Killing the Beasts (26 page)

His whole body trembling, Tom was only able to nod.

'Good,' she continued. 'I'll go in first and my colleague, PC Garrett, will stay with you.'

She got out of the car and walked through the sliding doors. A short while later she reappeared, walking back over to address her colleague first. 'Surprise surprise, no one is available.'

As the driver shook his head, she turned to Tom. 'Sir, we're going to have to sit tight for a while. Are you OK back there?'

Tom nodded, his heart still fluttering.

After what seemed like an age, a nurse emerged through the doors and beckoned to the officers.

'Right,' said the male officer, getting out of the car and opening up the rear door. 'Let's put that blanket around you again, shall we? We don't want the nurses getting all excited.' He grinned at Tom.

Tom looked down at his bare legs and boxer shorts as the officer draped the blanket around him. Shakily, he got out of the car and allowed himself to be guided into the foyer. Acutely aware of the entire crowded waiting room watching, Tom felt himself growing embarrassed and knew it was a sure sign he was returning to normal.

He was led quickly across into a room at the top of a corridor. Inside was a table and a few soft chairs. A children's mobile hung in the corner, garishly coloured tigers, giraffes and parrots stirred by the commotion as they entered the room. Sitting in one of the chairs was an overweight man in a white tunic, long hair tied back in a ponytail. He smiled at Tom and waved him to a seat. Turning his body so he wasn't directly facing Tom, he said, 'Hello, my name's Keith Pilkington. I'm the psychiatric nurse on duty this afternoon. PC Hines tells me they picked you up in Piccadilly Gardens. Can you tell me what was upsetting you so much?'

Tom breathed deeply and when he spoke his voice quivered only slightly. 'I'm sorry to have caused such a fuss.'

Apologetically, he glanced at each officer. PC Garrett smiled and said, 'Don't worry about it. By the way, these are your trousers. 'He placed them on the shelf near the door.

The psychiatric nurse had been watching Tom carefully and now he said to the officers, 'I don't need to keep you two any longer, thanks.'

The officers nodded in reply and quietly left the room. Once the door had shut, he looked at Tom. 'So what was it all about?'

Tom could still feel the sheen of sweat coating his face. But he knew how to put that right. The remedy lay in the top drawer of his desk at work. Looking at his bare knees, he said, 'I've had them in the past. But that's the first for years.'

The nurse was looking at his notepad. 'The first what?' he gently coaxed.

'Panic attack.' He raised a hand to show how his fingertips trembled.' It suddenly hit me. I just had to run.'

'Why did you feel the need to remove your trousers?'

Tom shook his head. 'They had chewing gum on them.'

'Had chewing gum on them?' Tom took another deep breath. 'I think I've developed a bit of a phobia. It's a long story, but it started with rubbery things. The mouthpiece of a diving mask, in fact.' He let out a short and cheerless laugh. 'Then it somehow got to be anything rubbery that's been in someone's mouth. It makes me want to be sick – I get flooded with a kind of revulsion. 'He stopped and looked up. 'I sound mad, don't I?'

The nurse's features were full of understanding. 'I've dealt with far worse. Could I ask your name?'

'Tom. Tom Benwell.'

'Are you using drugs, Tom? You look like you haven't been getting much sleep. And the sort of state the officers described... I assumed you were heavily under the influence of something.'

Tom shook his head. 'I've just got so much on at work. I was having lunch with a client. God!' He turned his head, and looked at the door. 'I left him in Mr Thomas's Chop House. Just sprinted out of there.'

'Well, your health is far more important than any contract,' said the nurse. 'Just think of it as a lunch he'll always remember.'

Tom appreciated his attempt at making light of the situation and, taking advantage of the softening in the atmosphere, asked, 'So what happens now? I'm not under arrest, am I?'

'No, not at all. Do you have any history of mental illness, Tom?'

Now Tom wanted to get the interview over with as quickly as possible. 'No,' he lied, not mentioning his episode of a few years before. 'Apart from the panic attacks, of course.'

'And this attitude you have towards,' he glanced at his notes and quoted,'“anything rubbery that's been in someone's mouth”. You called it a phobia. We'd refer to it as a neurosis. Are you familiar with the word?'

'Like a weird habit?'

