Working Wonders (14 page)

Arthur was drunk but not crazed. ‘Look, Fay … I don’t really think … you know I don’t think we can get back together …’

‘I know
that
, silly,’ she said, playfully batting him on the nose. ‘In fact I’m seeing someone else anyway.’

‘Really?’

‘Well, kind of. But that doesn’t matter. This would just be by way of … you know, what do the Americans call it?’

‘Don’t have sex with your ex, Tex?’

She giggled, letting herself sound more carried away with the wine than she actually was. ‘
Closure
, stupid.’

‘Oh. Is that that thing about the two psychiatrists in Seattle?’

‘
No
.’

They were lying side by side on the rug now, their shoulders touching. She leaned her head on his shoulder. Arthur was thinking this was rather nice and odd, and how it really shouldn’t be …

She kissed him.

It had been a long time since they’d really kissed, properly. Kissing is the first thing to go in a relationship. Everything else just drips down after that. He’d forgotten how nice it was. He’d forgotten what it was like to kiss
anybody
. It was very very nice. He was dimly aware that he was terribly drunk.

‘Oh, don’t stop,’ he said, smiling at her when she pulled away.

‘I won’t,’ she said, running a hand across her shirt and fingering her bra strap.

‘But it’s just … you know, we probably won’t see each other again after tonight. Or, it won’t be the same.’

She poured out the remainder of the wine. ‘So. Tell me everything. Tell me about your life. Just so I know.’

Arthur looked puzzled. His hand followed hers to the bra strap, and she rubbed against it.

‘What do you want to know?’ he said, wondering when he’d forgotten how soft her skin was.

‘Well, tell me about this new job. What are you doing?’

‘You really want to know about that?’

She rolled over, unbuttoning her shirt. ‘Tell me
everything
.’

And he told her everything.

‘Where are you going?’ Arthur was nearly asleep, but he could see her silhouette in the bedroom as she calmly dressed.

‘I’m going home. This isn’t my home.’

Arthur grimaced. He’d been expecting this, really. You don’t just get free sex with someone you used to go out with. It was going to have to be an argument.

‘Oh, come back to bed, pet,’ he said. ‘We’ll talk about it in the morning, I promise.’

Fay switched on the overhead light. Arthur winced and stuffed his head under the bedclothes. There was a pause, as if she was gathering her thoughts. Then she began to speak.

‘No, I will not come back to bed – look at me, Arthur. No, I am not coming back to bed. In fact, my last cervical smear test was more fun than anything that’s ever taken place in there.’

Arthur’s head whipped up. ‘What?’

‘You heard. Ugh, I am so glad I never have to go through
that
again.’

Arthur’s head was starting to throb. ‘Um … wasn’t it your idea?’

She sniffed. ‘Oh, boys are so susceptible.’

‘What on earth are you talking about? What are you going to do – impregnate yourself from the condom and charge me child support? Clone me? Have you taken compromising pictures?’

‘Your child! Your child! Ha. HA!’

She stood ready to go in front of the doorway where she knew he could see her. He was cowering under the bedclothes, looking confused and a little frightened of her. Good. If only she could have made him cry.

She took a deep breath. ‘No, in fact, I did this for Ross.’

And she turned and walked downstairs and out of the house.

Arthur felt pinned to the bed. For who? For what? He couldn’t even understand what she’d just said. It made no sense. She couldn’t mean his ex-boss Ross, could she? She wouldn’t. She couldn’t …

Arthur jumped out of bed starkers and pounded down the stairs. Out on the street, Fay was already in her car, pulling away. He ran out after her before realizing that he was both naked and in absolutely no fit condition to drive, so merely had to content himself with staring angrily and shaking his fist at the departing car.

He turned around wearily, to retreat before the neighbours popped their heads out for a look, and wandered back into the house.

Listening carefully, he thought he could hear the cry of wolves again.

‘You look tired.’

