One Under (52 page)

‘Like Mark.’

‘Yeah.’ She nodded. ‘I suppose.’

Faraday nodded, sitting back in the chair. They’d been talking for nearly half an hour. It felt like minutes. Barber stirred.

‘We’re in July by now. Am I right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Andy’s feeling threatened, Mark’s spooking you, you’re starting to worry about losing your kids, your family … yes?’

‘Yes.’

‘So what did you do?’

‘I went to see a friend of ours, a good friend. In fact he’s Milo’s godfather.’

Faraday ducked his head, hid a smile. He’d been starting to wonder when Peter Barnaby was going to make an appearance. Barber wanted to know more.

‘He’s a psychiatrist, this friend of ours. He knows about madness. I thought he’d be a good person to talk to.’

‘About?’

‘Mark. I told him everything, or more or less everything.’

‘And?’

‘He was brilliant. God knows what he thought really but he was nice enough to say he understood.’

‘And did he offer advice? Based on what you told him?’

‘Yes. He said that Mark’s behaviour sounded like a form of personality disorder. That was his description. He used the word “narcissism”. He said Mark could be one of those people who need to be in total control. That’s why he had so few friends. That’s why he was so
busy
all the time. And he said something else too. He said that with all these people there was a really fine line between operating perfectly OK, between seeming perfectly normal, and being totally off the planet.’

‘You mean mad?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you? What did you think?’

‘Me? I could only agree. I was living with it every day. The phone calls. The notes through the door. The hanging around first thing in the morning. That was why I’d come to see him. I needed advice.’

‘And he offered it?’

‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘He did. He dug out a copy of some act or other. Mental Health Act? I can’t remember. Anyway, the point was that under this act Mark could be arrested if he was doing something that would either harm himself or members of the public, and that after the arrest he could be assessed and sectioned. That meant going to hospital. For his own good.’

‘In a locked ward,’ Barber pointed out. ‘Section 136.’

‘That’s it.’

‘Until he got better.’

‘Exactly.’

‘And stopped bothering you.’

‘Yes.’

Barber glanced at Faraday. Over to you.

‘Let’s talk about Sunday.’ Faraday had folded his arms. ‘Mark phoned you around midday. You talked for nearly an hour. Yes?’

‘That’s right. He wanted to meet me that night.’

‘Did he say why?’

‘Yes. That’s when I realised that he probably
was
mad.’

‘How come?’

‘He said he wanted to have a last supper. That was his exact phrase. Last supper.’

‘In the religious sense, you mean?’

‘I presumed so, yes. That was the implication, certainly. He said I’d crucified him, betrayed him.’

‘How?’

‘With a kiss.’

‘Did that make any sense?’

‘None.’

‘But you agreed to meet him?’

‘Yes, I did. He wanted to come to my mum’s flat. He said he’d cook, bring the wine, everything.’

‘And Andy?’

‘I told him I was meeting a girlfriend.’

‘Did he believe you?’

‘No.’

‘So what happened?’

‘I got to the flat first, just like always. It was around nine o’clock. Quite late. I watched TV for a bit, just waiting. Then Mark turned up. I knew he’d been smoking. I could see it straightaway. But he was very subdued, very quiet, not what I expected at all. On the phone he’d been full on, just like the old Mark, but something must have happened, God knows what … ’

‘You had something to eat?’

‘Yes. He’d brought two bananas.’

‘Just that?’

‘Yes. He didn’t say why. He just gave me one, took a mouthful of the other and threw it in the bin. Then he did something quite odd. He walked to the window and just stood there for ages, staring out. When I asked what he was up to, he wouldn’t say. Then he turned round. There were tears streaming down his face. He was really choked up. I felt sorry for him. I put my arms round him, gave him a hug, tried to make it better, but all he wanted to talk about was the music.’

‘Music?’

‘There was music out there. He wanted me to share it with him, listen to it, understand it. He said we were lucky. He said that only a handful of people had ever heard the music. And that handful included us.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I lied. I said I could hear it too.’