'Compulsive or obsessive behaviour, usually provoked by an irrational fear or belief. It's amazingly common, so don't worry. Have you mentioned your concerns about rubbery things to your GP?'

'No; I'm so busy at work. But I should do. I mean, will do.' Eager to please, eager to get out.

'Yes, you should. Who is your GP?'

Tom gave him the doctor's name and practice address.

The nurse noted it down and said, 'Dr Goldspink can arrange for you to be referred to a counsellor; there are very effective forms of therapy available. You needn't let it have such a detrimental effect on your life and job.'

Tom nodded. 'Fair enough. I will.'

'Right. I'll let your doctor know what happened and recommend that he book you in to see a therapist. In the meantime, you'll need some trousers. Now, I can get you a pair of these.' He pointed to the thin green cotton pair he was wearing. 'Or there's a little trick I know about for removing chewing gum. We can freeze it off

– there's a gas here that can do it.' Tom looked bemused. 'Freezing chewing gum turns it brittle, then we can scrape it off with a scalpel.' 'Option number two, please.'

He had a ten-pound note ready for the taxi driver. As soon as the car pulled up outside his office he said, 'Here mate, keep the change.'

The driver said, 'Cheers! You want a receipt with that?'

But Tom was already half out of the car, keys to the office in his hand. 'No, you're all right,' he called over his shoulder.

Reception was deserted and the door locked, but when the alarm didn't start buzzing as he opened up, he knew someone else was still in the building.

Quickly he walked through to his office, shut the door and made straight for his desk. Two large dabs of powder later and he was sitting in his chair staring at the screensaver of the Cornish beach. Though it no longer gave him the same sense of exhilaration, the drug was working its way through his system, easing his nerves and smoothing the ruffles of his mind. He was just contemplating pulling out the bottom drawer and putting his feet up when there was a knock on the door.

'Yeah?' he said, surprised at the dreamy way the word came out.

The door opened halfway and Ges poked his head into the room. 'Where've you been? All hell's been breaking out here.'

'Go on,' said Tom. For the moment, nothing really mattered but the relief coursing through him.

'The guy from the chewing gum company called. Then his boss called from London. Then our bosses called from London. No one can get hold of you, so suddenly everyone's after you. Was there

some sort of problem with the chewing gum promotion?'

'Ges, I'll fill you in tomorrow.'

Ges frowned, but didn't say anything. Without a word he stepped back out of the office and disappeared up the stairs.

Tom went on the internet and checked that the cafe in Cornwall was still for sale. Seeing that it was, he gathered up his jacket and set off home. He hadn't even put his briefcase down in the hall when Charlotte called from the sitting room. 'Tom, your bloody mobile can't be turned on. One of the directors down in London has called here three times. He's left his home number for you.'

Tom went up to their bedroom, climbed out of his suit and dumped it in the wardrobe. Pulling on jeans and a T-shirt, he went back down the stairs, preparing his speech to Charlotte. He'd use the beach location to persuade her – emphasize the prospect of fresh air and opportunities for exercise. He'd already enquired about membership at the best gym in the area.

As he walked into the sitting room, he saw the TV was tuned into the build-up for the Opening Ceremony in the Commonwealth Games stadium. The place was already packed, every seat sold out. But his wife was sitting on the edge of the sofa, looking tense and uncomfortable.

'Charlotte,' he began, 'don't worry about that knob down in London. What has he said, anyway?'

'Nothing,' she said, biting on the edge of a thumbnail. 'Just for you to call him immediately.'

Tom moved to the sofa and sat down. He put his arm around her. 'Charlotte, it's all going to be fine. I've got this plan—'

She cut him off. 'I'm not bothered by some rude prick down in London. I'm bothered about this.'

She held up a white plastic object the shape of an ice-lolly stick. Halfway up was a little window with a blue cross in it.

'What's that?'

'A pregnancy test. The cross means it's positive.'

'You're pregnant?'

She nodded.

Tom stared at the top of her down-turned head, found himself focusing on the individual strands of hair poking through her scalp. He felt like he was looking through a microscope. 'But that's... that's perfect. It'll all work out brilliantly. I've got this plan, you see. We'll pack everything in and move to Cornwall. There's this cafe for sale. It's so beautiful – it's wooden, painted a pale blue. It's got this great big veranda. We can live by the beach, raise our child there, away from all this filth and pressure.'

