Collected Stories (63 page)

Of course, they wanted me badly and were waiting at the top of the alley. This wasn’t the death I wanted. I walked quickly. Further down the street the three of them got out of the car and stood around me. Their faces were close; I could smell their aftershave. There were a lot of people on the street.

‘Where are you taking me?’

‘You’ll find out.’

Another of them murmured, ‘I’ve got a gun.’

One of them had put his hand on my arm. It riled me; I don’t like being held against my will. Yet I gained confidence; the gun, if it was really a gun, had helped me. I didn’t believe they’d shoot me. The last thing they’d want to do was blow up my body.

I started to shout, ‘Help me! Help me!’

As people turned to look, the men tried to pull me into the car, but I kicked and hit out. I heard a police siren. One of the men panicked. People were looking. I was away, and running through the closely packed market stalls. The three of them weren’t going to chase me with guns through the crowd on market day.

As soon as I could, I rang Ralph’s mobile from a phone box.

It was impossible for us to meet. He was ‘up to his neck in literature’. Unfortunately, the fool had already told me where he was.

Half an hour later, I pushed open the pub door and entered. I’m a sentimentalist and want always for there to be the quiet interminability of a London pub in the afternoon, rough men playing pool, others just sitting in near silence, smoking. I couldn’t see Ralph, but did notice a sign which said ‘Theatre and Toilets’. I tripped down some narrow stairs into an oppressive, dank-smelling room, painted black. There were old cinema seats and, in one corner, a box office the size of a cupboard. Pillars seemed to obstruct every clear view of the tiny stage. I saw from the posters that they were doing productions of
The Glass Menagerie
and
Dorian Gray
.

A woman hurried over, introducing herself as Florence O’Hara. She wanted to know how many tickets I wanted for
The Glass
Menagerie
, in which she played the mother. Or did I want tickets for
Hamlet
, in which she played Gertrude? If I wanted to see them both, there was a special offer.

As she said this, I was surprised to see, sitting in the gloom, unshaven and in a big overcoat, a well-known actor, Robert Miles, who’d been in a film I’d written seven years ago. Before it began shooting, he and I had had tea together several times.

I looked at Florence more closely. I could recall Robert trying to get her a small part in the film. They’d been lovers, and were still connected in some way.

Had I not been inhabiting this wretched frame, Robert and I could, no doubt, have exchanged greetings and gossip. Instead, when he saw me looking at him, being both nervous and arrogant, he got up and walked out.

At the same time, Ralph emerged, in the costume of a Victorian gentleman or dandy, with a top hat in his hand. We shook hands, and I sat behind him in the theatre seats.

‘I haven’t got long,’ he said.

‘Nor me.’

‘There’s a show later. During the day, I’m working on a new play with Robert Miles. He’s trying his hand at directing. I’m working with the best now.’

Ralph was looking tired; his face seemed a little more lined than before.

He said, ‘I’m playing Dorian Gray as well. Florence is Sybil. I’m having the time of my life here.’ He glanced at me. ‘What’s wrong? What can I do for you now?’

I told Ralph that Matte had ‘recognised’ me, was a Newbody himself, required a body for his brother, and was in pursuit of mine. How could this not bother Ralph? After all, wasn’t he, the oretically, in a similar position?

‘You come to me with these problems, but what can I do about any of them?’

‘Ralph, anyone would recognise that, as with anything uniquely valuable – gold, a Picasso – bad people will be scrambling and killing for it. How could they not? But I can’t just remove this body as I could a necklace.’

‘At least, not yet,’ he said. Ralph was looking around agitatedly. ‘You stupid fool. Why have you come here? You might have led them to me. They could kidnap me while I’m on stage and strip me down to my brain.’

‘How would they know you’re a freak like me?’

‘Don’t fucking call me a freak! Only if you bloody well tell them. And I’m always afraid my maturity is going to give me away. What have you done to alert these people?’

By now, I was yelling, and I had big lungs.

‘If you think this isn’t going to be something that a lot of people are going to know about, you’re a fool.’

