The End of the World Running Club (34 page)

“Wizzo, much obliged,” said Bartonmouth. He sat down and lifted the bottle to his eye, peering at the scrawled writing on the side. “Never was much one for Scotch. More of a brandy man myself. But thought, present company and all that.” He looked between Bryce, Richard and Grimes. Then he tilted the bottle at Harvey and me. “You, er…mind gentlemen?”

 
I shook my head.
 

“Brandy, whisky; anything’s good,” said Harvey.

“Excellent,” said Bartonmouth. “Then I’ll be mother.” He poured good measures and handed them round. “Good health,” he said, raising his glass. We raised our own back and drank. I took a particularly large mouthful. It was glorious, nothing short of it. The way I was feeling - bone soaked and frozen - a capful of cheap supermarket rum would have done the job, but this was something special. I could taste it immediately, as if a door I’d never seen had been flung open onto a long, wide landscape of forest, earth and ocean, tall stone pillars clawed with brine and weed, cold starry skies, ancient, candlelit rooms, deep eyes, short lives and whispered promises. I felt as if somebody had filled my head with a thousand years of secret, guarded memories.

“Well,” said Bartonmouth. “Well, this is actually rather good.”

“What
is
this?” I said.

“Let’s see now.” Bartonmouth peered at the label again. “Mor…Mort…Mortlach, think it says. Nineteen…can you read that old man?” He passed the bottle to Richard. Richard blinked. His mouth fell slowly open.

“Nineteen thirty-eight,” he said. “That’s over seventy-five years old.”

“Hmm, almost as old as me,” said Bartonmouth. He took another drink. “Well, what do you know? Looks like I’m a whisky man after all!”

We continued to drink in silence. Bryce in particular seemed genuinely moved. At last, Grimes leaned forwards on the table.

“Lord Bartonmouth,” she said.

“Rupert, please.”

“Rupert,” she said. “You…you do know what happened don’t you?”

The old man gave a frustrated wince, as old men do at questions with no clear beginnings or endings. “What’s that?” he said.

“I mean, you know what happened back in summer? To the country? To the planet?”

Bartonmouth looked back at Grimes for a moment. A small frown of understanding crept up on his brow and he sat back in his chair.

“Bartonmouth Hall was built in a valley,” he said. “First Lord Bartonmouth, my great-great…whatever he was…had it built for his wife. She liked rivers, you see, so he built it next to one, deep in the valley. Hills to the south, hills to the north. Protected, see? Not much reached us here. I heard it all, of course; saw things, knew there were fires. But Bartonmouth…” He stamped his boot on the stone floor. “Solid. Firm. Protected.”

He picked up the bottle and raised an eyebrow at me. I offered my glass and he filled it, then did the same for the others.

“Knew something was up when the radio stopped working. Electricity next and no telephone - not that I used it much before anyway. Then all those clouds and storms after all that glorious weather we’d been having. I stayed inside just in case, didn’t go out. Locked the door. Nothing for weeks, no one around. I thought I might take a drive. There’s a village about fifteen miles west, thought I might try there, see what’s what. But then…then I had some visitors.”

He swallowed his drink and put down his glass, crossed his arms.

“Who were they?” said Harvey.
 

Rupert turned down the corners of his mouth. “Nasty sorts,” he said. “Ruffians, youngsters, men mostly but a few women too. Certainly not ladies, that’s for damn certain. Came down the front drive as I was getting ready to leave, about twenty of them, striding up large as life without so much as a how-do-you-do. Most rude. One came up to me, foul man he was, grotty and rude, said they were going to stay. In my house. In Bartonmouth.”

“What did you do?” I said

“Told them to clear off didn’t I?
Go on,
I said,
get away with you, the lot of you
. Then this one just started laughing at me, calling me names, and then the others started laughing. Didn’t like that much, I can tell you.
Now look here young man
I said,
if you don’t bloody get off my property I’ll set the dogs on you.
Course, hadn’t seen the hounds for a while, no idea where they went, but I wasn’t going to tell
him
that. Hooligan just laughed harder, called me more names.
I’ll call the police!
I said.”

The old man frowned a little and shuffled in his chair.

