FLASH ‘What’s Tennant like in bed?’ FLASH ‘Did you put him up to it? FLASH ‘Do you agree that you are a Human Black Widow of Death?’ FLASH FLASH FLASH.
I was like a bunny in the lights. I was dimly aware that Sir Connaught Sampson-Samson was trying to tug me inside, but I stood stock planted. Then the door burst open behind me, and Rollo Price practically lifted me in the air as he swept me back into the station. The whole thing can only have lasted twenty seconds, but my legs were jelly.
As soon as we were safely inside, Rollo spun me towards him, and said, ‘Are you okay, Ems? I’m really sorry about that.’ His voice seemed to come from deep in his grey-blue eyes. I nodded dumbly. Still holding me, Rollo looked furiously at the thin sergeant. ‘What the hell are you playing at? You knew they were out there!’
The sergeant shrugged his meagre shoulders. ‘David Tennant killed her husband,’ he said. ‘She knows something about it, and she isn’t answering our questions. She’s not the victim.’
‘Don’t be absurd,’ hissed Sir Conn. ‘This girl is no more capable of murder than a peacock. You know that.’
The thin man looked at me, not particularly apologetic. ‘I am sorry, Miss Park. We doubt you instigated this, but you have to start telling the truth.
Sir Conn interposed himself between me and Rollo, put his arm around me and walked me back into the building. Rollo and the thin sergeant walked behind. While we walked, he whispered,
‘Right-ho, old thing. I’m getting you out of here. Let’s find a place to sit down.’ Every bench and chair in the station seemed to be occupied. We stopped in a corridor which opened into a room of desks full of people pretending they weren’t trying to listen.
‘I’ll look after her while you speak to the chief, Sir Connaught,’ said Rollo. ‘If that’s what you want? We’ll wait here.’ Sir Conn looked doubtful, but I nodded that it was okay, and he bustled off.
‘Sorry, Ems,’ said Rollo. ‘Some of the guys here aren’t the most conciliatory knives in the block.’
‘I get why they’re annoyed,’ I say. ‘I can see what it looks like.’
‘I know you,’ said Rollo. ‘Don’t worry about anything.’
‘I really want to sit down.’
‘Well, there’s… Wait. Come with me.’
‘But, Sir Conn thinks we’re waiting here.’
Rollo looked at the thin sergeant, who nodded wearily. ‘Atkins,’ said the sergeant to the small, Cornish-looking man on the nearest desk. When that fat guy comes back, tell us we’ve gone to the roof, okay?’ Atkins nodded.
Five minutes later, we were standing among pot plants in what was, all in all, a very pleasant roof garden. We hadn’t broken stride on the way here, but Rollo had somehow magicked into existence two mugs (not even plastic cups) of tea. It really felt like I was alone with Rollo. The thin man was twenty yards away, standing like a wraith, imperturbable. I imagined that was the secret of his detecting success – people forgot he was there.
I started as a raven landed ten feet from us on the back of a bench, and cocked its head, as if in warning. This was me being hypersensitive – animals don’t warn people – but David Tennant had told me not to trust anyone, and I was trying not to trust Rollo because David had been so certain, but here Rollo was, not just protecting me but also acting like an anchor to my past, to the time when everything was normal. But when had things stopped being normal? For a moment, I thought it was this morning, when my husband was killed. But then I thought it must actually be when he and Cathy Calloway, on my wedding day, did … that thing. But if they were demons, which in Cathy Calloway’s case seemed unarguable, then maybe it went back forever, as early as I met Cathy, which was before I first saw Rollo. Which meant that Rollo wasn’t an anchor to the time before at all.
But, whatever the logic, Rollo felt like an anchor, and that’s what counted. But David Tennant told me to trust no one until I’d spoken to Miss Smallbone, and I’d immediately let Rollo, who I hadn’t seen for years, lead me onto a high roof, where we were all but alone. I looked at him over the lip of my mug. ‘You can trust me, Ems,’ he said. ‘Whatever happens, I promise, you can trust me. I’m here to help you.’
‘I want to tell you what’s happening, but I can’t. I’m sorry, Rollo.’
He smiled. ‘Don’t worry about that. We’ll talk in good time.’ He indicated the thin man. ‘Apart from anything else, I wouldn’t put it past that one to have some kind of directional mike secreted about his person.’ The thin man waved back gently as, from behind him, Sir Conn burst onto the roof garden.
‘Mary Sue,’ he said, not quite angry. ‘What have you said to him?’
‘We’re not your enemies, Sir Connaught,’ said Rollo.
‘Please trust me, Mary Sue,’ said Sir Conn, ignoring him. ‘These people are not your friends. This is a horrible business, they want it over fast, and you are way for them to do it. I want you out of this building before you do yourself any more harm.’ Then he frowned, ‘Unfortunately, before you can do that, it is imperative that you speak briefly to David Tennant.’
Monday, August 27, 2007
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
If this were a book I was writing, I'd have binned this chapter, or, more likely, tried to give it some more character weight. As it is, it seems to do very little. However, rewriting/editing together into tomorrow's chapter would take too long ('I'd have made it half as long, but I didn't have the time,' etc.), and reduce my precious buffer of spare days (this is going to be important in a few weeks, when I'm off to New York, if you can imagine such a thing). Things start cracking along again soon though, don't worry.
It does feel different, and I was looking for the episodic, cliff-hanger ending; but I think really it just feels more like an excerpt than a story being told and composed as a serial. In a book one wouldn't think twice about a passage such as this; it only feels odd here because of the way the story is published.
Reading several episodes late, I have got to say that the way that things are explained and arrive is so inventive, or is this just my age. I laugh out loud and keep reading!
Post a Comment