The Magpies A Psychological Thriller

Twenty-one


On his way home from posting the letter, Jamie saw Paul – just Paul’s head at first, then neck, shoulders, torso – coming up the steps from Chris and Lucy’s flat.

Jamie stopped in his tracks. He blinked hard, not quite believing what he was seeing. He felt like a husband who had just found his wife in bed with another man. Shocked. Betrayed.

He hurried up the path. Paul turned and saw him, a smile spreading across his face.

Jamie marched right up to him. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘What?’

‘Where have you been?’

‘I was just coming to see you.’

‘But you’ve been down there. You’ve been to see Lucy and Chris!’ As he spoke, he realised how indignant he sounded – how hurt. Well, good. Let Paul know how he felt. He was sick and tired of bottling everything up.

‘Jamie, you’re acting like a dick. I’ve just been to see Chris to talk about what happened at karting track.’

Jamie’s eyes widened. ‘And now you’re going to go to the police?’

‘What are you talking about, Jamie? Why the hell would I be going to the police?’

‘Because – because Chris tried to kill you. He put you in that coma.’

Paul laughed. ‘Oh Jamie, you should hear yourself. It was an accident. I can see that, and I was the one who was in a coma. Why can’t you see it?’

‘Because I know Chris. And because I was there.’

‘You didn’t see the accident though. You were in the cafe. Chris and I were having a race. We allowed things to get out of hand. We were being stupid, getting over competitive. Chris was pissed off that I beat him, of course, and he braked the second he crossed the line, causing the driver behind him to swerve into me. Chris shouldn’t have braked so suddenly – he knows that. But Jamie, you have to believe me – it was an accident.’ He clapped his hand on Jamie’s shoulder. ‘An accident. That’s it.’

Jamie opened his mouth to speak, to protest, but seeing Paul staring at him, a broad smile on his face, he fell silent. He felt so confused. He hadn’t seen Paul since that day in the hospital when Paul had been so nasty to him. His friend had been so cold that day, but now, with that smile on his face and that light in his eye, he seemed like the old Paul. A voice in Jamie’s head was screaming that Paul was wrong – that it hadn’t been an accident – but he was so pleased to see Paul smiling again, up and about and acting like himself again, that he didn’t argue. ‘Are you feeling better?’ Jamie asked. His voice was hushed and he became aware that he was holding his breath.

Paul nodded, his hand still on Jamie’s shoulder. ‘I feel great, actually. Better than ever. I feel, y’know, reborn, clean. I’ve had loads of time to get my head together and, God, I’m really sorry I was such a bastard in the hospital. I felt trapped and I was finding it difficult to cope. The frustration of lying there, unable to get out because my muscles were too weak – it was unbearable. And the constant stream of sympathy. It was too much. Everybody treated me as if I was some kind of crippled Lazarus. How was I supposed to react?’

‘Well, you reacted like a complete bastard.’

They both laughed.

Paul pulled a face. ‘I guess I had a bit of brain damage.’

‘What? Impossible! There’s nothing there to damage.’

They laughed more, still standing there at the top of the Newtons’ steps. Paul looked serious for a second. ‘I do feel different though, Jamie. And, well, there’s something I’ve decided to do. Something I need to talk to you about. I was going to call on you after I’d been to see Chris. In fact – just in case you feel second-best and get all sensitive – I did call on you first but you were out.’

‘OK. Let’s go inside.’

As Jamie took his keys out of his pocket, he heard the door slam at the bottom of the steps. He jumped, then went rigid. Footfall sounded on the steps and, before he could react, Chris appeared.

‘Alright mate,’ Paul said to Chris.

Chris smiled at him, ‘Haven’t you cleared off yet?’ Then he turned to Jamie. ‘Hello Jamie.’

Jamie’s heart was beating so fast and loud it almost drowned out Chris’s voice. It was the first time Chris had spoken to him for a long time. He expected to feel hatred. He had fantasised about hurting this man, about doing him damage. But instead of hatred or anger, he felt fear, and confusion. Most of all, confusion.

‘Hi,’ he managed to croak.

‘You alright?’ He was talking to him as if nothing bad had ever passed between them. As if there had been no letters or CDs; no threats; no virus. As if they were simply neighbours who exchanged a friendly hello whenever their paths crossed.

‘I’m–’ Jamie broke off, unable to speak.

‘You don’t look too good, mate,’ Chris said, and he stretched out his hand to touch Jamie’s arm.

Jamie leapt backwards as if a bullet had torn into him. Chris and Paul both looked shocked. Jamie instantly felt ridiculous, foolish. He tried to compose himself. He stood up straight, coughed, ran a hand through his hair.

‘I’m fine,’ he said.

