‘Darling, I’m home!’
Coming through the newly double-glazed sliding porch, Sam set down his leather briefcase, hooked his bowler hat on the rack on the wall, and slipped off his shoes, mindful of the freshly vacuumed polyester carpet.
Annie appeared in the kitchen doorway dressed in her floral pinny. She walked with her hands held up, like she was at gunpoint. They were covered in flour.
‘You’re late!’ she called to him.
‘I’m sorry, darling. Bit of a hold up on the five forty-seven. Leopards on the track at Macclesfield, I think.’
‘Oh, you!’
Sam kissed her on the cheek. She kept her floury hands well away from his jacket.
‘Something smells scrumptious, darling, and not just your Charlie.’
‘Chicken pie, roast potatoes, and a homemade white sauce,’ Annie said proudly.
‘It doesn’t get much better than that!’
He checked the letters that sat in the letter rack by the door. Bills, bills, bills … and one addressed to Annie, with very neat writing on the envelope.
‘For you,’ he said, holding it out to her.
‘I didn’t spot it,’ Annie said, peering at it. ‘Don’t know the handwriting.’
Sam glanced at the back: ‘The return address just says “Trencher’s”. Where’s that?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, darling. I don’t have time for this, I’m up to the elbows in pastry.’
Annie wouldn’t touch the envelope with her floury hands, so Sam popped the letter under her arm.
‘I’ll open it when I’m cleaned up,’ she said, heading back to the kitchen. ‘You go and relax, darling.’
‘All right, darling.’
Sam nipped into the lounge and fixed himself a tonic and Gordon’s from the mini-bar.
From the kitchen, Annie called through to him, ‘Oh, and I’m also doing asparagus.’
Using plastic tongs to drop ice cubes into his glass, Sam called back to her, ‘Asparagus, eh? It’s only C.J. and his wife coming over, darling, not Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon!’
‘I want to make a good impression!’ she replied, clattering about by the oven. ‘I’m going to serve prawn vol-au-vents for starters, and I’ve got an arctic roll for desert, but it’s a really posh one with special nuts in it. Pinocchios, or something. And I’ve got three bottles of Blue Nun in the fridge.’
‘Where have you been doing the shopping – Harrods' food hall?!’
Sam went to the French windows and looked out into the back garden. The evening would be warm and dry enough for them all to take their drinks out onto the crazy-paving patio. He’d fetch the fold-out plastic garden chairs from the shed once he’d finished his G and T.
‘Darling,’ he called out. ‘Who’s that strange man at the end of our garden?’
At the far end of the lawn, past the greenhouse, down amid the vegetable patch that had been set up in a short-lived attempt at self-sufficiency, a man was blundering about. There was something about him that struck Sam as being familiar. Surely he had seen this man before.
‘Is this really what you want, Sam?’
The voice came from behind him. He didn’t turn to look – he didn’t have to, because he knew that voice all too well by now. Instead, he just rattled the ice around in his drink and took a sip.
‘Well, Sam? Is it?’ the Test Card Girl prompted him
‘Are you referring to the man in my garden?’ said Sam.
‘Forget him,’ the Girl said. ‘And tell me – is this the life you dream of having with Annie?’
‘Well, I’m dreaming of it right now and it seems pretty fine to me. But who is that out there? I’m going to go find out.’
‘No, stay here,’ the Girl said, and now she was standing right beside him, her tiny, frozen hand seeking his own and gently hooking onto it. ‘This is your dream then, is it?’
‘Looks like it. Don’t make me wake up. Let me enjoy it just a little longer.’
‘So this is what you’re hoping to achieve? Your little seventies nest in the suburbs. A beige sofa. A fondue set. An Austin Allegro sitting on the driveway.’
‘There are worse things.’
‘Such as?’
‘Oh, too many to mention. The world I came from was full of them.’ Sam peered at the man in the garden. ‘Who is he? I’m going to go and speak to him.’
‘No, no, he’s not important,’ said the Girl. ‘You were saying that the world you came from was full of worse things than this place. What things would they be, Sam?’
‘Microwaveable meals. X Factor. Kids playing music from their iPhones on the bus.’
‘More, Sam. Tell me some more.’
Still watching the man waving to him, Sam said: ‘Oh, let me think. Well, there were so many awful things. Internet pop-ups. Al-Qaeda. Russell Brand. The Star Wars prequels. Two hundred satellite channels without a single programme worth watching. The Pussycat Dolls. The state of Radio 1.’
