Whispers of a Lesser God Page 8

  Bob was only in town to clear his Uncle Harry’s estate. One thing was certain in his mind, and that was that he was never, ever going to live anywhere near his family, who lived in Bermondsey. He had been expecting some monkey business from his father Mickey, a petty crook who was not very good at his chosen profession, because he spent more time in prison than out. Bob had been expecting some high drama from his neurotic stepmother Shirley, whom he detested. But what had upset and shocked him the most was that his younger brother Barry was going the same way as their father. Bob deeply regretted telling them that Uncle Harry had left him some money in his will, and now he was really glad that he had never told them how much it was.

  The sheer gravity of the debacle was only now beginning to sink in and had left him feeling nauseous. Mickey had brazenly demanded that he hand over Harry’s bank book and debit card and he would give Bob his cut. Even when Bob had pointed out that Harry’s money and his very few possessions had been left to him, Mickey had not backed off and tried to be a little more diplomatic. But what had really made Bob angry was that Shirley, who had always despised Harry and called him ‘that pig in a poke’, had thrown one of her notorious, insidious tantrums with great gusto. What really hurt was that Barry had joined with them against Bob. He knew full well that Mickey and Shirley were pariahs. But Barry, who had always been a good kid, was obviously now heavily influenced by them. Well, they were not going to get anything at all. Bob was currently staying in Harry’s old council flat until he had sold everything of value. In truth, Harry had left very few valuables, apart from a new twenty-four-inch plasma TV, and an antique table and four chairs which had been handed down through the family. From his research, Bob had found out that the table and chairs were worth at least four thousand pounds. He had been waiting for an antique dealer from London to come down to buy them, depending on their condition, which was very good. He had just sold the plasma TV and was walking around with three hundred pounds in his pocket.

  The past six months had been bad for Bob. Although he had been about to leave the Royal Navy Submarine Service after nine years, he had spent the last twenty-eight days in HMS Nelson detention quarters. His DO and boss PO ‘Sharkey’ Ward had tried to get him off with a lesser sentence, but his offence had been far too serious to appease the tribunal. Indeed, his vicious attack on Leading Regulator Hamm was completely out of character. He had fractured his skull, broken three ribs and dislocated his jaw, simply for drawing his attention to the fact that he needed a haircut. He had just come off patrol on Osiris and if three burly stokers from the Oberon had not pulled him off Hamm, there was a good chance he could have killed him. But that was all over now. He was no longer ‘Nobby Styles’, as his oppos had called him. He was now plain old Bobby Styles, the civvy.

  He definitely liked this town. Part of its appeal was its isolation. He knew that he could not settle here, because eventually he would have to find work, and he very much doubted if he could find much in the way of work here. Still, he was enjoying his stay. Bob knew deep down inside that the death of Uncle Harry, a former submariner himself, had partly triggered the brutal attack on Leading Regulator Hamm. Whereas Bob despised his contemptible father, he had idolised Harry. Harry had never got married, but his delectation in women was no secret, in particular large ones. Harry had been a lovable rogue, who liked to have a flutter on the horses. But at this very moment, all Bob really fancied was a pint of cold beer.

  Then, as if something was answering his wish, he turned a corner and saw The Globe, a classic British pub, situated between the corners of two diverging roads. He walked through the door and, much to his delight, saw the draught Worthington E tap behind the bar. Then he noticed her sitting on a stool at the end of the bar, browsing through a newspaper. Although quite elderly, she obviously took great pride in her appearance. As soon as she noticed him, she stood up and approached him. She was wearing a crimson cardigan, an old-fashioned cream blouse, a carefully pressed black pencil skirt and a pearl necklace. But what really impressed Bob was the tall, spectacular bouffant that she was sporting. He thought to himself, How on earth does she keep it standing up like that? She must have a pole attached to her head and literally have to saturate it with hair lacquer. She smiled at him through carefully applied scarlet lipstick, and her eyelashes fluttered, covered with even more carefully applied eyeliner. She was indeed very proud of her appearance. She eyed him with interest and addressed him in a very well-educated tone.