Chris gave him a strange look – the kind of look you might give to a patient in a mental hospital; a potentially dangerous patient who you didn’t want to upset. ‘Good. That’s good.’ He turned to Paul. ‘Anyway, I must get on. Got that business meeting to attend. Good luck and all that.’

‘Thanks.’

They shook hands, then Chris walked off and got into his car.

Paul turned back to Jamie, who was shaking as if he’d been in a car crash. ‘Wow, you really don’t like him, do you? I don’t understand what your problem is. He’s a good bloke.’

Jamie was speechless.

‘Come on,’ Paul said, ‘let’s go in.’

It felt colder in the flat than it did outside. Jamie cranked up the heating. He could feel goosepimples beneath the sleeves of his shirt, the hairs on his arms bristling.

‘Do you want a cup of–’ He changed his mind halfway through the sentence. ‘Do you want a beer?’

‘I’d love one.’

He took a couple of tins of lager out of the fridge and tossed one to Paul. Jamie cracked the ringpull and took a slow, greedy sip. God, he had needed that, although he was still cold and shaky. Maybe he should open that bottle of whiskey. Firewater – that’s what he needed. He could almost taste it, could feel it scorching his throat, burning his chest, seeping into his bloodstream and washing away the pain. He licked his lips.

‘You were so lucky finding this place,’ said Paul, interrupting Jamie’s train of thought. ‘I think that every time I come round.’

‘You haven’t been round here for quite some time.’

‘I know. But I expect it seems longer to you than it does to me. The weeks I was in a coma, while you were living your lives, passed like that.’ He clicked his fingers. ‘From the moment of the accident to the moment I woke up. My body was ageing but I lost a chunk of my life. Hey, I’m not explaining myself very well, am I?’

‘No, I do understand what you mean. But did it really pass in a flash? You told Kirsty you had bad dreams.’

Paul stared into his beer; Jamie thought he saw him shudder. ‘Yeah, but I only remembered that afterwards. It wasn’t as if I was aware of being in a coma.’

‘You didn’t find yourself floating close to the ceiling, looking down at your body?’

Paul laughed quietly. ‘No, and I didn’t find myself in any long tunnels either, floating towards a bright white light.’

‘No voices calling you back? Paul, Paul, come back – your time is not up.’

‘Afraid not.’

Jamie had pulled up a chair and was sitting close to Paul. He studied him closely. He looked so much better. Healthier than ever before, in fact. Almost glowing.

‘So you feel better now?’

‘God yes. I feel great. Fantastic.’ He rubbed his palms together vigorously. ‘I feel so full of energy, you know? I wake up in the morning and instead of groaning and pulling the quilt up over my head, I get up immediately. And you’ll never guess what I do then. I go out for a run.’

Jamie almost choked on his beer. ‘You? Running?’

‘I know. It doesn’t seem natural, does it? But I was such a slob before. My body was starting to atrophy. So was my brain. All I thought about was sex and food and drink and having a laugh. Obviously, those things are still important’ – he laughed – ‘but – I don’t know – I just feel that there’s got to be more. Maybe this happened to me for a reason. Like I was given a message.’

‘Oh shit– you’ve gone and discovered God.’

They cracked up. Paul leant forward, rocking with laughter. Jamie laughed so hard that tears rolled down his cheeks. It felt so good to laugh, to laugh so hard that your stomach hurt and your ribs ached. Like a release of pressure, a slap to the system. They laughed and laughed.

Eventually, Paul recovered enough to say, ‘No, not God. But, please. Let me be serious for a minute.’

They quietened. Jamie drained the remains of his beer.

‘I’ve decided to go away,’ Paul said. ‘I’m going travelling.’

Jamie absorbed this.

‘I’m going to start by catching a ferry across to France, then make my way from there. Head south to Spain, maybe spend some time down there, find some work, whatever. Then I’m going to go east through Europe into Asia. India, Thailand, China, Japan. Wherever the wind carries me, basically. I’ll work out my route as I go.’ He leaned forward, so his face was just a few inches away from Jamie’s. ‘I don’t want to spend the rest of my life stuck here, in this city. There’s so much to see out there. I want to fly. I want to gather stories. When I die and the whole of my life flashes before my eyes, I want the flashes to contain beauty and excitement; gold temples; blue seas; women with black hair and deep chocolate eyes.’

Jamie still didn’t speak.

‘This is the conclusion I came to lying in that hospital bed. I almost died, Jamie, and if I had – if I had died – what images would have flashed before my eyes then? My average childhood. Entering the father and son talent contest at Butlins and coming fifth out of seven. That time I walked four miles to Gemma Baker’s house to give her a valentine card and the look of horror on her face. Falling asleep at the back of the lecture hall at university. Snogging Wonderwoman at your party. What a life, eh? There’s got to be more.’

