The Elephant Tree (12 page)

‘Almost there man,’ Scott said, trying to lift the mood. He didn’t want anyone detecting that something was wrong when they delivered the cocaine, or they might very well insist on knowing what it was and that wasn’t a situation Scott wanted to get into.

The road wound along for a couple of miles without any traffic passing by, nothing but fields on either side marking their progress from the highway. Scott could see the logic in arranging for the drop off to happen out here. There was no way anyone could follow them from the ground without easily being spotted.

The van crested a slope in the road and the collection of buildings appeared up ahead. They looked like they had probably once been used for storage for either crops or farm machinery. Built from a combination of stone and corrugated iron, they now looked unused and dilapidated. The foundations of the building constructed mostly from old stone had subsided into the earth on one side, giving it the appearance of casually leaning as if waiting lackadaisically for a particular event to unfold.

Scott turned off the road and killed the headlights. The rain had relented now into a fine drizzle. The wipers continued to pulse their rhythmic beat. Muddy pools were scattered around below them on the uneven ground. There were two cars parked behind one of the buildings, out of sight from the road. Pulling up alongside them, Scott gave Twinkle what he hoped was a reassuring look and then turned off the engine and got out.

A wooden door stood open in front of the parked cars and he could see a dim light from within. Unsure of what else he should do, Scott slowly advanced towards the doorway. A metallic bang from behind made Scott’s frayed nerves sing, but a quick look showed it was just Twinkle slamming the van door.

The inside of the building smelt of wet straw and rot. Scott could just make out Dominic Parish and another equally large individual, whom he didn’t recognise, illuminated by a battery powered lantern hung on the wall behind them. The bluish white glare glinted off the man’s earlobe from what Scott guessed must have been a diamond stud earring. Nobody spoke until Twinkle entered the building too, then Dominic gestured for him to close the door. Scott’s heart was hammering in his chest again; he tried to slow his breathing and appear as calm and confident as he could.

‘It done?’ Dominic asked. His voice split the silence like an axe.

‘Yeah,’ Scott answered, even though the question had been aimed at Twinkle.

‘Any problems?’ This time he focused on Scott and directed the question at him.

‘No,’ Scott said, hoping he sounded convincing.

‘Alright then. Keys,’ Dominic said and held out a hand. Scott took the door key Twinkle had first been given, added the ignition key and dropped them both into the giant outstretched palm.

‘Here,’ Dominic barked after pocketing both of the keys from Scott, and held out a different car key. ‘That’s for the blue Mazda parked outside. You drive back to town and leave it where you got the van from. Put your ID cards and papers in the glove box. Lock the doors and put the key under the seat. Twinkle, someone will contact you.’ With that Dominic walked towards the door. His silent companion collected the lantern and walked past Scott to follow.

‘What about our money?’ Twinkle asked, his voice sounding thin and weak compared to Dominic’s authoritative bellow. The previously silent character now laughed. The first noise he’d made since they arrived; tiny triangles of light danced from his ear.

‘Like I say Twinkle, someone will be in touch. You really think we’d turn up here with twenty thousand not knowing if anyone dressed in blue was along for the ride? No. Everything will be inspected and then you’ll be paid,’ Dominic said in the patronising tone of one explaining something to a small child.

After that, they both left. The sound of the two engines starting up as Scott and Twinkle remained rooted in the darkness. They heard the car and van reverse up, then drive out onto the road and away.

‘We should go,’ Scott said. Twinkle didn’t respond but Scott heard him follow as he made his own way back outside.

Scott opened the unlocked door and climbed into the driver’s seat of the Mazda. Twinkle was a few paces behind and Scott watched him approach the car on unsteady legs. His face was pallid and older than Scott had seen it look before. The craggy lines that made up the character in his face now seemed like scars of defeat, inflicted on him over time.

The car started with one turn of the key and a few minutes later they were back on the road towards the highway, this time headed for home.

‘We didn’t get paid right away but everything went OK.’ Scott said, attempting to put a positive slant on the outcome, and reached to turn on the car radio; anything rather than the oppressive silence. He tried a few more attempts to engage Twinkle in light conversation on the journey back but each was greeted only by mumbled acknowledgement that he’d even been heard.

