Outside the coffee shop I hailed a taxi and went back to my own dark apartment.
As I opened my front door the phone was ringing. I ran for the wireless handset, and dashed back to put the access code into the new alarm system to stop the burglar alarm from sounding.
Christmas’s voice on the phone said flatly, “Hello, it’s me.”
“Hi.”
“I just wanted to check that you got home alright.”
“I’m still alive.”
“I wasn’t ready to have that conversation with you.”
“So I’ve learned.”
“I would’ve told you eventually, but it’s personal stuff.”
“I know. I’m sorry I had to bring it up.”
“You know that thing I said about you being kind and intelligent.”
“You didn’t say it exactly.”
“Well I thought it, but I might’ve overestimated your qualities.”
“You’ve already sent me away feeling wretched. There’s no need to twist the knife.”
“It’s not about need. I’m just stating the truth, which is what you value most of all.”
“Okay. Goodnight then.” I could feel it ending. The most exciting, fulfilling relationship I’d ever had was almost over, having barely begun. I decided to check. “Do you want me to come back?”
She paused before answering. “Not yet.” Another pause. “I’ll call you.”
“Okay. Goodnight.”
The phone went silent.
Not yet wasn’t the same as “no’. But I felt it might become “no” soon.
I had a hollow feeling in my stomach. A bowl of hot pasta didn’t change it. I threw the rest of the hastily cooked dinner away and went to bed. I slept badly. I got up twice to see if someone was rattling the window locks. A fitful sleep eventually reclaimed me.
I was standing on the steel strip marking the prime meridian, set into the courtyard of the Greenwich Observatory. Zero degrees longitude. Directly above me, a green laser beam shone out from the observatory building, blazing the meridian through the sky over east London.
A short distance away, bulging-eyed Babyhead, thick pulsating veins throbbing at his temples, stood astride the strip, two feet in the eastern hemisphere and two feet in the west. He said gravely, “I bestride this world like a colossus.”
“You’re not like a colossus. You are a colossus.”
“Alright then,” resuming the grave tone, “I bestride this world as a colossus.” More brightly he said, “Happy now?”
“Not really. Why are we here?”
“Since your world is broken in two, I thought it’d be a good place to meet.”
“You’re making light of it. Christmas is important to me.”
“That’s because you’re a chump. And it’s your own fault anyway. If you didn’t want her to get angry, why’d you put her on the spot like that?” He jumped a little closer to me, putting all four feet on the right of the meridian, murmuring to himself, “Now I’m in the east.” The small gray torso behind his skull wagged up and down as he landed.
“I needed to know.”
“So why didn’t you just raise the idea by saying, Hey sweetheart, this girl looks just like you. How strange,” he said in an effete mocking voice, “and then wait for her to tell you all about it?”
“Thanks. You’re several hours too late with that advice.”
“Well I’ve got more bad news. If you’d waited for her to tell you herself, you’d know the answers to the other big issues.”
“What big issues?”
“What does Christmas know and why is she keeping it from you?” He jumped closer again, putting all four feet on the left of the line, muttering, “Now I’m in the west.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s because you’re a chump.”
“If you weren’t a baby,” I looked up at his huge head, “and twice my height, I’d knock your block off.”
“Chump, chump, chump,” he taunted. “Do you wanna make pointless threats or do you wanna understand the issues? One little tiff and you go all to pieces. Show a little backbone, will you?”
“Do you have to be quite so insulting?”
“I told you before, the insults are free.”
I sat wearily on the doorsteps under the laser beam. “Okay. Tell me about the issues,” I said without enthusiasm. “And that was Dave Slaughter who said the insults are free.”
“Forget about Slaughter. Focus now. Christmas is Ariadne’s granddaughter. One of them, at any rate. Aleksy’s killer is clearly either Ariadne herself or one of her descendants. The day you first met Christmas and described the nature of Aleksy’s death, she would’ve known that. At a very rough guess, I’d say that makes the killer one of two hundred women.” He leaned toward me and said slowly, “Why didn’t she mention this salient fact?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“If you did have an idea, you might also have the answer to that other tiny question you had before you met her.”
“Which one?”
“The one you had when you were sitting on the tube train. Why would Ray Pendle send trouble in his daughter’s direction? If you had a daughter, would you send a blundering half-wit to her door who’s promptly followed by a six-person assassination squad armed with knives and nerve agent?”
“Maybe he didn’t know.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. He’s just a genius gene-splicer, lived through a world war, built a multi-billion pound company, sniffs out espionage devices quicker than you can blow your nose, and has a dog who understands English. Silly old fool probably had no idea, eh?” He hopped putting all four feet on the line whispering, “Now I’m nowhere.”
“Okay, I admit it’s strange.”
“Think it through with your tiny pea-brain. Why does he send you to meet his pretty pistol-packing, dead-shot daughter?”
“Is it because he wants me to find a rogue killer from his new super-breed before the police uncover them?”
“And he wants you to find that person with Christmas at your side. What will she do when you discover the killer?”