‘Keep talking, Sam.’
Sam was about to dredge up another litany of pet peeves, but suddenly he felt sure that the Test Card Girl was deliberately trying to distract his attention away from the man in the garden.
‘Wait a minute,’ he said, freeing his hand from hers and pressing his nose against the glass of the French windows. ‘I do know him. It’s Mr McClintock. What’s he doing in my private dream? How did he get here?’
‘He’s just a memory, something that drifted in,’ the Girl said. ‘Forget him.’
‘No, I’m going to speak to him.’
‘Don’t.’
‘But we had an agreement, me and him. If something happened to one of us –’
‘Forget him, Sam.’
‘– then we would try and get a message to the other. Maybe … maybe something has happened. Maybe he’s in trouble.’
‘Come away with me, Sam. Forget all this. It’s not for you.’
Sam felt the Girl's cold hand seeking his own again, but this time he pushed it away.
‘You’re a fool, Sam.’ The Girl’s voice was becoming hard. There was an edge to it. ‘I’m trying to help you. I’ve told you before – it’s better to come with me, to a place where you can fall asleep forever, than stay awake for what’s about to happen. Your precious Annie can’t be saved. And Mr McClintock will only give you a false sense of hope. It’s much better to come with me now, Sam, before it all turns really nasty. Come with me. I’ll help you to sleep – and then you’ll never know what happens.’
‘I’m not going with you,’ Sam said. ‘I’m staying here, with Annie. I’m going to save her from that bastard Gould. I can do it. I know I can. Me and McClintock can do it between us. That’s why I’m going to speak to him now. He could be in trouble. We promised to stick together.’
‘False hope, Sam. Forget him.’
‘You can’t make me forget my friends, you little freak.’
Sam stepped forward to open the French windows. And as he did, the Test Card Girl suddenly stamped her foot – childishly, but with an impact that shook the entire house like a crashing jet plane had struck it. The French windows shattered. The plastic ice bucket and whisky decanters tumbled from the minibar. From the kitchen, Annie let out a blood-curdling scream.
Sam jolted awake. He was lying flat on his back, fully dressed, strong daylight filtering in through the windows.
He let out a shaky breath, and wiped away the film of sweat that had formed on his face.
What am I to make of all that? Was McClintock really trying to contact me? Or was it nothing, a nightmare – another little game played by that brat from the test card?
He tugged back his sleeve and looked at his wrist watch. It was nearly midday.
‘Good God, I’ve slept the day away … I’m getting too old for all this, Annie – racing around the city, dodging falling chimneys, breaking gun sieges. It’s all catching up with me.’
He looked over and found that he was alone in the bed.
‘Annie?’
Silence.
He slipped his feet into his Chelsea boots and shuffled about the flat. There was no sign of her. Her coat and shoes were gone. She had left without a word, not even making herself any breakfast.
And then he spotted it. A note. At once, Sam’s heart was in his mouth. He strode over, swept up the note, and started to read:
My dearest Sam,
I had a dream last night – and in that dream I received a letter. It told me things. I see now what I have to do.
Something is out there in the dark, and it is very dangerous. But it’s ME it wants, far more than you. Without me around, you are not in danger.
So I have gone away. I can’t tell you where. The thing in the dark will come for me there, and I will try and kill it. If I succeed, I will come back to you, Sam – if not, at least I know that you are safe.
Please understand why I have done this.
I can’t bring myself to write more.
All my love, forever,
Annie xxx
Without pausing to draw breath, Sam pounded across the flat, flung open the door, and belted off into the hallway. He leapt down the stairs three at a time and went crashing frantically out into the street.
‘Annie! Come back!’
There was no sign of her, and not the slightest clue as to which direction she had gone in. Sam looked left, right, left again, then right again – then raced off at random, shoving people out of the way, yelling Annie’s name. He belted down one set of streets, then down another. Charging recklessly across the road, the Mini Cooper nearly slammed into him. It tooted its feeble horn at him, but Sam ignored it and kept running.
Running, yes – but WHERE?
He skittered to a halt, breathing heavily.
No point being a headless chicken. You need to THINK, Sam!
He shook his head furiously to clear it.
You’ve been asleep all morning. There’s no telling what time Annie left the flat – it might well have been hours ago. She could have gotten onto a train and be miles away by now.
‘Far away from me,’ he panted to himself. ‘Far away, to keep me safe.’
