Black Chalk (12 page)

Dee’s stack of notes was tied with black ribbon. ‘Oh dear, we had the same idea,’ she said to Tallest, pretending to be mortified.

‘But your choice of colour was so much more apt, Cassandra,’ he replied.

When he had received everyone’s deposit and gathered up the money from the floor, Tallest snapped shut the briefcase and held it to his chest. He made the sign of the cross against the leather but paused as he finished. ‘Please do excuse my dark sense of humour,’ he said, his mouth squeezing out a sarcastic pout. ‘Tragedies, ominous ribbons, blessings? Really, I’m just trying to have some fun with you all, no need to look so serious. Don’t worry, I promise you, it’ll be fun.’ Tallest turned and started to leave, lightly swinging his briefcase as he went. ‘See you next term then,’ he said, pulling the door closed behind him.

And then Chad imagined Tallest lingering outside the door for a moment to listen in on what he had left behind. And had he done so, what he would have heard would have pleased Tallest very much. Nothing but silence. Ten seconds, twenty.

Chad pictured him turning and bounding down the stairs two at a time.

*   *   *

XXII(iv)
   It was an epochal period for Chad, those first months at Pitt. One term, eight weeks, the very best days of his life. And his resentment toward Emilia for her delay of the Game quickly subsided because it was true there was much to see in and around the city. And although the Game was the next adventure Chad had in mind, Emilia’s adventures were not without their charms. For one or two days each week she became the group’s ringleader, insisting on trips to quaint Oxfordshire villages or arranging walks through the meadows, an afternoon in the Botanic Garden. The others sometimes made sour faces at the idea of watching rugby in the University Parks or enjoying an autumnal stroll through the woods. But Emilia knew how to sell her ideas to them. It wasn’t so much about the rugby as standing on the sidelines sharing hot toddies from a Thermos. The woods were next to a seventeenth-century riverside pub. And although Chad made his face sour as well, inside he was thrilled every time Emilia pulled them away from Pitt on another expedition.

They attended lectures in the mornings and convened as a group at some point every afternoon or evening. There were no formal arrangements for such gatherings. They would flock one by one at certain likely spots. Jolyon’s room, the college bar, dinner in the refectory. A patch of grass by the ancient tree in the gardens where Dee would sit and read until winter swept in hard toward the end of Michaelmas. At night they went everywhere together, a troupe of travelling actors enlivening every scene they slipped themselves into. The parties, the bars and concerts. The strange college discos that were referred to, in the university vernacular, as ‘bops’.

It was a term full of rapturous pleasures. And Chad believed he had stumbled by chance upon the very best people in the world. They all did. They were all so young.

*   *   *

XXII(v)
   ‘So what are you doing for Christmas, Chad?’ said Jolyon, clearing their plates away, pouring more tea. Jolyon made eggs for the two of them every Saturday morning. And then they would browse through the newspapers until lunchtime, reading out their favourite stories to one another.

‘I’m supposed to be going home,’ said Chad, picking up a newspaper, feigning an air of nonchalance as he opened it in his lap. ‘But with the deposit for the Game, I don’t think I can afford to. The other Americans are all flying back, so at least I’ll have the house to myself.’ He sipped the strong tea. It was becoming almost palatable. ‘Mom’ll be upset though. It’s bad enough I won’t be home for Thanksgiving this week.’

‘Why don’t you come home with me?’ said Jolyon. ‘If your house is empty we can hang out in the city a while. We only have to stay a week with my mother for Christmas, or longer if you want. I’ll show you how we do it over here.’

Chad loosened his grip on the newspaper, he could feel it almost beginning to tear. ‘I don’t want to impose, Jolyon,’ he said. ‘What would your mom think about this?’

‘I’ve asked her already,’ said Jolyon. ‘She can’t wait to meet you.’

*   *   *

XXII(vi)
   The eighth and final week of term became a time of celebration. The horse-chestnut leaves had fallen and Christmas was coming. They lived in a world of friendships and foggy mornings. Their days were cool and reeled along slowly. Nights buzzed by fast, warm with companionship and the air full of laughter.

