know
everything there is to know about him. I know what he’s done and what he thinks
and what his secrets are. So I don’t
need
to explain anything. I
don’t
need
to tell his story.
I don’t
want
to tell it.
I’m sick of it.
11.45 p.m.
I’ve just been to the bathroom. Arse-
and belly-wise, everything seems back to normal.
On the way back to my room I saw Anja and
Bird again. They were still sitting at the dining table, still talking. Theymust have been at it all night. Anja had cleaned up her hair and Bird
had taken off his jacket and tie. His shirt sleeves were neatly rolled up and he was
making those infuriating hand gestures that business people make all the time –
pointing, chopping, open-palmed questions. Yuh yuh yuh? Anja was leaning forward with
her legs crossed, nodding sincerely at all the right moments, flicking at her hair.
They didn’t acknowledge me.
One more thing before I leave it for
tonight. Bird said the man got him when he was coming home from work yesterday evening.
But, as far as I’m aware, yesterday was a Sunday.
What does that mean?
1) Bird works on Sundays? Unlikely.
2) Bird’s lying? Possible.
3) I’ve got the days mixed up. More
than likely.
That’s all.
Tuesday (?), 7 February
We’ve had a meeting.
Anja and Bird announced it. 10.00 am. At the
dining table.
This is how it started:
BIRD (opening his
notebook): Is everybody ready? Fred?
FRED (staring at the
ceiling, picking burnt skin from his lips): Yeah, what?
BIRD : Are you
ready?
FRED : Ready for
what?
BIRD : We need to talk.
All of us.
FRED (grinning): Right,
go on then.
BIRD (looking round the
table): OK, let’s start by finding out who we all are. I’ll set the ball
rolling. My name’s Will Bird. I’m 38 years old. I was born in Southend and I
moved to Chelmsford ten years ago. I share a house with my partner, Lucy, a call-centre
manager. I’ve been a management consultant for eight years, mostly in the banking
industry. Before that I worked in customer service training. In my spare time I enjoy
paintball games and tinkering with radio-controlled cars. Linus?
ME : What?
BIRD : Tell us about
yourself.
ME : Why?
BIRD : Communication,
trust –
ME : Trust?
ANJA (to me): Listen to
him. He’s trying to help.
BIRD (smiling at her):
Thank you. (Turning to me with a fake smile) Hey, come on, we have to work together,
Linus. We have to pool our resources.
ME :
Hey
, I
know.
BIRD : We need spirit,
determination, solidarity –
ME : What we need is a
way out of here.
FRED : Fucking
right.
ANJA :
Christ!
FRED (glaring at her):
What’s the matter with you?
ANJA : Nothing.
FRED : Yeah, fucking
nothing. Tell me about it. You and your fucking nothing. Ever since you got here all
you’ve done is sit around all day on your tight little arse doing fuck all, then
this fat ponce comes along and all of a sudden you’re up for it.
BIRD : Now just a
minute
–
FRED (giving him a
threatening look): Yeah?
ANJA (sneering): Oh,
that’s right. Why don’t you hit him with a saucepan?
FRED : At least
I’m trying.
ANJA : You can say that
again.
FRED : Fuck you.
BIRD (hitting the
table): That’s
enough
!
FRED : Fuck you too, fat
stuff.
Then Jenny started crying.
We took a break.
Anja and Bird went off down the corridor and
the rest of us went into the kitchen. While Jenny washed her face and dried her tears, I
made some tea and talked quietly to Fred.
‘You’re frightening
Jenny,’ I told him. ‘Keep it down a bit. And go easy on the swearing.
She’s only a kid.’
‘Kids don’t give a shit about
swearing.’
‘Some of them do.’
‘Yeah, well …’
‘You’re scaring her.’
‘It’s not my fault. It’s
them, Bird and Anja, they’re doing my head in. All this
meetings
shit –’
‘Yeah, I know. I don’t like it
either. But getting all worked up about it isn’t going to help, is it?’
He looked at me, his eyes cold with
violence.