  “Good afternoon, suh. What will it be?”

  Bob found this amusing because he had never heard it pronounced ‘suh’ before.

  “Good afternoon. Yes, I’ll have a half-pint of E in a pint glass, with a cold bottle to top it up.”

  He smiled at her gladly when she handed him nearly a full pint of E and the bottle, so he could top his pint up as he pleased. He thought to himself, I think I’m going to like this lady.

  “Thank you, madam. I really need this. It’s not very easy to find a pub that sells Worthington E now, draught and bottled. Cor, look at that head and colour. Here’s to you, thanks.”

  With that he gulped down a good half of the beer and topped it up with the bottle. She was smiling as she watched him; being quite surprised by this quite rough-looking young man, who was rather polite and congenial.

  She gave him a little time to quench his thirst, smiled and asked him casually, “You’re new in town. Haven’t seen you before. Just visiting, or passing through?”

  “No, sadly I’m here on business, madam. Just to wind up my Uncle Harry’s estate. Can’t believe the old devil’s gone. Thought blokes like that lasted forever. I’m sure gonna miss him.”

  “Oh, then you must be Harry’s nephew Bobby whom he used to talk a lot about. I was shocked when I heard he had passed on. He was in here only a couple of weeks ago, celebrating quite a big win on the horses. He was one of my best customers. Better than most of the locals who come in here.”

  Bob was thinking, so that was how Harry had left him thirty-five grand in his will. He had a big win on the horses, so that explained how he had come to possess that much money.

  “I grew quite fond of old Harry. Most seafarers, or mariners as Harry preferred to be called, have a wicked sense of humour. My dear departed husband Rodney was a seafarer, many years ago. He used to bring home some of the most bizarre relics from his travels. Talking of which…”

  Just then the most peculiar creature that Bob had ever seen appeared through the darkened archway that led to the rear of the pub. Bob had not even heard the rustle of the plastic drapes as this creature passed through them. He had a small body, perhaps the size of a twelve-year-old boy’s; a gigantic, bulb-shaped head; and a big, beak-like nose, with two beady eyes that appeared to be darting around either side of the nose, as if they were observing the scene separately. When he spoke, it was with a finely clipped and cultured vocabulary.

  “I’ve changed all of the barrels and cleaned all of the pipes, Mabel. The delivery lorry arrived this morning. Done a stocktake and checked all of the receipts, all okay. But the driver was rather rude.”

  “Thank you, Lionel. You can go home now and take the rest of the day off… See you tomorrow.”

  Bob had great difficulty trying not to look shocked, but Mabel knew exactly what he was thinking.

  “Don’t worry, Lionel is completely harmless. He may look a little strange, but he is incredibly loyal and faithful. And he can keep secrets, unlike most people. He is just one of the stranger relics that Rodney brought home from his travels. He rescued Lionel from a circus somewhere down in South America, at the point of a gun. You see, Rodney, for all of his faults, was extremely kind and compassionate. Lionel would die for me, because he owes everything to Rodney.”

  Bob took stock of what the woman had said and was thinking that Rodney may have been kind and compassionate, but it was going a bit too far, bringing a circus freak home to meet the wife.

  “Well, Mabel – if you don’t mind me calling you Mabel – I’m only in town until Friday, just so this antique dealer can pick up some tables and chairs. Then I’ve just got to hand the keys of the flat back to the council office, and then I’m off back to London. I’ve just got to kill time for three days.”

  She eyed him in a way that made him feel rather uncomfortable and said, “Of course you can call me Mabel, Bobby. But that is one thing you should never do. Never try to kill time. Make the most of every moment that you can. Because time is more precious than gold, more valuable than silver, and it can be very cruel to some of us.”

  Bob was still marvelling at Mabel’s incredible bouffant and wondering how she managed to keep it standing up. And he had just realised that it appeared to have changed colour from dark brown to different shades of light and dark auburn. Maybe he was imagining things.

