THE ADJOINING ROOM was smaller than the dining-room but had the same high ceiling with dusty cornicing. The same oak panels round the walls. There was no furniture. At one end a set of French doors opened on to a rose garden. And at the opposite end was a console of electronic instruments. There were gauges that hummed and lights that flashed different colours, and in the centre, straight out of a second-rate science-fiction movie, there was a large Perspex cylinder containing a pale amber fluid and inside that, with wires attached, a human brain. Behind it on the wall was an enlarged photo of Myfanwy. I stood before it all and gasped. A sequence of lights, which I could only suppose connoted excitement, flashed up and down rods around the photo and a thin metallic voice said, ‘Hello Louie!’
I spun round and jumped out of the chair but Brainbocs was expecting this. He was holding the remote control pointed at my chest like a gun and I stopped frozen in my tracks. The memory of the lightning bolt he had sent through my body last time was fresh and filled me with an animal terror that glued my limbs. I sat back in the chair.
‘How you doing, Louie!’ said the electronic voice.
Nausea overwhelmed me and I looked in utter disbelief at Brainbocs. ‘What have you done?’
He shrugged in what appeared to be embarrassment as if his wonderful new scheme had not met with the rapture he was expecting. ‘I would have thought that was fairly obvious.’
‘But you … you … I …’ There were no words.
Brainbocs made an uncomfortable fidgeting movement and said, ‘I see it is useless to try and hide the fact from you, I fucked up.’
‘You haven’t changed a bit, Louie!’ warbled the robotic voice of … of … what? Myfanwy? ‘How do I look?’
‘Answer her!’ hissed Brainbocs. ‘She’s been so looking forward to this. Don’t upset her!’
‘Oh … well … you know …’ I forced my mutinying tongue to speak. ‘Same old Myfanwy!’
‘Very good!’ whispered Brainbocs.
‘You little liar!’ warbled Myfanwy.
‘Would you like her to sing for you?
‘No.’
‘Yes, yes, I’m sure you would. You doubt that she can, eh? I haven’t given her full colour vision yet, but she can sing.’ He clapped his hands. ‘Myfanwy, sing for our guest.’
‘What shall I sing?’
‘Anything.’
There began a thin warbling rendition of ‘Una Paloma Blanca’ from the speakers. It was hideous but Brainbocs didn’t think so. He rested his head in the crook of his thumb and index finger and half-closed his eyes dreamily while his other hand tapped the remote control in time to the music. When she got to the ‘I’m just a bird in the sky’ bit, I could take it no longer. ‘Stop it! I shouted. ‘Stop this … this … obscenity!’
The music petered out. ‘Not so good, huh?’ said Myfanwy. ‘I know I’m still a bit rusty. I need to be able to move to the beat really.’
Brainbocs looked at me with eyes narrowed to slits and the water between them glittering with fury. ‘You shouldn’t have done that, Louie. You’re a rude bastard, that’s what you are.’
‘And you’re the filthiest, vilest piece of vermin –’
He pointed the remote control at me. ‘Go on say it, I dare you!’
I stopped. ‘One day I won’t just tell you, I’ll write it on you with your own blood.’
Brainbocs was angry now. Bubbling over with hate and confusion. ‘Don’t come the “I’m so pure and noble” bit with me. You’re just like all the rest. I knew it but she wouldn’t believe me. Just like all the other lecherous old toads down at that filthy club who saw her as a piece of meat.’
‘You don’t know what you are talking about.’
‘Oh yes I do! I’m not a lusting animal like you, I love Myfanwy with –’
‘Love!’ I shouted. ‘You call this love? What do you know about love?’
‘Everything!’ he screamed. ‘I’ve read everything there is available on the subject!’
I laughed bitterly. ‘You didn’t find out the first thing, Brainbocs. Not the first thing. This proves it. A cold inhuman monster such as you doesn’t have the capacity to love. You think this is Myfanwy? A brain in a chemistry set? Myfanwy is the girl running along the sand dunes at Ynyslas with the salty wind blowing in her chestnut hair, with firm young limbs of warm flesh and blood, running joyously into the sea …’
‘Oh spare me!’ shouted Brainbocs. ‘Spare me the pink candy hearts! You’ll be telling me next love is a many-splendoured thing!’
‘It is!’ I cried. ‘It fucking well is!’
‘Oh sure, the April rose that only grows … Grow up, Louie Knight!’
‘Myfanwy isn’t a brain in a petri dish, she was the taste of salt on her skin after swimming in the sea … the coldness of her salty wet hair and the goosebumps and laughter and … and … and … Jesus, even now you haven’t the faintest idea what I’m talking about. Not the faintest. This isn’t love what you are doing here. It’s just dissection.’
There was a pause. And I could see Brainbocs visibly straining to calm himself. He straightened his tie and twisted his head sharply from side to side as he did so. ‘This is absurd. I won’t allow you to infuriate me with your cheap gumshoe antics. I know the score. Get me upset and then make an attempt to get the remote control. Well you can forget about that.’