“Tell her father.”
“That’s words! What will she do?!” He boomed. “She’s the executive arm; he’s the brains in a wheelchair. Is it possible she’ll take care of the problem with a bullet? And maybe at that point, you’ll be part of the problem.”
“I don’t get that feeling from her. She seems to genuinely care.”
Babyhead laughed, rocking back and forth. “I’m sure she does. Do you think the professor might’ve guessed that you, caring and gullible, would fall headlong down the love mineshaft as soon as that winsome little assassin opened the door? He is one great chess player. He positions you two pieces together and kapow! Suddenly you have aligned objectives. You want what she wants.”
I looked up sullenly. “There’s no need to gloat. You’re making me feel ridiculous.”
“Alright, I’m sorry. She’s attractive. No question about that. No one could blame you. One other thing though. Why didn’t she mention Limewood?”
“Perhaps she doesn’t know.”
“Really? You honestly believe that she knows she’s the daughter of one of nine women in a new human sub-species, but she doesn’t know where they are? How’d she react to your discovery of Sophie Miller?”
“We never got to discuss it properly.”
“She wasn’t exactly overjoyed about the part you did discuss though, was she? Maybe she feels the noose tightening.”
“For herself?”
“Feels like she’s more concerned for her relatives at the moment.”
“What should I do?”
“Well you can stop worrying that she’s casting you out, for a start. There’s no way she’ll leave you running around unsupervised. Not now that you’ve identified Sophie Miller. Give her a chance to tell you what she knows. You might find out what’s going on.”
“How am I going to do that?”
r />
“Have you learned nothing?!” he bellowed. “Be nice to her. Conversation, not accusation. And remember what that old man on the train said.”
“Which part?”
“Watch your step! You’ve got a tiger by the tail my little mortal friend. If you ever have to let go, make sure you don’t get bitten.” He looked down at my neck. “Well maybe it’s a bit late for that. Just make sure you’re out of shooting range then.”
I woke in a sweat. Babyhead was right. I fixed the questions in my mind.
But Christmas didn’t call.
I moped around all day, a black emptiness inside. I wasn’t going to chase Sophie Miller across Canada. I needed Christmas to help me uncover whatever we could here. And I yearned for her company.
The next day was the same. And everywhere I went, I imagined a pretty girl in a floppy hat, somewhere in the background, across the road in a shop, at the corner behind a crowd, in nondescript cars that always left, just as I approached. The yearning didn’t stop.
TWENTY-NINE
After three days I began to think that Babyhead was wrong about Christmas wanting to keep me close.
Then she rang early in the morning. “Come to breakfast.”
“Okay, I need to shower.”
“I’ve got bacon and tomatoes but I need everything else. Can you pick some things up on the way?”
Twenty minutes later a taxi delivered me to Christmas’s block.
She buzzed the main door open. Upstairs she opened her door, kissing me on the cheek but with less passion than usual. Our last conversation weighed on us both.
“You know I said I had bacon and tomatoes…”
“It’s okay, I brought everything.”
She tried hugging me again. This time it worked a little better. We could recover. It was going to be alright, I thought.
We cooked breakfast together and I watched her as we worked in the kitchen. The smell of cooking and the surroundings were comfortably familiar but our behavior was different. Almost imperceptible changes in her demeanor quietly rejected me. Like her knowing that I was looking at her, but ignoring my attention. Before, she would’ve acknowledged it as admiration and desire. Now she wasn’t sure. Or maybe neither of us was sure.
We ate at the table in the living room.
“I’m sorry I offended you. It just came upon me as a surprise and I blurted out my questions without thinking.”
“It’s alright. In a way it’s a good thing.”
“Why?”
“Because we have to have another awkward conversation.”
Instantly, I knew what the awkward conversation was going to be about. It didn’t involve Limewood. It could only be about one thing. The scariest thing. The thing that was happening much too soon for either of us. I needed time to think. I made a decision, saying the words in my mind for clarity. I was going to be CALM. I was going to THINK FIRST. I would ACT SLOWLY. I could go away and consider the whole situation to avoid saying anything stupid or rash. This friendship or partnership or whatever it might be, was too important to treat casually. And if it was the scariest thing, I was going to do the right thing.
She said, “I’m pregnant.”
I waited. I didn’t let my face do anything. I’d known it was coming. I would take one very small step at a time.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“I feel different. And I took a test. It’s positive.”
I didn’t bother asking her about timings or if she was sure. She was telling me because she was convinced it was true. I looked at her face. It was a forced blank. She was suppressing any facial cue, waiting for my reaction. If there had been a micro-expression, I’d missed it.
This was the moment. I would have to decide now—there was no going away to consider it. I had dozens of questions and at the heart of most of them was a hysterical fear screaming, are we going to be the parents of twenty spiderling monsters with multiple limbs and grotesque heads? I said nothing.
She was quiet. This was going to be harder on Christmas. She would be carrying them. Monsters or super-people growing inside her. My fears were nothing compared to the anxiety she would live with at every moment until they were born. I stopped thinking about monsters; I thought about her. Regardless of what she was, I knew who she was. She was the woman I was in love with. I didn’t want her to carry the burden alone.
