25
Blood
The man from the fire brigade was not very happy with the situation. The Empire was undergoing its annual fire check and, as far as he was concerned, things were not looking good. The fire officer had dragged Martin Caldwell out of his office to go through a list of possible fire hazards and things that ought to be in place that simply weren’t in place. It was an accident waiting in the wings, he’d prophesised in a deep, doom-laden voice.
Caldwell felt like a school kid all over again, remembering his father standing with his school report in his hand and going through the shocking grades and comments one by one. The fire officer was doing the same, in the same manner – blunt, not a hint of humour.
‘Death by burning isn’t a nice prospect, Mr Caldwell,’ he warned, leading him through corridors, into rooms, pointing out what seemed a mountain of minor problems that needed to be addressed before the Empire would get issued with a fire certificate. They eventually reached the basement. ‘What’s behind this locked door?’ he asked, trying the handle.
‘Nothing,’ said Caldwell. ‘There’s a flight of stone steps leading to an empty room, and there’s a well in one corner, that’s all.’ He didn’t mention the pile of nitrate-based films Vince still hadn’t shifted. Films that might combust.
‘You don’t use it for storage, anything like that? Nothing combustible?’
He was like a f*cking mind reader, Caldwell thought uncomfortably. ‘Nothing in there except fresh air.’
The officer went over to inspect a couple of rusting hooks in the wall near the door. He looked at a list on his clipboard. ‘What’s happened to the fire-axe that used to hang here, near the fire blanket?’ he asked stiffly.
‘No idea,’ he admitted. ‘It appears to be missing.’
‘Find it or provide another,’ he said shortly, making a note on his sheet. ‘It’s there for a reason.’ He handed Caldwell the sheet of paper. ‘Take care of all these things otherwise you won’t get your certificate.’
‘Sure,’ said Caldwell walking the officer to the rear door and bidding him goodbye. ‘I can do without this shit,’ he said under his breath. He went up to the projection booth to find Vince. He handed him the sheet of paper. ‘Here, see to this lot, will you?’
He took the sheet. ‘This really isn’t my job, Mr Caldwell. Mrs Kimble, she always saw to the fire checks…’
‘F*ck Mrs Kimble. There isn’t any Mrs Kimble and I can’t get anyone to come and replace Monica, even temporarily. Just take care of it.’
He stormed from the room leaving Vince in a daze. The man was getting too edgy, he thought, and more than that his bleary eyes was a dead giveaway to his constant drinking. If head office caught him doused up like that he’d be for the chop, no mistake.
But Vince had other, more pressing things on his mind. His meeting with Katherine for one, and what he ought to tell her. The trip to see Edith’s aunt had really unsettled him. What if it were all true about Laura? There again, could you really trust the word of a woman who had spent time in Bartholomew Place herself and took orders from Marilyn Monroe? And though he had been fighting against it, he was starting to like Edith in a way that began to conflict with his love for Laura. It was like he was being unfaithful to her by allowing the feelings room to grow.
Vince hung back after everyone had left at the end of the day, waiting in the yard till he was certain he was completely alone. He sat there in the dark, growing tenser by the minute till he heard a car pull up outside the gates. He went out to meet Katherine who came to stand in the entrance to the yard.
‘Well, Vince, what have you got for me?’ she asked.
He wasn’t certain, but some of the swagger had gone from her voice. ‘Laura was in Bartholomew Place for years,’ he said.
‘So? Is she crazy?’
‘She’s not in the institution now,’ he defended.
‘What put her there?’ She sensed his reluctance. ‘Tell me, you little squirt, or I’ll make it bad for you.’
‘It sounds like something she did. Nobody’s certain what that was but it sounded serious enough for her to be committed to Bartholomew Place.’
‘What else, Vince? Come on, you’re holding something back.’
‘She used to cry out someone’s name – someone called Alex. Alex, I’m sorry, she’d say.’
‘Who’s Alex?’
‘Dunno. Can I go now?’
‘Where is this Bartholomew Place?’
‘In Dorset, near Dorchester, but it’s not used for anything anymore. It’s been closed down years. You don’t seriously think Laura had anything to do with your boyfriend’s disappearance, do you?’
‘That bitch seems crazy enough to do anything. So, is that everything?’
He nodded. ‘Can I go now?’
‘You never spoke to me, right?’ she said, taking a step towards him. ‘Me, my boyfriend, all of this, you don’t mention it to anyone, you got that?’ She rolled up her coat collar against the fine rain that had begun to fall. Vince reckoned she didn’t look half as pretty as she did when he first saw her. It was almost as if she’d aged prematurely, or the bad inside her was leaking to the surface and contaminating her skin.
Katherine left the young man and got into her car. She sat there a few seconds, thinking things over. With every day that passed with no news of Felix she feared the worst; she feared him dead.
She drove out of Langbridge, headed towards Glastonbury. Something inside her was telling her to forget Felix and get the hell out of Somerset. That’s probably what he’d have done, if she were honest with herself. But another part of her refused to let him go. She’d never had these kinds of feelings for anyone before and she didn’t want to lose something she never thought she’d have. When she arrived home something made her check out the empty street after she’d parked and locked the car. This entire thing had made her jumpy as hell. Tiredly she unlocked the front door and flicked on the light. Nothing looked out of place, but something felt wrong. Something didn’t look right.
The door to the living room was open. She’d closed it when she’d left for Langbridge, she was certain. It was a habit of hers.
Someone had been inside the house.
‘Felix?’ she said. ‘Is that you?’
She moved cautiously to the living room door, pushed it wider. The room was empty. Next she went into the kitchen, checked over the back door and windows. Everything was in order, no sign of a break-in. The only other people who had keys were Felix and the landlord, and the landlord always arranged a visit. He wouldn’t simply turn up unexpectedly to let himself in, and never at night.
Her heart was beating a tattoo. She opened a drawer and took out a knife.
‘Felix, are you there?’ she called at the foot of the stairs, one hand steadying herself on the banister. She turned on the light. All was silent. ‘I’ve got to warn you,’ she said, ‘I have a weapon.’ She spoke to make herself feel braver, but it didn’t work. She crept up the stairs, the knife before her. Her bedroom door was also ajar, and that had definitely been closed when she left.
She pushed the door open further, reached in for the light switch.
The room was in a complete mess, as if a tornado had swept through it. All her clothes had been taken out of wardrobes and drawers and flung carelessly all over the room. The bedcovers had been thrown to the floor and lay in a crumpled heap.
She gasped when she lifted one of her dresses. It had been slashed repeatedly with a blade of some kind. Everything had. Every piece of clothing had been shredded. Even the bedcovers had been slashed violently into ribbons.
‘Oh, my God,’ she said under her breath, grasping the knife even tighter. But it was the sight of words written in her red lipstick, in great, angry, angular capitals all over the wall above the bed that caused her blood to freeze.
YOU’RE HATEFUL. I’LL KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID.
Katherine felt suddenly very sick. It had to be Laura. How had she gotten inside? How? There was no sign of a break-in.
Then, amidst the carnage, she saw Felix’s jacket hung over the back of a chair. She went over to it, lifted it carefully from off the chair. He was wearing this the last time I saw him, she thought.
But what made her legs buckle were the savage, jagged smears of blood on the jacket sleeve.
* * * *