Woodhill Wood (16 page)

It was a heavy book bound in fake black leather with the name embossed across the front like scar tissue. Gurde held it up for a moment, savouring its cover, then flipped it open. The section on local people was at the back. Duff was near the top of the fourth page.

Duff, Roger Jackson, LLB; b. Oct 29th, 1936, at Bexhill, Kent, s. of Mr Charles J. Duff and Mrs M. S. Duff; educ. Green Valley Primary, St Thomas' GS, Kent, King's College, Edinburgh University; m. 1961, Patricia Judith, d. of Mr and Mrs G. Griffiths, 2s., Matthew and Benjamin; Partner in Pemberton & Co; vice-president, Region Law Society; successively secretary and chairman, Region Scottish Liberal Association. Recreations: reading, walking, music. Address: 17, Glenside, Dolston. Telephone: Dolston 28443.

It was all there staring back at him, including his own name, written down for anyone to read in any reference library in the area.

In ten easy minutes Gurde had found the information that he thought would be impossible to find. The inside cover spelt it out: "The Chronicle Yearbook: Personal Information on all local professionals".

The book felt dirty in his hands, its pages conspiring, announcing the secrets that should not and could not be known. "Green Valley Primary, St Thomas' GS, Kent, King's College, Edinburgh University." One line on one flimsy page; its unique sequence begging to be used.

And it had been so easy to find, too easy, as if Gurde were part of the plan, as if he had been chosen to see the pattern and to walk a path that was still unknown to him. The pattern could no longer be denied. It was there in black and white where anyone could have found it. All you had to do was look up that name; that was the key. The Duff word was what mattered. But were there other patterns? Were there other books where the same three locations were trapped side by side? If the killer was using the text Gurde held in his hands, carving through the lines, then it would be the mother. And then the father himself, the lawyer, the link.

And there was reason to the pattern. As the sequence stepped, only one person would know. To everybody else the acts would seem random. Only one person would see the truth and be afraid, and grow more afraid as the events ate their way through his history towards the centre of his world.

But the wrong person knew.

A chill rose up Gurde's spine and filled his head. They had made it so easy, spelled it out, and included the address and telephone number.

For a moment Gurde believed. Green Valley and St Thomas', and now Edinburgh. He could be out there, watching, waiting in the long grass of the field. Gurde knew what the killer would do if he came. He remembered the bloody ritual of carving that the newspapers had described. Then another smiling face would appear beneath another headline. Gurde crept to the bedroom wall and put on the light, driving any remaining shadows from the room.

All the information he had needed, from one paragraph in a one leather bound book. The hours Gurde had spent wondering about the pattern, telling himself that it was false, that he was being stupid, and all the time a copy had been in the study, sitting behind the father's head as he worked, screaming to be found.

No. Even now, it had to be false. Gurde would not accept it even with the words thrust into his face. It was too big. It had been on television. It would not fit into his world. There had to be another reason. Gurde repeated those six words over and over, thumping the rhythm inside his head to keep him from running. There had to be another reason. What had the father done to deserve such attention? He was being stupid.

Perhaps now was the time to go to the police? They could tell him that it wasn't true, that he was being stupid. The Who's Who entry was enough to convince them that there was a pattern, even if it wouldn't convince the father. Gurde could show the police the entry in the book and then they would put an armed guard around the house, day and night and then, if the man came, they would catch him.

But they said he was a nutter, and yet he had seemed to avoid them easily, nobody knowing where he would strike, leaving only confusion in his wake. With Edinburgh so close, and the man already back on the road, perhaps tomorrow would be too late, perhaps he was already in the garden waiting for the lights to go out. Gurde decided to telephone the police as soon as the father had gone to bed.

But if the father slept in the study, Gurde wouldn't be able to get to the phone without him knowing. And the father wouldn't believe him and would stop him phoning.

The father would believe the police if they told him: if the Law told him then it had to be true. Gurde had to do something: he had to make sure the father didn't sleep in the study. He had to get the parents to sleep together.

Gurde waited a while before going downstairs. It was a relief just having something to do, instead of dwelling on what might be out there in the darkness. It had taken him an hour to think of how to get the parents talking again. Now it was planned and Gurde was sure it would work. They had to share the same bed for one more night.

The mother was still sitting in her sofa with her book flat on her lap. Gurde paused in the doorway for a second as she sniffed and rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. There was a pressure in his throat but Gurde knew he had to disturb her.

"Mum?" he whispered.

She looked up slowly, forcing a smile to her lips. Gurde smiled back.

"You OK?"he asked.

"Yes, Matty, I'll be all right."

"Mum, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course you can."

Gurde sat down beside her, sliding up against her so that their shoulders touched, faking embarrassment, prepared to sacrifice his pride. "Mum... er... Mum... what's a durex?"

She shifted away slightly. "Er... well it's... why do you ask?"

"Well, somebody at school said that if I didn't have a durex then I could get a girl pregnant."

"Yes, well that might be right."

"Have I got one then?"

"I don't know. Have you?"

"I thought you could tell me."

She hesitated. "Well, it's not exactly something you're born with. You see, you er... you have to go and buy them."

"I see." Gurde waited for a few seconds, apparently deep in thought. "Why?"

"Don't you know?"

Gurde put on a blank expression.

"Well... " She put her book on to the floor and took a deep breath. "Well, it's to stop women from getting pregnant."

"Yes, I know that."