“Got a bit rough after that, ‘fraid to say. Not much I could do. Tried my best, got a few in, couple of left hooks and that but, well, too many of them. Far too many. Knocked me around a bit, gave me this.” He tapped his eye-patch. “Then they dragged me inside, started making themselves at home. Terrible mess they made, terrible. Started going through all the cupboards and drawers, drinking all my booze, raking through the food, breaking things, using the bedrooms for God knows what.”

“How long did they stay for?” said Grimes.

“Best part of a week. Most unpleasant time. They made me do things…” He looked up at us and leaned forward suddenly. “Not like that, you understand; a man has his limits.” Then he settled back. “Just, you know, serving them, making them food, cleaning up their filth, doing their bidding. I played along, thinking if I could just hold out they’d eventually get bored and leave me in peace.”

“And did they?” said Grimes.
 

Rupert sighed.

“One day they’re all lying around in the drawing room, drinking some of my
Pétrus,
and then one of them picks up this vase and holds it out at me.
Dance
he says.
What?
I say.
Dance
he says.
Or I’ll drop this vase
. I say,
That’s my mother you’re holding. Put her down this instant
. Bastard just starts leering at me.
Dance or I drop her
, he says.
Dance
.
Dance.
Then the rest of them start saying it too, chanting it, clapping their hands,
Dance dance dance
, those horrid women too, all cackling and sneering like some bloody football crowd or something.”

“Hooligans,” said Harvey softly. “What did you do, mate?”

“Stood my ground, that’s what I did. Had enough, hadn’t I? Fixed him in the eye and said,
Put my mother down right now or you’ll regret it
. Said it in my strongest voice, as loud as I could. That shut ‘em up. They all stop chanting and the room goes quiet. Then the bugger drops it. Drops my mother. Right on the floor in front of me. She went everywhere, of course; all over the floorboards, all over the rug.”

“Christ,” said Harvey. “I’d have swung for him.”

“Almost did myself, Harvey, almost did myself. Stopped myself though, knew that wasn’t the best thing to do in the situation. Only get myself hurt.”

“So what did you do?” said Richard.

“Well the room’s dead quiet, all the rest of his little group can’t believe what’s just happened. A girl in the corner, horror of a woman, she starts tittering. Then this chap looks down at the floor at the mess he’s made and takes a step forward so he’s standing in it, standing in
my mother
. He stamps up and down a few times, mother puffing up the sides of his dirty great boots, and says
you’d better clean this mess up, hadn’t you old man?
Then he waves his hand at me and says
off you pop, get a dustpan
or something equally vulgar.”

Rupert leaned forward and poured the rest of the bottle into our glasses.

“You didn’t,” said Harvey. “They didn’t make you clean up your own mum’s ashes in front of them, did they?”

Rupert stood up and opened the stove. A wave of fierce heat blew into the room as he threw the rest of the wood on the fire.

“I turned on my heels and left the drawing room. They all burst out laughing. I could hear them still hooting and caterwauling as I walked down the corridor, past the main hall, past the paintings of my mother and father hanging by the dining room, even as I crossed the kitchen and got out back. First day they arrived a few of them had found the hunting room, taken all the guns and shells for themselves. Expect they thought they’d need them for wherever they decided to go next. Thing is, they didn’t know about
Daddy’s
gun. That’s the one I use.”

“The one you shot at us with,” said Bryce.

“Yes. Yes, sorry about that,” said Rupert. Bryce waved away the apology.

“Anyway,” Rupert went on. “I’d left Daddy’s gun down by the river in the boathouse, last time I’d been out shooting. Those buggers never went down there, just stayed inside all the bloody time. So down I went to get it, picked up a couple of shells and pumped them in on the way back. They were still laughing when I got back to the drawing room. Stopped dead when they saw me though. Silence. Nothing. Not a peep. I raised the gun and pointed it straight at the brute who’s still standing in my mother. He looked back at me, not so happy any more. Think he went to say something but I couldn’t hear what it was. Pulled the trigger. Boom. Just like that.”

“Christ almighty!” said Harvey, eyes wide. “Did you kill him?”

“Not much hope with a shotgun at that range I’m afraid. Flew back against the wall and dropped like a stone. Sprayed a bit of lead into a few of the scoundrels behind him as well.”

