Mouse (19 page)

‘Will do, thanks, Mr Caldwell.’ He got up, went to the door, stopped and turned. ‘One more thing…’

‘Now you really are sounding like Columbo.’

‘Are plans still going ahead to redevelop the Empire? Multi-screen and all that?’

‘Yes. Is that all?’

‘I don’t suppose you’d like to show me around, give our readers an indication of what it’s going to look like.’

‘You suppose right. Some other time perhaps, when your readers can actually read.’

Leonard Kimble smiled, stowed away his notebook. He thanked
Caldwell
profusely for his help and left.
Caldwell
stubbed his cigarette out into an ashtray, crushing it into an unrecognisable stub of paper. He put his head in his hands. ‘Fuck!’ he said. He took out the bottle of vodka and downed a couple of good measures. This time he didn’t put it away.

She was supposed to go to the fucking police, he thought. Why hadn’t she done that? When he’d written the letter to Laura Leach telling her all about Felix and Katherine’s plans to screw her over, even telling them details like where they lived in
Glastonbury
, he expected her to go straight to the law. That would have been enough to frighten them off and he’d have been shut of them, possibly for good. But no, the stupid bitch didn’t play game and now it was all turning into an even bigger mess. The last thing he wanted was some dumb hack reporter making even the slimmest connection between him and Laura fucking Leach. This thing with Monica – it was running away with itself. Christ, he wished he’d never gotten involved with the woman. It was his own stupid fault.

He’d raised a hand to his wife, struck her. He’d been drunk, of course, but that wasn’t an excuse. He desperately wanted to believe he had changed but in a foolish instant all his illusions were swept away and his wife had temporarily kicked him out of the house. Not for long, but long enough for him to hit the bottle again and seek solace where he could find it. Monica just happened to be the wrong woman at the wrong time and it soon became apparent that she was as ruthlessly manipulative as he had been in the past. He also bet the pregnancy wasn’t an accident either. Bitch.

He had to get out. He couldn’t stay in Langbridge. He thought that by coming to this out-of-the-way place he’d be able to lose the old Martin and reinvent another to stand in his place. Start afresh. But you can’t shake off the past that easily, he thought grimly. It was always with you, waiting to spring out at you when you least expected it.

There could never be a future, just various incarnations of the past.

*  *  *  *

He’d never felt so thoroughly dejected, so mind-numbingly depressed, and Vince had had his fair share of such episodes in his short life. But this was a black level of despair new even to him.

He went down to the auditorium during features, stared his desultory stare out of the projection-booth window, but Vince hadn’t seen a glimpse of Laura for weeks now. He expected, logic told him, that the longer this went on the more he’d grow accustomed to her absence, but that, sadly, wasn’t the case. It was the opposite, frighteningly so. Was that love or was that obsession? And where did the two part company, if indeed they ever did? Questions he never once expected to be asking himself.

Some people enjoy wallowing in self-pity the same way pigs like to wallow in mud, his mother said dismissively when he found himself being chastised for having such a sour expression. He didn’t tell her the reasons, of course, but her all-seeing eyes looked as if she knew the reason. Was it possible his mother had actually been in love once, had suffered at its velvet-gloved claws? He found that hard to believe. Hell, he didn’t even want to believe it.

He heard the door to the projection booth open. He looked up from his work and saw Edith standing there. She looked different and he couldn’t figure out why at first.

‘What are you doing in here?’ he said, aware it must have sounded curt. ‘No one is allowed up here during the running of a feature, except Mr Caldwell,’ he added, to try and soften the blow.

‘I came to see you,’ she said, her pretty eyes looking nervously at him.

Then he realised what was different about her. ‘What have you done to your face?’ he asked. Her eyelids were smeared with blue eye-shadow, and her cheeks had been rouged in that inexperienced, ham-fisted way that made her look like she’d been too close to the fire. Her lips were coated in red lipstick.

‘This? It’s only a little makeup,’ she said. ‘Don’t you like it?’

She always made him feel uneasy, he thought. He turned away. ‘It’s OK, I guess.’

‘I thought it would make me look older,’ she explained.

‘Well it doesn’t; it makes you look…’ He stumbled into silence.

‘I put it on for you,’ she admitted, her gaze planted on the floor at her feet. ‘I’m sorry if I upset you – you know, that night…’

‘You didn’t.’

‘I did, I know I did. I didn’t mean to.’

‘Look, Edith, can this wait? I’m busy…’

‘Yes, sorry, Vince.’

She backed away. ‘Edith,’ he said. She stopped. ‘You look better without it, is all.’

‘Thank you, Vince,’ she said, her spirits lifted.

At the end of the evening shift Vince was once more trundling his bike out of the Empire’s yard, feeling emotionally drained and needing to get home and lick his never-healing wounds, when he was unexpectedly hailed by a woman on the street.

‘Hello. Are you the projectionist here?’ she asked, coming up to him.

He nodded dumbly. ‘That’s right. I’m Vince.’ At first he thought it might have been Edith again, and he didn’t know whether he was disappointed or not to see it was a stranger. The woman was pretty, though, he thought, and he could smell strong and seductive perfume reaching out to caress his nose. She looked familiar but he couldn’t place where he’d seen her. ‘Can I help you?’ he said, feeling at once uncomfortable in her beautiful, perfect female presence.

‘You and I, we have a mutual friend,’ she said.

Vince shook his head. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

Her attractive features appeared to melt away like a waxwork dummy’s before a fire, and in its place was an angry, grimacing mask twisted by some kind of inner hate. She moved close to him, close to his face. He knew something was wrong and he backed away.

‘My name is Katherine,’ she said. ‘You met my boyfriend, Felix, some time ago. He introduced you to his fist, as I remember.’

