Digging Deeper (chapters 3 & 4)

3

Considering Finn’s recklessness together with the potential capability of his car, he drove with alarming conservatism. Even on the Bournemouth spur road, the pursuing Fiesta stayed on his tail effortlessly. Not that it mattered. Will knew where Finn lived in any case. Once in the New Forest, Finn adhered strictly to the forty speed limit, but Will didn’t go to great lengths to leave an excessive gap between the cars. He saw no reason. Why would Finn have any inclination he might be followed? It wouldn’t occur to him that Will was even in the area. It wasn’t until they neared Finn’s house he began to hang back, the Fiesta lurching onto a grassy verge just in time to enable him see Finn fumble with his keys and enter through the front door. He stared at the house for a while, contemplating his options, just as he had done outside his own. He wondered how Finn could afford such a place, let alone the car. They were on similar incomes but Will’s standard of living was that of a pauper in comparison. The old stone cottage was idyllic. Timber trelliswork, the green stain faded by the rigours of winter, framed the entrance to the porch. Currently bare, Will imagined it blooming with sweet scented roses, a gentle summer breeze blowing refreshingly through the open sash windows. He glowered at the house with jealous disdain. Rogues like Finn had a knack of landing on their feet. Whilst his parents were undoubtedly wealthy, they weren’t millionaires or anything close: a five-bedroom house with stables nonetheless; electric security gates at the end of a long and winding gravel driveway; a small indoor heated swimming pool. But Finn had turned his back on that when he moved out of the family home. Rumour had it he was kicked out, paid off. He was the only kid in school to have his own, albeit rented, flat. Having been given a head start in life, Finn managed to flunk the majority of his exams. He dropped out of sixth-form and got a job, working his way up to become a five-star General in MacDonalds. Then came his first experience on the river taxis in Paris before returning to the UK and getting a job as a trainee with Will. With no handouts or bunk-ups from his parents, Will suspected Finn’s fortune was somehow connected with drugs. In the early days, having just started out in construction, everyone knew Finn was the man to see if you wanted any weed or pills. Whether he’d moved onto peddling harder stuff since then, who knew?

With a sharp intake of breath Will focused on the job in hand. Confused and exhausted, knowing he had to confront Finn, he pulled his car nearer to the house. Up close, the cottage was near rustic perfection. He walked along the edge of the low wall, running his hand across the top. Clumps of moss peeked out from between the original handmade bricks. He opened the rustic ledged-and-braced gate with a gentle kick and walked up the uneven flagstone path to the porch. Finn’s dirty boots lay in the doorway, sodden with the mud collected from the surrounding woodland. An umbrella stood upside down in a puddle of water along side a Barbour jacket. Will took a step towards the front door. A chunk of timber had been gouged from the frame, the architrave badly splintered.

Yet to formulate a plan of action, he tapped gently on the glass of the bull’s eye window in the front door. Finn soon appeared, holding a glass of orange squash, his mouth garbed in crumbs.

‘Hello mate,’ Finn was clearly surprised, ‘what the hell are you doing here?’

‘Oh, I was just passing and I thought …’ Will started, damning himself for not thinking of a better opening.

‘Just passing? I thought you were still in Bristol these days mate?’ Finn poked his head out into the porch, scanning tentatively up and down the road. Will didn’t read anything into being called ‘mate’. Finn had an annoying habit of doing it to everyone. It was both irritating and insincere, in Will’s opinion, and he certainly didn’t feel like being particularly pally at the moment. If he could just maintain his composure he’d hopefully be able to wheedle the evidence directly from his suspect. Then he’d be 100% sure.

‘Well, y’know …’ Will shrugged his shoulders.

‘Have, have you been back to yours tonight?’ For once, Finn looked decidedly nervous.

‘Nah, I didn’t fancy sitting around having a cosy night in with the ol’ woman.’ Will had begun to mimic Finn’s way with words.

‘That’s the spirit.’ A look of relief came over his face. ‘Come in, come in.’

‘D’you fancy coming out instead? Maybe go down to the pub?’ Will gestured towards the orange juice. ‘You want something stronger than that crap, surely?’