  He finished his beer and ordered another one. There was nobody else in the pub and the Victorian decor, with its crimson-and-cream wallpaper, could quite easily have passed for an old-fashioned sitting room. An hour later an elderly couple came in and Mabel greeted them. Then a very elderly man arrived, and Bob began to wonder if this was the town that time forgot, because he had not seen one person under fifty since he had arrived. He finished his second pint, said goodnight to Mabel and headed back to Harry’s flat to get some sleep. He knew that he would come back to The Globe for the next three nights. The beer was good, and although the landlady was rather peculiar, he actually liked her.

  Bob spent the next two days doing exactly what he said he would do: killing time. He had gone for a few beers in The Globe for a couple of hours and had had some fascinating discussions with Mabel. She had her own reasons for getting involved in these discussio
ns, and at the time Bob did not have even an inkling that he had walked into something that nobody in their right mind could even begin to comprehend. He had exchanged stories with her and was becoming more and more intrigued. Although he did not realise it at the time, a strong bond, a very powerful and vibrant bond was developing between them. Mabel had been discretely learning about Bob during these discussions.

  On the night before he was due to go back to London, he had gone into The Globe slightly later than normal, and as usual Mabel was sitting at the end of the bar. She stood up as soon as she saw him, as if she had been for waiting for him and was expecting him. Suddenly Lionel slipped through the plastic drapes that covered the dark archway that led through to the back of the pub. Bob tried not to gawp at the shocking appearance of this poor creature. Lionel’s thin lips were twitching, and beads of sweat were shining on his gigantic bulb-shaped head. He said something to Mabel, and disappeared back through the drapes.

  Bob composed himself before he said, “Good evening, Mabel. How are you? Pint of E and a bottle, please.”

  “Of course, Bobby. Going back to London tomorrow then, eh?”

  “Yeah… The antique dealer came yesterday and collected the tables and chairs. Maybe I should’ve tried to barter with him when I realised that he wanted to pay cash, without any questions. But I’m glad, anyway, with what I got paid. Wish you’d seen the way his face lit up when he saw them.”

  Today Mabel’s bouffant appeared taller than usual and was shining under the bar lighting. Bob was thinking that she must use a whole spray can of lacquer just to keep it standing up.

  “Glad to hear it all turned out well. But money’s not everything, Bobby. There’s so, so much more.”

  “Well, after a couple of clangers I’ve dropped I wanna find out more about this ‘so much more’.”

  She was hanging on every word he said, and Bob could see a wry smile under the bright scarlet lipstick. Although it was difficult to put an age on Mabel, today she looked younger in Bob’s eyes.

  “Well, Bobby… Before you go I’d like to let you into a secret. You remind me so much of my dear departed Rodney. I liked old Harry, but although he had been a seafarer he didn’t have the same magnetism you have. I think you deserve to see something you may like, or dislike. Would you like to see what it is? You see, Bobby, I would like you to see another relic that Rodney brought home from his travels. I noticed the way you hung back from your horror when seeing poor Lionel. Most people cannot hide their utter disgust and nausea when they first see him.”

  Bob was thinking that whatever it was she wanted him to see, it could not be any worse than Lionel. What on earth was this woman playing at? He was torn between saying yes and saying no, but in the end said, “Okay, Mabel, if you insist. What is it you would like me to see?”

  “Just follow me through to the back, Bobby.”

  She lifted the wooden flap on top of the bar and ushered him through to the back, under the archway. He slipped through the plastic flaps and found himself in a dimly lit room. Whatever it was that moved, it must have seen him come through and opened its jaws. Sitting in an armchair was a large ventriloquist’s dummy. On seeing him it shouted, “Hello, Bobby, hello, Bobby!”

  Bob glanced around to see if it was Lionel who was the ventriloquist. But he could not see him anywhere, and the voice was too loud and sharp to be projected so powerfully over a great distance.

  Mabel went and stood next to the dummy and smiled through her scarlet lipstick. Her bouffant was now a dark crimson.