Margaret Thatcher had resigned as prime minister midway through seventh week and Chad delighted his friends by pointing out that it was the day of Thanksgiving. He skipped the turkey meal with his housemates and they all partied in the bar, proclaiming a new age and toasting a thousand toasts. Most of Pitt had turned out for the occasion and there was even champagne, or something that sparkled at least. At the end of the night, Chad stood on a stool and shouted, ‘Happy Thanksgiving, happy Thanksgiving, everybody.’ Someone put Frank Sinatra’s ‘New York, New York’ on the jukebox and they hoisted Chad onto their shoulders. Everyone sang and everyone lifted their glasses to him as he was paraded around, kicking his legs to the beat.

Margaret Thatcher – whom Emilia would only ever refer to as Mrs Satan – would remain in office for nearly another week. And then on the Wednesday of the last week of term she officially departed and Jolyon threw a second party, this one in his room. Twenty people, maybe thirty, in a space no larger than a boxing ring. They drank tequila from the bottle and this soon became a contest until Chad, the last to fall, disgorged the contents of his stomach from Jolyon’s window, staining the ancient sandstone beneath. Dee brought to the party her record player and the soundtrack from
The Wizard of Oz
in an old corner-creased sleeve. The whole night long they played the same track over and over – ‘Ding Dong! The Witch Is Dead’ – and everyone sang along feverishly.

When the party was almost over and the wicked witch had died for the final time, Chad hung his chin from the window. There were only six of them left in the room now, the six who mattered most to each other. The sound of deep voices rose up from the narrow street beneath, heads and shoulders making snaky paths along the pavement. Chad’s mouth felt as though it were wadded with something like muslin.

But in contrast to his stomach, his sense of well-being was immense. His Michaelmas Epoch. There would be no turning back. At last Chad was beginning to kick free of that half of himself from which he had always longed to escape. For better or worse

*   *   *

XXIII(i)
   When I read over the last few chapters, I discover a note I must have left for myself. And when I come across this note, I look for and find my sneakers. On the white toe of one shoe in Magic Marker I write the word WALK. On the other toe I write NOON. As physical mnemonics go, this one should prove simple enough to decode. I place the sneakers beneath my lunchtime plate and think about my progress.

Everything is going so well. This morning while eating my breakfast I waved to my neighbour across the way. I even
initiated
the greeting. You see the strides I am making? My walks, my waves, this story gushing out from me freely.

And now my morning routine is complete, another chapter finished and I have drunk two of today’s four glasses of water.

*   *   *

XXIII(ii)
   Note to self: Must drink more whisky. Water is fine but a life-affirming slug of whisky always soothes the soul.

*   *   *

XXIV(i)
   They entered the room in order, Tallest first, then Middle, then Shortest.

Usually they would attend the Game only one at a time. But on that first day, the first Sunday of Hilary term, all three of them made themselves present as if dignitaries at the opening ceremony of some international spectacular.

Tallest took the desk chair with wheels. Middle and Shortest stood stiffly against the wall like two scratches. Middle, from time to time, took a few notes but never seemingly at moments of great significance.

Dee had insisted on making a mixtape for the event – all the songs were humorously appropriate, she promised. The first track was ‘Every Day Is Like Sunday’, although Chad couldn’t see what it had to do with their game but for the fact they had decided to play on Sundays.

And so while Morrissey crooned away softly in the background about Armageddon, Jolyon opened the proceedings with something like a speech, a brief greeting and a hope for much enjoyment to follow. He made a small joke about their mysterious benefactors but thanked them as well. And then the Game began.

*   *   *

XXIV(ii)
   After the best weeks of Chad’s life, he and Jolyon had returned to the city soon after New Year’s Eve. Jolyon’s friends in Sussex all adored Jolyon. And as he was a close friend of Jolyon they all seemed to adore Chad as well. Everyone was interested in his opinions – as if, to have been chosen by Jolyon as a friend, you clearly had some of the most fascinating thoughts on earth. They ate most nights with Jolyon’s mother at a dinner table that never dimmed in its chatter, they went often to Brighton to buy second-hand books and see the Christmas lights on its pier, they drank whisky with Jolyon’s father, listened to carollers, read their books by the hearths of ancient inns, popped champagne at the end of the year …

The others had come back to Pitt a week before the start of term and they had all met every day in Jolyon’s room to agree upon the mechanics. It had to be a game never before played so that no one could gain an unfair advantage, they would have to learn and develop tactics on the fly. They could change the rules if they encountered problems, or if they simply wished to change them, but only if the majority voted through the changes.