‘Oh do stop fighting, you two!’ warbled Myfanwy.
‘You’ll understand after you’ve had a chance to chat to Myfanwy.’
‘She isn’t here.’
‘You see,’ he hissed, his face once more twisting with venom. ‘I knew it. I told her but she wouldn’t have it. You don’t really love her. Just before we came in I asked you whether it was her body or her brain you admired. Well I think we have our answer now, don’t we?’
‘Are you so blind that you cannot see the one doesn’t go without the other?’
‘Oh really? Says who? You may not desire her any more but I do.’
‘Is she happy?’
His eyes shot open. ‘Since when has that been a criterion? Who’s happy round here, huh? Nobody as far as I can see. Happy? Happy? I’ve never been happy a single day in my whole fucking life. Have you?’
‘Yes, I have. Almost every day.’
‘Well you don’t look very happy today!’
‘It hasn’t ended yet.’
‘You throw happiness at me as if it was the touchstone of man’s existence whereas statistically it’s the very absence of it that seems to define us. Happiness? It’s crap.’
‘You say you love her and you don’t even want to make her happy?’
‘I deal in facts and certainties, Louie. Not candy floss. Any rational analysis of the world makes it clear that I cannot promise her happiness. But I can make her happier. You see, despite everything, we still have each other. And now, in her modified form, at least no one will try and take her away from me.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Yes, Mr Knight, it very much is so. That, if you will forgive me underlining it, is the whole point. Because I know that despite your fine words you no longer want her. While I still do.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
‘Oh I’m sure,’ he said. ‘Very sure. In fact, that’s why I brought you here. Because I knew once you saw her you would hate her.’
‘I don’t hate her.’
‘Perhaps. But you do not love her.’
‘She’s not the same girl.’
‘Oh you’re back-pedalling now, Louie. Back-pedalling. The tragedy for you is, she is the same girl. You could stay here all week and chat to her and you would never be able to deny it. The only thing that is not the same is physical. The tits and the bum – or what was that bollocks again? The cold wet tongues of hair on the goosebumpy skin. That was all you desired and it’s gone.’
‘It’s not true, Brainbocs.’
‘Really? Tell her then. Go and tell her that you still love her.’
I paused and my indecision filled him with glee.
‘You see! You can’t bring yourself to do it.’
‘Why the hell should I?’
‘To save Calamity, of course.’
I turned to him and stared at the smug self-assurance on his face. Again Brainbocs made efforts to calm himself, breathing deeply and counting the breaths. And then, much cooler, he said. ‘You may protest and throw your teddy out of the pram, even call me a load of schoolyard names, but underneath it all you’re not stupid. The deal I’m offering you is one you cannot possibly refuse. Tell Myfanwy you don’t love her and I will tell you where they have taken Calamity.’
I rushed at him again but again I was too slow. Or Brainbocs was too quick. Another lightning fork flashed inside my ribs, picked me up and threw me to the ground with terrifying force. I convulsed and writhed on the floor, as my heart beat so powerfully I thought my chest would explode. Brainbocs looked on impassively and, once the convulsions had subsided, said, ‘You stupid fool.’ Rhodri threw a tureen of cold water into my face and I dragged myself wearily back to the chair.
Brainbocs continued, ‘I can assure you, Louie, you will get tired of that before I do. But enough of this. Let us seal the deal.’
‘What if I don’t co-operate?’
‘You have no choice. You would be stupid to refuse because it is in your best interests. You love Calamity like a father. You no longer love Myfanwy, despite your brave words. So to give her up will not be so very hard except for the wound it will deal to your honour. And set against the welfare of Calamity, what is that?’
Was he right? His words had twisted me so much that I hardly knew any more what to think.
‘Tell me what they have done with Calamity,’ I eventually said.
Brainbocs drove his car over to a bureau and fetched a pile of papers. ‘I can’t tell you exactly where, you have to understand. We’re not in this together, if that’s what you think. Mrs Llantrisant has no more love for me than she does for you. But I know how to find out.’
‘How would I know you are not lying?’
‘You wouldn’t but when I explain it to you, you will know it to be the truth. You will feel it in your water. And besides, all you have to do is tell Myfanwy you no longer love her. If I double-cross you, you simply say you didn’t mean it. You can’t lose.’
‘So where have they taken her, what does Herod hold sacred?’
He lifted the pile of papers.
‘It’s not, as you might first imagine, anything to do with rugby or beer, nor even as I had secretly suspected the exciting smell of adolescent boys’ fear. It was something more primal than that and dated back to a time shortly after the war in Patagonia. A time when he had all the normal appetites of a healthy young man. A man who could still laugh and love, whose soul had not yet been torn apart by the memory of that terrible conflict. This man had a love affair with someone. Can you guess who?’
I narrowed my eyes and stared in disbelief and hate at the little worm.
