Part 21 (1/2)

”I'm asking what the problem is down there.”

”We haven't pinned it down exactly. Water's got into some of the children's books somehow. Best if you take a look for yourself.”

”You bet I will. What's the delay now? Give the G.o.dd.a.m.n door a push.”

When Ray grips the handle it feels rough with grit or rust. He twists it as near as it will turn to vertical and shoves hard. Even when he throws his weight against the door, it stands its ground. He grabs his fist with his other hand and leans on the handle while he braces his feet wide apart and thumps the door with his shoulder to as little effect. ”What's happened, do you know?” he feels foolish for asking.

”You tell me. When I tried to get out it was stuck.”

Ray is bruising his fingers on the handle and his shoulder against the door when Nigel emerges from the stockroom. ”Struggling?” he says. ”Fear not, here comes the solution.”

”Can't wait. Let's see how Scousers use their head.”

Nigel ducks so violently that Ray wonders if he's thinking of using it on him. He'll find Ray's forehead waiting for his eyebrows if he does--Ray learned that trick at school. What is he imagining? Nigel's only trying to pretend he didn't hear the remark, and that makes him a weakling, not a fighter. Ray watches him drag the handle almost ninety degrees and incline his body away from it so as to slam himself against the door. When he has failed 257 three times to stir it, he stops to wipe his brow hard enough to be backhanding it. ”I already tried that,” Ray tells him.

”It wasn't much use then, was it?” Nigel retorts and raises his voice. ”Woody?”

”You know what, I haven't gone anywhere.”

”The obstruction must be on your side. Can't you identify it?”

”Don't you think I'd have fixed it if I could?”

Ray is feeling amused that it was Nigel who attracted the surge of irritation when Woody adds ”Are both of you trying at once? I didn't bring you up here for a contest.”

Nigel keeps hold of the handle as if he's claiming owners.h.i.+p and performs another b.u.t.t, this time in the direction of the door. ”Whenever you're ready,” he tells Ray.

”That's always,” Ray a.s.sures him and runs at the door.

His shoulder a.s.saults it and so does Ray's, not quite in unison. That's why it feels as though Ray has budged the door; it's quivering from Nigel's lesser effort. 'Try again,” says Nigel.

He seems to think it's Ray's fault at least as much as his. A wave of heat leaves Ray close to s.h.i.+vering. He steps back and launches himself at the door, but again Nigel's impact is a fraction later than his. ”It isn't working, is it?” Nigel admits. ”It must have warped, that's all I can suggest.”

”Something's warped around here right enough.”

Why did he say that? It must have promised to sound clever, but it's so meaningless as to be worse than stupid, Which only makes Ray angrier for letting it into his head.

We aren't doing it right,” he restrains himself to saying.

We need to be together.”

Nigel gives him a look not unlike the ones Greg turns on Jake. ”Together how?”

How do you reckon? On second thoughts, keep it to yourself. Hit the b.u.g.g.e.r at the same time, that's what I'm 258 ”Nothing simpler. On three, then. One, two, three.”

Ray is still running at the door when Nigel deals it what Ray would describe as a b.u.mp with his shoulder. Ray's throbs as he staggers back, and another rush of clammy heat draws a chill in its wake. He's glaring at the door and Nigel as Woody enquires ”Everybody busy?”

”Can't you tell?” Ray bellows.

”That's for the team downstairs. Do I see someone that's finished shelving, Agnes?”

Ray feels stupider and more enraged than ever for not understanding that Woody's amplified voice was directed at the sales floor. Presumably Agnes responds in some fas.h.i.+on, since Woody says ”Why don't you award yourself a trolleyful of Gavin's.” A sigh that sounds thinned by his teeth finds its way into corners stained by dimness under the ceiling, and then he says ”I don't hear anything out there. What's holding up the release team?”

Ray is infuriated that Woody's broadcasting the situation. ”Some of us haven't worked out how to do it,” he yells so loud he hopes the phone transmits it. He's almost sure he hears something like his voice imitating him more or less in chorus.

”Some? I guess that has to be both.”

Ray swallows a sour harsh stale taste and waits for the latest clammy wave to finish with him, and then he faces Nigel. ”Let's swap. I'll be the man with the handle.”

”Of course, if it keeps you happy.”

”Don't know about keeps. I'll count as well.”

”I wouldn't want to be the chap who stops you.”

As soon as Nigel moves aside Ray clutches the handle, which feels grubbier than ever. ”Ready?” he barely asks.

”No less than you are.”

”One,” Ray announces, and an echo does. He thinks it's returning to him through the speakers until he realises Nigel is chanting just not low enough. ”What are you playing at now?” Ray growls. ”I said I'd count.” 259 ”You said as well. I thought you meant we'd what's the word, from clocks, it's Greek, at least it comes from there.”

”No idea what you're on about.”

”Synchronise,” Nigel says more irritably still. ”From time, isn't it, not clocks. I thought you meant we'd count and synchronise ourselves.”

”Just me. It wasn't much help when you did, was it?”

”Fine, just me. Just you, I mean, that's what I'm saying. Just one of us. You've got your way, Ray.”

Ray is sucking in a breath while he vows to utter nothing but the count when Woody asks the whole shop ”Why aren't I seeing any movement here? Do you need reinforcements out there?”

”Someone else might be welcome,” Nigel shouts.

The slam of a door sends footsteps hurrying upstairs and into the office. ”I'll do, will I?” Agnes makes sure Woody hears.

”No offence, Agnes, but I believe we're talking men here.”

She's clearly even less pleased by his transmitting this to the entire shop. ”What do you two say?” she halves her volume to ask. ”You ought to know more about it than him.”

”I don't think I'd take issue with him,” says Nigel.

”That isn't you though, is it, Ray? Don't say you never disagree with anything you're told.”

He might admit to that if he didn't feel she's as determined to cause an argument as to justify her presence, although it's beyond him what would put her in such a mood. ”Not this time,” he says.

”Agnes isn't still with the rescue party, is she? Shouldn't be. Seems to me I sent her to fetch books from the stockroom.”

Agnes confronts the enormous voice with a scowl she lowers to include Ray and Nigel. ”Are you being managers or just men? You'd think there wasn't any difference round 260 ”Oh, we have our differences all right,” says Nigel, but perhaps she doesn't catch it as she stalks out of the office.