‘And could you?’

‘No.’

She nodded, a moment frozen in time. Outside, in the street, the blare of an ambulance siren.

Barber wanted to know what happened next.

‘He asked me to go to bed with him. He didn’t want to make love or anything. Just to be held.’

‘And did you?’

‘Yes. We stayed in bed until late, maybe midnight.’

‘Did you phone anyone?’

‘Yes. I phoned Andy. I’d talked to him already, earlier. I just said things were going on a bit and that he shouldn’t wait up for me. I’d be back later.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He just grunted.’

‘What then?’

‘We got up. My mum’s car was outside. Mark told me to drive out of the city.’

‘Did he tell you where?’

‘No. He just said he wanted me to do him one last favour.’

‘
Last
favour?’

‘That’s the way he put it. One last favour. Then we’d be quits. I hadn’t a clue what he was talking about but I was starting, you know, to wonder whether this might not be my chance. I mean, he was behaving
really
oddly. I just didn’t know what to expect. Maybe this was what Peter meant by madness.’

‘Peter?’

‘Our psychiatrist friend. The one who told me about the Mental Health Act. I just thought … ’ She shrugged. ‘I just thought it was worth a try.’

‘So off you went?’

‘Yes. We went out on the motorway, then north towards London. There’s a turn-off before you get to Petersfield. You go down into all the little lanes, then you get to a village. Buriton. There’s a crossroads. We went right. I remember the hill. We went up and up, trees everywhere, absolutely no one around.’

‘And Mark?’

‘Said nothing. Just gave me directions.’

‘He’d been there before?’

‘Must have done. After a bit we got to a really narrow track that went down into a wood. I carried on driving, then just before the end we got bogged in a marshy piece of ground, and we had to get out and push the car back out. It took a bit of effort but we managed it.’ She paused, fingering the edge of the table. ‘It was then that I realised we were beside the railway line. It was a moonlit night. The track was down a little embankment. Mark said we had to climb over the fence, walk a bit.’

‘And you?’

‘I just went along with him.’

Faraday reached for his pen, scribbled himself a note:
I just went along with him
. Back in February this would have served as a perfect description of their fledgling relationship. Six months later nothing had changed.

Jenny was describing the walk now, the pair of them stumbling along the trackside, keeping well clear of the live rail.

Barber interrupted: ‘Did you have any idea where you were going?’

‘None.’

‘Weren’t you … curious? Anxious? Frightened?’

‘Of course I was. I kept asking him what was going on. He just begged me to trust him.’

‘Begged?’

‘Yes, like I say, I’d never seen him like this before.’

After about half an hour, she said, they were approaching the tunnel.

‘I could see it in the moonlight, just this big black hole. I really didn’t want to go in. I told him that.’

‘So what happened?’

‘He had a torch. He said there wasn’t a problem. He’d done the checks and everything. There wouldn’t be a train through for hours. All we were doing was going maybe a hundred metres in. It wouldn’t take long, he said. Then I could go.’

‘So you went in.’

‘Yes. I was terrified. I hated it.’

‘And what did you find?’

‘About a hundred metres in, exactly as he’d said, there was this stuff tucked into a kind of hole in the wall. I didn’t know what it was to begin with. Then he started dragging it all out. There was some chain and some rope, and this long piece of iron. He went down on his hands and knees by the rail. As soon as you get into the tunnel, the live rail switches to the other side of the track, so there wasn’t, you know, any real
danger
… ’ She broke off, looking down at her hands.

‘Did you ask him what he was up to?’

‘Of course I did.’

‘And?’

‘All he would say was that he’d been up here yesterday, borrowed someone’s car, made sure that everything was
ready
. I said ready for what but he wouldn’t answer me. I was holding the torch by this point. Mark was down on his hands and knees, digging away at the stones under the rail until he could slide this iron thing in. Then he got up and made me shine the torch on where he was standing.’

