A blaze of gunfire told me my mother was in no mood for quips. Nonetheless, as the noise faded away, she offered what seemed like an olive branch.
“You can come in for a few minutes,” she announced. “But make sure there’s no funny business.”
An instant later she’d withdrawn the gun and vanished from sight.
“I’m going in,” I called back to the police chief. “Wish me luck.”
“You’ll need it,” came his answer as I headed for the front door. To my surprise it was off the latch, swinging open at the lightest touch. I stepped into the gloom of the hallway and was grabbed roughly from behind. Then I was frisked for weapons before being led inside.
“Sit there,” said my mother, indicating a hard wooden chair. “And I’ll go and put the kettle on.”
I did as I was told. My seat was not comfortable, but I thought it would be unwise to comment on the fact. From the kitchen I heard reassuring domestic noises. Meanwhile, I glanced around the room I was in. It had been stripped of all but the barest necessities. On the table lay a large pile of used banknotes. I was still gazing at them when my mother came back.
“You planning on doing some wallpapering?” I enquired.
She levelled the gun at me.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll cut the crap.”
“Alright,” I said. “Sorry.”
“Now what’s all this about Christmas?”
“The thing is,” I answered. “We thought you might like to come to us this year.”
“Why should I?”
“Because you deserve a break.”
“I don’t know why you’re so concerned all of a sudden,” she said. “You only call on me once in a blue moon.”
“And how often do you call on me?” I countered.
“As often as not,” she replied.
“Well then.”
“Well then nothing.”
Her new-found bluntness left me lost for words, and there followed an awkward hiatus in our conversation. Fortunately, I was saved by the kettle, its forlorn whistle calling away my reticent host. While she was gone I went to the window and peered through the slats of the blind. I saw immediately that the security cordon had been withdrawn by some thirty metres, which struck me as a sensible precaution. From this vantage point I could also see the full extent of my mother’s scorched earth policy. When I’d crossed her garden a little earlier I’d been too preoccupied to notice the conspicuous absence of plant life. Gone were the neat flowerbeds which in previous years would have been full of biennials, recently transferred from the greenhouse. This structure now lay in ruins, while the lawn had become nothing more than a wilderness. Even the line of poplars that ran along the boundary fence had been felled, allowing a fresh breeze to blow in from the west.
When my mother returned she was bearing a fully laden tea tray.
“Oh,” I said. “You shouldn’t have bothered.”
“I know I shouldn’t,” she replied. “But you don’t look as if you’ve been fed properly since the last time you were here.”
“Yes, well, I’ve been busy.”
“So have I.”
Something in her voice made me glance up, and I knew I was soon to discover what this was all about.
“Don’t look so startled,” she said. “I’ve done nothing illegal.”
“What is it then?” I asked.
She smiled. “Remember when you said I ought to get out more?”
“Yes?”
“Well, I’ve been getting out more. A lot more.”
“That’s good.”
“And I’ve realised I’ve been letting life pass me by for far too long. I saw that all the niceties and the considerate deeds had come to nothing, so I decided to make a few changes. First I went to the bank and took out all my money. There it is on the table. They didn’t like giving it back, but they had no choice. Then I closed my accounts at the butcher’s, the hairdresser’s, and the garden centre. Not much, I know, but it’s turned me into a free woman. I owe nobody nothing, and I can do whatever I like, whenever I like.”
“And the gun?”
“The gun’s only for ornamental purposes.”
“So it’s a replica, is it?”
“No,” she said. “It’s real.”
♦
I ate my sandwiches and drank my tea. Then I nodded towards the street outside. “Looks as if you’ve been attracting attention. Maybe you need to cool it a little bit.”
“I know, I know,” my mother conceded. “The Feds haven’t got used to me yet, so they tend to drop by from time to time. After a couple of hours they usually lose interest and disperse.” She went to the window and looked out. “They’ve stuck around a little longer than usual this evening, but they’ll be gone by midnight.”
“And then you’ll go to bed, will you?”
“Maybe,” she answered. “Or then again I might go out on patrol.”
I took a deep breath.
“OK,” I said at length. “If that’s what you want to do it’s fine by me. I’ll try to call round more often. And the invitation for Christmas still stands, of course.”
My mother thought for a moment. “Tell you what,” she said. “You can come here this year if you like.”
“Thanks,” I replied. “If you’re sure it won’t be too much trouble.”
“I’m quite sure.”
“Alright then.”
I buttoned my coat and prepared to leave.
“Just one thing though,” she added. “You’ll have to bring your own tree.”
6. The Good Cop
The first time he came into the room I thought he had a rather preoccupied look about him. It was as if his mind was fully engaged in trying to solve some formidable problem, one that had been imposed on him by powers beyond his control. He paid no attention to me, although I was the only person present, and instead paced around the floor, moving from one corner to the next, until eventually he arrived back at the door. This he opened, glancing briefly outside before closing it again.
“Alright,” he said, finally breaking his silence. “I’ve only got a few minutes, but if we’re quick we should be able to get all this settled before he comes back.”
“Before who comes back?” I asked.
Only then did he look directly into my face. I saw that he was a tired, pale man, obviously overworked, wearing a shirt and tie (no jacket), his blue eyes regarding me through a pair of heavy spectacles. He remained standing for several long moments, then settled down in the chair opposite mine, at the other side of the desk. After removing his glasses, he leant forward and rested his head in his hands.
“You’re not going to be difficult, are you?” he sighed.
I said nothing.
“Because if you’re going to be difficult it makes things very difficult for me.” He raised his eyes to meet mine. Without his glasses they seemed weak, and gave him a sad, vulnerable appearance. “I only came in here to see if I could help matters along, but if you’re going to be difficult there’s very little I can do. Don’t you understand it would all be so much easier if you let me help?”
He continued gazing across at me, his whole face appealing for me to accept his offer.
“Well,” I said. “What is it you want to do exactly? To help.”
His look brightened. “I want you to trust me.”
“Why?” I enquired.
After a short pause he replaced his glasses and smiled. “Because I’m your friend.”
♦
The second time he came into the room he winced when the door clicked shut, as if the sharp sound was an intrusion, jarring the senses unnecessarily. Then he crept to the chair opposite mine and sat down, quiet as a mouse.
“Shouts a lot, doesn’t he?” he ventured.
I was about to ask, “Who does?” when he put his finger to his lips and frowned.