him, and screwed her eyes tight shut. So he limped past her into the hall, pausing only to pick up the fallen notebook. He left the house and didn’t look back.
Because he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go, Blaine made his way to their old neighborhood and their old neighbor: Liz the nurse.
“I’m B-Blaine,” he stammered out. “Helen’s son? We used to live round here.” Dizziness swilled through his head. “There was a—my stepfather tried—I couldn’t … I didn’t know what to do.…”
Once she’d got over her initial shock, Liz said she was taking him to the hospital. At that point he tried to leave, saying that he couldn’t get anyone official involved,that the doctors would call the police, and his stepfather, and then—
In the end, his desperation must have persuaded her, for she made a phone call and another woman arrived—a doctor, he supposed—who stitched up his arm and gave him a shot of something, shaking her head and tutting all the while.
From there on, everything mercifully dissolved into blackness.
The next afternoon, Liz took Blaine to the police station and waited while he made a statement about the fight in the study. For some reason, though, he couldn’t quite bring himself to show them the torn piece of card in his pocket. The day after that, Saturday, Liz went to see Helen. She was away for a long time, and when she came back, her face was grim. “Your stepfather’s gone,” she told him. “Apparently, the police came round yesterday evening. Asked some questions, took a look round Arthur’s study. They wanted to know about your grandmother’s trust fund, too. He got very upset, Helen said. Afterward he tore off in the car.”
Blaine didn’t read too much into this. Arthur hadn’t even been gone twenty-four hours.
“How’s Mum? Does she want to see me?”
“I’m sorry.” Liz couldn’t quite meet his eye. “She says … well, she says that she’s afraid of you, Blaine.”
She had brought back a bag of his things. She told him a woman from social services would be visiting, but thathe’d be staying with her for “the meantime.” Neither of them wanted to look too closely at what that meant.
Later, Blaine went to Arthur’s house. The blinds were drawn and the place looked lifeless; Helen must have shut herself away in the bedroom. He didn’t want her to see him lurking and get scared, so he stayed in the bus shelter on the other side of the street. He had no plans. He just wanted to be close by.
He got out Arthur’s notebook to have another look at the drawing of the card he’d found, and the reference to TEMPLE HSE. MERCURY SQ., the address he remembered from the back of the invitation. The more he stared at it, the more mysterious it seemed.
A dark car purred along the road and pulled in a little way down from the bus stop. A man got out and walked up to Arthur’s front door. He rang the bell repeatedly, hung about on the doorstep for a while and peered into the ground-floor windows.
Blaine watched this with some interest. Arthur didn’t have many visitors; Helen, none. The man had noticed him watching, and came over to where Blaine was sitting. “I’m after Arthur Wh-white,” he said. “I don’t suppose you know him?”
The man wore an expensive-looking coat and had a hooked, handsome face, with silvering hair. Blaine wondered if he had something to do with the school where Arthur taught—a governor, perhaps.
“Arthur White? Sure I know him. I know he’s a vicious maniac and the police are after him.”
The man stiffened. “P-police?”
“Yeah. They were around here yesterday. Looks like he’s given them the slip.”
“And where do you think he could have s-slipped to?” he asked softly.
“Rumor has it he’s joined a cult.”
The man looked down at Blaine’s lap and the open notebook. His eyes lingered on the sketch of the card. “How interesting.” He gave a half smile. “You’ve been most h-helpful. Thank
Because he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go, Blaine made his way to their old neighborhood and their old neighbor: Liz the nurse.
“I’m B-Blaine,” he stammered out. “Helen’s son? We used to live round here.” Dizziness swilled through his head. “There was a—my stepfather tried—I couldn’t … I didn’t know what to do.…”
Once she’d got over her initial shock, Liz said she was taking him to the hospital. At that point he tried to leave, saying that he couldn’t get anyone official involved,that the doctors would call the police, and his stepfather, and then—
In the end, his desperation must have persuaded her, for she made a phone call and another woman arrived—a doctor, he supposed—who stitched up his arm and gave him a shot of something, shaking her head and tutting all the while.
From there on, everything mercifully dissolved into blackness.
The next afternoon, Liz took Blaine to the police station and waited while he made a statement about the fight in the study. For some reason, though, he couldn’t quite bring himself to show them the torn piece of card in his pocket. The day after that, Saturday, Liz went to see Helen. She was away for a long time, and when she came back, her face was grim. “Your stepfather’s gone,” she told him. “Apparently, the police came round yesterday evening. Asked some questions, took a look round Arthur’s study. They wanted to know about your grandmother’s trust fund, too. He got very upset, Helen said. Afterward he tore off in the car.”
Blaine didn’t read too much into this. Arthur hadn’t even been gone twenty-four hours.
“How’s Mum? Does she want to see me?”
“I’m sorry.” Liz couldn’t quite meet his eye. “She says … well, she says that she’s afraid of you, Blaine.”
She had brought back a bag of his things. She told him a woman from social services would be visiting, but thathe’d be staying with her for “the meantime.” Neither of them wanted to look too closely at what that meant.
Later, Blaine went to Arthur’s house. The blinds were drawn and the place looked lifeless; Helen must have shut herself away in the bedroom. He didn’t want her to see him lurking and get scared, so he stayed in the bus shelter on the other side of the street. He had no plans. He just wanted to be close by.
He got out Arthur’s notebook to have another look at the drawing of the card he’d found, and the reference to TEMPLE HSE. MERCURY SQ., the address he remembered from the back of the invitation. The more he stared at it, the more mysterious it seemed.
A dark car purred along the road and pulled in a little way down from the bus stop. A man got out and walked up to Arthur’s front door. He rang the bell repeatedly, hung about on the doorstep for a while and peered into the ground-floor windows.
Blaine watched this with some interest. Arthur didn’t have many visitors; Helen, none. The man had noticed him watching, and came over to where Blaine was sitting. “I’m after Arthur Wh-white,” he said. “I don’t suppose you know him?”
The man wore an expensive-looking coat and had a hooked, handsome face, with silvering hair. Blaine wondered if he had something to do with the school where Arthur taught—a governor, perhaps.
“Arthur White? Sure I know him. I know he’s a vicious maniac and the police are after him.”
The man stiffened. “P-police?”
“Yeah. They were around here yesterday. Looks like he’s given them the slip.”
“And where do you think he could have s-slipped to?” he asked softly.
“Rumor has it he’s joined a cult.”
The man looked down at Blaine’s lap and the open notebook. His eyes lingered on the sketch of the card. “How interesting.” He gave a half smile. “You’ve been most h-helpful. Thank
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