"It's a little... It's... Is your father still working?"

"Shall I go and see?"

"Yes," she said quickly. "I think he would be better at explaining this sort of thing."

"Do you think? I'll go and get him."

"No... I..."

Gurde skipped out of the room before the mother had a chance to stop him. The study door was open, which meant the father was probably in the kitchen. Gurde hurried through and found him stirring a pan of spaghetti sauce on the cooker.

"Dad? Can you leave that for a second? Mum wants a word."

"Now?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Doesn't she know I'm busy."

"Please. Just for a minute."

"Oh, all right. What does she want now."

He tutted as he turned off his boiling pan. They walked back through the hall together. As they entered the sitting room the parents' eyes locked and the tension rose. Gurde went over and sat on the piano stool. The father took up position standing against the fireplace with an expression of annoyance on his face.

"Well?" the father said.

"Sorry?" she replied.

The father sighed. "Matt said you wanted a word."

"Not me. Matty wanted to ask you something."

He turned towards Gurde. "Yes?" he asked.

Gurde looked across at the mother, imploring her to speak. The father's eyes turned back to her.

"What is going on?"

"Um... Matty wants to know what... he wants to know what a... what a durex is for."

The father let out a burst of laughter that made him clutch for the mantlepiece. The mother's embarrassed look crumbled and she too started to giggle into her chest. Gurde put on a hurt expression. "What's so funny?" he said.

"Sorry son," the father said, "it's just not quite what I'd expected."

"Why's that?" Gurde asked.

The father laughed again. "Your poor mother." He looked across at her and smiled. She returned the smile and now there was some warmth in their contact. "Come and sit over here." The father gestured towards the space on the sofa beside the mother. Gurde moved across and sat down beside her. It was going well.

She took her son's hand and patted it. The father moved forward so that he stood over the mother, leaning on the very end of the mantelpiece, showing that they were together in their parental concern.

"Well now," he began, "you've done Biology so you know all about how you came into this world." Gurde nodded. "Well, sometimes couples want to... make love without having children." Gurde nodded again. "There are various things that the woman can do to stop this happening. There's the Pill and the Coil and the Headache." The mother looked up grinning and gave him a gentle poke in the ribs with her index finger. "Now, the man is more limited.." The mother nodded. "..because as soon as the.. er.. semen leaves his body it is, so to speak, out of his hands." Gurde was now smiling as well. "So, devices were invented to catch it before it could do its business. In the old days they used to use sheep stomach's, didn't they, Pat?"

"And leather pouches..."

"Ouch... nasty," he said, screwing up his face. "Well, in these more civilised times, they have invented little rubber balloons that fit on nice and neatly and they..."

"I know what a condom is." Gurde said.

"Oh. Well, yes, I thought it was bit odd that you didn't know by now."

"Ah!" The mother interrupted. "I see now. A durex is just another name for a... condom."

"OK." Gurde said, nodding appreciatively.

"Was that the problem?" The father asked. "There you go then. Trade names. I don't know..."

"Do you use..?" Gurde asked.

"Well," the father went on, "you know the old saying `That's torn it'..." He smiled again.

"Wasn't I supposed to happen then?"

"Oh no," the mother said, "you were planned."

"...Ben?"

The father took over again. "Well, Matt, let's just say Ben was an unexpected pleasure. I don't think you should tell him that though, do you, Pat?"

The mother took her son's hand. "No. I'll tell him if he ever asks, but you mustn't say anything to your brother. It might hurt his feelings."

"I won't."

"Have you got any stashed away, Matt?" the father asked.

The mother sat up straight. "Roger!" She turned to Gurde. "You don't have to answer that dear."

The father continued. "Well, it's just that Matt might be needing some before too long and I wouldn't want him to get caught with his pants down." He laughed again. The mother checked that Gurde was laughing too before she joined in.

"I haven't got any at the moment" Gurde said. "Somebody at school tried to sell me one."

"Fresh or second-hand?"

"Eh?"

"Was it still in its little foil wrapper?"

"Oh, yes."

"That's all right then. I wouldn't get a second-hand one if I were you. You don't know where it's been." They laughed again. The father walked across to the cupboard in the corner and pulled out three glasses and a half-empty bottle of wine. He had already poured the wine out before he asked, "anybody fancy a glass?" Gurde nodded vigorously. The mother had relaxed, sitting back into the sofa with her head held up, reaching for her glass with a smile.

Gurde had to time his exit carefully, to leave them together at just the right moment, to ensure the warmth would go on without him. He drained the glass as quickly as seemed reasonable. It seemed a shame not to be able to enjoy it but he had to be free to go.

The moment to leave didn't take long to come.

"Where shall we go on holiday this year?" the father asked. "Any preferences, Matt?"

"Oban?"

"Well, we were up there just a couple of weeks ago but I don't mind going up that way again. Perhaps we could go right out to the Isles, rent a place for a few days. What to do you think Pat?"

"I'm not sure."

"No? Didn't you like it up there?" he said, surprised at her lack of enthusiasm.

"It's not that, it's just... "

"What then?"

Mum glanced across at her son. Gurde picked up the signal and prepared to leave.

"We didn't really enjoy ourselves last time, did we?" she said.

"I don't know. I quite it enjoyed it really but I... "

"It wasn't like it used to be.. " She crossed her legs and picked a hair off her skirt.

"I'm sorry about that. It was just that.. "