‘You want dropping off at home then Twink? I can take the car back on my own and go grab a cab after that.’

‘No, just drop me at the Balloon.’ The first words he’d uttered since they got in the car.

‘You sure? It’s been a long day, you not rather get a few cans and just drink them in the house?’

‘The Balloon.’

Scott was a little unnerved. He knew Twinkle would be drinking like there was no tomorrow to try and escape the events of the day. Scott didn’t care one way or the other if the old man woke up in a ditch. But he didn’t want him saying anything stupid to some local scumbags after having a skin full that could jeopardise him as well. Reluctantly accepting there wasn’t anything he could do to prevent this, he agreed.

Twinkle got out of the car outside of The Balloon, bringing Scott’s day full circle. He said he’d phone once there’d been word of the next meeting. Scott nodded, shifted the car into gear and drove off.

S
cott woke suddenly the next morning sheathed in a cold sweat. After a few seconds he realised the combined ringing and vibrating of his mobile phone on the thin carpet beneath the bed was the cause of his alarm. It was Angela, who told him that Stephanie had woken up. She sounded tired but excited, although she said there was no new information on the attack. After promising to come up to the hospital and see her as soon as he could, Scott hung up the phone.

He hadn’t had much sleep. Thoughts of Twinkle inadvertently giving them both up plagued him throughout the night, and now, despite not having had anything to drink himself, he had woken with what felt like a hangover, probably attributed to fatigue.

Scott made coffee and fed Boris while his computer was booting up. He sat down to enjoy his coffee and inhaled greedily from the first cigarette of the day, as he sifted through emails to work out which jobs needed his attention first. Despite the intake of caffeine and nicotine he couldn’t keep his attention focused for long. The images and words on the screen floated around like driftwood caught in the pull of a tide.

Deciding to try and tackle his work load again later, Scott thought he would keep his promise to Angela and go up to the hospital to see her and Stephanie.

He let the dog run around out back while taking a shower, phoned for a taxi to arrive in twenty minutes from Pressman cabs and then made a sandwich while waiting for it to arrive.

Halfway through eating his hurriedly made snack Scott heard two quick blasts on a car horn from the front of the house. He threw the remainder of the sandwich to Boris, grabbed his things and left.

Climbing into the familiar sweaty menthol atmosphere of the cab, Scott saw the driver was Reg, greeted him with a quick hello and told him their destination. Reg nodded and eased the car back out onto the road.

‘No call the other night, so I guess you had a good time,’ Reg said, grinning at Scott through the rear view mirror.

‘You got it Reg,’ Scott said, and smiled hoping this would suffice. He knew by trying to deny Reg’s suspicions he’d be caught up in a cat and mouse conversation for the whole trip that he really couldn’t be bothered with. This way he could just sit back and give the occasional nod or grin to whatever playful interrogation the old man threw his way. More concerned with wheedling details of Scott’s love life, the inquisitive driver missed the opportunity to ask the reason for his visit to the hospital.

By the time they pulled up in front of the hospital, Reg’s curiosity had seemingly been satiated, and he even turned away Scott’s offer of a tip.

‘You keep it for your lady friend, Scott. Get her a nice bunch of flowers.’

‘OK, thanks Reg,’ Scott said, and climbed out of the cab.

Inadvertently taking Reg’s advice, Scott stopped off in the hospital gift shop and bought flowers to hand in at Stephanie’s room. The gift shop, it would appear, like the rest of the hospital was decorated sparsely with what attempted to be tasteful but inoffensive Christmas decorations. To Scott they seemed to say ‘Try to smile and enjoy the season, but let’s not take the piss now, people are still dying in here.’ He smiled cynically while waiting in line at the checkout and wondered if Angela had shared a similar thought. Probably not, after all, until a few hours ago her friend may have been one of the ones dying. Having no idea what to get, he had selected a moderately priced bunch of varied colours, and asked for a couple of packs of cigarettes while he was at the checkout. The woman gave him the generic
thank you come again
smile and handed Scott his change.

