the standard model but the Vanden Plas, which meant chrome bumpers, tan leather seats and a curved, walnut dash.
Leonard had started the Mercedes and was pulling away from the kerb. Raymond twisted the key in the door lock and the thing that looks like a golf tee, popped up. He jumped in, started the engine and pulled away. He had to hold the choke out for a couple of streets but then it was OK, he stayed with the Mercedes, no problem. He rolled his window down and rested his arm on the mossy rubber sill and grabbed the roof trim. This was his favourite driving position, with his forearm braced in the window.
The Mercedes pulled into a petrol station. Raymond overshot and parked up. He watched Leonard fill the car, then pay the bill with three bottles of whisky. He’d been bloody lucky to stumble on a station that actually still had some gas. The car then rejoined the road and headed south out of town, picking up speed on the longer stretches of straight road. Raymond kept pace, but on the uphill slopes he was starting to fall behind, he was pushing the engine, over-revving really but he didn’t want to lose Leonard.
When the Merc turned off onto a lane and stopped at a farmhouse, Raymond kept his distance and pulled onto a muddy track in between two brick barns.
◊
Leonard felt quite a lot like a returning parent because Reggie had flour on his shoes and there was a smell of burning oil as soon as he opened the door.
‘What’s going on?’
Reggie had a tea-towel in his hand, and replied as he was walking back into the kitchen.
‘Come in, we’re making pancakes.’
It was true, they were. The boys had it all kind of loosely organised. There were eggshells and used bowls, packs of flour and a good few spoons and forks lying around on the work tops, with pancake mix dripping off them. Dave was standing by the stove, he had a hot iron skillet oiled up and Reggie’s job was to scoop up a big spoonful of mix from the bowl on the table and pour it in. Dave then rolled the pan, so the mix spread out evenly.
‘Hi, Dave.’
‘You’ve got to try one of these, Leonard. Sit down and we’ll do one for you.’
Reggie was on his way with the spoon. It was the unskilled part of the job, but he wanted to get it right. He scooped up and moved carefully past the TV that was on but with the sound down. He shuffled across the kitchen to the stove and tipped the pancake mix out into the pan.
‘The pan’s too hot.’
‘It’s got to be hot, you’ve got to cook them quickly.’
‘I don’t like ‘em burned.’
‘Just watch, I know how to do this, Reg.’
‘Fair enough, but don’t say I didn’t warn…’
Dave held his finger up and Reggie didn’t finish, the often-used phrase must have become a sore point. Dave turned to Leonard.
‘He cooks everything in the microwave.’
‘Yeah, and he puts bloody cumin and coriander in his baked beans.’
‘Yeah, and you like them, Reggie.’
‘Not that much.’
Leonard sat down and Reggie brought him a plate with a wedge of lemon and the sugar.
‘Mind, plate’s hot.’
Leonard tested the plate by tapping the edge with the palm of his hand; it was scalding hot. He pointed at the television.
‘Are you watching that, then?’
Reggie turned and looked at the screen.
‘We like the TV on in the background, but it’s better with the sound turned off.’
The TV was tuned to a public information broadcast showing how to survive the asteroid impact by hiding under the stairs.
‘You ready, Leonard?’
‘Yeah.’
‘How many do you think you can eat?’
‘Let’s see how we go.’
Dave turned and flopped the pancake onto the plate, and Leonard leaned in to smell it. Up close, it was like looking at a still photograph of the blistering sun, with dark spots and spiralling, solar flares. It gave off heat too, like on a summers day, and Leonard had to douse it in lemon juice and fold it into quarters to get rid of the idea of the scorched star.
‘Good?’
Reg tipped another scoop onto the smoking pan.
‘You two seem to be getting on famously then?
Reggie bent down to Leonard’s ear and answered.
‘Well, we’ve had a few poachers about, what with food being scarce, so Dave’s been keeping an eye on the livestock. He’s been pulling his weight, he helps out with milking and well, it’s just good to have another pair of hands around the place. He loves to use the axe; he loves splitting the wood right down the middle. He brings the freshly cut logs down to show me. I think it’s because I told him this old wives tale which says: when you split the log, you can see God.’
◊
Raymond stood beside the barn, watching the house. He looked like a bit-part actor, a red herring in a detective series. He looked up at the sky and figured that it would be dark soon, so he’d probably be sleeping in the car. There was a sleeping bag in the boot but the seats weren’t recliners, it was likely to be a very uncomfortable night. He had a thermos of sweet tea and a packet of Jaffa cakes in the glove box. These days, though, Raymond was not such a keen action man; he liked to crawl into a bed at night, preferably his own bed.
Nothing from the house, a puff of smoke from the chimney, that was all. He turned, walked along the side of the barn and stopped when he came to the edge of open fields. It was a banal landscape, laid out like an extended golf course with rolling hills, water hazards and screens of poplar trees. It was a manmade landscape, not good hiking country. If you walked through this, you’d feel no benefit, you’d just be bored to death. He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and tried to imagine how he could make himself comfortable in the car. Thing was, before he could turn, he was grabbed from behind, his arms were trapped at his sides and a heavy hand covered his mouth and closed off his airways. He couldn’t see who was doing all this. He tried to turn, but whomever it was, stayed behind. His vision was fogging up because he couldn’t catch a breath, his legs buckled and he fell to the ground.
◊
The action hadn’t moved on much when Raymond regained consciousness, it was still the same episode with Raymond lying flat out on the floor and the yob standing over him. The yob wasn’t a big fella but he was youngish and threatening. Raymond recognised the man, the froggy face was familiar and he’d seen him around, sucking up to the Warden.