Aberystwyth Mon Amour

The Legendary Welsh Chanteuse stuck her tongue into one cheek like a schoolgirl doing a hard sum.

'It started last autumn. At Christmas be stopped coming. Then at Easter he ... he died.'

I nodded and wondered at the casual precision with which she recited the dates. Wasn't it all a bit late in the day for a revelation such as this?

'So what happened when they sent you out to speak to him?'

'He said, "Myfanwy, please don't do this." I said, "Do what?" (like I didn't know); and he said, "Work in this establishment." Just like that, "Work in this establishment", like he was straight out of Oliver Twist.'

'And then what?'

She sighed and lowered her eyes back to the board. 'So I said, "What do you want?" And he didn't really say anything for a long time. He just kept looking at me like he wanted me to know but didn't want to say it. So I said it again, "What do you want? I've got to go back to work." And then it started to rain and I told him again I really had to go back inside. And then he put his hand on my arm. A hand like a girl's and he said, "Myfanwy, I love you." Just like that, and I laughed. And then when I saw the look on his face, I sort of stopped laughing. He looked like . . .' The words trailed off. Myfanwy's jaw moved silently as she struggled to find an expression appropriate for the abyss of misery to which her careless laugh had condemned the lame, unworldly scholar. But she couldn't. There was no experience in her carefree life to match his despair. How did I know? I, who had never met Brainbocs, and had never observed the scene in the rain outside the Moulin Goch? Oh, I knew. I just knew.

'Anyway,' she said finally, 'he looked really hurt.'

Clip-clop, one and five.

'And he asked me if he could buy me an ice cream the next day after he finished school. At first I said no. And then he pleaded and still I said no. It wasn't that I didn't want to, I just knew that if I said yes, that look in his eyes, I just knew it would come to no good. Then Mr Jenkins appeared in the doorway across the road and tapped his watch. I said again that I had to go. And again he begged me to have an ice cream with him. And then something awful happened.'

She looked up from the board and straight at me.

'Yes?'

'He started unbuckling that metal thing he has on his leg. The what's-it-called?'

'Calliper?'

'And I said, 'Dai what are you doing?' And he said he was going on his knees!'

I shook my head in sympathy at the sad scene.

'So of course I agreed to have an ice cream. But only on condition, I said, that he never came waiting outside the Club like this again and that he didn't go round telling everyone he was my boyfriend, just because I had an ice cream with him.'

'Did he agree?'

'Yes. Next day I met him at Sospan's, but it was a cold day and so we went to the Seaside Rock Cafe and over a plate of humbug rock he proposed. He asked me to marry him. I told him not to be so stupid. And he said, "It's my leg isn't it?" I said, "No, of course not." And then he said something strange. He said, "Myfanwy, what is the one thing you want more than anything in this world?" And I said "Nothing." But he wouldn't listen. He said there must be something I wanted. He said I must have a dream. I said no. And he said everybody, even a beggar, has a dream. But again I said no. And he went all quiet. Paid for the rock and left. That was in November, and weeks went by and I never saw him. Then as I left the Club on Christmas Eve, there he was again standing in the doorway as the snow fell. And do you know what?'

I raised my eyebrows.

'He had one of my school essays with him. From long ago. I hadn't a clue where he got it. It was about how it had been my dream to sing in the opera in Patagonia, and how I would give my hand in marriage to the man who made my dream come true. I'd forgotten I'd written it. And he held it under my nose and said, "See, you have a dream!" And I laughed sarcastically and said, "No, David, I had a dream. I don't have a dream any more. Now I'm just a Moulin girl with no time for dreams." Then he said, "One day I will make your dream come true, and then you will marry me." I was going to laugh but the look in his eyes . . . well I knew I shouldn't. So I just stared at him. And then he walked away. That was the last I saw of him. Limping off into the snow on Christmas Eve. Then a few weeks later a package arrived for me. There was no letter, just the essay. All about Cantref-y-Gwaelod; I didn't even bother reading it. Then one day I read that he'd been killed.'

'And what did you do with the essay?'

'I gave it to Evans the Boot.'

*

It was sometime between two and three when I pulled up outside the Orthopaedic Boot store on Canticle Street. I was dog-tired and made only the vaguest attempt at parking straight before climbing the sad wooden stairs to my office. It was like climbing Everest. I didn't bother changing, just collapsed on to the bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow I was asleep and as soon as that happened the phone rang.

'Yes?'

'Where on earth have you been?'

'Uh?'

'You've got to come quick.' It was Bianca.

'Bianca? What's up?'

'I'm in trouble. I haven't got much time. Can you come here now?'

'Why what's happened?'

'I've got the essay.'

The hair on my head would have stood on end if it hadn't been too tired.

'You've what?'

'The essay. I've stolen it, when Pickel catches me he'll —' There was a scream, and the line went dead.

When I arrived at her flat in Tan-y-Bwlch her front door was ajar. Furniture and fixtures were thrown across the floor, crockery was smashed, papers littered the carpet. There were bloody handprints on the wall and smeared down the gloss white of the door. I looked at the phone and knew I should call Llunos. Things had gone far enough. And for all I knew, the police could be on the way here right now. I looked at the phone. I really should call the police, but I didn't.

Chapter 14

I FOUND HIM sitting next to the cauldron in a belfry that smelled faintly of gin. Alerted by the sound of stair-climbing he was already looking at the entrance when I walked in.

'What do you want? This is private property."

There was no wind, no sensation at all except the steady whirr of the clockwork, and the faint smell of gin.

'Where is she? And don't say "who?"'

'Fuck off.'

The floor was a series of boards suspended high up in the tower. In the middle there was a gaping chasm and beneath it the fabulous iron and brass monster of the clockwork mechanism. It was from here that Mr Dombey had fallen or been pushed into the shark's jaw of the cogs. And at the moment it separated me from Pickel. I started to walk round towards the other side.

Pickel picked up a brass rod from the floor. 'You stay where you are.'

'The deal is very simple, Pickel. Tell me where she is, or I throw you into the clock.'

He waved the rod uncertainly and took a step back. 'That's close enough.'

I continued walking and ducked under the horizontal spindle that turned the hands.

'I'm warning you!'

I took another step. 'There was blood on the walls.'

He stepped back again and shook his head. 'Not me.'

'If you've harmed her, I'll kill you.'

'You've got the wrong man.'

'Why don't you tell me who the right man is?'

I looked down at the precipice. Lying on the floor a few feet from the edge was an old blacksmith's anvil. Covered in dust and cobwebs now, but probably used at some point in the past to repair a piece of the machinery. Pickel's gaze landed on it at the same time and the same thought went through both our heads.

'No!' howled Pickel.

I smiled.

'Don't you dare!'

He made a jump towards me but stopped like a fly hitting a window pane the moment I rested my foot on top of the anvil.