‘Yeah sure, no worries although I haven’t eaten yet. Been working late. Only just got in.’ It was all coming together perfectly. Finn was already making mistakes without a drop of alcohol having passed his lips. ‘Wait there, I’ll get me shoes and we’ll head down the road. The barmaid does some lovely pub grub.’ Will grew in confidence. Maybe getting to the facts wouldn’t be as tough as he’d expected. Throw a few pints of lager into the equation and who knew what information might come spewing out.

‘What happened to your door?’ Will shouted up the hall.

‘What?’

‘Your door. Looks like someone’s taken a lump out of it.’

‘I got broken in to … ages ago. Just never found time to put it right.’

‘Shit, did they take anything?’ Will felt a faint tug of guilt, his spirits having improved at thought of Finn being done over.

‘No, just messed the place up.’ Finn hopped and skipped his way back to the porch as he put his shoes on. ‘Kids they reckon.’

‘Oh.’

‘Come on, let’s go. I’m starving. Just like old times eh?’ Finn, beaming from ear to ear, gave Will a firm slap on the back.

‘Yip, just like old times,’ Will nodded, slowly.

4

Stepping through the doorway of the pub, Will realised he’d been before. A strange sensation washed over him as he thought back to his one and only previous visit, some years ago. It had been with Charlotte. She was upset and confused over something or other – they’d never really got to the root of the problem, suffice to say she was depressed and not sleeping much - it was one of the few times she’d needed Will. He remembered now. It couldn’t have been long after he’d got together with Emma, hence he’d brought her here, out of the way, selfishly worried his friendship with Charlotte would somehow potentially jeopardise his new relationship with Emma. He hung his head, making a mental note not to mention the pub he and Finn had frequented when recounting the story to Charlotte.

Will scanned the bar. The atmosphere hadn’t altered one bit. A handful of morbid faces stared into space, clutching froth-rimmed pint pots. He remembered how difficult his private conversation with Charlotte had been in such stagnant surroundings. It was a shame. The oak-beamed pub oozed character but the patrons did nothing to add to the charm. He stepped up to the bar, immediately greeted by Molly Malone reincarnate, all frills, puffy sleeves and cleavage. Will ordered the drinks in a low voice, yet still clearly audible over the surrounding murmurs and the odd chink of glass. He leaned on the bar, taking the weight off his feet, cursing his initial optimism on extracting information from Finn. A morgue isn’t the best place to start an interrogation, he thought. It was going to be a long night.

Finn was certainly on good form, the dowdy surroundings doing nothing to dampen his spirits or appetite. He slammed another empty pint glass down on the table, startling Will but freeing him from the flickering trance of the fire. He somehow felt heavier, dirtier, as if the soot and smoke were weighting him down as they permeated deep into the fabric of his clothes. Finn wasn’t bothered, happily tucking into a piping hot plate of steak and kidney pie and chips. He gestured for another pint. Will went to the bar again. He’d bought all the drinks tonight, limiting himself to soft drinks after his first lager, eager to maintain a clear head. Intent on steering the conversation away from work, Will had spiced things up by spiking Finn’s drinks with something a little more potent to lubricate the confessional cogs. He’d appeased a concerned Molly by explaining it was Finn’s birthday. Thought he’d bring him out for a few pints, nothing to worry about. When he returned to the table, he knew the plan was working. Finn’s eyes had started to glaze over.

‘I hear it’s your birthday soon,’ Finn’s voice became louder. Will paused, surprised that Finn of all people would remember his birthday.

‘That’s, that’s right. Today in fact. I didn’t think you’d remember.’

‘I didn’t, I bumped into Emma in town. She mentioned something about it.’

‘When did you see her?’

‘Erm, I dunno mate. Must have been last week sometime. You must be knocking on a bit now mustn’t ya? Doing anything special?’

‘Yeah well, me and Emma are going on holiday for a week. Leaving on Sunday, so it’ll make a nice break.’

‘You be careful. Keep an eye on that Emma. You know what those foreign men are like.’

Foreign men? They couldn’t be any worse than you. Besides, I never actually mentioned we were going abroad.