  “Well, Bobby. Meet Arnold. No, you’re not imagining things – he is very real and alive. He is my deepest, darkest secret. Let me explain. Rodney was a brilliant ventriloquist. He was so good that he could pack out theatres in London’s West End. We met when I was a dancer performing in the same theatres where he was doing his act. His dummy’s name was Digby, and Digby became very, very famous. Rodney was offered a job doing his show on a big ocean liner. Of course he jumped at the chance, because the pay was more than double what he was earning in the theatres. I was only eighteen at the time, but I told him that I would wait for him, because he was going away for a two-year voyage. He religiously sent me most of the money that he was earning.

  “But something happened, and I didn’t think I could ever face him again. Because… because I was suddenly struck down with a very rare form of progeria, the terrible disease that causes premature ageing. You see, I was very beautiful, but the disease was so potent, so rapid that I began to age very, very quickly.

  “I always thought that Rodney was eccentric, bordering on mad, because he actually thought that Digby was alive and real. But one day I received a letter from Rodney to say Digby had been murdered. When finally he returned from his voyage, he came home to see me and could not believe I was the same girl, because I had aged ten years. But what really shocked me was that Rodney actually looked younger, at least ten years younger. He was twenty-nine at the time.

  “But then he introduced me to Arnold and told me that Arnold had murdered Digby in a fit of jealous rage, because his ventriloquist was nowhere near as good as Rodney. That was when I knew that Rodney was not mad after all. Arnold had offered Rodney the chance of eternal youth if he adopted him, and Rodney, although heartbroken, accepted his offer. And as you have probably guessed, Rodney gave Arnold to me. As I told you, he was extremely kind and compassionate. When he went away on his second voyage, he brought Lionel home. He had to take Arnold on that voyage, because of his act. But luckily for me, he was only away for six months.

  “Unfortunately, Arnold had taken control of Rodney and refused to allow him to take another doll with him on the voyage for his act. Rodney hoped that somehow he could rid us both of Arnold. But Arnold had taken advantage of our terrible situation and was out to manipulate us as much as possible. When Rodney came home with Lionel, he could not believe how much I had aged. So he gave Arnold back to me and then poor Rodney shot himself in the head, so Arnold had to leech on my vital life force. Arnold needs human magnetism to survive, and he likes his host to stay young. You see, Bobby, I am really 140 years old and poor Lionel is even older. I was given the choice to die young or grow very old, and as you can see, I made my choice. And, Bobby, you remind me so much of my dearest, darling Rodney. Now, what decision would you have made if you were in my position?”

  Just then the hideous mannequin turned its head to look at Bob and its lower jaw began to move up and down. The words that it spouted were loud and clear. There was a big antique clock on the wall, going tick-tock, tick-tock. Bob tried to pull away, but kept being pulled back by an invisible force.

  Then the mannequin began to squawk in a shrill voice, “Tick-tock, stop the clock! Tick-tock, stop the clock!”

  The Gothic hands on the clock stopped, and then started moving backwards. Bob tried desperately to drag himself towards the archway, but kept being pulled back by the invisible magnetic force. He tried again, and was pulled back again. Mabel’s bouffant was moving about, as if there was something or somebody inside it. She was smiling at him.

  The horrible mannequin kept on chanting, and suddenly jumped from the armchair and walked towards Bob. He thought he was going to have a heart attack as the mannequin moved closer, speaking in the same sharp, shrill voice.

  “Hello, Bobby, hello, Bobby! Tick-tock, stop the clock! Tick-tock, stop the clock!”

  Bear Trap

  Ray was sitting at the back of the meeting with the other three members of an elite FBI rapid response team. The rest of the agents, twenty-eight in total, were decked out in chairs, waiting quietly for the chief to arrive. Ray was feeling rather proud of himself, because the other three members of the team had accepted him. Sadly, they had lost a team member a few months before, in an operation that had gone horribly wrong due to scant and completely inaccurate intelligence. The loss of this team member, a former Navy SEAL, had hit the rest of the team very hard, because they had been working as a unit for three years and their reputation was becoming very well known throughout the FBI grapevine. During their last operation, Ray had proved himself beyond all of his expectations and had helped propel the team almost into legend incarnate throughout the FBI. He attributed his resolve not to lose his nerve under any circumstances to his time serving in Iraq and Afghanistan.