Dreamside (25 page)

"But what can be done? What can we
do?"

Burns
paused. Ella couldn't look at him. Her eyes settled instead upon his hands,
which he was twisting together. "Undo what was done."

"How?
How can you undo what isn't there?"

"How did it come
to be? Dismiss it in the same way. This is the best help I can give you. But
beware. This is the danger of dream-side: those who stay too long may never be
allowed back. All four of you have stayed too long."

The
professor pressed his hands together, as if in prayer. Then he looked nervously
over his shoulder at the road behind.

"Are you cold, Professor?"

"Oh yes, cold.
Always cold.
Stop the car. I
will get out. Then you must think that this meeting never really
happened."

Ella
coasted to a stop on the hard shoulder. Burns got out and closed the door.
Nothing more was said. She steered back onto the motorway. Through the
rear-view mirror she could see him staring after her. Then she blinked, and saw
the girl gazing at her from the spot where he had stood. The figure of the girl
diminished in the distance.

Ella was
becoming unstuck. So many overwhelming things were happening she could only try
to move with the flow. The old forms had to be abandoned. She had to learn new,
simpler rules for existing:
can I feel it /does it stop me?
Who was that
in the car with her a moment ago?
The professor?
The girl?
Or neither, just phantoms
gathering out of a zone of madness they had come to call
the dreamside.

She had to
keep herself together long enough to get Brad back to the others. That was the
only important thing now. She continued her journey braced against further
horrors. Three hours later she stopped the car outside an isolated cottage.

Lee had
told her to look out for two cottages, but all she could see was this one and
the charred and blackened shell of another burned-down building near by. The
roof had gone and a side wall had fallen in. At the holes where window and door
frames had all been burned out, the stone was charred with soot patches like great
black rags hung upside-down. Ella could still detect the smell of charred wood
in the air.

Fixed
beside the door of the remaining cottage, however, was a split wooden plaque
bearing the name Elderwine, just as Lee had described. Ella walked right in.

In the
first room she entered, she saw Brad Cousins in yellowing underclothes,
lounging on an old sofa. His feet were drawn up beneath him, and he was blowing
smoke at the ceiling.

"I've been waiting for you," he said.

"You're the second person
today," said Ella.

EIGHT

MERCY: I
was a-dreaming that I sat all alone in a

solitary
place and was bemoaning of the
hardness

of
my heart

—John
Bunyan

"Is this the best you can
do?" Ella, in her WWII flying jacket
,
stood
framed in the shadowy doorway. She looked to Brad like a modern Valkyrie, or
some other messenger of the gods, come to peck at his liver.

"You
look great," he said, "the crow's feet under your eyes give you
character, though your breasts have sagged. Also your jaw has slackened off,
which has lifted the venom sacs from under your lip. Really, you look better.
Where did you land the Spitfire?"

"I could have
landed a small aircraft in your mouth. That hasn't changed."

"Give
me one of those godawful poseur's cigarettes you always smoke."

Ella
swept newspapers and empty brown ale bottles from a chair on to the floor. She
inspected the seat closely before deciding to sit. Expertly hand-rolling one of
her liquorice-paper cigarettes, she tossed it to Brad. "This place makes
me want to puke."

"Well,
we didn't know the princess was coming."

"Thought
you said you were expecting me?"

"The
servants are away this week."

"You're
almost coherent—I'm surprised. That must mean something's wrong. I thought
you'd be drunk."

"Dear
old Ella; she's very clever. And she'd fuck anyone for
fourpence
."

Ella
only shrugged. "You can do better than that, a man of your bile."

"Have
you really come to peck at my liver?"

"Don't
be obscure."

"Never mind.
Never you mind, me old princess." He hoisted himself up off the
sofa, swaying slightly as he came forward and stood over her, uncomfortably
close in his filthy T-shirt and yellow-stained underpants. Lee's graphic
descriptions hadn't been exaggerated. His hair was matted and his stubbled
chin was stained by something saffron colored he must have eaten recently. The
smell of his unwashed body turned Ella's stomach.

He
had a bad look in his eye as he stood provocatively near, arms dangling at his
side, puffing on his cigarette, waiting for some kind of reaction. She wanted
to tell him that he smelled like the carcass of something washed up and
rotting on a beach. She thought better of it, taking a pull on her own
cigarette and meeting his eyes, but as if with infinite patience. It was always
possible he might just smash her in the face.

He
snapped his fingers loudly and turned away to find his bottle. "Do you
want a drink me old princess me old duchess me old empress? Do you?"

"Oh
it's a cocktail bar! And I thought I was in a hovel! I'll pass, but don't let
me stop you from getting any further out of focus."

Brad
slumped back on the couch with his whisky. "How's your boyfriend? He paid
me a courtesy call recently—we go back a long way you know—he wanted me to join
his golf club.
Had to disappoint him.
Don't even know
why he came. And a couple of weeks later, here you are. Imagine."

"Imagine.
One more and we'd have the full set."

Brad
scowled. "But what could Ella want with me, eh? What could the old harpy
want with Brad?"

"Still
pretending, are we Brad?"

"Pretending?
Pretending what?"

"Pretending
we're not pretending."

"Gibberish.
With a capital
ish
."