“What did they do?” said Richard.

“Panicked. Absolute pandemonium. They all start rushing around. One of the women runs over to the body and starts shouting at me saying,
you killed him you old bastard
and I say
I’ll kill you too if you don’t clear out now, the lot of you
,
get out!
Course I was worried they might fight back, get their own guns and shoot me. Not much I could have done in that situation with only one shell left, but they didn’t. Suppose they were too shocked. Besides, they’d probably never fired a gun before in their lives.”

“Did they leave?” said Grimes.

“Damn bloody right they left,” said Rupert. “Cleared off sharpish. Watched them running up the drive, most of them still crying or screaming or pulling on their clothes. Never saw them again. After that I was a bit more careful, kept a closer eye on things. But I’ve not left and nobody’s been back.” He looked up at us. “Not till you chaps, of course.”

“How did you know?” said Bryce. “How did you know that we weren’t dangerous too?”

Rupert fixed him with his one bright eye. “Gave me your word, didn’t you?” he said.

“Aye, but…”

“Moment you can’t take somebody on their word, might as well give up. Not worth it any more. Civilisation’s
dead
.” He banged a fist on the table and grunted to himself in satisfaction. “Besides, I know trouble when I see it. And you’re not trouble.”

He turned to Grimes.

“I know what happened, my dear. I may be an old man but I’m not senile.” He looked around at us. “We live on a rock. A rock that’s flying through a place filled with other rocks. It was only a matter of time, wasn’t it? We spent all those years worrying about what we were doing to it, scrubbing our tin cans for recycling and installing things to catch rainwater…” He turned to the window again. The blocks of grey light were fading to darkness, but the rain still pounded the glass. “Seems to me we should have been spending less time worrying about the garden. More time trying to find the gate.”

“Amen to that,” said Bryce, raising his glass.

The old man took a long, wavering breath through his nose and smiled at us.

“So,” he said, frowning. “Cornwall, then, is it? Long way from here. How are you planning on getting there?”

“We’re running,” said Richard. Rupert gave a slight splutter.

“Come again?” he said.

“We’re running,” repeated Richard.

“Pah!” said Rupert, his face beaming. “I like that! Running indeed!” He threw back his head and laughed a long, wheezy laugh. There was no trace of mockery in it. It just tickled him. When he had finished, he looked around at us nodding.

“So the world ends, and you lot start a running club. I’ll drink to that.”

Bryce raised his glass and we followed. “To the end of the world,” he said.

“To the end of the world running club,” said Lord Bartonmouth.

Rupert ran us two baths in separate bathrooms, one at each end of the corridor at the back of the house. One was for Grimes, the other for the men. There wasn’t enough hot water to replenish after each turn, so we drew straws on order and I came last. Bryce had winked at me as we crossed paths at the doorway. I now lay in the long ivory tub of rain, grateful for the fact that only a single candle dappled the water with light in an otherwise dark room.

The rest of the room was bare and grand. The bath stood next to a pair of long, blue curtains hanging open on the far wall. The window shook and rattled in the wind still circling the house and the rain made tortured patterns on the black glass, twisting rivulets endlessly seeking each other out, joining, breaking, shifting and shattering in some frantic, hopeless romance. There was nothing behind them - no lights, no shapes to make out in the darkness. I felt a timid sense of being under protection, but by something that might buckle and break at any moment. What was outside - the cold storm, the distance, the remains of a country that was no longer held together, perhaps whatever was making the animal howl I still heard every morning - was too large and too strong to be kept at bay. The water was hot and deep and I felt it go to work on my muscles. It would be good to take shelter in this old house, drinking an old Lord’s whisky and warming ourselves on his burning furniture, but I knew we would have to leave in the morning.

I closed my eyes and let my thoughts run off, making shapes of Beth.

I must have fallen asleep because I suddenly found myself looking up through the water. I sat up, spluttering and grasping for the sides of the bath. The water was now cool and the candle had spread into a buttery cloud of melted wax by the taps. I wiped my face and pushed myself up and onto my feet, steadying myself when I felt the weakness in my thighs and calves, then very slowly got out of the bath and stood dripping on the cold tiles.