Part 16 (1/2)
”Hi, Jill.” This is followed by a stifled yawn that means he hardly needs to say ”It's Gavin.”
”Where are you? You sound odd.”
More specifically, his voice sounds in danger of being engulfed by static. Indeed, she thinks it has been overcome until he says ”I don't know. That's why I'm phoning.”
”You don't know where you are? Oh, Gavin.” She has often suspected that he uses drugs, and now she feels fiercely maternal. ”What have you done to yourself?”
”Nothing. It's the fog.” His voice fades, so that she isn't certain that he says ”It's worse than fog.”
She still thinks drugs could be involved. ”Gavin, you must be able to tell where you're phoning from.”
”My mobile.”
His resentfulness gives way to a yawn that must be sucking fog into his lungs. ”But how have you got wherever you are?” she persists.
”Took the bus and came down the usual road, but I've been walking a lot longer than I ever do. Must have wandered off along a side road and never realised. I don't wonder in this.”
”Would you like someone to drive and see if they can find you?”
”Not a good idea, not in this c.r.a.p. Thanks, though. I'm turning back and I expect I'll find my way. I just don't know how late I'll be.”
”Shall I tell Woody?”
”I wouldn't mind a word with him.”
Jill has to remind herself which b.u.t.tons to press to put Gavin on hold and move onto the public address. ”Woody call twelve, please. Woody--was The interruption leaps at her through the receiver. ”Hey, I'm nearly as fast to the phone as you are, Jill. What's up?” 206 ”Gavin's got lost somewhere and he doesn't know when he'll be here.”
”We're surely finding out who can be relied on, aren't we. Didn't he dare to tell me himself?”
”He wants to. He's on the line.”
”Okay, I'll take him.”
Woody sounds capable of blaming Gavin not just for absence but for being the third absentee. Jill would come to his defence if she could think how, but before there's a word in her head the phone excludes her from the conversation. A clamour of books on shelves accompanies her back to hers. Practically everyone is shelving; the only other people in the shop are two resolutely bald men in armchairs, who are clutching picture books as if, like children, they're afraid their treasures will be s.n.a.t.c.hed away from them, though neither seems to be in a reading mood. As Jill returns to her task she feels like part of a machine the size of the shop, a machine devoted to producing thud upon thud so dull they might be pounding out of the books any intelligence they contain. She must be depressed to think that way; certainly her mind feels grey and stagnant. Perhaps that's another sign of whatever is refusing to let her stay either hot or cold and weighing down her arms even in the tiny intervals when they're free of books. All the same, she isn't so hampered that she can't run to Information when the phones burst into a chorus. ”h.e.l.lo?” she gasps.
”It's me again.”
”Oh, Gavin.” She tries to conceal her frustration. ”Do you want Woody?”
”Not this time. You'll do.”
She would respond with amused resentment, or perhaps less than amused, if his voice didn't sound so distant, in danger of being engulfed by nothingness. ”What for?”
”I've already tried to tell him. I just think someone ought to listen.”
”I am, but where have you got to?” 207 ”I still don't know. That's why I thought I'd better call while I can. The fog's not doing my battery any favours.”
”Shouldn't you save it in case you need someone to find you?”
”I don't know what sort of person could find me in this.” She thinks a swelling wave of static has carried off his voice until he says ”What's that?”
Though she presumes he's asking himself, she blurts ”What, Gavin?”
”I'm going to see. Listen, while I am I'll tell you--was He stifles a yawn, unless he sucks in a breath. ”Hold on.”
”That's what I am doing.”
”I'm either nearly there or back at the bus shelter. There's a light, only it's odd.”
”How odd?”
”It shouldn't be doing that. Anyway, when I got home this morning I started looking at--was ”h.e.l.lo? Gavin? h.e.l.lo?”
Only static responds. When Jill presses the receiver against her ear she seems to catch the faintest trace of his voice, but it's no longer talking to her. That's all she gathers from its tone before it sinks deep into the static, which she could imagine is surging up in triumph. Then the phone is a dead lump of plastic, which she's lowering when Woody uses it to ask ”Was that a customer?”
”It was Gavin again.”
”No wonder you weren't smiling. What's his problem this time?”
”He's still trying to find his way.” Woody's watchfulness is making her nervous, but she won't be daunted from remarking ”He said he was talking to you about something he saw this morning.”
”That would be how I tidied up the store while I was waiting for you guys to arrive.”
”Are you certain that's it? I had the impression it was urgent.” 208 ”What are you suggesting it was, then?”
”I've no idea. I thought you might have.”
”I just told you mine. Maybe you should trust me on this, huh? Don't let me keep you away from your shelves if there's nothing else you want to run past me.”
Jill imagines him watching her face as she gives up the phone. She imagines that he's smiling down at her, though in fact he must be smiling upwards; either way, the thought stiffens her mouth. She feels as if he's hovering invisibly over her while she retires to her section. As she slams books into place she's repeatedly drawn to glance out of the window, but it's never Gavin that she has glimpsed. The furtive approaches and withdrawals must be of patches of fog, not of figures peering slyly out of it. She can only a.s.sume Gavin saw the bus shelter ahead or, if the light was moving, headlamps on the road he started from. When the phones renew their summons, however, she feels she has an extra motive to dash to the nearest. ”Jill,” she pants into the receiver. ”Jill at Fenny Meadows.”
”It's me, mummy.”
Of course Jill is relieved. She tries not to be even slightly disappointed that it isn't Gavin to rea.s.sure her he's safe and to answer the question she's eager to revive. ”Are you at your father's, Bryony?” she asks instead.
”We just are now. We had a lovely dinner.”
”I'm glad. What did you have?”
”Burgers. I had a giant one and daddy had to help me finish it.”
”I hope it won't keep you awake. You ought to be in bed with school tomorrow.”
”I'm going in a moment. I only wanted to say good night like you said. I'm sure I'll sleep.”
”That's what I wanted to hear.”
Jill smiles, and then her expression falls awry as she wonders if Woody is a.s.suming he's responsible for it. ”Are there lots of people there?” Bryony says.