From Aberystwyth with Love (18 page)

‘Would it be a bad idea?’

‘Drinking alone is the thin edge of the wedge, I generally advise against it.’

‘Know anyone round here who could help shoulder the burden?’

‘I’m not busy at the moment.’

I unscrewed the cap, took a drink from the bottle and handed it to him. He tried not to look too eager but his hand was shaking.

As he drank, I said, ‘I like a nice conversation when I drink.’

The typographer swallowed a third of the bottle in a series of glug-glug sounds. He let out a long gasp of satisfaction and held the bottle away from him and examined it as if he had never seen such a wonder before. He said, ‘I can get downright chatty when there’s liquor around.’

‘They tell me you used to be a member of the Slaughterhouse Mob.’

‘Yes, I was a bodyguard.’

‘Did you know Goldilocks?’

‘You could say he and I were acquainted.’

‘Story goes he escaped from prison while awaiting execution.’

‘I heard that story too.’

‘How did he manage to escape?’

‘By magic.’

‘Oh.’

He took another swig. I waited. He took another swig. It was one of those silences.

‘By magic, you say?’

‘Yup.’

‘Just like that.’

‘Yup.’

‘A mystery.’

‘Sort of.’

‘Care to throw any light on it?’

‘What sort of light?’

‘You know, the stuff made of photons.’

He nodded. ‘Oh that.’

I sighed.

‘Dewi Stardust,’ he said. ‘Conjuror to the mob. It was the Christmas party and he went to give the prisoners a little show. He was going to make someone disappear and needed a volunteer. Since Goldilocks was on death row he was the obvious choice. We all thought it was really funny. Dewi Stardust had a big animal cage on the stage and Goldilocks went inside; they shut the door. He threw a drape over the cage and waved his wand and stuff. Then there was a bang and a flash and that was quickly followed by the bark of a dog. He whipped off the drape and it seemed Goldilocks had been turned into a dog. Well, they all cheered and clapped thinking it was a pretty good trick.

‘Then at the end, when the show was winding up, Dewi tried to change the dog back into Goldilocks and it wouldn’t work. He tried and tried, using all the magic words he knew, but nothing happened.’ The ex-con paused for lubrication. ‘That was the last anyone ever saw of Goldilocks.’

We sat in silence for a while as I contemplated the story. ‘What happened to the dog?’

‘They put it in his cell for a few days, on the off-chance that it might change back spontaneously. After that, they gave it to the cook to look after. The dog was happy about that, was better fed than any of the prisoners, and was enormously popular around the cell block. The dog is the one character who ends up happy in this story. He was called Nipper.’

‘And no one ever saw Goldilocks again?’

‘Nope, or at least no one that I know of.’

‘How did you end up working here?’

‘I did old Mr Barnaby a good turn and he gave me the job.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I saved his son’s life.’

‘Most folk say you got the job because Barnaby must have lost his marbles.’

‘Most folk don’t know anything. They think the Slaughterhouse Mob tortured the son and broke all his teeth. I’m the one that took him to hospital.’

‘Why did they do that to him?’

‘Who?’

‘The Slaughterhouse Mob.’

‘Who said they did anything?’

‘You did. Or you implied it.’

‘My friend, I told you what folk say. I don’t take a position on it. About the only reason I am still alive, unlike every other member of that mob, is I don’t take positions on things. It’s not healthy. I found Gomer Barnaby wandering around in a daze, with his hair standing on end and all his teeth broken. I don’t know what happened to him, and nor did he. I thank that particular piece of shared ignorance for the long life that I have enjoyed.’

‘A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.’

‘Round here especially.’

‘This was the same day that Gethsemane disappeared, isn’t it?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Are those two things connected, do you think?’

‘Probably, but I don’t know how. I don’t take positions on that neither.’

‘Was Goldilocks as bad as they say?’

‘Depends on how bad they say.’

‘I guess you wouldn’t care to take a position on it?’

‘I’d say he was more misunderstood than downright bad. They say he got his sister pregnant as soon as Ahab the father left, but it wasn’t like that. He was the one protecting the sister from the drunken father; him and his brother. That’s why his big brother Shadrach got sent away. He came home and found the old man messing around with the sister and went for him. Nearly killed him, but not quite. He got sent to a mental asylum where he spent his days in a straitjacket. Goldilocks used to go and visit. Wasn’t supposed to, but he just went. Hitch-hiked. Then one day the father ran off and left Goldilocks and his sister alone. I don’t know what became of the sister. But she always said Goldilocks never laid a finger on her and I believe it.’

‘What happened to the mum?’

‘Disappeared one Christmas. Ahab put her shoes in the pig pen to make it appear like they’d eaten her. Goldilocks couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven when that happened. Some people reckon that’s why he went to work at the new slaughterhouse; get his own back on the pigs. Me, I don’t believe it, but they do say he loved killing those animals.’

‘What really happened to the mum?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe Ahab did her in, maybe she just couldn’t take it any more and ran away. Maybe Ahab lost her in a card game. Nothing would surprise me.’

‘Did Goldilocks kill Gethsemane?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Have you got a theory?’

‘Everyone’s got a theory.’

‘I haven’t.’

He took another drink. ‘This stuff is good!’

‘It doesn’t seem to be having much effect.’