Will felt the hairs bristle on the back of his neck. The sight of Finn’s smarmy, inebriated face and rosy cheeks brought back memories from all those years ago. Finn had been right. It was like old times: the more Finn had drunk, the more inclined Will had been to stay sober, ready to police any untoward actions. Finn’s drunken antics were predictably unpredictable. It was a given he was going to be leery, brash and offensive. Quite what he was going to do it was another matter. A sly glance at a woman’s chest together with an “ooh, that’s a nice necklace” could so easily lead to inappropriate touching and squeezing. Finn and various friends had called Will a prude, firstly for his attempts to control the situation and secondly for his definition of improper behaviour. Others shrugged it off, “that’s just Finn”, his actions seemingly repeatedly excusable due to the amount of drink he had in him. Some saw it as a roguish charm. Will saw it as disrespectful. The guy was forever taking liberties and getting away with it. Seeing that sneering grin once more made him feel sick.

‘I’m sorry?’ Will did his best to maintain his composure.

‘Well nice young girl like her, a lot of blokes would fancy a go on that.’

‘Fancy a go?’ Will snorted. ‘Should I be flattered?’

‘I’m just saying, they like curvy women on the continent.’ He took another swig of beer, ‘and believe me, man … Emma’s got some fabulous curves, hasn’t she?’

‘And how would you know that?’ Will wanted to grab the spiky ginger hair on Finn’s head and ram his fist down his scrawny throat.

Then we’d see if you still had that cocky look on your gormless face.

‘Look, I ain’t saying nothing. I just observe.’

‘Observe what?’ Will hid his emotions. There was no sign of the anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach, eating him away from the inside.

‘She’s a good looking girl, that’s all.’

‘And?’

‘You want me to spell it out?’ Finn’s brow furrowed as he raised his eyebrows. ‘Let’s just say, if you weren’t poking the fire I’d certainly be at the front of the queue for some of that.’ He calmly took another mouthful of beer as if he’d merely mentioned the weather. Will sat mesmerised. The audacity of the man hadn’t mellowed with age but then surely the nocturnal stakeouts had already told him that. He shouldn’t be surprised but somehow he always was. Now, a small part of him wanted Finn to be obnoxious and laddy and spill the beans. A small voice from inside was desperate for some answers and he felt his heart rate increase as they moved closer to a full confession. It was surely imminent, another five minutes and it would all be over. Divisive as the drink was, Finn didn’t need any goading. The truth would soon be revealed. Will imagined the relief he would feel as the uncertainty was lifted. He imagined what would happen and how his life would be; friends rallying round, Emma guilt ridden and remorseful. He pictured the events of the next few weeks in his mind. Suddenly, it was as a black blanket over the light at the end of the tunnel. The sense of satisfaction at learning the truth was replaced by one of indignity at having their sham of an engagement on public display, dismantled by Finn of all people. Folk would begin to ask what he had that Will didn’t. The laughter and discussion behind closed doors, dissecting where it all went wrong. He panicked, realising he wasn’t ready for the truth. His stomach churned with revulsion. When the facts were confirmed, when all was revealed and they tumbled over the precipice, what then? What on earth was Will going to say or do? Thank him very much and drop him home? Having lost his bottle, it was time for Will to divert their course.

‘Look, time’s getting on, we’d better call it a night.’ Will picked Finn up by his jacket collar and with a smile in the direction of a disgruntled Molly Malone, arms folded across her ample chest, he helped him outside into the car. Finn was in no state to refuse.

The mood was quiet and sombre on the way home until the motion of the car began to affect Finn’s stomach. He removed his seatbelt and began to wretch, one hand grasping at his stomach, the other covering his mouth. It was no use. The digested lager and steak and kidney pie spewed over the dashboard and into his lap from between his fingers. Will slammed on the brakes. The tarmac, greasy from the rain forced them to skid up onto the muddy verge, stalling the car at the side of the road. Finn lurched forward, cracking his head on the dashboard with a dull thud. Will flung open the car door and marched around to the passenger side. He dragged Finn out, trying not to slip up in the mud, and pinned him across the bonnet. Finn stared vacantly, lifting his hand to his forehead.

‘You bloody idiot! My head, I’ve cut my head,’ he slurred.

‘You were sick in my car you … prick.’
Finn gritted his teeth ‘I’ve cut my fucking head open cus of your maniac driving.’

