Sleepwalkers (33 page)

And then this pretty girl came over to him and started laughing. ‘Who the hell keeps a bloody cactus in their living room?’ she said. It was as though she could read his mind.

She chatted to him without the usual reserve or clever smalltalk and he found that he was able to talk back. She told him her name was Carrie and that he was never, ever allowed to call her Caroline. She was there because her brother played football with the boss and she felt as out of place as he did. She had this funny way of touching her ear, as though she were adjusting an earring. It meant her shoulders would often hunch up, as if she were nervous, scared of something. It reminded Ben of a little mouse. Later, for many years, he used to call her Little M.

They stuck together for the rest of the night. She joked that they were the only sane ones – or the ultimate losers. And Ben
thought she was lovely. She never turned away to check out other people and the conversation never felt forced or boring. They just clicked.

At the end of the evening, just as he was planning to give her his phone number, or maybe ask for hers (the whole thing was a little stressful), he was suddenly dragged into the middle of the room by his boss who was now hilariously drunk. He had his arm around Ben’s neck, pulling other guys from the garage to him, telling them all how much he loved them, how much he owed them, and other drunken bollocks. One of the guys told him he’d like a pay rise, and for a moment it all looked as if it was going to get ugly, which made the whole thing even funnier. But then Ben looked around and realised that Carrie had gone. His boss still had a tight grip around his shoulder and would probably have fallen over if he’d tried to get away. Everyone was laughing and joking, but Ben was gutted.

When he finally pulled himself away, he knew it was much too late. He got out as quickly as he could, not bothering to put on his coat even though it was freezing outside. He stomped down the road, trying not to slip on the snow and ice, cursing to himself. But then he heard a shout. He turned and saw that it was Carrie. She came up to him with a face like thunder.

‘You’re a prick,’ she said.

‘Okay …’

‘Do you get on with everyone, is that it? You find people easy to meet and forget?’

‘No, no, not at all,’ he stammered. ‘It’s the opposite.’

‘So why did you just ignore me like that?’

Ben tried to explain himself, stammering and faltering as he did, waving his hands in the air. It was a pretty pathetic
explanation and he knew then the words weren’t doing what he wanted, which made him even more expressive and ridiculous. Eventually he gave up and let out a sad sigh.

‘Cos, I’m a bit crap, I guess.’

Somehow, it seemed to do the trick. Carrie smiled. She looked so pretty there in the snow, shivering with the cold. She looked up at him, curious.

‘Are you going to hurt me?’

‘Never.’

‘Promise.’

‘I promise I’ll never hurt you.’

And then she raised herself up on tiptoe and kissed him. A tiny, delicate kiss. Her lips were freezing and he realised she must have been waiting outside for him for ages. He pulled his coat over her and took her back to his cramped, dirty flat. She laughed at the socks on his radiator and pulled on his jeans which were so big on her that they came up to her chest. And she let him take them off and make love to her.

‘And she never left,’ he said to Anna, sadly.

He leaned back in his seat, looking down at the small gold band on his finger, twirling it with his thumb and forefinger.

‘Do you think my story is real?’ he said without looking at her. ‘It feels real. It’s not special or amazing in any way. So why shouldn’t it be?’

Anna was quiet. Ben looked out of the window. The street was deserted. When Henry came, Ben doubted they’d have to worry about other people.

‘How about the time when my son was born? Joe?’ he asked. ‘I was given three days off. We never left the house. Our little baby just lay on the bed between us and I don’t think he cried
once the whole time. We would play him our favourite songs, sing and dance for him. It was like we were wrapped up in this magic bubble and the rest of the world couldn’t get in. And Carrie was so naughty. She’d be like “See, little Joe, this is what happens when I stroke your daddy’s penis.” And I’d be all blushing and embarrassed cos it seemed so wrong! And she’d laugh at me. Laugh and laugh. Jesus.’

He twisted the ring on his finger.

‘You think that’s from someone else?’ he asked. ‘You think some woman we’ve never met said that, did all that with some other stranger and now it’s in my head?’

‘I don’t know,’ was Anna’s feeble reply. He nodded. How could she?