He leaned closer to me. ‘You get full-on, full-time security. Big guys around you all the time. That’s the price of a big new dick and fresh liver.’

‘How am I going to afford it?’

‘You’ll have to work.’

‘At what?’

‘What d’you think? You used to be a writer. You can start again, in another style. You could become … let’s say, a magical realist!’ I could see Florence in the dressing-room doorway, waving at him. ‘Imagine where I’ll be in ten years’ time, in fifteen, in twenty! How do you know I won’t be running one of the great theatres or opera houses of the world?’ I was sitting there with my head in my hands. ‘I didn’t tell you. I will now. Ophelia and I – the girl playing that part, of course – are getting married. I didn’t tell you this either: we have a child together. A few days old, and perfect. I was afraid for a while that it would be some kind of oddity.’

‘Well done.’

‘Are you going to see the show? Maybe it’s better you don’t hang around here, if you’re being chased.’

I indicated my body. ‘All I want’, I said, ‘is to be rid of this, to get out of this meat. I want to do it tonight, if possible.’ He was looking at me pityingly. ‘I guess I could find the hospital myself, but I’m in a hurry. What’s the address of the place you took me to?’

‘Up to you,’ he said, sceptically.

He told me the address. I wouldn’t forget it. He was glad to be rid of me.

I said, ‘Good luck with the show. I’ll come and see it in a few days’ time, with my wife. She and I are planning to spend a lot of time together.’

At the top of the stairs, I heard Florence’s voice behind me.

‘What name?’ she called.

‘What?’

‘What name for the tickets to the show?’

‘I’ll let you know.’

‘Don’t you even know your own name?’

Coming into the pub was a young woman with a baby in a sling. Ralph’s kid, I guessed. But I was in too much of a hurry to stop. There was a miserable cab office at the end of the street where, in my old frame, I had known the drivers and listened to their stories.

I told the cabbie to drive fast. As we went, I looked around continuously, staring into every car and face for potential murderers, thinking hard, convinced I was still being followed. Where I was going wasn’t far, but I had to be careful.

Not long after we’d left the city, I said, suddenly, to the driver, ‘Drop me off here.’

‘I thought you wanted –’

‘No, this is fine.’ We were approaching an area of low, recently built industrial buildings. ‘Listen,’ I said, holding up the last of my money, ‘give me the petrol can you keep in the back of the car. I’ve broken down near by, and I’m in a hurry.’

He agreed, and we went round to the boot of the car. He gave me the can and I wrapped it in a black plastic bag. I picked it up and headed for a pub I’d noticed. There, I had a couple of drinks and went into the toilet. I locked the cubicle door and stripped.

It took some time and I was careful and thorough. When I’d finished, and got back into my clothes, I left the pub and ran through the bleak streets towards the building, or ‘hospital’, I remembered. Soon, I was disoriented, but the address was right. The layout of the streets and the other buildings was the same. Then I saw it. The place had changed. It could have been years ago that I was there. The building I believed to be the ‘hospital’ was encircled by barbed wire; grass was poking up through the concrete. In the front, an abandoned filing cabinet was lying on its side. What sort of elaborate disguise was this?

I climbed the fence and pushed my way through the wire, which had been severed in several places. Nobody seemed bothered about security. The front door of the ‘hospital’ wasn’t even locked. However, it was getting dark. I tried the lights, but the electricity had been turned off. Bums had probably been sleeping there on rotten mattresses. The place also seemed to have been vandalised by local kids. I guessed that everything important had been taken away long before that. There were no bodies around, neither new nor old. I didn’t know what to do now but there was no reason to stay.

I heard a voice.

‘We weren’t too bothered about capturing you earlier. We guessed you’d end up here.’

Matte emerged from the gloom. A torch was shining in my face. I covered my eyes.

I asked, ‘You always knew about this place?’

‘I knew the caravan would have moved on, but figured out you’d be less well connected than me. I still need that body.’

‘Looks like I’m going to need it myself.’

‘You’ve argued yourself out of it. Someone else’s need is greater.’

‘Your brother?’