‘It’s a scratch for Christ’s sakes.’ Will, high on adrenaline, tried to keep his nerves in check. The rain diluted the blood as it ran from Finn’s forearm, making it appear much worse than it actually was.

‘Look, there’s fucking blood everywhere,’ Finn yelled. He jabbed Will firmly in the chest with the palm of his hand, sending him onto his backside in the mud. Will looked up through his straggly wet hair to see Finn propped up against the car, smaning.

‘Look at you,’ Finn smirked. ‘Seeing you sat there, she’s got a fucking point you know.’

‘What?’

‘She’s always said it,’ he slurred, frantically waving his finger at the beleaguered mud-spattered figure on the floor.

‘Who . . . said what?’

‘Emma always said you were a mummy’s boy. Look at you. You’re pathetic.’

‘You don’t half talk some crap.’

‘She’s told me all about you.’

‘That I’m supposedly a mummy’s boy?’

‘Nerves you see. Makes you talk about strange things does nerves.’

‘What are you talking about, nerves?’ Will shook with a mixture of rage and fear. It was as much as he could do to get to his feet with any semblance of dignity. Finn started to sway, beckoning Will closer with an exaggerated sweeping gesture.

‘Between you and me mate, I think she wants me, nerves you see, nerves,’ he whispered.

‘Oh for fuck’s sake, you still think you’re God’s gift, don’t you? Has it ever occurred to you that she might be engaged to me for a reason?’

‘Hmm, those curves …’ Finn closed his eyes, circling his hands as if conducting an orchestra.

‘Are you listening to me?’ Will growled, finding it increasingly difficult to keep his emotions in check.

‘She wants a real man … like me.’ Finn pursed his lips and gave himself the thumbs up.

‘Right,’ said Will massaging his temples, ‘and what makes you so very special?’

‘We have a mutual understanding. We’re good friends, and you know where that can lead.’

‘What do you mean good friends? Shut the fuck up.’

‘You telling me you’ve never had a thing for a … friend?’ Finn made quotation marks in the air.

‘No.’

‘What?’ Finn smiled. ‘You telling me you never fancied a pop at Charlotte?’

Will shook his head in dismay.

‘Now there’s a girl screaming out for a good shagging.’

‘Finn … I’m warning you.’

‘Awh come on. You’ve imagined her naked though right?’

Will leaned forward. ‘No.’ His voice was low but indignant.

Finn merely laughed. ‘Liar,’ he smiled.

They stood and stared at each other waiting to see who was going to make the next move. There was silence, save for the hum of the overhead power lines in the damp air and the intermittent crackle of dead leaves as they danced on the tarmac in the icy cold breeze. Not a word was spoken. No words needed to be spoken. The maddening juvenile sneer across Finn’s face said it all. He started to laugh, quietly at first, under his breath, but soon the sound from the overhead cables was drowned out by Finn’s uncontrollable, offensive mirth. Will lost control. He likened the feeling to the pressure on a champagne cork. Keep shaking the bottle and eventually it’s going to explode. Increasingly on edge, he figured it was about time Finn got what was coming to him.

SMACK!

Without warning, Will swung his arm viciously, planting a right hook squarely on Finn’s chin. The speed was such that he wouldn’t have seen it coming if he’d been sober, although to Will, it appeared to happen in slow motion. The back of Finn’s head bounced off the bonnet as he fell. He lay motionless in the sludge, having slid down the wing of the car. Will turned sharply, squinting into the surrounding darkness, checking for potential witnesses. With no one nearby and not a car in sight, Will crouched down, shaking, hit by the painful reality of the situation. Finn’s body lay motionless, the wounds to his head partially illuminated by the car’s sidelights. Will dragged Finn to his feet, laying him across the bonnet. He uttered a deep groan as he stirred, staring wearily at Will through half-open eyes. Will cuffed him, albeit timidly, across the face. His head rolled over to one side.

Oh God what have I done?

He cuffed him again. There was no response. Will’s bottom lip began to tremble.

What the fuck do I do with him now? I could take him home. Yes, I can bundle him into the car and drive him home … let him sleep it off. I’ll just have to face the consequences in the morning.

Will pinched Finn’s cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, assessing the damage he’d inflicted.

