The Shift Key (25 page)

‘What did I say?’ she cried.

‘You told us about Declan hitting you. You never said that before.’

‘I did to Phyllis!’

‘Yes, but she wouldn’t have passed it on, would she?’

No. Naturally not. What was it Ursula once said? ‘She doesn’t have an ounce of malice in her body?’

She was crying. Jerry took her in his arms.

There wasn’t, obviously, any future in it. But it was very nice to find a man who worried about her.

Under roof after roof after roof around Weyharrow: people saying to one another, ‘So
that’s
why!’

Sometimes it led to reconciliation: ‘You said it was my fault we got the orders mixed up!’ Roy Jacksett snapped at Judy. ‘Well, now you know it was something that I couldn’t help, how about saying –?’

He had been going to add, ‘you’re sorry.’

But at that optimal moment there was a whine from the back door. As one, they erupted to their feet and ran to open it.

And there was Boyo, covered in mud, limping on his off front paw, with a great raw wound around that leg. He hobbled into the kitchen and made straight for the water-bowl.

‘He’s been caught in a trap!’ Judy cried.

‘Yes! That’s why he didn’t come home! It wasn’t a bitch after all …’ Roy bent on one knee, patting Boyo’s back. ‘You poor beast! I’m going to find out who’s setting illegal snares!’

There was a cascade of feet on the stairs. The kids had woken.

‘Boyo! You’ve come home! Where’ve you been? Goodness! Your
legi
You poor old thing!’

When finally they got everything sorted out – Boyo fed, his injury dressed, the kids packed off back to bed – they looked at one another …and thought awhile … and finally they broke down laughing.

Contented, arm in arm, they went upstairs.

Sometimes, though, it led to the opposite:

Waiting in the hallway, Carol Draycock rasped, ‘So you finally decided to come home!’

Blinking as he crossed the threshold, Vic said, ‘But you’ve
no idea what’s been going on! The meeting was –’

‘I heard all about the meeting! People have been ringing up for the past hour! Why didn’t you come straight back and tell me yourself? Did you think I wasn’t interested?’

‘I got detoured,’ Vic muttered, hanging up his coat. ‘I was asked to stop off at the pub and talk about it. Some people seem to value my opinion, even if you don’t.’

‘That’s right!’ she blazed. ‘I don’t!’

He blinked at her. ‘Now, Carol darling –’

‘Don’t you “darling” me!’ She advanced on him, fists clenched. ‘You’re a bloody hypocrite, that’s what you are! Always looking for someone to pity you!’

‘What the hell do you mean?’ Vic blasted back.

‘Just this!’ She drew herself up, breathing hard. ‘While you were out, what you often said might happen, did. Tommy managed to jump up and catch hold of the rope that pulls down the attic ladder!’

‘Christ! Did he do much damage?’

‘None at all. I was up there straight away; I’d heard it go clang … But have you forgotten that before we got married I worked – worked hard – to earn my own living in an office? I wasn’t just a secretary, I was
PA
to a managing director!’

‘Of course not!’ Vic moved to lay a placating hand on her arm. ‘That’s why I have such respect for you! That’s why I wanted to marry you –’

She interrupted. ‘Respect? Hah! About as much as I have left for you!’

‘What on earth do you mean?’

‘You told me that
grand
and
wonderful
article of yours had been deleted from your disc!’

‘It had!’ Vic cried.

‘The hell it had!’ If there had been a spittoon handy Carol would have used it, to express her contempt. ‘Since you obviously weren’t going to come home in a hurry, once I’d packed Tommy off to bed I decided to investigate
your word processor.’

‘If you’ve mucked it up –!’ Vic shouted.

‘Oh, don’t give me that,’ Carol sighed. ‘Ever since you bought it you’ve been telling me how easy it is to use – and that, at least, is true. It took me twenty minutes to find out.’

Vic’s face was pasty-pale. He was backing away from his blazing-eyed wife, until at last the door met his back.

‘Big man!’ she said mockingly. ‘Boasting about how marvellous you are because you can run a system that took me less than half an hour to get the hang of. It’s a terrific manual, by the way – the best I’ve seen. And what did I find when I loaded the disc you wrote your article on? There it was! It hasn’t been deleted!’

She turned her back with a grimace of disgust. He followed her, his expression pleading.

‘I know what must have happened!’ he cried. ‘It must have been because I was out late on Wednesday night and caught a dose of this damned chemical from Helvambrit –’

Pointing at the stove, she disregarded him.