‘What? Let me worry about him.’

I said, ‘You can take the body. There’s a lot of life still in it. All I want is the old one back.’

‘Come through here.’ He pointed to the door, and added, ‘This place smells bad, or is it just you?’

‘It’s the place, too.’

He said, ‘Jesus, what the fuck have they been doing, burning bodies?’

I followed him, surrounded by his three men, into another room. I noticed there were no windows; the floors were concrete and covered with broken glass and other debris. The tiles had been pulled up and smashed. Long, bright neon lights were positioned precariously. A man in blue doctor’s scrubs was standing there with two assistants, all of them masked. In the middle of the room stood the sort of temporary operating table they use on battlefields, along with medical instruments on steel trays. I was looking around for my old body. Maybe it was being kept in another room and they’d wheel it in. I couldn’t wait to see it again, however crumpled or corpse-like it might seem.

‘Where’s my old body?’ I said to the man I assumed to be the doctor. ‘I won’t get far without it.’

He looked at Matte, but neither of them said anything.

‘I see,’ I said. ‘There’s no body. It’s gone.’ I sighed. ‘What a waste.’

‘Tough luck,’ he said. ‘You’re going to eternity. When I’ve sorted this out, my brother and I are off to Honolulu for a family reunion. The only shame is, he’ll remind me of you.’

I noticed, on the floor, what looked like a long freezer on its side. It was large enough for a body the size of mine. There was a wooden box, too, big enough for a dead brain. Brains didn’t take up much room, I guessed, and were not difficult to dispose of.

‘Can I have a cigarette?’ I said.

‘That’s what did for my brother.’

‘My last,’ I said. ‘Then I’ll give up. Promise.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ said Matte. ‘Okay. Get on with it.’

One of the men handed me a cigarette. ‘Arsehole.’

‘You too,’ I said.

The man made a move towards me. Matte said, ‘Don’t damage him! No bruises, and don’t cut him up.’

I said, ‘I’m going to undress now, have a smoke, and then I’ll be ready for you.’

‘Good boy,’ said Matte. ‘You wanted a death and now you’re going to get one.’ When I removed my jacket and shirt, Matte looked at me approvingly. ‘You look good. You’ve kept yourself in shape.’

‘Look at my dick, guys.’ I was waving it at them. ‘Wouldn’t you like to have one of these?’

Matte said, ‘What the fuck’s that aftershave you’re wearing?’

I lit my lighter, and moved backwards.

‘It’s petrol,’ I said. ‘I’m soaked in it. Never had petrol in my hair before. You come near me, pal, and this body you want goes up in flames like a Christmas pudding. And you too, of course.’

I held the lighter close to my chest. I didn’t know how much closer I could get it without turning into a bonfire. Still, rather self-immolation than the degradation which would otherwise be my fate. I’d go out with a bang, burning like a torch, screaming down the road.

Apart from Matte, everyone retreated. The doctors shrank back. Matte wanted to grab me. There was a moment when, to be honest, he could have done it. But the others’ fear seemed to affect him. He didn’t know what to do; all he could do was play for time.

There was nothing behind me but the door, which was open. I picked up my shirt and trousers, before turning and fleeing. I ran, and I guess they ran, but I ran faster and I knew my way out of there.

I climbed the fence, got dressed and continued to run. It was dark, but I was fit and had some idea where I was going. They’d get in their cars and pursue me, but I was being canny now. I was away. They would never find me.

It didn’t occur to me for a long time to consider my destination. When I felt safe I rested in someone’s garden. I needed a drink, but sweat and petrol don’t smell good together. The last thing I needed was suspicious looks. I was carrying my credit cards, but I realized there was nowhere I could go now; not back to my wife, to my hotel, or to stay with friends. I wouldn’t be safe until Matte’s brother died, or Matte turned his attention elsewhere. Even then there could be other criminals pursuing me. It was as though I were wearing the
Mona Lisa
.

I was a stranger on the earth, a nobody with nothing, belonging nowhere, a body alone, condemned to begin again, in the nightmare of eternal life.