Waking Broken (16 page)

‘Ha! Well why not? If you don’t keep pushing you get stale.’ A sweeping gesture took in not only the fields immediately around them but also encompassed the whole world. ‘Why impose barriers on yourself? I mean, I could keep popping out a couple of paintings every year and get paid more money for each one than you’d earn in years. But so what? I’m already rich. I’ve had all the toys, done all the things that money lets you do.’

Cash laughed as he strode on, Harper trudging stiffly behind. ‘It’s not a challenge anymore. I can get my pictures into any gallery there is. And, let me tell you, it’s not so much
fun
when you don’t have to push and fight anymore. It’s just a routine. Yes, it’s more exciting than most people’s routine but it’s still such a
bore
! So, I want to do something different, something unique and challenging.’

‘Eccentric?’

‘Sure. Why not? What’s eccentricity anyway? One man’s madness is another’s genius. Just because it hasn’t been done before doesn’t mean it’s not a brilliant idea.’

‘But you also like the idea of being out of step, don’t you. Of being a non-conformist and upsetting the establishment.’

Cash chuckled. ‘Well… yes. But even that’s become a bit of a routine now. It gets to the stage where people aren’t surprised anymore because they expect you to be provocative. The most radical thing I could do is to start being bland and predictable. Besides, these days it seems anything goes. When it gets to the stage when you see preserved corpses exhibited in tableaux at public shows… well!’ He shrugged. ‘I’m not so bothered about being controversial for the sake of it anymore. I’m more interested in doing something new in a creative sense.’

‘Okay, but so how do you paint with trees?’

They reached a gate at the top of the field they had been crossing. Beyond lay the windswept top of Westbury Hill. Cash grinned. ‘By careful planting.’

Harper stopped, leant on the gate, trying to get his breath back and let his aches subside. He frowned. ‘You mean to literally paint with trees?’

‘Of course. I’m not talking about one or even a handful of trees. I’m talking about a forest. Using the colours of each individual tree to make an immense picture.’

‘So… what, every tree is like one pixel?’

‘Exactly!’

‘That’s big.’

‘That’s the whole point.’

‘But how will anyone see it? Will you have to fly?’

‘That would be one way but it’s not what I had in mind.’ Cash waved an arm onwards. ‘Come on, I’ll show you.’

Now they were at the summit of Westbury Hill. Below was a huge bowl of land. To either side, the rim of the scarp slope curved round in enclosing arms. Ahead, the land fell steeply, plummeting several hundred feet. A couple of miles away lay the opposing line of Solsbury Ridge. Confined within the space was a patchwork of fields, copses and streams.

‘Okay,’ said Harper. ‘Supposing you can get hold of all the land. How does it work? And what are you going to paint?’

Cash laughed. ‘Well, the answer to the second question is easy enough. I’d paint a phoenix.’

‘A phoenix?’

‘Rising from the fire,’ said Cash. ‘After all, if I’m using the autumn colours my palette is going to be a little limited.’ He grinned. ‘And if I’m going to make my bold statement I want to come up with something suitably dramatic. I mean, this won’t be precision draughtsmanship; the best I can hope for is broad strokes of colour. And, once it’s in place I won’t have any control over the colours.’

‘So how will it work?’ said Harper. ‘I think I get the general idea but I’m not quite sure about everything. Anyway… you’re talking about planting new trees?’

‘Yes.’

‘So how long will it take? Surely, you’ve got to wait for the trees to grow. Which means you’re talking, what, decades?’

Cash nodded. ‘Of course.’ He smiled. ‘And I’ll be damned lucky to see whether the thing works or not. But that’s part of it. It’s the grand gesture, the magnificence of it that appeals. I mean, come on, this isn’t a mere painting we’re talking about. It’s a thousand acres of art. It might not work. But if it does, what then? It’ll be wonderful. Mad, yes but beautiful in its audacity alone.’

Harper laughed. ‘You’re mad, you know.’

‘Sure.’

Harper kept chuckling. ‘But that’s why you’re so good. I like you, Paul, I really do. It might be crazy but it’s bloody good.’

Cash clapped him on the shoulder and they stood companionably for several minutes, staring at the proto-canvas below. Harper sighed and closed his eyes, drifting with the peace of the moment.

‘So come on,’ Cash’s gentle words pulled him back to earth. ‘What is it that you haven’t been saying?’

‘Huh? What do you mean?’

