At the entrance of the old barn, Alfie could see the place was well lit and a crowd of men stood or milled around.
‘Ticket.’ The man at the doorway stared at Alfie. He was well built and looked like he was in his mid-sixties, with deep-set eyes and a pockmarked face, and he blocked Alfie’s way, repeating what he’d just said. ‘Ticket.’
Alfie tightened his fist in his pocket. Everything in him wanted to throttle the man, but instead he pulled out the blue dummy along with the blue ribbon from his pocket, passing it to the man who nodded and stepped out of the way.
Alfie walked in and was greeted by smiles and nods from the other men who looked just like him. Just like his neighbour. Just like his barber. Just like the man on the street. And it made him want to throw up. He wanted to scream. He wanted to take the gun that was in the back of the car and blow them all away, but that wouldn’t save Taylor, and that’s what he was here to do.
He could feel the sweat dripping down his back as he looked around. The old crumbling walls of the barn decorated with fairy lights and paper lampshades, a wooden table full of bottles of wine and paper cups, a murmur of chatter all around; so normal, all so seemingly innocent, yet so twisted and dark.
Alfie walked to the back of the barn, and although he knew it was a cold and chilly night, he felt like he was burning up. He pulled at his shirt, trying to loosen an already loose top, and wiped the perspiration from his brow.
‘Are you new?’
Alfie spun round and came face-to-face with a cheerful-looking man in his late forties, smartly dressed, with olive skin, and wearing a wedding band.
The room began to spin and Alfie reached out and leant on the damp, stone wall for support. ‘Excuse me?’
The man smiled again, apologetically and politely – so polite to Alfie it seemed surreal, as if he were asking the time. ‘Sorry, it’s just that when I noticed you come in, I thought I hadn’t seen you before. Often in these places you get to see regular faces, although most of the time you never get to know anyone’s name, so let me introduce myself, I’m Rupert. I’m very much looking forward to this, aren’t you? Apparently this product is well worth bidding for. Young and fresh, though not so sure about the fresh – often by that age they’ve already been broken in.’
Rupert laughed as Alfie swallowed down his bile. He knew he should say something, anything, as he didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself than necessary, but the words wouldn’t come out. He felt his legs beginning to shake, and the tightness in his chest felt like it was crushing down on him.
‘Are you all right? You look a bit peaky.’ Rupert stared at Alfie with a concern that only made the moment so much worse for Alfie. It was vile, twisted, perverse. The caring attitude Rupert showed was abhorrent because any minute now, Rupert would start bidding on Taylor without care or concern.
Forcing himself to say something at the same time as he swallowed hard, making sure he wasn’t going to throw up on Rupert, Alfie, knowing he didn’t even sound like himself, spoke in a small, strained voice, ‘I … I had something to eat on the way over; it hasn’t agreed with me. But to answer your question, yeah I’m new here, I’ve never done … I’ve never been to an auction before, I usually …’ He stopped, unable to bear what he was saying, but seeing Rupert looking at him with interest, he continued. ‘I usually sort it out another way. Through clubs and parties, though often the … the products there are older. I’m a friend of Sally and Anthony, by the way.’
Rupert grinned, his upper-class voice at odds with Alfie’s. ‘I haven’t met them, but I hear they’re good people, and how exciting for you that this is your first real auction; well you’re in for a treat. The action can get very heated. Though it’s a shame they’re not actually bringing the boy here because when they do, even if you don’t win the bid, if you’re lucky, often you’re able to …’
Alfie cut in, ‘Sorry, sorry, I don’t feel very well …’ And with that Alfie ran out of the side entrance to be sick.
He dropped on the ground to his knees, feeling the wet grass as he leant his head against the large, stone wall of the barn. He closed his eyes, trying to stop himself from shaking. He didn’t know if he could do it; he didn’t know if he could go back in there.
The tears rolled down his cheeks and he watched them drop onto the earth. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he just pull himself together? ‘Come on, come on, you can do this, you can beat this.’ He spoke out loud to himself in a quiet whisper, hating himself for being so weak, hating the fact that Taylor needed him to be strong yet here he was, crying. Here was the great Alfie Jennings crying, but then he wasn’t so great, was he? If he couldn’t do this without turning into a trembling wreck, what use was he to anybody? To Taylor. To Mia. To Franny. Shame not greatness was the only thing he felt.
‘Gosh, make sure you give me the name of that restaurant, won’t you? Then I can make sure I never go to it.’ Rupert stood above him, chuckling at his own joke.
Alfie turned his head, wiping his tears. He stood up and nodded and with a cold look he flatly said, ‘Yeah, sure.’
Rupert spoke in a clipped voice, brimming with excitement. ‘Anyway, just thought you’d like to know the auction’s going to start at any moment. The screen’s all set up.’
Alfie frowned. ‘Screen?’
‘Yes, the wonders of technology. Barry’s going to FaceTime in; he’ll be projected on the wall by all accounts. A larger-than-life Barry, who’d have thought? Marvellous isn’t it? Come on …’
Taking a deep breath, Alfie followed Rupert inside the barn. A feeling of dread crept all over him as he prepared himself to sit and watch a larger-than-life image of the monster who’d haunted his waking dreams.