Charlotte looked up. 'Cornwall? What the hell are you on about Cornwall for? Cafe? I'm only a few weeks late for my period. What if this stupid test is wrong?'

Tom realized he'd got ahead of himself. 'No there's more to it than that. I've had a disaster at work. Something serious. Resignation serious.'

'Is that why that director has been ringing?'

'Yeah, but it doesn't matter, 'Tom replied, brightening his voice. 'Charlotte, I'm desperate to pack it in. You know that. I'll work a settlement out with them and we can use the cash from it along with the money from selling this place to get out. Downsize. I've worked it all out.'

Very slowly Charlotte began to shake her head. 'I knew you were desperate to get through the run-up to the Commonwealth Games. And you've done it – look. 'She waved a hand at the dancers on the TV. 'The Games are starting in ten minutes. What's all this stuff about Cornwall? You never mentioned about packing the job in completely.'

'Well, I thought it was obvious. Sorry. It's been intense lately. But they've already begun to work out our next set of targets. It doesn't stop, Charlotte, it just goes on and on and fucking on. I feel so trapped.' He thought about the sensation of the spider's web around his head.

Looking agitated, she reached for a cigarette.

Tom placed his hand over the pack. 'Charlotte, do you think you should?'

Angrily she sat back and took a deep breath.

'Don't look so sad.' He placed a reassuring hand on her stomach. 'This is such perfect timing. We can start a new life... a family. Everything.'

She grabbed his hand and threw it back on his lap. 'I'm not having this thing!' she said, tears filling her eyes. 'How dare you presume that? I'm twenty-two for God's sake. I've got my life to live. Babies?' She let out a snort of disgust. 'You're bloody joking!' She leaned forwards, grabbed a cigarette and lit up.

Tom stared at her. 'What do you mean? It's our child. Ours.' Bizarrely, an image of the diving instructor from the Seychelles flashed through his mind.

She stood up and snarled, 'It's not a child. It's a blip, a few cells ... a cross on this thing.' She waved the pregnancy tester in his face. 'One pill and it's gone.'

'Charlotte,' he moaned, hands thrust anxiously between his knees. 'You can't destroy it. It's our future.'

She held up both palms to him. 'Slow the fuck down. What the hell were you thinking?' Her cheeks grew red as anger began to take hold. 'You plan all this without telling me a thing?'

'I meant to. I was waiting for the right time, that was all. Charlotte, please – it could be so perfect.'

'My future's here, in Manchester. Not in some windswept wooden shack serving cups of bloody tea.'

Tom looked down at the carpet. 'What's this city got that's so great?'

She put a finger on her lower lip and began counting with her other hand. 'Well, let me see. Restaurants, bars, delis, coffee shops, beauty salons.' She ran out of fingers and carried on anyway. 'Nightclubs, nightlife, life full stop! Selfridges has just opened and there's a Harvey Nichols opening next year.'

Tom said very quietly, 'You'd destroy our baby because a Harvey fucking Nichols is opening next year?'

'Don't call it a baby! It barely exists yet!'

'You'll kill our baby because it might ruin your shopping? You selfish, self-centred, self-important bitch.'

'I'm not listening to this.' She began walking from the room.

He pursued her, weeks of tension suddenly finding an outlet. 'Do you realize how shallow you sound? How shallow you are? We've got a chance to build a meaningful life – not one based around what you purchased in town today – and you can't be arsed because you don't want to miss out on lounging around in the sports centre, going shopping, eating in nice restaurants and taking expensive drugs!'

She changed her mind about going upstairs and grabbed her jacket and handbag, heading for the front door instead.

'Where are you going!' he yelled. Bounding forwards, he grabbed her arm. She spun round and said mockingly, 'Late night shopping.'

Without thinking he slapped her.

'Don't you fucking touch me!' she screamed, tears spilling down her face. 'You go to bloody Cornwall. Don't expect me to come.'

She stormed out of the house, slamming the door shut behind her.

Tom stood, fists clenching and unclenching, nostrils flaring as breath shot in and out of his nose. He turned round and climbed the stairs two at a time. Rummaging around in his wardrobe, he found the packet of powder and tapped a large pinch of it into the palm of his hand. Greedily he licked it up.