‘There’s your supper, what’s left of it. It was overdone half an hour ago and I haven’t looked at it since. I don’t want to. I don’t want to look at you, either – you fake, you hypocrite, you
stupid braggart!’

‘But, Carol –!’

‘Here I was’ – she seemed not to have heard him – ‘fooled into thinking you can do things I can’t! Why? Why did I think marrying a teacher was a good idea? I must have been insane! I knew damn well that all the time I was at school my teachers lied to me, or fed me their own personal obsessions … Don’t come near me! You sleep downstairs! If it wasn’t Sunday tomorrow – if it wasn’t for Tommy’s schooling – I’d leave you right a-bloody-
way!’

Dissolving into sobs, she rushed upstairs and slammed the bedroom door, leaving Vic to explain to empty air, ‘But it wasn’t my fault! It was a nightmare that suddenly came real!
You know, like the one I often told you, the one where I wind up in class on Monday morning and find I don’t know anything about the subject I’m supposed to teach!’

True or not, it did no good for him to say it.

And sometimes it made not a blind bit of difference: ‘What did you think of the meeting?’ Sheila asked.

Hilary and Sam exchanged glances. Hilary shrugged and answered for them both.

‘Something bad came through the window the other night. It made Stick imagine we were boys.’

‘That’s all?’ Stick prompted.

‘Well …’ Hilary bit her lip and gave a mischievous grin. ‘Maybe we thought we were boys, too. Just for a bit.’

‘Would you rather?’

‘Be boys? No! We’d grow up to be men, and men do stupid things.’

‘Such as …?’

‘They build bombs and fight wars and kill people,’ Sam said with utter certainty. ‘That’s sick!’

‘True,’ Stick said. And repeated, almost breathlessly, ‘True … Okay, you lot! Cocoa! Bed! I’ll go and warm your milk!’

Later, when Sheila came to join him in the living-room and share a joint, she was giggling.

‘What’s the joke?’ Stick inquired, proffering a match.

‘Know what Sam said when I kissed her good night? She said, “Is Stick really a man? I mean, I know he has a beard, but is he
really
a man?”’

Already chuckling, Stick said, ‘So what did you say?’

I said, ‘Of course! Why should you think he isn’t?’

‘And …?’

‘She said, “Because he doesn’t go about hitting people.”’

There was a pause. Eventually Stick said, putting his arm companionably around Sheila and groping inside bra and
sweater for her breast, ‘That’s good. Let’s keep them feeling that way, shall we?’

‘Long as you like.’

She turned and nuzzled through his beard, seeking his mouth with hers.

‘What’s going to happen here now?’ Steven said.

Those at the table with him had been waiting for the question. The Bridge Hotel was packed, not just with the usual Saturday trade that occupied the bar, but also because several of Nigel’s fellow-councillors, and their spouses, had decided to grab a bite or a drink before going home. Everybody seemed to need the chance to talk to someone else about tonight’s revelations. Snatches of conversation had come their way, many directed at Nigel.

‘The Goodsirs should never have been granted their planning permission at Trimborne!’

‘That’s right! Wasn’t it enough to let them cut down all the woods along the valley? When I was a boy …’

‘Of course the rot set in when they allowed a garage on the green instead of down a side-road. Have another?’

‘As chairman of the council, Nigel should have – Where the hell’s he got to? He was here just now!’

Nigel was out of earshot. He had other problems on his mind. Jack Fidger had stood in as best he could, but not only were there more tables booked in the restaurant than there was time to fill and empty and refill and clear by closing time, but seemingly there was a double room that had been double-booked, and two visitors were voicing their complaints for all and sundry …

With vast relief Nigel recognized the number of the room.

‘No problem!’ he crowed. That was the one the people from the
Banner
had. They’ve gone. We only need to change the sheets and towels … Do forgive us!’ – to the guests. ‘But it’s been a most unusual day. Has anybody told you yet about
this gas that leaked from the Helvambrit factory …? No? Well, not to worry! It’s been taken care of! But here you’re in the midst of history, you know! Have a drink on the house and I’ll explain!’

Despite his declaration of hunger Don Prosher displayed little appetite when food was finally set before him in the hotel restaurant. He seemed to welcome Steven’s question as giving him an excuse to push aside his plate and echo it while lighting a cigar.