Jamie looked up. ‘So is that what you think of my life? That’s it’s dull. That I’ll have nothing to remember on my death bed? Thanks a lot.’

‘No, no – of course I don’t think that. You’ve got Kirsty. A woman who really loves you and who you love back. You’ve got this fantastic flat. You’re going to have a baby. Those are the really important things, Jamie. You’ve got your nest here. You’re a lucky man. But I’ve never found anyone that I’ve wanted to settle with and grow old beside.’

‘What about Heather? She was crazy about you. For some unfathomable reason.’

He sighed. ‘I really like Heather. She’s gorgeous and she’s really sweet. But it’s not enough. I wouldn’t want to marry her or have a kid with her. I don’t meant to be horrible, but that’s the way it is. And to make things even worse, our relationship could never be a normal one. A couple of days after we started going out, I fell into a coma. She then went into this long period of mourning, followed by delight when I woke up. She’d already imagined a past and a future for us while I was oblivious to my own existence, let alone hers. How could I live up to her fantasy version of Paul? I couldn’t.’

Jamie stood up. ‘Do you want another beer?’

‘I’d love one.’

Jamie went over to the fridge, fetched two more tins of beer and returned to his spot beside Paul. He still felt cold. Even colder now, in fact. He so wanted to feel happy for Paul, to feel glad that he was going to go off and do something he really wanted to do. But all he could think was that he was losing his best friend. Again. Only a minute ago they had been laughing together like they always used to. Now Paul was going away. Jamie knew he was being selfish and immature, but he couldn’t help it. Right now, he needed all the friends he could get.

Paul was about to start talking again when they heard the front door open, rattling a little where it had begun to stick again, the hinges squeaking shrilly. Kirsty came into the room, dropping her bag at her feet. She had taken a taxi from the hospital.

‘Oh.’ She was surprised but pleased. ‘Hi, Paul.’

‘Alright, Kirsty?’

‘Are you boys having a party?’

‘Just a little one.’

She studied them. ‘So have you two kissed and made up?’

Jamie looked away while Paul smiled and said, ‘Yes. We have. Isn’t that right, Jamie?’

He nodded. ‘Yes. That’s right.’

‘Good. I’m glad to hear it. It didn’t seem right, you two not talking.’ She looked at Jamie as if to say, See, I told you he’d get better; that he just needed time.

‘Paul was telling me that he’s going away.’

‘What do you mean?’

Paul stood up and went over to her. ‘I’m going travelling.’

‘Wow. That’s great. How exciting! When are you going?’

‘The day after tomorrow.’

Jamie was shocked. ‘That soon?’’Well, yeah. There’s no time to waste.’

‘And the physio says you’re fit enough?’ Kirsty asked.

‘Says I’m as fit as I’ll ever be. Apparently, my recovery has been quite astonishing. And that’s a direct quote.’

‘Well. That’s fantastic. Have you told Heather?’

‘No.Why should I?’

‘Because she’s still…’ Kirsty rubbed her tailbone and sighed. ‘You know you’ve really hurt her, don’t you?’

‘Yes, but I was just explaining to Jamie–’ He ran briefly through his reasons for breaking up with Heather again.

‘I do understand,’ Kirsty said when he had finished. ‘I’d probably have done the same in your shoes. It’s just a shame that you’re going to leave the rest of us to clear up the mess.’

‘I know, Kirsty. But what else can I do? I mean, I could have tried to give it another go. I could have strung her along for a while. Maybe I could have gone away with the promise that I’d write every week and that eventually I’d return to her arms.’

‘She’d probably have wanted to go with you.’

‘Exactly. And I need to do this on my own. Singular.’ He smiled and touched her stomach lightly. ‘Whereas you are about to become plural.’

‘Well, in six months.’

‘What does it feel like, having another life inside you?’

‘It feels like the best thing ever.’

‘What, better than having Jamie inside you?’

She slapped him playfully. ‘You’re so rude! But it’s nice to have the old Paul back. Not that miserable git we had to put up with in the hospital.’

‘Anyone would be miserable in your hospital.’

‘Up yours.’

Jamie came over and put his arm around Kirsty’s shoulders. He knew this would be the last occasion he saw Paul for a long time. But what Paul had said was true: he had Kirsty and they were going to have a child. He was going to be so busy when the baby was born he probably wouldn’t notice that Paul wasn’t around.

Probably.

They both hugged Paul goodbye at the front door. Jamie kept a wary eye out for Chris, but his car was still absent from its spot, and there was no sign of Lucy either. It was chilly outside; the pigeons on the rooftops opposite huddled together for warmth, puffing up their feathers.