‘Thank you. I thought since I got made boss you were going to stop being so cheeky to me.’

‘Why?’ said the temp. ‘Want to fire me?’ She pulled a long string of gum out of her mouth and coiled it round her fingers.

‘Can’t this morning, too tired.’

And, he didn’t add, guilt-ridden and ashamed and fearful of what he’d done.

He couldn’t see anybody in the boardroom, even though it was after nine. Just mounds of paper and charts lining the walls and something that looked suspiciously like a model railway, with a small train rattling round the tracks.

Moving forward to examine it, Arthur tripped over the prone forms of Sven, Marcus, Rafe and Sandwiches, landing rather heavily on his side.

‘Oh, morning Mr P,’ said Rafe.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ said Arthur, still spreadeagled on the floor. ‘If you’re hiding from me, I’ll have to point out, it’s not working terribly well.’

‘It’s Sven,’ Rafe went on cheerfully. Arthur turned his head. Sven was indeed a horrible colour, and was making quiet groaning noises. In fact, he looked even worse than Arthur felt.

‘I’m not well,’ said Sven. ‘I had a bad tortilla.’

‘How many tortillas did you have in total?’

‘Just, well, maybe twelve.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘Lying on the floor is going to help stop him being sick,’ said Rafe. ‘And we’re helping by still discussing work down here. So, actually, it’s good really, isn’t it?’

‘Actually I just fell,’ confided Marcus, who was operating the train controls, ‘but now I’m down here I quite like it.’

‘And he’s helping us brainstorm,’ said Rafe. ‘You know – horizontal thinking.’

‘Well, while I’m here,’ said Arthur, wondering if this was giving out the right message, but deciding in his extremely messed up universe it didn’t really matter, ‘is that a model railway?’

Marcus smiled happily. ‘Yup.’

‘And it belongs to …’

‘I thought I should bring it in,’ said Rafe. ‘It’ll give us a good idea of how to integrate, you know, the transport network.’

‘Uh huh. And not so you can all play with it?’

‘No,’ said Marcus. Sven grunted his assent with a loud moan.

Arthur gazed at the ceiling. ‘So, it’s just coincidence that Sandwiches is wearing a guard’s hat then, is it?’

Sven looked slightly embarrassed. ‘Something like that. Ouch.’

‘Sven, if you’re not well, go home, or to your cave or wherever it is you live.’

‘He can’t,’ explained Rafe. ‘It’s the maze guy today.’

Oh, crap. In the confusion of everything that had happened last night, Arthur had forgotten. A man who worked for a maze designing firm was coming up from the south coast to discuss what they were going to do here, and, more importantly, what it was going to cost and how long it was going to take.

‘Have you got the swearwords out of it yet?’

Sven turned a jaundiced-looking eye to him. ‘Yes.’

‘In every language?’

‘Unless there are any Sumerian speakers buzzing over the top in low-flying light aircraft, you’re going to be fine.’

‘Okay,’ said Arthur. ‘Great. If we can only get off the carpet, everything’s going to be just wonderful.’

Gwyneth landed head first over the top of all five of them.

‘Oh, Christ,’ she said, and flopped, not moving while she caught her breath. Sven grunted, but possibly not with pain at this particular moment. ‘Well, if this is the new way of working, can I just remind you, one, that the maze man probably doesn’t know this, and two, Sandwiches is too heavy to be riding that goods van.’

‘Yeah, all right,’ muttered the guys, starting to make moves upwards.

Arthur, being at the end, had Gwyneth’s head very close to his. She looked at him briefly.

‘Morning,’ she said, with a twinkle in her eye.

But Arthur was too ashamed of what had happened the night before to even look at her, and he half-smiled and looked away.

When he arrived late that afternoon, the first thing Arthur noticed was that the maze man was tall, very tall. He appeared at the door in a dark grey suit which looked like armour. He didn’t smile, but stalked in, looking around him.