They chose cards to represent skill and dice to represent luck. It was a hotchpotch of many of the games they had played growing up. Some rummy, some bridge, a little poker. Mark admitted sheepishly that in his earlier youth he had dabbled with Dungeons & Dragons and they based some of the dice-play on the rules from that game. Risk further influenced their thinking on dice, particularly the number of dice to be rolled, sometimes several. The Game also bore undertones of Monopoly and shades of Diplomacy and perhaps more games besides. It was the game of all games – this was how Jack had described the Game, largely sarcastically, but Jolyon had agreed enthusiastically.

Picture cards were strong and aces strongest. High dice rolls were useful to a player involved in a challenge with an opponent but not desirable when consequences were being rolled for.

They ran trials and made small adjustments and finally everyone felt happy. The Game was intended to be a contest for individuals, although eventually it would become apparent that the structure allowed numerous opportunities for both cooperation and back-stabbing. In fact it seemed almost as if some of the rules had been designed to encourage such behaviours.

None of them flinched at any of this. The Game was going to be fun, sometimes challenging, but mostly fun. And the prize money was a goodly amount but they told themselves earnestly that the money came second to the challenge, money was merely the cherry on top of the cake.

Of course, in the end, the mechanics of the Game proved irrelevant. What mattered most of all was the players. And with regard to the consequences, they had formulated absolutely no rules at all. They were young and idealistic and they all believed in trust and honour and each other’s inherent decency.

In retrospect, their naivety was staggering. Like newborns gurgling with pleasure as they crawled into the lions’ den.

*   *   *

XXIV(iii)
   As cards were fanned and played and picked, and dice were rolled, the conversation remained guarded and slight. Tallest, observing this fact, said, ‘Just carry on as if we’re not here.’

‘Who are you people anyway?’ said Jack.

Shortest moved forward from the wall. ‘You do not speak to us,’ he said. ‘Under no circumstances is this permitted. Not unless we specifically invite you to do so. Is that understood?’

Tallest raised his hand. ‘It’s all right,’ he said, ‘I don’t mind fielding that one. But my colleague is right. We come here as observers, not participants. I’d be most grateful for your cooperation. As to your question, Mr Thomson, regarding our identity, we will in fact be revealing that information at a later date. Once the Game has concluded.’ Tallest removed his glasses and started to clean them. ‘But to one individual only,’ he said. He fogged his lenses with a hot breath. ‘And I doubt very much that the individual concerned will feel inclined to share such information with the rest of you.’

‘And why’s that?’ said Jack. ‘Because you’re so powerful and secret and scarily important?’

‘No, not at all,’ said Tallest, returning the glasses to the tip of his nose. ‘Because I doubt any of you will be on speaking terms by that point.’

‘That’s so wrong!’ Chad shouted. His anger came quickly and his face was inflamed. ‘You have just … you have no idea just how wrong you are.’

Tallest pushed back his glasses. ‘Of course, Mr Mason,’ he said. ‘Whatever you say, I’m sure you’re right. This is, after all,
your
game, is it not?’

‘It’s everyone’s game,’ said Jolyon. ‘It belongs to the group. We arrive at our decisions democratically.’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Tallest, ‘quite the collective.’ He sniffed cheerfully. ‘As I was saying, it’s as if we’re not here.’

*   *   *

XXIV(iv)
   The first session of the Game finished with neither clear winners nor losers but Chad could perhaps claim to be happiest with his position. He would have to perform only one consequence, to be drawn from the first pot, the one containing the lightest and least daring of challenges. There were three pots in total, each one containing small cards on which the consequences were printed. They had agreed that whenever a card was chosen, the other players would hold on to it and return it only once the dare had been completed. And then the successful performer could ceremonially tear the thing up in front of them.