What if he’s not alright on his own? Hospital’s the best place for him. Although … well, his face doesn’t look too bad. Few cuts, difficult to see in this light, but I’d still have to think of a cover story in casualty. I can’t exactly say I’ve just beaten my mate up.

Will fumbled through Finn’s pockets for his house keys and slipped them into his jeans, anxiously scanning the darkness once more to make sure they hadn’t been spotted. He grabbed Finn’s shirt collar and attempted to prop him against the passenger door. The manoeuvre was made all the more problematic by Finn’s dead weight, Will repeatedly losing his footing on the sodden ground. He steadied himself, busily rummaging for his own keys. As panic set in he became increasingly clumsy, his anxiety finally abating as he realised the door was already unlocked. He reached for the handle with his one hand, still trying to prop Finn up with his other forearm. A faint hum could be heard in the distance.

Is that a car’s engine?

Will froze. The noise seemed to get louder. It was definitely a vehicle of some description, a lull in the revs as the gears shifted. It sounded to Will as though it was moving fairly quickly. Panicked once more, he lost his grip on Finn. The noise grew ever closer. Will began to shake, his heart pounding on the inside of his ribcage. Finn slid back down the wing of the car, cracking the back of his head as he did so. Will stood transfixed, cocking his head into the wind, listening to the car in the distance. It was slowing down. He kicked Finn’s body in desperation.

Get up! It’s you who got us into this mess.

The discussions of the last few hours churned over in his mind. He kicked him again. The purr of the engine had slowed to walking pace. The headlights, obscured by thick hedges, crawled along the adjoining road some five hundred yards away.

Why would anyone be driving so slowly along here at this time of night? There aren’t any houses for miles.

The engine revved a couple of times and then cut out.

Maybe they’re having problems with the engine … or a young couple looking for a bit of peace and quiet in a country lane.

Whatever, it didn’t help settle the relentless beat of Will’s heart. A soft thud echoed through the trees, the sound of a car door closing, a high spec car at that, not the tinny crash his Fiesta made. He glanced down at Finn; still no sign of movement. Will noticed from the corner of his eye that the headlights behind the hedge had been switched off. There was silence. He yanked at the car door, reaching over to cut his own lights. He tilted his head once more, listening intently. Standing for what seemed like an age, he felt the cold slowly seeping into his bones. Then, suddenly, he heard the car start once more. The stationary engine whined as the accelerator was floored. Twice it screamed before sitting idle.

Are those voices or just the wind?

Despite the lack of headlamps, the drone from the engine suggested it had started to move. Will squinted into the darkness. Nothing. The car was definitely getting nearer. His nerves in tatters, he snatched at Finn’s collar. Putting his arm around the back of his head, he felt something warm and sticky on his hand. He scuttled backwards, slipping on the bank of the shallow ditch by the side of the road. The purr of the car’s engine grew louder. Will glanced up the road. Still nothing to be seen. Hurriedly, he grabbed Finn by the wrists and dragged him to the verge, his grip hampered by the combination of sweat, rain and grime. Once at the edge he rolled the body into the furrow with the sole of his foot. Will crouched down, peering over the bonnet towards the ever-approaching sound. He suspected from the car’s tone it was nearing the junction at the top of the road some two hundred or so yards away. Still squatting, he felt his way along the front of the car, steadying himself on the bumper until reaching the driver’s door. He carefully slid into the seat and, impatiently juggling with the keys in the ignition, gasped mercifully as the car started first time. He tentatively eased the car back onto the road, into the foreboding darkness before him. Peering over the steering wheel and reluctant to switch on the headlights, he precariously picked out the road ahead. Shrouded in darkness, he felt somehow safer. Jolting his head over his shoulder for one final glance back, he eased his foot down on the accelerator. The lights from the main road ahead made it easier to see the way. Although slow progress, he eventually arrived at the T-junction. Staring blankly into the reflected darkness in the rear view mirror, he slipped his seatbelt around him, still transfixed on the wintry shadows he’d left behind. He rubbed his eyes. Had he spotted something? His concentration was broken for a moment as a car sped by in front of him. He wiped his face vigorously in an attempt to clear his head, turned on his headlights and sped out of the junction in the direction of home.