‘And then there are the other things I remember. Ones I don’t want to tell you about cos they’re cruel and scary. The thing is, the longer I’ve been away from Carrie, the more I remember all that stuff. Like how I was before they got to me. How I got around, what I did.’

His face twisted with revulsion.

‘It comes back stronger each day. And so it starts to feel more comfortable too. Like old clothes or something. I don’t like what I was but … shit.’

He scratched his head then clasped his hands together.

‘The more I remember what I was like and the more I feel like that person, the more Carrie seems to drift away. I feel like I’m forgetting bits of her. Like there’s only so much room in my head and as the old shit comes back so it’s pushing out all of the bits about her. And my kids too. I was lying in bed this morning and I couldn’t remember what colour eyes my little girl has.’

He felt so constricted in the car, he wanted to pound the steering wheel. He wanted to smash windows and hear things break.

‘Blue,’ he added. ‘They’re blue.’ And suddenly Emma’s giggle drifted through his head and he was smiling, quiet and calm again.

Anna gave him a tremulous smile, and he nodded, grateful for her companionship.

‘Is she pretty?’ she asked.

‘She’s my little girl. She’s perfect. But one day I’m scared I’m going to wake up and she’ll be gone. She’ll have just gone from my mind. Carrie too, and Joe. And I’ll never even know they ever existed. I’ll just be him, the old me. I’ll just be a thug and a drunk. Just wake up one morning and it will all be gone.’

He looked down at the gold ring next to his bruised, scarred knuckles.

‘I don’t know how to stop it. I’ve started writing it down, everything I can remember. But I feel like I’m sliding down this sandbank. And it doesn’t matter how hard I try to claw my way back up, at the end, she’ll go. I’ll wake up and she’ll be gone. It’s like she’s dying in front of me, bit by bit, wasting away.’

Tears welled up in his eyes. He wiped them away and then checked his watch again.

‘Come on, it’s nearly time.’

He knew that Anna was still watching him and he felt her hand go to his and give it a delicate squeeze. And he knew also that this was all she could offer. So he cleared his throat and muttered something about checking the side mirrors. He couldn’t think about any of that now.

About ten minutes later, Henry Price turned the corner and walked into the side street, bang on time. Ben nudged Anna and she stepped out of the car, just as he reached them.

‘Daddy,’ she said, as Ben slipped out, unseen, and approached Henry from behind him. He saw Henry smile at his daughter, delighted to see her, before he hit him hard on the back of the head. He crumpled with little more than a grunt and Ben grabbed him before he hit the ground. Then he pulled him up into his arms and looked up at Anna to see that she was frozen in shock.

‘Anna, the boot!’

His words galvanised her. She ran to the back of the car, opened the boot, and Ben heaved Henry’s body into it, dumping it inside as delicately as he could.

Moments later they were driving off. Ben waited to hear sirens, glanced around for cars that would suddenly intercept them, and checked his mirrors for the quiet vehicles that might follow from a suitable distance. But there were no interruptions to their journey. And there was no noise from the boot.

Later they stopped in a lay-by. No one could see the car here and Ben opened the boot. He stripped a still-unconscious Henry of everything, throwing all of his belongings onto the roadside before they drove off again.

They then made a long, meandering circle back towards the squat to flush out any followers. Neither spoke. Ben’s eyes scanned the road and junctions ahead while nagging thoughts pushed and prodded at him.

‘I thought I was going to recognise him,’ he said.

‘I’m sorry?’

He heard surprise in her voice and turned to her. She was holding a knife in her hands, the one he’d put in the glove compartment. For emergencies. She was white as a sheet. She looked at him, then the knife, and then shoved it away again. She’s having second thoughts, he guessed.

‘Your father,’ he said, trying to distract her. ‘I thought he was going to be someone I’d met.’

‘But he wasn’t.’

He shook his head. ‘I thought it would make sense, when I saw him.’ His fingers tapped on the wheel.

‘What are you thinking?’ she asked.

‘It’s been too easy.’

‘Yes,’ she nodded, fiddling with her fingers.

‘If they’re watching us, why let us get away? I don’t get it.’ He looked around, but the road was now completely clear. The calm silence seemed all the more sinister for it.