‘What’s going to happen here?’ he repeated. ‘Well! I’m flattered to be asked, but the person you ought to apply to is our landlord … No, he’s far too busy, isn’t he? Let’s ask someone who knows your village better than I do. I mean, all I did was walk in and apply a few standard principles, you know – plus a trace of inside information. And here she comes, for goodness’ sake!’

He and Wilf, who was seated at the other end of the table, jumped to their feet. Approaching from the door was Jenny, looking radiant. She embraced Don so warmly it made Steven briefly jealous.

‘How does it feel to have filed your first international beat? Don’t tell me – I remember when it happened to me! Sit down! Grab a chair from somewhere, anywhere! Steve, make room! Don’t you realize how well the cause of freedom of expression has been served today by this pretty friend of yours?’ He patted her affectionately on the bottom.

‘Now sit down, Jenny – have a glass of wine, you deserve it more than most of us … Find her a menu, somebody – ah, there we are. I don’t know what’s left this late –’

‘I’m not hungry. Too excited.’

‘Well, that’s understandable. I was just talking about you, you know. Steven asked what’s going to happen in Weyharrow now, and I said he ought to ask someone who knows the place better than I do, meaning you.’

‘But I don’t really,’ Jenny said after a swig of wine. ‘Steve knows that.’

There was a pause.

Abruptly Steven crumpled his paper napkin and tossed it to the middle of the table.

He said, ‘It was stupid of me to ask anyhow, wasn’t it?’

‘What? What do you mean?’

‘I know the answer. And it’s sweet
FA!
’

‘That’s ridiculous!’ Jenny exclaimed. ‘Things will never be the same again! This affair has changed people’s lives!’

‘I’d have said so,’ Don confirmed, eyeing Steven sidelong. ‘For instance, there’s been a grand reconciliation between two feuding families –’

‘You mean Ken’s and Harry’s?’ Jenny butted in. ‘Yes! And that’s probably only the start of it! You know, since time immemorial this village has had the full-scale squire-and-parson bit, but after Mr Phibson started talking about the Devil and Basil called for that boy to be hanged …!’

‘And by the time the world’s press has converged on the pharmaceutical factory,’ Don supplied, ‘and acres of paper have been devoted to the story of how people at Weyharrow were accidentally turned into guinea-pigs for the Ministry of Defence, or Ministry of War as it should properly be called … Steven, I’m not convincing you, am I? Why not?’

‘Because last night you led me up the bloody garden path –
that’s
why!’

Don was silent a moment. Then he shrugged. ‘I have to plead guilty. But I was using you as a kind of touchstone. Knowing, or rather guessing, what I did, I wanted to hear how someone like yourself, rational but unaware of the facts, would counter all these claims about possession by the Devil. I’m sorry I upset you. How, though, does this prove that Jenny’s wrong?
My
life’s been changed! I never meant to speak out at your meeting! It was seeing Ursula in hospital that drove me to it.’

The last few words were almost inaudible; he gulped more wine.

‘Ah, you weren’t on the platform during the meeting proper,’ Steven muttered. ‘You didn’t sense what I did about the councillors –’

‘Wasn’t it amazing how well that fellow Pilgrim spoke?’ Don cut in. ‘I had my eye on Cedric, who’s supposed to be a friend of his, and the schoolteacher too: what’s his name?’

‘Vic Draycock,’ Jenny supplied.

‘Yes, him. I swear they were both as astonished as I was.’

‘My guess is,’ Steven said sourly, ‘they never met Chris before when he wasn’t stoned.’

‘Oh, come on!’ Don exclaimed.

‘No, I’m serious!’ Steven drew a deep breath. ‘You may think of this evening’s meeting as a great event – proof of fundamental democracy in Britain, your role in it, and Jenny’s too, as evidence that we live in a free society, truth will out, and all that kind of crap. But do you know why I was put on the platform?’

His voice had risen. All around people were interrupting their own conversations, including several councillors, two at least of whom had joined in Nigel’s attempts to persuade him to settle here in the room of Dr Tripkin.

He was pleased about that. The same recklessness was overtaking him as had supervened more than once already. What he had it in mind to say might give offence; too bad!

‘I was put on to talk people out of believing that anything extraordinary had happened! You heard the drivel I was forced to utter! Damnation, you fed me half of it! And I went along with the idea, because I’ve always dreamed of a country practice and it was made very clear that if I co-operated I’d have one within my grasp.