I could argue that the situation was her fault; that she should’ve told me what I might be fathering when we’d made the unspoken decision that contraception wasn’t necessary. But we’d found each other without planning for consequences. And when she looked at me, my face, my wound, she looked with a love and a propriety that I’d never known. Babyhead wasn’t right about that part. I’d seen it and felt it. Christmas wasn’t a schemer, though her father might be. This would not happen to me again.
I slid my chair next to her and put my arm around her waist, pulling her close to me. With my other hand I turned her face to me, holding her cheek lightly. I said, “I’m with you whatever happens, for always.” I kissed her lips and held her head. “We’ll make it work. It’ll be okay.” I knew I was right. We would make it work.
She’d been ready for a fight. I guessed that all her awkward conversations ended the same way; a break-up. I’d not yet seen this tough girl cry. This was the first time. She cried into my shoulder, making my shirt wet with tears. “You know what could happen?”
“The worst thing would be something happening to you.”
“But assuming I’m alright.”
“We won’t assume. Let’s keep an eye on things. As for the babies; monsters or superwomen?”
“I’m afraid.”
“So let’s keep an eye on them too,” I said, caressing her stomach, “and make sure nothing strange happens.”
Caressing her turned out to be a good thing. We talked about how it might be; a sudden large family. We started to plan our lives. A new plan.
But I hadn’t forgotten the old plan, such as it was. Sophie Miller would just have to wait a day. The questions from my dream couldn’t wait though. I held Christmas’s hand, gently massaging the muscles in her palm.
“I want to ask you something. Please don’t get cross and send me away.”
“I’ll try not to.” She gave me her other hand.
“You know I adore you. You can tell me anything,” I looked her in the eye, “and that won’t change.”
“You said true love wasn’t eternal.”
“It’s up for debate.”
“Ask me then.”
“When I told you how Aleksy died, and you recognized that it must be one of your relatives, why didn’t you tell me?”
“How could I? I don’t tell anyone about my genetic background. But I got you to meet Ariadne so that you could work out who the killer might be for yourself.”
“Okay. That makes sense.” I caressed her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me about Limewood?”
“I honestly didn’t know. When I was small, we visited some of my relatives. Aunts and uncles. It was always somewhere rural, a long drive from the flying saucer. I didn’t know the name of the place because I wasn’t driving. I was probably six years old the last time I met any of them. I don’t know who’s there. I’ve thought about finding them before but never had the right opportunity. My dad knows where they are.”
“Can we ask him?”
“I’d really prefer that we didn’t. Can’t we just get there ourselves? I don’t want to make him point them out on a map. It’ll be like he’s sending us after them.”
“Okay, maybe we have the one address that we need. When we find the person who killed Aleksy, what will you do?”
“I’ve no idea. I’m just following the request my dad made. Protect you and help you. So far it’s turning out to be a full-time job. I’m guessing we’ll decide what to do together. Isn’t that how it is?”
“Yes, it is.”
I stayed with Christmas that night. Babyhead wasn’t wrong about
that part. We wanted the same thing. For the moment.
* * *
The following day a copy of the HomEvo shareholder register arrived in Christmas’s mail. We scanned down the listing. Her father was at the top with five percent of the company. Then Doug Maplethorpe with a fraction under five percent. Some pension funds owned approximately seven percent between them. Baxter Chapell’s heirs owned two and a half percent each. A short list of former HomEvo directors had one percent and then a long list of former HomEvo people had fractions of one percent each. An interesting feature of this group was that more than half of them lived in the obscure village which I’d only heard of four days earlier.
Christmas said, “Maybe they are all there; my wider family.”
I told Christmas about the village’s unusually young demographic. “We have to go to Limewood. Although I think I know who Aleksy’s killer is, it’s still just a hunch at this point. If I’m right, and Ariadne’s children have made Limewood their home, we’ll find out when we go and look. You know, huge webs everywhere.”
Christmas slapped my arm. “You’re such an arse.” She thought for a moment, “So you’re hoping to meet this girl, Sophie Miller, probably my cousin, and she’ll just confess on the spot?”
“Maybe we’ll meet her. Her phone went dead at Manchester Airport and hasn’t been used since. She might’ve gone abroad. But if she hasn’t, I could ask her to give herself up.”
“Have you thought this through properly? Why would she give herself up? Are you expecting her to be tried in court? What happens when this whole story comes out? What will people make of the hysterical press coverage about a killer race of genetically engineered spider people? There’ll be mobs burning down a village of children.”
“There might be a reason why Aleksy died. But if we don’t ask her, and nobody asks her, how does Mrs Naumowicz and her family get justice?”
“It’s hard to see right now. But then isn’t this a job for the police? I’m hoping that you don’t think it is.”
“Given that we’ve all got an interest in avoiding mob rule, I think it might be worth us taking a small risk. If you’re alright with it.”