‘It’s working fine, you are just too impatient.’ He paused again, and this time the silence was longer. I could see him thinking about it all, those days of long ago, a young man on the threshold of his life, filled with the hot-blooded lusts and desires that torment all young men. His memory insisted that the spotty youth of long ago was him, but it must have been hard to believe. ‘I don’t know whether he did or not, but I always found it strange that he would bury one of her shoes in his own garden. You’d have to be pretty stupid to do that and he wasn’t dumb.’

‘Of course if you wanted to frame him that’s exactly what you would do. I guess we’ll never know.’

‘There is one person who knows. The Witchfinder.’

‘Why him?’

‘While he was on death row the kid asked to see a priest. Said he had a confession to make. They sent the Witchfinder along. I guess they thought there was no point finding a real priest for a wretch like him. He made his confession and shortly after that he escaped. Something has always puzzled me about it. Strictly speaking, the Witchfinder was required by the seal of the confessional not to divulge what he heard. At the same time, if the kid had said on his deathbed that he was innocent, then the Witchfinder could hardly let that remain secret, could he? So it was sort of understood that if the kid was guilty the Witchfinder would say nothing, but if he was innocent he would make it obvious without actually saying it in words. Well, he said nothing, which sort of confirmed what everybody thought, that the kid was guilty. But, if that was the case, why didn’t he say where the body was? Why would you take the trouble to confess and not give up a detail like that? Always puzzled me, that.’ He finished the bottle of rum and handed it back. ‘Much obliged.’

I stood up and then remembered something. ‘So how did the kid escape?’

He held out a bunched fist. ‘This hand is Aberystwyth gaol.’ He held out the other hand. ‘And this is Aberystwyth. The question is, how to get from the one to the other, right?’

‘You seem to have outlined the problem with great economy.’

‘Exactly. Now, imagine it was a coin in one hand and you were a magician, how would you get the coin from one hand to the other? That’s the way to think of it.’

‘Maybe I should ask Dewi Stardust.’

‘That wouldn’t be easy. Dewi Stardust is not taking calls at the moment. Shortly after the escape he did a little disappearing trick of his own. A permanent one.’

Chapter 13

Meici Jones eased the car out into the traffic flow. We drove along Pier Street and followed the one-way system through town to Southgate. I sat hunched in the small seat, cradling on my lap a plastic shopping bag containing the gift-wrapped Airfix model which Calamity had bought on my behalf. As traffic slowed to a standstill on the Penparcau Hill Meici turned to me and said, ‘Look, Louie, I really appreciate you coming to my party. I just want to say . . . I just want to say I’m sorry about what happened.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘When we were at Mrs Eglwys Fach’s house, I was short-tempered with you. The thing is, I’ve had my eye on Arianwen for quite some time now.’

‘Think nothing of it,’ I said. ‘She’s a lovely girl.’

Meici flinched.

‘Not my type, though,’ I added hurriedly. ‘And anyway, you saw her first.’

He looked comforted. ‘Yes, I did, didn’t I?’

We picked up speed and drove on. The heat rising from the tarmac vaporised the world and made it dance.

‘You’re a good bloke, you are, Louie.’

My body tensed involuntarily. Remarks like that, made so early in a relationship, are seldom the overture to a good afternoon. I resisted the pressure to respond and the unreturned compliment hung over our heads like a bad spell.

‘No, you are. Really,’ said Meici. ‘A good bloke. You can be my friend, if you want. Would you like that?’

‘Yes,’ I said without enthusiasm. ‘That would be really good.’

Meici looked pleased. He became expansive. ‘Mam’s always telling me to bring a friend home for tea, but . . . just between you and me, Lou, I don’t have any. It’s not easy making friends is it?’

‘No,’ I agreed. ‘It’s not.’

‘You’re a good bloke you are, Lou, a damn good bloke.’

‘Please don’t call me Lou. Where does your mum live?’

‘Not far from Bwlchcrwys.’

‘How many people are coming to your party?’

There was no answer.

After five miles free of traffic we found ourselves reduced to a crawl by a group of escaped sheep trotting down the middle of the lane. Meici hit the horn but, unusually for creatures who are normally easily spooked, they didn’t seem concerned. ‘I’m glad I let you be my friend,’ said Meici. He took a slip of paper out of his shirt pocket and proceeded to unfold it one-handed. ‘I ’spect you know a lot about book-learning and stuff,’ he said. ‘Don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘A lot.’

‘Thought so, you can tell. What’s this mean?’ He handed me the slip of paper. The word ‘serenade’ was written on it.

‘Serenade?’

‘Yeah, what’s it mean?’

‘It means to court a girl by singing outside her window.’

‘Ah!’ said Meici. ‘That explains where I went wrong. I thought it was a drink.’

‘They’re easily confused. Where did you come across it?’

‘That would be telling, wouldn’t it?’

The group of sheep divided and darted to either side, back on to the high green grass bank. We picked up speed and drove on, an awkward silence left hanging in the car by Meici’s last remark. After a while he spoke. ‘You see, I got myself into a bit of a fix by telling mam that Arianwen was my girl. Mam keeps on at me to bring her round. So I’ve been doing one of those correspondence courses about how to talk to ladies and stuff. I’m not sure if you noticed but a lot of my patter is straight from the book.’