‘Why?’

‘He wanted to strip, take his shoes off, all his clothes, everything. He just piled them by the side of the track. Then he wanted me to kiss him.’

‘And did you?’

‘Yes. He was crying again by this time. Then he got down and lay on the rail with his ankles on either end of the iron thing. He told me to tie him up like that.’

‘And did you?’

Jenny’s head came up again. For a long moment she stared at Barber. Then she nodded.

‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘I did.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’d twigged what he was up to, what he was doing. It was a kind of accusation. He wanted me to see what I’d done to him, where it had taken him. We’d been so happy, he seemed to be saying. And now this.’

‘And you?’

‘I thought he was mad. I thought he’d finally lost it. And more important than that, I knew I could get him put away.’

‘Sectioned?’

‘Yes. He told me the first train through was at five in the morning. It was only two fifteen, two thirty, something like that. I had loads of time,
loads
of time. I could get people into the tunnel - you lot, the ambulance, the fire brigade. I could get the current switched off. I could do it all. He’d obviously gone bonkers and here was the evidence.’

After the rope, she said, he’d asked her to wind the chain around his middle. That had taken some time, trying to thread the chain beneath the rail, but she’d done it in the end.

‘And the padlock?’ It was Faraday.

‘That went on last. He did it himself. Shit … ’ She shook her head, shuddered.

‘What happened?’

‘He snapped it shut, then held up the key. I’d still got the torch. I could see his face. He was grinning at me, dangling this key, telling me how much he loved me, how much I meant to him, how good we could have been. He was like a wonky radio. Someone had suddenly tuned him in. He’d suddenly come to life again. He was the old Mark. He started laughing. It was horrible, everything echoing in the tunnel. Then he stopped, just like that. He was staring into the torch. Dead silence.
Dead
silence. Then he threw the key away. I heard it. I heard it tinkling in the darkness, over beyond the live rail. It was like some really scary movie. Shit … ’

She broke off, covering her face. Michelle fumbled for a tissue, couldn’t find one, then wrapped an encircling arm around her client’s heaving shoulders. Faraday leaned forward with a word of explanation for the tape machines, then called for a break. Everything fits, he thought. Even the location of the key they’d found on the other side of the tracks.

Jenny was looking at him. ‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘I need to finish this.’

‘You’re sure?’

She nodded. Faraday cued the tape machines again, announced the time, gestured for Jenny to carry on. A tiny frown clouded her face as she settled herself. Then she described stumbling back along the track in the darkness with Duley’s torch. As soon as she was out in the fresh air, she’d tried to make a call on her mobile but she couldn’t get a signal. The car must have been a kilometre away at least. She ran and ran, looking for the gate in the fence. Finally, she found it. She tried again with the mobile. Nothing. She got in the car, praying that it didn’t bog in again, drove out of the wood. At the top of the track she turned left, heading south, towards the glow of the city. By the time she got a signal, she’d decided to phone her husband first and not the emergency services.

Faraday wanted to know why.

‘Because … ’ Her face was wet with tears. ‘I wanted to explain.’

‘And what did you say?’

‘I told him everything. I told him Mark was in the tunnel. I told him he was tied to the line. I told him he was mad. I told him we could get him off our backs, that it was all over, that everything would be fine again. I said there wasn’t a shrink in the country who wouldn’t lock him up and throw the key away.’

‘And Andy?’

‘Andy said I was hysterical. He told me to come home. He said not to call anyone. If I did, he said I’d never see the kids again.’

‘And you?’

‘I -’ She gulped. ‘- Believed him. I knew I had to get home. It wasn’t even three. I had a couple of hours at least. What does it take to stop a train? A phone call.’

She drove back to Portsmouth. When she got home Andy was still up.

‘He said he’d known about Mark all along. He said he thought it would just burn itself out but lately he’d realised that wasn’t going to happen. He said the man was crazy. And he said Peter Barnaby was wrong.’

‘Like how?’