Final Chapter 29 Part 1

Chapter 29

The day's crisp and clear.  Fresh snow has fallen, a clean carpet that’s swept away the marks of the scuffle by my car. You'd have no idea of the violence perpetrated there.  From my bedroom I can see the byre where the beasts are taking shelter.  They're turned towards where the sun will rise, preparing to warm themselves with its first rays.  I retreat behind the chintz curtains.  In the half, grey light the neon digital figures on the alarm clock glow especially bright.  In a regimental fashion they tumble from 7:59 to 8:00.  I afford myself the luxury of a half smile.  On the bed are two bags, the holdall which I brought my clothes in, still open and the duffel bag, which is now strangely deflated.  On the table next to the bed is a package; rectangular in shape, wrapped in heavy brown paper, with neat, sharp military corners.  It’s about the size of two shoe boxes.  In heavy, black felt tip capitals that slope towards the bottom corner is Liz’s address.  In the right hand corner is an assortment of stamps.

“Well?”

            The question hangs. We've sat in silence for; well it seems a long time. I've watched the fire burn even lower. Ellen? I don't know what she's been doing except that she's still here.

            “You've got questions Tony, ask them.” She reaches forward and places a hand on my knees. She looks up at me, her eyes round, kind, imploring. “Yes, I'm here because of McClelland, well there are other reasons but that's what's you think isn’t it?”

            I don't look at her.

            She shifts, wiggling forward on her seat. Her toes twitch enjoying the softness of the rug.

            “See, I know there's more in there.” She taps my chest. I wince. “Oh  sorry Tony,” the tone’s plaintive .  Smoothly she swivels off her chair and ends up kneeling before me. “It shouldn't have happened.” She looks up, catching the question before I say it. “Out there. They'd been sent to watch us, both of us, to make sure I did my job and you did yours.”

            “What was that?” The question is barely audible.

            “Give up the money.”

            Silence, a long terse silence.

            “You know.” It is a statement and not a question.

            “Yes Tony. That's it isn't it?” She gestures towards the bag. I don't respond. “It wasn’t hard. You'd been flagged at the club, someone new, not quite fitting in. I saw your picture. I’d gone because we thought it was Jonah. But there you were.”

            “Jonah, you know him?”

            “Sort of, colleagues. He'd got sucked in, caught in McClelland’s world but he wasn’t part of the inner circle. When the money went, I guess that’s why he was suspected.  You know, he could have been in, if he wanted but he always resisted that final step. He was more resilient than me. Suppose that's because of Bill.”

            I let that pass, “Go on.”

            “You and Bill at the funeral didn't make sense. So that was the second flag. Your...”

            “...Argument with McClelland...”

            “...Fight. Then returning the following day. He did his homework, worked out the job situation and then, well it sort of fitted. He sent me and back up just in case. Though that was as much to do with making sure I did my job as much as watching you.” She’s turned her palms upwards as if she’s asking for mercy. “Please Tony, this isn't what it seems.”

            The fire sputters. There’s a pop. An ember lands glowing on the carpet. It rapidly darkens.

            “And what do you think it seems?” For the first time I look at Ellen, don't flinch or glance, really look at her.

            “That I'm a mercenary? This is all a game? I'm manipulating you for the money?” She looks shamefaced. It’s real or it’s an Oscar winning act.

            “And why shouldn't I believe that?”

            “Outside, Tony. Think I would've stopped it? After all they're my insurance too.”

            “So?” There's a buzz at the back of my head, a thawing.

            “I know the money's in the bag. I could pick it up and walk out.”

            “I'd stop you.”

            “Yeah, in your state.” A smile curls across her face. “And then there's this.”

I glance round the room in the half light.  Everything's there, ready packed.  And I'm ready too.  One last thing; I scavenged a couple of sheets of paper last night and envelopes: last words and first words need to be written. 

            I perch on the end of the bed, resting on a book from the bedside table.  Pen poised, I realise I should've nicked a third sheet so tear one A4 piece in half.  I quickly pen a note to Richard and Alison.

 Theirs is easy, only platitudes needed, nothing to save a sinking marriage. It doesn't feel quite right, lying. I make up something about a job

            The pen hangs over the next letter, the torn sheet.  Bill. What to write?  Nothing comes.  I place the pen on the paper and let it write automatically, ‘Dear Ellen’ it scribes.  I smile.  This is easy. 

I can feel the pressure of Ellen’s lips on mine, a faint plastic taste of lipstick lingers in my mouth.  She sits back.

            “There’s that.”

            “OK, it's a convincing argument. I believe you.” Her arms are folded across my knees, her head resting on them. Her hair flows round her face, framing the subtle smile that slides across.

            “You've got some decisions to make Mr Dafoe.”

            “Decisions? Like what?”  I'd much rather be kissed again. I lean forward in anticipation.

            Ellen shakes her head and moves away causing her hair to ripple.  “No, not now - now, you've got to decide.” She stands, backs away and reaches for the log basket, tossing a couple on to the fire. I'm aware that the noise from the party has changed.  There's movement, people leaving.  I can her Richard’s voice rumbling.

Ellen proffers the whiskey, “More?”

            I lift my the chipped mug automatically. The liquid viscously flows. “You think he'll notice?”

            “Yeah, I'm sure it was nearly full when we started.” Ellen places the half empty bottle on the table. “Now, decisions.”