‘You know what I could do
everything there is to know about him. I know what he’s done and what he thinks
and what his secrets are. So I don’t
need
to explain anything. I
don’t
need
to tell his story.
I don’t
want
to tell it.
I’m sick of it.
11.45 p.m.
I’ve just been to the bathroom. Arse-
and belly-wise, everything seems back to normal.
On the way back to my room I saw Anja and
Bird again. They were still sitting at the dining table, still talking. Theymust have been at it all night. Anja had cleaned up her hair and Bird
had taken off his jacket and tie. His shirt sleeves were neatly rolled up and he was
making those infuriating hand gestures that business people make all the time –
pointing, chopping, open-palmed questions. Yuh yuh yuh? Anja was leaning forward with
her legs crossed, nodding sincerely at all the right moments, flicking at her hair.
They didn’t acknowledge me.
One more thing before I leave it for
tonight. Bird said the man got him when he was coming home from work yesterday evening.
But, as far as I’m aware, yesterday was a Sunday.
What does that mean?
1) Bird works on Sundays? Unlikely.
2) Bird’s lying? Possible.
3) I’ve got the days mixed up. More
than likely.
That’s all.
Tuesday (?), 7 February
We’ve had a meeting.
Anja and Bird announced it. 10.00 am. At the
dining table.
This is how it started:
BIRD (opening his
notebook): Is everybody ready? Fred?
FRED (staring at the
ceiling, picking burnt skin from his lips): Yeah, what?
BIRD : Are you
ready?
FRED : Ready for
what?
BIRD : We need to talk.
All of us.
FRED (grinning): Right,
go on then.
BIRD (looking round the
table): OK, let’s start by finding out who we all are. I’ll set the ball
rolling. My name’s Will Bird. I’m 38 years old. I was born in Southend and I
moved to Chelmsford ten years ago. I share a house with my partner, Lucy, a call-centre
manager. I’ve been a management consultant for eight years, mostly in the banking
industry. Before that I worked in customer service training. In my spare time I enjoy
paintball games and tinkering with radio-controlled cars. Linus?
ME : What?
BIRD : Tell us about
yourself.
ME : Why?
BIRD : Communication,
trust –
ME : Trust?
ANJA (to me): Listen to
him. He’s trying to help.
BIRD (smiling at her):
Thank you. (Turning to me with a fake smile) Hey, come on, we have to work together,
Linus. We have to pool our resources.
ME :
Hey
, I
know.
BIRD : We need spirit,
determination, solidarity –
ME : What we need is a
way out of here.
FRED : Fucking
right.
ANJA :
Christ!
FRED (glaring at her):
What’s the matter with you?
ANJA : Nothing.
FRED : Yeah, fucking
nothing. Tell me about it. You and your fucking nothing. Ever since you got here all
you’ve done is sit around all day on your tight little arse doing fuck all, then
this fat ponce comes along and all of a sudden you’re up for it.
BIRD : Now just a
minute
–
FRED (giving him a
threatening look): Yeah?
ANJA (sneering): Oh,
that’s right. Why don’t you hit him with a saucepan?
FRED : At least
I’m trying.
ANJA : You can say that
again.
FRED : Fuck you.
BIRD (hitting the
table): That’s
enough
!
FRED : Fuck you too, fat
stuff.
Then Jenny started crying.
We took a break.
Anja and Bird went off down the corridor and
the rest of us went into the kitchen. While Jenny washed her face and dried her tears, I
made some tea and talked quietly to Fred.
‘You’re frightening
Jenny,’ I told him. ‘Keep it down a bit. And go easy on the swearing.
She’s only a kid.’
‘Kids don’t give a shit about
swearing.’
‘Some of them do.’
‘Yeah, well …’
‘You’re scaring her.’
‘It’s not my fault. It’s
them, Bird and Anja, they’re doing my head in. All this
meetings
shit –’
‘Yeah, I know. I don’t like it
either. But getting all worked up about it isn’t going to help, is it?’
He looked at me, his eyes cold with
violence.
‘You know what I could do
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