The artist looked searchingly at Harper. ‘There’s something more. I don’t know if it’s connected with the rest of your story: I’m guessing it is. But there’s something you kept back this morning. Something to do with that bit you glossed over? About what happened to you last night?’

Thursday, 5.52pm:

Rebecca was sitting staring into space when the doorbell jolted her back to reality. She swung her legs off the fat sofa that had been home for the last few hours and made her way into the hall. The damp weather was making the door stick again and she wrenched it open.

‘Tony?’

‘Hi, sorry I’m late. Pile-up on the roundabout outside the new IMAX. Fucking nightmare getting round it.’

She stepped to one side automatically. ‘Late?’

‘Yeah. Said I’d be here five-thirty.’

Rebecca’s cousin slouched wearily into the hall and made his way towards her kitchen. ‘You got anything to drink?’

She followed him looking confused. ‘What do you mean “here by five-thirty”? I wasn’t expecting you.’

‘No?’ He shrugged. ‘It was your mate I spoke to. She asked me to come round, said you and her wanted a chat about something. I presumed she wants to twist my arm about some arsehole client she wants to get into the paper. Anyway, I’m here now. You going to offer me a drink or what?’

Rebecca shook her head. ‘Er, sure. What would you like, cup of tea?’

‘Oh piss off. I don’t want fucking ‘tea’. I’ve been drinking coffee all day. What I need is a beer or a glass of wine. Or several, I’ve had another nightmare day.’

‘Which do you want?’

‘Oh, I don’t fucking know. Alcohol. Whatever comes out of the fridge first. I take it you have got some booze in?’

Rebecca nodded, trying not to smile. She had seen her cousin in this kind of mood enough times not to take it too seriously. He spent all day roaring along on testosterone, making everyone else’s life a misery as he and the other news desk staff tried to out macho each other. At the end of a long day it took him a while to snap out of the pose and revert to being a normal human being. She had known him long enough to realise it was all front; deep down he was more insecure than most of his juniors and ranted to cover his own anxieties.

She slid a bottle of Grolsch out of the fridge and handed it to Tony. ‘There, that’ll help take the edge off. Bottle opener’s in the drawer behind you.’

He nodded. ‘Cheers.’

Rebecca shook her head. ‘No offence but I still have no idea why you’re here. I saw Sarah at lunchtime and she didn’t mention anything to me. I hope you’re not here on some wild goose chase.’

‘So the fuck do I,’ he said. ‘I was supposed to be meeting a mate for a beer before I went home but she said it was important.’

Rebecca tipped her head towards the lounge. ‘Well, you might as well make yourself comfortable while you drink your beer. I’ll give her a ring on her mobile; see what she’s got to say.’

She dialled the number but got no reply. Rebecca raised her eyebrows at her cousin, now sprawled across the same sofa where she had been sitting earlier, tie ripped open and dangling across his chest. ‘Well, your guess is as good as mine. She’s not answering but that might be because she’s on her way over.’

Tony belched loudly. ‘You know how much I care?’

Rebecca scowled. ‘You’re a slob, Tony Wright.’

He sat up, put his beer bottle down and ran both hands through his hair. ‘Yeah, whatever.’ He sighed. ‘At the moment, I couldn’t give a toss what anyone thinks. I’m so glad to get out of that place but, you know what makes it worse?’

‘What?’

‘Knowing I’ve got to go back and cope with the same shit tomorrow.’

Rebecca looked surprised. ‘I though you liked your job.’

‘I do, or I did anyway.’ He shrugged. ‘Take no notice: I’m not trying to take it out on you. It’s just been a bitch of a day. I’ve got a paper to put together, all the other departments yelling at me but no fucking reporters to do the job. One’s off sick, one’s gone AWOL, another’s on holiday and I’ve got one on a go-slow because I made him cancel his holiday. But I only did that because we’re so short! I mean, for fuck’s sake, we’ve got five editions to fill and I’ve got three reporters to cover the whole city. It’s ridiculous: we’re shovelling all kinds of crap in to fill space because we’ve got no one to write proper news stories.’

Rebecca was about to answer when the doorbell rang again. She returned to the hall and tugged the door open to find Sarah and Brendan Teague standing outside. Rebecca stood still for a moment, a chill running through her emotions. She glanced at Brendan then gave a long stare at Sarah, who returned the look defiantly.

Brendan had a quizzical expression. ‘What’s up, Rebecca?’

‘I’m not sure.’ She gave Sarah a pointed look. ‘What did she tell you?’

He looked confused. ‘That you and Danny had something you need to ask me.’