‘He’ll tell us,’ Anna said. ‘You’ll get him to, I know you will.’

But Ben wasn’t so sure. He frowned, trying to see a pattern, some design in all of this. The car passed a big advertisement hoarding that promised bargains and happiness.

‘You’re one, I’m one,’ Ben said. ‘Toby’s one, Terry could be one, who knows? Is everyone—’ He stopped himself, unconvinced by his train of thought, then started again. ‘They must have put us together for a reason. We’re doing something, or we’re in place to do something …’ He let out a stressed sigh, cursing quietly at so many dead-ends.

‘You found us because they led you to Toby on the internet, is that right?’ Anna asked, and Ben nodded. ‘And what before that? If they led you there, they must have led you to whatever happened before.’

‘No, no, before I was just running. I was holed up with this strange old guy and …’

Ben fell silent. He drove on, almost on autopilot, as his mind raced back to the B&B and the sound of lapping waves. The roads were busier now as they got closer to the squat, and the car slowed in the traffic. Ben glanced left and right. There was nothing particularly untoward. Two young men were pushing each other, swearing and scuffling over the contents of a plastic bag, but Ben wasn’t interested. His mind was busy with its own battles.

‘Anna. Describe the scientist to me. The one who led the experiments.’

‘I’ve never met him.’

‘I mean, from the way I’ve talked about him. And Toby. Tell me what we’ve said.’

‘Well, you said he was old. And kind. Or kindly. He had perfect manners, you both said. Something about classical music, and the nurses being intimidated by him. What else … Oh, he cared for you, and … I don’t know … What is it?’

‘Please. What else?’

‘I don’t know. Really. That’s all you said. Oh, Toby said he always fidgeted. No, not fidget, but he said he was always doing stuff with his fingers. And his hands.’

Ahead was a bus stop. Ben’s hands felt light and shaky on the wheel and he had to stop the car and think. He pulled in and parked, then put his head in his hands, closing his eyes and picturing the musty old B&B where an old man, his only true friend in the world, would laugh and joke about the good old days, his fingers twitching excitedly in the air. Ben pictured his face: sweet, old doddery Edward. And as he did so, he
remembered a different man with the exact same face staring down at him in a white coat, his hands waving in the air to the music, asking polite questions before indicating that it was time for his sedation.

He knew that Anna would be staring at him, desperate to know what was going on, but he kept his eyes clenched shut, trying to pull answers from the darkness.

‘They needed me to be the muscle,’ he said, his nose squashed against the wheel. ‘They needed Terry to help you, give you the clues and make you believe that you were doing it for real. They needed Toby to make you care enough to do it. And they needed you, Anna, to kill your own father.’

He opened his eyes and saw that her mouth twitched with a smile that died as the words hit her.

‘How can you be sure?’

‘I can’t. I don’t know anything except that all I’ve done, everything, has been planned by them. So, if we’re planning on hurting or even killing your dad, then that’s planned by them too.’

‘So is there nothing we can do?’

He was silent at this.

‘Ben. If we’re already doing what they want … then what do we do?’

Ben looked down at his battered fists. They seemed to be the only things he had left. He pushed against the car door and stumbled out, not bothering to shut it as he walked away. He heard Anna calling after him but he ignored her cries. If they wanted Lee back, then they were going to get him in spades.

Inside the car, Anna called after Ben, watching him break into a run then disappear into the crowd. She sat limply in
the passenger seat, alone and bewildered. She didn’t know what to do. If every movement, any action, was predetermined by others, then what could she possibly do that wouldn’t simply be following their wishes?

A few minutes later, a car pulled in behind her. Three suited men strolled towards her with an easy purpose about them. The first was a good-looking man in his twenties. He opened the door as though he were a valet at an expensive hotel.

‘Miss Price? Are you alright?’

She nodded, feeling stupid. She glanced behind her and saw the other two men were opening the boot of the car. She wondered how they had a key to do so.

‘Don’t worry, Miss Price. Would you like to come with me?’

She got out because she didn’t know what else to do.

‘Is my father okay?’ she asked, rather pathetically. It struck her that she wasn’t scared. They’d caught her, finally, but she felt nothing. Numb.