‘The cubicles,’ he said, gesturing at the open-plan space. ‘Were they designed on labyrinthine principles?’

‘Um, I don’t think so,’ said Arthur, indicating for him to sit down.

‘Hum.’ The man looked at his well-manicured hands. ‘You know, it’s a big responsibility, taking on a maze.’

Everyone nodded seriously.

‘Do you know how they arrived in history?’

They looked at each other, unsure of his school-masterish tone.

‘I do,’ said Gwyneth suddenly. ‘They’re Welsh. Brought here from Troy.’

The maze man nodded solemnly, but the others just looked at her. Sven snorted.

‘Welsh people think everything came from their country, even when it’s bollocks.’

‘No, right. Another thing that came out of Wales was rollmop herring. Or was that Denmark? I can’t remember.’

Sven shrugged. ‘I’m just saying, that’s all. It’s not all down to the Welsh, you know.’

‘I don’t know. Best king of England,’ said Gwyneth sharply.

‘Who’s that then? The Prince of Wales? I don’t think so.’

‘King Arthur, actually,’ said Gwyneth. ‘If you know anything.’

‘Was he Welsh?’ said Arthur.

‘Yup!’

Great, he thought to himself. I’m not only a Coventry town planner, I’m also Welsh.

The maze man regarded them without smiling and laid out some sheets of parchment on the table.

‘Now, what do you want? A maze or a labyrinth?’

They looked at him.

‘What’s the difference?’

‘Dead ends. A labyrinth doesn’t have any. It just takes you through, and it’s the journey that’s important. It’s ritualistic. Whereas a maze is …’

‘Actually fun,’ said Sven.

‘Labyrinths are quite fun, in fact,’ said the man. ‘They’re often used in courting rituals, certain dances … often there’s a prize of some sort at the centre. But, more frequently, they mean a journey. In a maze, you have to make a decision as to whether to travel left or right. With a labyrinth, your only decision is to begin your journey. That’s why priests have used them for so long. They are reflection times.’

‘So, basically, it’s just walks that priests like to do?’ said Sven. ‘Right, that sounds great.’

The man looked at him sadly, then turned around. ‘I think perhaps my work is not for here,’ he said. ‘Excuse me, everyone.’

Arthur stepped forward. ‘No, hang on a sec. Sven, go feed Sandwiches.’

Sandwiches immediately started hopping up and down excitedly on his stubby legs. He stumbled to the door and started jumping up and attempting to bite the door handle. Drool ran down the door. With a sigh, Sven lumbered off after him.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Arthur to the man. ‘I think he wanted to design it himself.’

The man shrugged. ‘It is not so easy as … drawing on paper.’

‘No, I know. Please, don’t go just yet.’

The man nodded, and pulled at his enormous briefcase. Out of it he drew some large, flat, cardboard packs. On the table in front of them, he slowly opened up the packs, one after another.

The whole room gasped. When the cardboard was unfolded, it revealed a series of 3D models of mazes and labyrinths. They were perfectly painted and designed, with hedgerows, flowers, fountains and small figures running through the high trees.

‘They’re so beautiful!’ exclaimed Gwyneth, lowering her face to the level of the table. ‘I feel I could run inside them.’

From a table-height perspective, her eye line was completely suffused with green. Close up, she could differentiate between yew trees and rosebushes; high bushes, like the Sleeping Beauty’s, or long avenues of straight planting. The figures were painted as if from a fairy tale; the women wore girdles and wimples and were being chased by tall noblemen. Gwyneth felt she could almost hear music; the power of the lute pursuing her as she ran, faster and faster towards the forbidden centre …

She shook herself and stood up again, to find the maze man looking at her curiously.

‘You like?’ he said, in his curious ‘mittel’ European accent.

‘Very much.’ She nodded.

‘The power of the labyrinth,’ he said. ‘It’s very strong.’

Rafe pulled down the enormous map of Coventry on the wall, and pointed out Chapel Fields. ‘We wanted it for here.’