Tears threatened to well up in him, but he swallowed them down.
Think, Sam. Don’t panic, don’t get tearful. Think!
Annie was alone, and most likely far away. And yet, perhaps she was all the safer for that. Yes, she was the ultimate prize that Gould had set his sights on – but even though he was dead and reaching out from beyond the grave, Gould still thought like the violent, egotistical gangster he had been in life. There was a score to be settled, an act of disrespect to be avenged. A copper had gotten his hands on Clive Gould’s woman. And that copper would pay. Oh yes, that copper would pay.
McClintock promised to contact me if he got into trouble – but it was Annie he got through to. He made a connection to her in the cinema, and then last night the message finally got through – that letter addressed to her – the one in the dream. He’s told her something … he’s told her somewhere to go, somewhere safe, somewhere out of the way. He’s giving me the time and space to face Gould alone.
Sam stopped dead in his tracks, and quietly repeated that thought out loud: ‘Alone.’
Alone, just as he had been when he first arrived here in 1973, when he had blundered through these very streets, confused and afraid.
From somewhere behind him came the piercing howl of tyres. Sam knew the sound instantly.
‘Not quite alone …’ he muttered. ‘Never quite alone.’
The Cortina lurched into view, pulling up recklessly directly in front of him. He glimpsed Ray’s sour face looking out at him from the front passenger seat, a fag in his gob, an X of sticking plasters like the mark of Cain on his forehead. In the back, Chris peered over Ray’s shoulder, trying to see who was rolling about on the bonnet.
Dramatically, the driver’s door flew open and Gene loomed into view.
‘There you are, you idle sod!’ he boomed. ‘We just been round banging the door of your whiffy gaff, Tyler, but here you are, out promenading like a tit.’
‘Annie’s gone,’ Sam said. ‘She’s disappeared.’
‘Given you the heave-ho already? I shouldn’t have fired her; she’s got more sense than I thought.’
‘I mean she’s vanished, Guv,’ said Sam. ‘Missing.’
‘Not my problem, not anymore. We’ve got a shout. Another flamin’ stiff. Nasty. Messy. A little bit more pressing than playing hide-and-seek with your misplaced bit of cupcake, you read me?’
‘Up yours, Guv, up yours! How bloody dare you refer to her like that!’
‘Like what?’
‘Annie’s worth a million stinking, fat, half-witted drunks like you!’
Ray suddenly stuck his head out of the Cortina window, the X of sticking plasters on his forehead making him look like he’d been rubber-stamped as a reject.
‘Why do you stick with that scrubber Cartwright, eh, Boss?’ he snapped. ‘Your lass could’ve blinded me last night – but you didn’t give a stuff about that, did you?’
‘She’s more of a man than you’ll ever be, Carling,’ Sam came back at him. ‘None of you idiots see what she’s made of. None of you understand. She's quality.’
‘Oh, per-lease,’ sneered Ray, and he vanished back inside the motor.
‘Yes! Quality, Ray!’ Sam yelled. ‘Quality’s something you wouldn’t know if it came swimming up the Grand Canal and shot right up your arse!’
‘Keep your rug on, Sparky, you’re fritting young Chris,’ said Gene, calmly puffing out a plume of fag smoke. ‘It ain’t my problem you can’t keep your numbskull totty on the leash. And even if it used to be my problem it sure as shitty-fingers ain’t now coz Annie Cartwright is right royally sacked. History. Kaput.’
Sam took a long, slow breath and subdued his temper. It wasn’t tiresome sexist banter that was a danger to Annie. There were far worse things out there to worry about. He had to trust that Annie wasn’t just running around blindly, that she had a plan, that whatever message McClintock had gotten to her was designed to keep her safe for as long as possible.
I trust you, Annie, he thought. I have to.
‘So – we've got a shout have we, Guv?’ he said, walking towards the Cortina.
‘We most certainly have, Tyler, you nutty fruitcake,’ said Gene, planting himself heavily back behind the wheel. ‘Another mangled stiff’s just turned up, all sliced up like Pat Walsh. Looks like we got a right looney-tunes on our hands, playmates – all a bit more urgent than Tyler’s runaway shag-bunny.’
This time, Sam let the insult pass. Climbing into the motor, he kept his thoughts focused on what mattered – on Gould, on how to confront him, on how to defeat him.
In the next moment, he was flung back in his seat as Gene stamped on the gas and sent the Cortina screaming away along the street.