"Why did you call us, Brad?"

He
looked at Ella with contempt.
"You
what?"

"You
called us."

"Talk
shit."

"I
always could out-guess you, Brad. You never liked that, did you? Now that I see
you, I'm more certain than ever it was you."

"You
don't come here to lecture me; I know what you are. You're dirt. You're
diseased!
Unhinged!"

Ella
went over to Brad and kneeled down beside the sofa. She put her hand into his
matted hair. "You're still a boy, aren't you Brad?
A big
boy, but still a boy."

"Piss
off! Get the fuck out of here!" But he made no attempt to pull back from
her.

"You
know, Brad, for a long time I thought it was Honora, going back there, shrouded
in guilt. But it was you, wasn't it? You started it again. We were all asleep,
for years; then you went back there, and you needed us, so you woke us all up.
Didn't you, Brad? You called us."

"Just
go would you? Just go." Something in Brad's voice had fractured.

"Here
I am, Brad."

"No."

"You
have to tell me, Brad. You have to."

"No!"

"It
can't go on. You know it. You have to tell me."

Brad
looked at her. She had never seen such desperation. "She's out there,
Ella."

"Who?"

"She's
out there. She's hungry."

"Who's
out there?
Honora?"

"No
no
no
no
no
. Not her.
She."

"But
who is she? You must tell me."

"Out
there.
She's
hungry. She wants to eat me . . . the little girl."

"How
can a little girl hurt you, Brad?"

"She's
not a little girl.
Just pretending.
Disguised.
She hates me. She wants to eat me. Stop looking at me like that." Brad
buried his head in the sofa. "Stop it!"

"Why
can't I look at you?"

"Because I'm disgusting.
I'm a leper. Don't look at me, Ella."

Ella
pulled Brad to her, and cradled his head in her lap, stroking his filthy,
matted hair as he cried. It was an hour before his sobbing subsided.

They
were standing in the kitchen. "When did you sleep last?"

Ella
had salvaged and scoured four of Brad's biggest saucepans. She had filled them
with water and they were heating on the front and back plates of the filthy
electric cooker. The water began to bubble.

"I
haven't slept for three days and nights. I'm too scared to sleep."

 
"Like the rest of us then. Well? Are you
going to bring it in?" Brad shuffled uncomfortably. "Come on, do
it," said Ella.

 
Brad went out of the back door and returned
clumsily manoeuvring an old tin bath. "Where shall I put it?" he asked
pathetically. Ella wiped the tin bath with a damp rag until she was satisfied
that it was as clean as she was going to get it,
then
poured in the hot water. It amounted to about three inches in the bottom of the
bath. This was topped up with cold water, and the four saucepans were
immediately refilled and set to boil.

"What
are you waiting for?" she said. "I'm certainly not going to undress
you."

Brad stared
back at her, and eventually began fumbling with his underclothes. Undressed, he
climbed into the bath and drew his knees up around him. "It's not very
warm," he said sulkily.

Ella
produced her leather holdall, from which she withdrew soap, sponge, scrubbing
brush, towels, razors, shaving brush, shaving soap, scissors, combs, shampoo,
deodorants and cologne. She lined them up on the kitchen table like a surgeon's
equipment. Then she set to work, vigorously scrubbing Brad's neck and
shoulders.

"Steady!" shouted Brad.

Ella didn't ease up. "It's
disgusting."

"You're enjoying this, aren't
you!
"

"It's what I live for."

She
splashed soapy water over his head, and drew the line at washing him below the
waist.

"You would have, once."

"Never;
and don't forget it." She tossed a jug of cold water over his head by way
of emphasis.

The water
turned black. She refilled the bath with more hot water from the stove,
reheating pans all the time. After washing his hair, she proceeded to cut it
none too carefully, telling him that it was fashionable to look like someone
from a thirties soup kitchen. He said he doubted it.

"I met
someone on the way down here," said Ella as she snipped recklessly close
to Brad's ears. "I gave him a lift. He gave me some advice before he got
out of the car. He said . . ."

"Watch
my ear for
chrissake
!"

"Sorry
... He said we should undo what was done."

"Big help."

"Do
you know what he meant?"

"Christ!
Watch my ears will you! That was deliberate!"

"Sorry.
This man—at least at first I thought he was a man,
then
I thought he might be just a phantom, from dreamside—was helping me. He was a friend.
At least he seemed to be."

"Other
things have happened."

Ella was
careful to release only part of the story. If she mentioned the girl at this
point, it would all be over. "That's the trouble. Not being able to tell
the difference, I mean. That's why it's dangerous."

Brad just
stared into the murky water which was turning cold around his genitals. He was
pink with scrubbing. His ears were sore from clippings gone wide of the mark,
deliberate or otherwise. He was beginning to feel sober and he was beginning to
feel ridiculous. Ella whisked up a lather of shaving soap, sculpted it around
his jaw and set in with the razor.

"I'm
relieved you're doing this with us Brad. It's the only way."

"Did
Honora agree to it?"

"She
will."

"I
don't see what good it can do."

"Just
don't change your mind."

"Did
you ever tell Lee about us?" he said suddenly.

She didn't
stop shaving him. "There was nothing to tell."