“We’re committed now. The papers are signed.”
“What if we swapped the bullets?”
“For .22s?”
“For blanks.”
In Shawford the sea rolls against the shingle, the chalk cliffs crumble, Dani Cumali sits on a bench dedicated to D.WRIGHT, 1944–1999, HE LOVED THE SKIES, and stares across the water and cannot remember why she sat down, and does not wish to stand.
In a time yet to come, Neila threw another log onto the stove, and closed the door as it began to hiss, two parts steam to one part smoke.
In the dreams of the man called Theo, he hears his daughter, roaring.
And in a field outside Oxford, two boys stood holding loaded guns before a wall of hay bales, waiting at the centre of the universe.
Simon Fardell, even aged twenty, looked like the man he would grow into. His place had been sponsored by a company that would soon be simply the Company. He went to lectures in a three-piece suit because he knew he needed to stand out, to make an impression. It was all about thinking ahead; he had his three-year plan, his seven-year plan and his twenty-year objectives he was…
…in many ways a very handsome boy who would grow into a handsome man. He didn’t play any team sports but worked out three times a week, kept his fair hair cut short at the sides and back, had a tiny, slightly beakish nose above a small, tight smile that flashed and faded like lightning, a notch in his chin and blue eyes which he knew were unusually dark, unusually beautiful.
“Blanks?” he mused, and the boy who would be Theo, crooked and small, smiled uneasily and realised that he knew nothing about people, or human nature, and was actually really bad at remembering faces and he should try and learn some sort of method for dealing with that.
Simon laughed, and slapped the boy on the shoulder and exclaimed, “You do have the funniest ideas! Blanks! What an incredible idea. Let them fire their five and then… well blanks! Yes I suppose I see how we could…”
That night the boy slept with the gun under his pillow and it was really uncomfortable so in the end he put it in the drawer by his bed.
And in the morning, before the sun was up, he borrowed a bicycle and pedalled out to the field by the river, with Theo Miller by his side, and they didn’t speak, and they did not go to the open-faced barn with the hay bales but stood before a line of beech trees as the sun rose and the dew melted through their shoes, and it was remarkably cold for the time of year and Theo wished he’d brought more clothes but as the sun rose higher it became hotter and hotter and he realised he was sweating a waterfall and…
Simon and Philip came on foot from up the drive, their car left, engine running, by the gate, this wouldn’t take long, and as they went to load the guns the boy looked into Simon’s eyes and saw him smile and nod and understood that to be an agreement, a confirmation of the pact they had made, and he nodded back and loaded the gun.
Can it be a bullet if there is no lead? A casing to be ejected, gunpowder but no death, he loaded blanks, five shots in total, and took the weapon to Theo and said, “Good luck,” and Theo did not smile and did not flinch and did not nod and looked like he might be sick.
And the boys stood back to back, in the traditional way, and at the command of Simon, they walked fifteen paces apart in opposite directions, and at a word
“Go!”
They turned and fired.
Theo was slightly faster, he saw Philip flinch, but then Philip shot and missed, and Theo fired again, and Philip did not fall, and they fired again, and again, and on the fourth shot
Theo staggered.
He staggers and the engine of the passing barge goes chunk chunk chunk chugger chugger chugger chugger and the man who is called Theo feels the tear in his side sewn together with cornflower-blue thread and hears gunfire in the engine chugger chugger BANG
in a field beneath the shadowed light of the rising sun Theo Miller staggers, raises his gun, fires once more, but he has had his five shots, and still Philip comes, he has one shot left now he comes closer and closer stands over Theo and the boy shouts
…sounds without words or meaning…
and Philip lowers the gun and pulls the trigger.
Theo Miller died in the ambulance.
The boy rode with him, held his hand until the paramedics pulled him away, cried and shivered and at last sat in silence.
The paramedic said, “Nothing you could have done. It took out his lung then the abdomen; he was bleeding heavily I think there was nothing it wasn’t your fault…”
Time is
days are
passing and yet the winter is
time is frozen and it is the nature of time that sometimes
The boy sat outside the morgue, and called Theo Miller’s parents.
His parents were away, out of the country. They were always out of the country. No, the maid didn’t know when they’d be back. No, she couldn’t contact them immediately. Yes, she’d pass on his message, ask them to call. Was it… was everything… was young Mr. Miller was he…
The boy hung up and sat in a white corridor outside an unnamed door, locked, a vending machine at the bottom of the hall offering sugary drinks and dried fruit snacks, a couple of porters gossiping as their patients drooped and slumbered in wheelchairs, saline bags suspended above their heads. Oh I know she’s just the worst she’s just the…
The boy waited and didn’t know what he was waiting for.
When Theo’s parents called back, it was a bad line from far away.
“Hello! Hello? Yes, I’m Mrs. Miller. I was given this number and told to call it—who are you?”
“I’ve got bad news.”
“What? Speak up it’s a terrible line hold on I’ll just go outside and… yes, that’s better, what did you say?”
“Mrs. Miller, I’ve… got some bad news. Earlier this morning Theo was… there was an accident and Theo is…”
“What? Is he in hospital? What?”
“Mrs. Miller, Theo is dead.”
“Say again? What was that? Listen this line is terrible is it your end can you…”
“Theo is dead.”
Behind the silence someone is laughing. Mrs. Miller is outside a restaurant, there’s music playing, there’s gossip and life and a car revving a very expensive engine vroom they make the sounds different for different nations the Italians you see they like to know that their engines are powerful vroom it’s all part of the
she drops to the ground
holds the phone
listens to the world
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m sorry but he…”
“What happens now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is there… there are things that need to be done. There are… what happens now? Who are you? What happens now?”
The lawyer came.
“The indemnity has been registered and confirmed. Mr. Arnslade will pay £75,000 to cover the cost of the alleged felony against Mr. Miller and in addition, as a token of commiseration, he’s adding £15,000 without prejudice for the family of Mr. Miller or a named charity without in any way such gesture being an admittance of liability. The discretion clause and mutual agreement between the parties ensures the case will not result in a criminal record and all parties involved are barred from further discussion, dissemination or in any way from referencing the manner of Mr. Miller’s departure.”
There were nine people at Theo Miller’s funeral, which was held discreetly at a small church in Cumbria, near a stone cottage which the family had liked to holiday at when Theo was a child.