Rebecca laughed humourlessly. ‘Sounds like you’ve been stitched up the same way you stitched me up when you got me to go to The White Lion a couple of nights ago.’ She smiled at Brendan. ‘But don’t worry; I think I’m being stitched up by my
friend
along with you.’

She stepped aside and ushered them in. ‘Well come on, now you’re here, come and join the inquisition.’

Sarah followed Brendan quickly, avoiding Rebecca’s eye.

‘Sarah Young!’

She stopped in the corridor mid-stride.

‘In here, you.’ Rebecca guided her friend firmly past the lounge and into the kitchen. She steered Sarah into a corner and stood in front of her. ‘Now, what the hell are you up to?’

A couple of red spots appeared on Sarah’s cheeks but otherwise she betrayed no outward sign of embarrassment. ‘What am I up to? I’m trying to make sure you don’t get into something that you’re going to regret?’

‘Oh yeah?’ Rebecca was trying to keep her voice low but the anger still came through. ‘And who gave you that job?’

The red spots grew a little. ‘I did,’ said Sarah. ‘I’m your friend and I’m worried. What’s going on is just too weird. You met this guy a couple of days ago and, to me… well, he seems borderline psycho at best. Then I find out you’re wandering off on country walks with him and you come back looking all lovey-dovey.’ She grabbed Rebecca’s hands. ‘I’m worried about you. I want to make sure you know what you’re getting into. And I thought that one way to sort this out… maybe he is a nice guy, if a little confused… would be to check him out a bit more. Find out a few more facts, what kind of person he really is.’

Rebecca scowled but she continued to let Sarah hold her hands. ‘And I’m not a big enough girl to work these things out for myself?’

‘Too right.’ Sarah cracked an impish smile. ‘I
know
you’re not a big girl really, however much you pretend. And, anyway, we all need someone to watch our back. It’s a mad world out there. I know from my own extensive research into the subject, and bitter experience, how easy it is to get sucked into believing what you want to believe when it comes to blokes.’

She sighed and looked at Rebecca imploringly. “Listen: not all the men out there are lambs and I don’t want the big bad wolf snacking on my girlfriend.’

Rebecca could not help smiling. ‘Okay, I appreciate the support but I wish you’d asked. I can manage, honestly.’

Sarah shrugged. ‘We’ll see.’ She slipped her hands out of Rebecca. ‘Any chance of a cup of tea… or a glass of wine?’

Rebecca nodded and turned to the cupboard. As she did so, Sarah made a swift break for it, heading towards the lounge. Rebecca moved to intercept her but was too slow. ‘Weasel!’ She hissed at her friend’s back.

Using the time to mentally prepare herself, Rebecca gathered up a bottle of wine, glasses, opener and a couple more bottles of beer. She smiled as she entered the lounge and set her wares down on the floor.

‘Well, as we’re all here, we might as well be comfortable,’ she said with bright sardonicism. ‘A beer for you, Brendan?’

The photographer looked awkward. ‘Er , please, that would be grand.’

‘So what’s this about then?’ said Tony.

‘It’s Sarah, she…’

‘Daniel Harper,’ interrupted Sarah. ‘That’s what it’s about.’

‘Harper?’ Tony looked surprised. ‘What’s he got to do with anything?’

‘Nothing,’ said Rebecca, glaring icy daggers at her friend. ‘Sarah’s got some strange ideas…’

‘Your cousin,’ said Sarah, ignoring the death threats being beamed at her. ‘She and Harper have been spending a bit of time together. She seems to be thinking of getting involved with him and I wanted to make sure she understands what kind of bloke he is.’

‘Harper?’ Tony looked at Rebecca. ‘I wouldn’t have thought he’s your type.’ He opened a fresh bottle of Grolsch and turned to Sarah. ‘So what do you want from me: a fucking reference? Is that how you girls work these days, get the blokes vetted before you decide whether to shag ’em or not?’

Sarah grimaced. ‘Not normally, no but this isn’t a very normal situation.’

‘Why? What’s going on?’ Tony looked askance at Rebecca. ‘Hasn’t knocked you up, has he?’

‘No!’ she replied angrily. ‘It’s nothing like that and, anyway… Sarah’s blowing everything way out of proportion.’

Sarah snorted derisively. ‘Yeah, sure, he’s just acting like your average guy.’ She turned to Tony. ‘I’m not even going to try to explain the whole thing but what do you reckon about him? What sort of a man is he?’