‘Go on have a go.’
‘Mrs Llantrisant?’
‘Close. Her sister, Mrs Bligh-Jones.’
I looked startled.
‘Ah, you didn’t know they were sisters. Oh yes. And bitter love rivals.’
‘But Mrs Llantrisant had Bligh-Jones assassinated.’
‘Hell hath no fury and all that. Yes, Herod and Mrs Bligh-Jones did what all seventeen-year-olds with the spring sap rising in their green shoots do given half a chance. The record of it is all faithfully transcribed in here.’ Brainbocs waved the sheaf of papers. ‘Detailed descriptions of Mrs Bligh-Jones groaning and convulsing on the grassy hillside and doing out of wedlock what she spent the rest of her life hurling scorn at other girls for doing. The two of them engendering a child. Yes, Mrs Bligh-Jones and Herod had a love-child. But alas only for a while. For a single day only. A frail little kitten that popped its head out, decided the world was a vale of tears, and went back to wherever it was he had come from. They called him Onan. And Mrs Bligh-Jones gave birth to him in a cow byre because Herod had abandoned her. The only question now is, which cow byre?’
‘You mean that’s the sacred place?’
‘Yes, up on Pumlumon somewhere. You remember all that fuss about the Meals on Wheels expedition that got stuck in the snow up there? That was all Bligh-Jones’s doing. She knew he was up there, driven by some terrible, deep-seated instinct to find the place where his son was buried. That’s where Herod’s hideout is and where, unless you get a move on, they will kill Calamity tonight at moonrise.’
When he finished there was silence for a while. I looked towards the console and then back at Brainbocs. ‘I just tell her I don’t love her and you tell me where the cow byre is?’
He nodded. And then Myfanwy spoke.
‘It’s all right, Louie, you can say it. I already know anyway. You don’t love me now. You hate me. Go on say it. No don’t, please don’t, please don’t! Oh what does it matter? I know it anyway. Why didn’t you write, you pig? I hate you for that … oh no I don’t! Forgive me … I know this is all my fault. You never really loved me, it was Bianca you really loved, wasn’t it? Don’t lie to me, I know … you deserve better than this anyway, it’s over for us, we’re finished, look at me – just an old lump of brain in a tin of chicken consommé … that’s what it is you know, chicken soup … just a brain now … I never was very brainy, was I? My worst feature all that is left of me … Go on leave me, say you don’t love me … but say you did once … in Ynyslas, remember? Oh, Louie, remember how we kissed that day … I was so happy … Louie, say you did once, say you did once, Louie say you did …’
Brainbocs picked up a walking-stick and banged the console with it. ‘Sometimes the speech circuits can get overloaded.’
And then Myfanwy started to sing in a voice punctuated by sobs.
Once on a high and windy hill
In the morning mist, two lovers kissed,
And the world stood still …
‘It’s amazing, isn’t it?’ said Brainbocs. ‘I haven’t given her full stereoscopic vision but she can still cry –’
I couldn’t take any more. I walked over to the console, looked at Myfanwy and then back at the evil dwarf schoolboy. He was singing, too, now. The thin, out-of-tune, reedy sound of a youth whose voice will for ever remain on the cusp of breaking; singing the descant to Myfanwy’s electronic soprano.
Then your fingers touched my silent heart
And taught it how to sing
Yes, true love is a many splendoured thing …
It was enough. Tears in my eyes, I said into the microphone, ‘I love you Myfanwy. I always did. You were a bitch to me sometimes, but it never mattered. I always forgave you. So I hope now you’ll forgive me too –’
‘No!’ screamed Brainbocs as realisation dawned. ‘No! You bastard, no!’ He rammed the throttle forward and sped his car towards me.
‘Hope you’ll forgive me –’
‘No!’ he screamed.
I turned to face Brainbocs as he raised the remote. And I smiled at him, a graveyard smile, as he pressed and I gritted my teeth. The shock shrieked through me in spears of blue and silver fire. I spun round and convulsed, but used the force, the momentum, to carry me forward to the console.
‘No!’ he cried and pressed the remote once more. But he said he’d made the belt from camera flashes and even I knew you had to wait a few seconds for them to charge up again. I grinned at him and reached for the console. Brainbocs jabbed with impotent fury at the remote and then hurled it aside and raced his electric buggy forward.
‘No! No! No! Stop! Please!’ And then with bestial ferocity Brainbocs launched himself from his chair, his tiny hands reaching out in wild despair to grab my coat. Like a maniac he fought to clamber up me, to bring his face close to mine in a lethal embrace. He was so close now I could feel his hot breath scalding my ear. I could hear his teeth millimetres away – snapping on empty air like the jaws of a terrier trying to catch a wasp – as he tried to bite through the carotid artery in my neck. ‘No! No! No! Stop!’ he screamed.
‘Forgive me, Myfanwy,’ I said, and then pulled the plug out from the wall-socket.