Then it dawned on him. She was the same woman he’d seen on top of Glastonbury Tor, the one with Laura’s new man-friend, or rather the thug who had beaten him up in the Empire’s foyer. ‘I don’t want to talk to you,’ he said quickly, walking away.

She grabbed hold of his collar. ‘Oh, no? Well I need to talk to you. You told Laura, didn’t you? You told her all about the plan.’

He shook his head vigorously. ‘No I didn’t tell Laura anything!’ he said, feeling the woman’s talon-like, manicured nails digging into his throat through the thin material of his shirt.

‘You fucking liar!’ Katherine snarled. ‘You went and ruined things, you know that, you little runt?’ She slapped him hard across the cheek and his mouth dropped open in shock. He’d never seen such a pretty woman act with such aggression. The two didn’t seem to go together, but he was learning all sorts of new things these days. ‘What’s happened to Felix?’ she said.

‘I dunno,’ he said, rubbing his cheek. ‘I haven’t seen him since he beat me up.’

‘Tell me the truth or I’ll make your miserable little life even more miserable.’

‘I told you…’

Katherine lashed out with her foot and caught Vince full in the groin. He gasped and bent double as the pain came flooding in. ‘If you’re lying to me…’

He couldn’t speak. He shook his head again, clutching the point of contact. He couldn’t believe how much agony he was in. ‘You’re crazy…’ he said.

‘Talking of which, what do you know about this Laura Leach? You had the hots for her, isn’t that right? You’ve gotta know something about her. Is she really as mad as they say she is?’

‘No! That’s just a vicious rumour!’

‘Where there’s smoke there’s fire,’ she said, bending down to him.

‘You leave Laura alone,’ he said breathlessly.

‘Your fucking problem, Vince, is that you’re blinded by love. Don’t be fooled by her; she’s away with the fairies. I heard she’s been in some kind of mental asylum. You know if that’s true?’

‘I think it’s another lie.’

‘You’d like to believe that. Do you know which asylum?’

‘Someone told me it was called
Bartholomew Place
, but it’s just people who can’t stop being horrible. They’re everywhere,’ he added, staring defiantly at her.

‘So where is this
Bartholomew Place
?’

‘Dunno.’

‘What’s the reason she was in there? Why was she admitted?’ She shook him by the shoulder. ‘I need to know if she’s crazy enough to have done something to my Felix!’

‘What? Laura? No, never!’

She got to her feet, exasperated, her eyes blazing. ‘What do you know about a room at
Devereux
Towers
she keeps locked up? A blue door.’

‘Why would I know about such things?’

She stepped closer to him again and he flinched. ‘Because dirty little perverts like you get your kicks by spying on women like Laura, that’s why.’

‘But that’s not true!’ he defended. ‘I’m not a pervert!’

She put a hand to her blouse and ripped it open. A white button popped and clicked on the pavement. ‘Oh no? Try telling that to the police when I tell them you attacked me and tried to rape me.’

‘You wouldn’t do that!’ he said, struggling to his feet. ‘They wouldn’t believe you.’

‘Really? Let’s see - my sweet little word against a sad loser of a projectionist who keeps himself locked away in his little box all night wanking to X-rated films; a lonely little creep that lives all on his own, doesn’t have a girlfriend and never has? The jails are full of your kind.’

‘Then I’ll tell them all about you!’ he said. ‘You and that boyfriend of yours. I knew you were up to no good.’

‘I’ll simply tell them we were in on it together. You told us all about Laura, helped set things up for us. Whichever way you look at it, Vince, you’re fucked, so don’t mess with me. For the very last time, where is Felix?’

‘I told you, I dunno! I can’t help you!’

Her eyes narrowed into venomous slits. ‘Yes you can, Vince. You said someone told you about this asylum,
Bartholomew Place
. I want you to go back to this someone and find out all you can about it and why Laura Leach was in there. Got that, Vince?’

He nodded, grateful that the pain in his groin was subsiding and wasn’t going to be permanent like he’d feared. ‘I’m not sure where to start,’ he admitted.

‘That’s your problem. I’ll meet you here at the same time two days from now. Don’t let me down, Vince. You’re involved in all this whether you like it or not.’

‘But I haven’t done anything wrong!’ he said.

‘Tough. That’s not how other people will see things. In two days, Vince,’ she said. She stamped down with her foot, three times, onto the front wheel of his bicycle, denting the spokes and buckling the rim. Katherine sauntered away down the empty street.

Vince lifted his cycle and inspected the damage. Double-butted spokes, he thought – they cost a fortune to replace. And they’d not be able to straighten the rim. He’d need a complete new wheel really. Shit. He groaned at the pain between his legs, groaned also at the pain of embarrassment he felt, being floored by a woman. What is it with these people, he thought? Had everyone gotten it in for him?

Katherine drove back to
Glastonbury
, still anxious about Felix’s whereabouts but feeling a whole lot better for having taken it out on someone. By the time she’d parked her car outside the house they rented her temper had cooled off somewhat. She went inside and stared at the phone, willing it to ring, but of course it didn’t. In the end she went upstairs, set a hot bath running to try and relax.

She was about to draw the bedroom curtains when she caught sight of a figure stood on the pavement opposite, apparently looking up to her window. She peered harder, trying to separate out the features from the deep shadows. Her heart almost stopped when she realised it looked like Laura Leach.

Without hesitation she ran downstairs, flung open the front door and stepped outside. The dark street was empty, both ways. Had she imagined it? What the hell would Laura be doing here anyway – and how on earth did she know where she lived?

She waited a minute or two and then went back inside, making sure the door was locked. She attempted to shrug off the unsettling feeling it left her with, but it hung around her shoulders like a damp shawl for the remainder of the evening.