Some Deaths Before Dying (36 page)

He paused again, but went on almost at once, still in the same sleep-walking tone, but more firmly, as if his memory were
shedding the last vaguenesses of dream and coming into instant-by-instant focus.

“The Colonel was loading up the pistols and checking them over and when he’d done Terry brought them and showed them to Stadding
and he took one, not thinking about it or anything, and Terry took the other one back to the Colonel. I told them the regulations
and the signal I’d give, dropping my arm for them to fire, and then I said to raise their weapons, only Stadding didn’t do
it right, taking aim like he was supposed to. Stead of that he put his pistol right up against his head, like he was making
to blow his brains out, and his lips were moving like he was praying and I thought bugger me—he’s going to get it right in
the end.

“Like you’d expect I took a look at the Colonel to see what he wanted, and he’d lowered his weapon and was just watching like
I’d been, when I saw from his face something was up and before I’d time to look Stadding had fired, and the Colonel jerks
his head aside—I’ve seen men do that as the bullet took them, and I thought he’d got him, but he yells, ‘Stop him,’ and Terry’s
yelling, and Stadding’s running for the dike, only he catches his foot in a tussock and down he goes, and Terry’s on him before
he’s up, and then I’m there with the revolver, close enough he can see I won’t miss, and he just nods and lets me march him
back to where he’d been.

“I stand him up so the Colonel can take his shot at him, and then I move back not to get in the line of fire. The Colonel
raises his weapon. There’s blood running down his face but he’s not noticing.

“ ‘So you’re going to shoot an unarmed man, are you, Jocelyn?’ says Stadding, teasing, and the Colonel lowers his weapon.

“ ‘We’ll start again,’ he says. ‘Bring me that pistol, Voss, and I’ll reload it for him.’

“Terry picks up the pistol and takes it over and I move in round behind Stadding and I let him hear me cock the revolver so
he knows not to try anything, but that’s not what I’m at, not really. He’s had his chance, and it isn’t right him having another
one, not after all he’s done. Soon as I’m near enough I let him have it in the back of the head, and that’s that.

“I look and see the Colonel’s just standing where he was, staring, like he doesn’t know what’s up.

“ ‘All over, sir,’ I tell him.

“It’s like he hasn’t heard me, so I tell him again.

“‘Right,’ he says. ‘Thanks, Fredricks,’ and he goes off and sits down at the bottom of the dike.

“I leave Terry to keep an eye on him and go back to the farm. There’s a sort of a handcart in the shed, and I load it up with
the weights we’ve brought, and the young fellow’s body out of the boot of the car, and shove it back out to them. Terry and
me, we pile Stadding’s body on top—the Colonel’s still sitting where he was, so we let him be. We shove the cart along to
this bit of bog, which is why Terry’s brought us there in the first place. There’s wire round it, and signs saying it’s a
quicksand only it’s black as tar and stinking. High tides the sea comes in, Terry says.

“Terry doesn’t like what we’re doing, mind you, not at all. It’s not exactly that he’s scared, but there’s too many of them
in there already, he says. But he knows the drill, so we lash the bodies together and tie the weights on, and we put a rope
with a slip knot round their ankles—that’s the kind of stuff you’re taught on exercises—and we haul them out across the bog
and I pull the other end of the rope to loose the knot, and in a couple of minutes you wouldn’t know they’d been there, ever.
Wiped out. Gone.”

A long pause, as if the subterranean memories had exhausted their flow. But no. He began to speak again, now in a mutter so
low that Jenny caught only the odd word. It was about the drive back to London, with Colonel Matson still apparently in shock.
“…like getting a drunk back into barracks past the guard…” she heard. Another, briefer silence, and a snorting laugh, and
then, louder…

“We could do with a drink, Terry and me, after all that, so we took the first pub we came to. Fellow jostled Terry in the
doorway, shoved him up against me, so I felt this great hard lump in his jacket pocket.

“Soon as we were settled I gave it a poke.

“‘What’ve you got in there, lad?’ I asked him. ‘Let’s have a look.

“Tell you the truth I thought he’d latched on to the Colonel’s revolver—there’d be a price for a gun like that among some
of Terry’s plas—but when I reached in and pulled it out far enough to see without showing it around, I saw it was one of the
old pistols. Terry’d been taking it over to the Colonel, remember, when I shot Stadding, so he just dropped it in his pocket
and didn’t let on and I hadn’t thought to ask him.

“‘Shame on you, Terry,’ I told him.

“‘Just a bit of a souvenir,’ he says. ‘He’s not going to want to see it again.’

“‘No harm in asking,’ I told him. ‘I’ll take charge of it now.’

“I was meaning to take it up to Forde Place on my next forty-eight, but when I called about that Mrs. Matson said how the
Colonel had had this stroke and wouldn’t be seeing anybody for a bit. I went up a couple of times before he died, but he wasn’t
in a state to be bothered, so I let it be.”

Jenny glanced and saw him shaking his head gently, like any old man thinking about times long past and things long done with,
but the movement must have startled him. When she next looked he’d pulled his shoulders back and was frowning and looking
around, as if he had no idea why he should be in a car humming along the M25.

“Thank you for telling me that,” said Nell. “It’s a terrible story, but I’m glad to know about it.”

“You think I did wrong, then?”

“It’s a long time ago, Bert, a very long time.”

“Well, you’re right there,” he said. “Water under the bridge. Best place for it.”

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