Angus interrupted him. ‘Ay, but I haven’t told you my news, have I?’
Matt waited for him to go on.
‘I don’t rightly know how to say this, not tonight, not after what you’ve just told me.’ He was rubbing his chin thoughtfully, reluctant to speak. ‘Ay, but it’s this. We can hunt some tomorrow, an’ maybe the day after, but not much longer, Matt.’
‘What’s gone wrong?’
‘They’re taking steps to eradicate all the worms. Don’t ask me how. We just had this chitty round as from Monday next there’ll be a team coming into the sewers wipin’ ’em out.’
Matt felt like someone’d just kicked him in the guts with a hobnailed boot, then stamped on his face for good measure. No job, no skins…
‘Because o’ you, Matt,’ Angus said.
‘How?’
‘This inquiry was set up when the worms first attacked you, remember? No, you wouldn’t. But it’s true — they wanted to know how dangerous they were, what should be done about it, that sort o’ thing. And they’ve decided to clean the sewers up.’
‘Months later,’ Matt objected.
‘Ay, well that’s the way these things always go. Take their time. An’ I don’t mind saying, Matt, I agree with ’em. I work down there day in, day out. The worms’ve not caused me any bother yet, but it’s only a matter o’ time — we both know that.’
The two boys sat on the river bank beneath the bridge and checked through the old woman’s handbag. She’d been asking for it, Ken giggled. Wally agreed with him. At her age she belonged in hospital by rights. Or the loony bin. Not wandering through the subway with tottering little steps and that silly grin on her face.
They’d blocked her way, saying nothing, their hands thrust into the slit pockets of their mock leather battle-tops. She’d looked scared and tried to go round them, but they’d dodged in front of her again. No need to hit her, not this one. When Ken took the bag she was so eager to let it go, they almost dropped it.
Not until they had dashed on through the subway, leaving her standing there, had she summoned up enough courage to protest. ‘You teenagers!’ she’d screamed after them. ‘Young hooligans! I’ll tell the police!’
The handbag contained keys, a pension book, a couple of hankies, sweets, ten pounds in notes and some loose change. They split the money between them and threw the rest of the stuff into the river; it was no use to anyone.
‘Hey, look at this!’ called Ken. ‘A snake!’
Wally went over to him. It lay in the grass absolutely still. ‘Think it’s dead?’
‘Course it’s dead. It’s a grass snake, that’s what it is.’
‘That colour?’ It was a sort of purple, tinged with green, and shining brightly like slime. ‘I’ve never seen a grass snake that colour.’
‘You’ve never seen one at all!’ Ken scoffed at him. ‘Come on, admit you’ve never seen one.’
‘On the telly. What you doing?’
‘Gonna tickle it.’ He’d picked up a piece of stick from the litter under the bridge and poked at the worm, which was about a foot long. ‘Hey, it’s alive! Look, Wally, it’s alive!’
Wally felt suddenly sick as he realized what it was. ‘It’s a sewer worm,’ he whispered. ‘Like the ones that chewed up that cameraman’s face. Ken, let’s go.’
‘You scared or something?’ Ken sneered, bending over the worm and teasing it with the stick. ‘Let’s put it in that old dame’s handbag, then let it out in the pub.’
In his concentration he got closer to it, his mouth open, his tongue lolling near his lips. The worm moved so quickly, Wally didn’t really see it happen. One moment Ken was trying to coax it to curl around the stick; the next it had shot up at him and seized his tongue between its teeth.
He rolled back, groaning. Wally grabbed the creature’s tail and tried to tug it clear, but that only made its worse for Ken who let out a high-pitched, choked shriek.
‘Bite it!’ Wally yelled desperately. ‘Bite it, there’s no other way!’
Ken seemed to understand, for his jaws closed. For a moment nothing seemed to happen, but then the worm convulsed once … twice … and went limp. Ken opened his mouth and released the almost severed head; his tongue dropped out with it.
He stared at it horrified, the colour drained from his face, the blood pouring from between his lips. And he fainted.
Matt planned to tell Helen the moment he arrived home, wanting to get it over with right away. But he found her busy with a petition some neighbours were organizing against the long-distance lorries which parked in the streets overnight, waking everyone up at four o’ clock in the morning with their revving engines and slamming doors. She invited him to help, so he put off the difficult explanations and spent the evening with her, going from house to house gathering signatures.
It also took his mind off things. Later on, flushed with success at the response, they went over to call on the neighbour co-ordinating it all and sat talking to her for a long time, sipping weak, milky coffee. Her husband had been killed in the Navy during the Korean war, she explained, and she’d brought up their son singlehanded. He was now at Cambridge, studying nuclear physics; a wistful smile tinged with pride crossed her lined, alert face when she mentioned it. Her eyes were a soft, dreamy blue. She showed them photographs of the dead husband and the village in Cornwall where they’d first met. Then Helen began talking about Westport and how they planned one day to go and live there when the right moment came.
At home, as they prepared for bed, Helen brought up the subject again.
‘I’m fed up with London, Matt. Pushing through crowds wherever you go. The time and energy you waste trying to get from one place to another. The noise. And Westport would be much better for Jenny too, somewhere she could feel really at home and grow roots. Why don’t we?’
‘Money.’ He still hadn’t told her.
‘Things work out somehow.’ She came around the end of the bed towards him, wearing a flimsy nightdress which was practically transparent. ‘Matt, let’s think about it, shall we?’
She pulled her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to kiss him. It was the wrong moment to tell her he’d lost his job, he’d broken all the rules by going off in search of worms in the company’s time, he’d taken Fran with him…
Suddenly he visualized the freckles across the bridge of Fran’s nose and the characteristic twist of her full lips. He felt guilty and vulnerable. Trying to blot her out of his mind, he held Helen tightly to him, his hand wandering over her back as they kissed, reaching her bare flesh beneath the short nightdress.
They lost their balance and fell on the bed still clutching each other, laughing at their own awkwardness but keeping their voices down for fear of waking Jenny. Then Helen raised her arms above her head and he lifted the nightdress, peeling it off her. And everything was the way it used to be, long sensuous caressing, a rejoicing in each other’s bodies, a sharing of desires and satisfactions, together. Not till much later, when Helen had slipped out to the bathroom, did Matt think again of Fran smiling at him, her eyes troubled.
At breakfast Helen was in a hurry. She let her hand rest on his for a moment, searching for something in his face before she kissed him. He smiled and said he’d see her that evening; he didn’t expect to be away. As the door slammed behind her he was very much aware that he’d still told her nothing.
Jenny sat dreaming with a half-eaten plate of cereal in front of her.
‘Hey, wake up!’ he teased her. ‘We must get you to school. Finish your breakfast.’
Obediently she took another spoonful, then said, ‘Daddy, I’ve just been thinking. Next time you go into the sewers to get worms, can I come with you?’