Scott strode towards the lifts wielding the flowers like a sword. The third floor, ward nine, Angela had told him. He squeezed into the first available lift along with a blur of white coats and other visitors. Somebody pressed for his floor so Scott just waited, doing his best to protect the already partly squashed flowers he held on to.

At the third floor, he extricated himself from the lift as best he could and began reading the directions on the sign opposite when he heard his name called. Turning, he saw Angela drinking a vending machine coffee and made his way over. She was still here, keeping watch over a friend whom she had hardly been in touch with for years. Scott wondered if there was anyone in his life that would bring out such devoted conviction in him.

‘How is she now?’

‘Better, the Doctors say she’s stable and they’re just monitoring her now. She hasn’t said anything about the attack though, just that someone must have jumped her from behind and that’s all she knows.’

‘Will they be keeping her in much longer?’

‘If she continues to recover without any complications they say she should be out in three days.’

‘Christmas Eve.’

‘Yeah, I didn’t expect you to be keeping track though,’ Angela said, grinning.

‘One is without transport, so one needs to keep tabs on the bus schedules,’ he said in mock indignance, broadening Angela’s grin into a smile.

‘She’s awake if you’d like to go in,’ Angela said, and swept her hair back over her shoulder. Scott caught a glimpse of her right ear which now held a third silver hoop.

For a second Scott wasn’t sure what she meant until her eyes drifted from his face to the flowers he was still holding.

‘Right – yeah, OK.’

Angela led the way back onto the ward. Scott followed, avoiding looking through any of the windows onto the rooms they passed. Sick people made him uncomfortable. He never knew how he should act around them and found it difficult to shake the mocking guilt of his own good health.

‘The new earring is nice, you just get it done?’

‘Oh, yeah just recently.’

‘How many more do you plan on getting?’

‘I’m really hoping this will be my last one.’

Pushing open a door Angela stepped into a small room with only one bed; most of the others in the ward had been six beds to a room. The curtains were partially closed restricting the amount of light inside. Walking in, Scott was overwhelmed by the smell of antiseptic and bandages.

‘You want me to open these now?’ Angela asked in an upbeat tone, walking towards the window.

‘No, leave them,’ Stephanie said, through swollen lips. Her mouth and one bruised and swollen eye were all that was visible of her face, the rest wrapped tightly in fresh white bandages.

‘Ahh, are you OK then Steph?’ Scott asked. A stupid question he thought, but didn’t know what else he should say. He passed the bunch of flowers from hand to hand, uneasily. Her attention shifted from Angela by the window and she turned her one uncovered eye in his direction.

‘I’ll just peachy.’ She said stiffly.

Angela came and took the flowers from Scott and busied herself filling a vase with water from a tap over the sink and arranging them.

‘Good to hear you’ll be out for Christmas then,’ he said, trying to adopt the same upbeat tone Angela had used when they’d first entered.

‘I can’t wait.’

‘OK well I might go and leave you both to talk. Nice to see you, Steph,’ he said and backed out of the room. Angela caught up with him halfway down the corridor.

‘She’s still pretty messed up by it all,’ Angela said almost apologetically, as she pulled on Scott’s sleeve to make him turn around.

‘Yeah of course. I just stopped by to say hello, anyway. Call me later?’

She nodded and smiled.

After getting home and discovering he still couldn’t focus on any work, Scott made more sandwiches, wrapped them and threw them and a Coke into a bag. Slinging the bag over his shoulder he whistled for the dog and left by the back door. The afternoon was grey but not too cold. Scott zipped up his coat as a precaution against a breeze that made the patches of wild grass nod as if in agreement.

Having watched as the sandwiches were made and then placed in the bag, Boris wasn’t straying too far ahead this time. He was following his usual sniff then urinate routine, but kept trotting back to see if anything tasty was yet on offer.

Cupping a hand to shield the flame from another gust of wind, Scott lit up a cigarette, then as an afterthought decided to turn off his phone. Maybe all he needed was some uninterrupted pressure free time and some fresh air to get his head together. Thoughts of Twinkle’s impending call haunted both his days and nights giving him little rest. This afternoon he would push all of that to one side. If he called then so what? Let him call back later.