‘We can email each other wherever I am and I’ll no doubt put loads of pics on Facebook, just to make you sick with jealousy.’

The mention of emails made Jamie feel slightly ill. It made him think about work. And Chris. Their intruder.

‘You take good care of her, Jamie. You really are a lucky man, you know. Even if you don’t feel like it all the time.’

Jamie nodded.

‘Right. I’m going to go before I get all soppy and start blubbing. That wouldn’t be a pretty sight.’

‘No.’

They hugged again. Kirsty had tears in her eyes. Jamie felt a hard knot in his throat and tried to swallow it.

‘Take care,’ he said.

‘And you.’

They watched Paul walk off down the hill, then went back inside. Jamie looked around the flat. It seemed a little emptier, even though Paul had only been here an hour. Maybe it was that his life felt a little emptier.

Kirsty said, ‘I’m going to bed.’

‘But it’s only six o’clock.’

‘I know. But I’m so tired. I feel sick, I’ve got a headache and my back hurts.’

‘Do you want me to give you a massage?’

‘That would be lovely.’

She sat on the edge of the bed with Jamie kneeling behind her. She kept her bra on and Jamie had a pang for the days when she would undress completely and lie on her front. He squirted massage oil into his palms, rubbing his slippery hands together to warm them. He pushed his hands over her shoulder blades, moving his thumbs in small circles to penetrate the tense muscle tissue.

‘Hmm, that feels nice.’

‘Good.’ He concentrated on the massage for a few minutes. After a while, he said, ‘Do you want to know what Paul did before he came round here?’

‘Mmm. What?’

‘He went to see Lucy and Chris.’

She turned her head. ‘You’re joking.’

‘I wish I was.’

‘What the hell did he do that for?’

‘He still seems to think they’re alright. He even tried to persuade me of the fact.’

‘Did you tell him about all the things they’ve done?’

‘I’ve told him before. But he still thinks Chris is a really good bloke. And guess what? While I was outside, talking to Paul, Chris came out and said hello to me.’

Kirsty turned around so Jamie had to stop massaging her. ‘What did you say to him?’

‘I didn’t really say anything. I was so shocked I nearly fell over.’

‘You should have told him to get lost.’

‘I couldn’t. Not with Paul there, and them being all matey.’

She exhaled. ‘Maybe it’s a good job Paul is going away.’

‘I don’t know. Maybe if Paul was acting as a sort of go-between, we could become friends with Chris and Lucy again.’

‘What?’

‘I don’t know. It’s just…maybe Paul’s right. Maybe Chris is an alright bloke. Sometimes, Kirsty, sometimes I feel like all this is going on inside my head. That I’ve imagined half of it. What if we were being really noisy and they were within their rights to complain? Surely the spiders were just spiders, like everyone gets. And maybe I did send that virus, by accident.’

‘No!’ She rolled over, sat up, and grabbed his arms. ‘What about the recording they made of us making love? Did they have the right to do that? And all the junk mail and hoaxes. That was all in our imagination, was it? The rats left outside the front door – I bet that was them. And what about the word written in the dust on your computer screen?’

Jamie rubbed his oily hands together. ‘I meant to ask you about that. Why did you wipe it off? I wanted to show it to that policeman, and it had gone. I looked really stupid.’

‘But I didn’t wipe it off.’

‘Are you sure?’

He breathed in sharply. ‘Maybe I imagined it, then. Maybe it was a hallucination.’

‘But I saw it too.’

‘Maybe we both imagined it.’

‘Jamie, you’re mad.’

‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’

She slapped his face. The crack of her palm against his cheek resounded through the bedroom, bouncing off the walls, echoing in the stunned silence.

He stared at her.

‘Jamie, I’m sorry.’ She wrapped her arms around him, pulled his face into the space where her neck and shoulder met. ‘You mustn’t say things like that, OK? It isn’t in your imagination. It’s them. Lucy and Chris. They’re doing it all. And that’s why we need to get away from here. I’ve decided, Jamie, we should move.’

He struggled out of her grasp.

‘No! We’re not moving.’

‘But Jamie, we can’t bring a child up here. Not with those people downstairs.’

‘No. I won’t give in.’ He jumped off the bed and began to stamp on the floor. He shouted, ‘I won’t give in! I won’t give in!’ And the tears came, flooding out of him, pouring forth, months of pent-up frustration. It had been a day for catharsis. The laughter earlier. Now the tears. He shuddered as he sobbed, and Kirsty held him, stroking his hair as he drenched her with his tears.

‘I won’t give in,’ he whispered.

She held him, and he could feel her chin on his shoulder. ‘OK, for your sake, I’ll give it one more chance.’