The Fool - Chapter Eight ======================== I - I wake up without the slightest idea who or where I am. I am lying on a sofa of some sort, covered with a blanket. The ceiling in this room is very high, and covered in some kind of pipework. It is cold. I sit up slowly, and clutch at my throbbing head. Where the hell am I? It is a large room, some kind of open warehouse space, with tables, settees, desks, racks of clothing, cardboard boxes and an assortment of what looks like a bunch of random stage props scattered at random. There seems to be no-one around. I get to my feet awkwardly, scanning the place for something resembling a kitchen, or at least a sink. There, over to one side, behind that curtain. A kitchen. Yes. A kettle. A sink. Tea. Thank god. I wash up a mug and make tea, slowly feeling bits of my brain kick back into action. Where is Beth? Where is... whatever their names are. Jason and Thingy. Annie. Whoever. Anyone. I look around for a note, but there is nothing. Two people seem to live here; someone else slept on one of the other sofas last night, and my jacket has been folded neatly at the foot of the sofa I was sleeping on. Other than that, there are no clues. I check my mobile phone. Nothing. No reception, either. I wander around in a random walk staring fixedly at the phone, holding it at different heights and angles, but it makes no difference. The thing is useless in here. I finish my tea, put my jacket on, and formulate a plan. I will take the phone, and go somewhere where there is reception. Then I will phone someone and ask what day it is and where I am. Or something. II -- The door of the warehouse locks behind me with a solid finality, and I am precipitated into a steep concrete stairwell smelling vaguely of piss. The first thing I see when I leave the building is my car parked directly outside. There is a note pinned under the windscreen wipers. "Dear Adam," it says. "Hope you slept well. We've gone to town for the afternoon, maybe see you later. Beth had to go - she says to call her, "Best, Annie" Fabulous. So I'm somewhere in Brighton. It was Saturday that we came to Brighton, so today must be Sunday. I get in the car and try to call Beth, but there is no reply. Her phone seems to be turned off. On impulse I check the date on the phone, and find yes, it is indeed Sunday. Ok. Now what? Right now I appear to be in the middle of nowhere, so the first thing to do is probably to start driving. I start driving. III --- Once I am on the road, I find a signpost marked 'London' almost immediately. The next thing I know, I am back on the A23 heading north, telling myself that I will call Beth when I get to London. I mean, she obviously wasn't expecting me to stay in Brighton, was she? She was the one who buggered off somewhere without saying where she was going. The more I think about it the less certain I am that I am doing the right thing. Then I remember that the note said she had 'gone home'. That's alright then. I drive on for a while. My phone beeps. It is a text message from Beth. "Where R U?" Shit. Shit shit shit. It takes forever to get to a place where I can stop, but eventually I pull over, and call Beth. The phone is switched off. Great. I look back at the note, and realise that it does not say 'gone home'. Even more great. Now what the fuck do I do? I light a cigarette. The phone rings, and I answer. "Hello?" All I can hear is a whirring noise like a tape being chewed up and played back at the same time. I catch fragments of syllables in a distorted, boomy voice. Nothing makes sense. There seems to be a helicopter or something in the background. The connection is lost, and my phone beeps at me to make sure I've noticed. I've noticed. IV -- Ok. That must have been Beth, I decide, on the train, going back up to London, which explains why she can intermittently send text messages but can't call. I resume my drive. My stomach hurts. As I drive, it hurts more and more. I am struck with a sudden sense that I have obviously been being extremely stupid, and that I really should turn round and go back to Brighton. Beth wouldn't have gone back to London without telling me. The conviction is overwhelming. At the next exit I come off the road, go all the way round the roundabout and head back in the direction I came. My stomach stops hurting as soon as I get on the southbound road. Ok, fine. Better late than never. I have no idea where I am going once I get to Brighton, but decide I'll figure it out when I get there. The sea front first, maybe then the warehouse. If I can remember where that is. When I get to the sea front, though, the first thing I see is Beth walking along. I pull over a little way ahead of her, and watch in the wing-mirror as she hurries towards the car. "Hi," she says, as she gets in. "Thanks." V - "Are you alright?" I ask. She seems pale and agitated. "Yes yes," she says. "Come on, let's go. Let's go home. London." "Alright," I say. "Erm, do you..." "No," she says. "Just drive." I shrug and start the car. "We can get some food on the way or something. Have you got a cigarette?" "Yeah. Light me one, would you?" We smoke in silence as I turn the car around and head back up towards the A23. After a while I say, "So, uh, what ha..." She cuts me off. "Please, Adam. Let's get out of Brighton." I am silent until we hit the main road and Brighton is behind us. "Ok," I say. "What happened?" She doesn't answer. Ok. Eventually she says, "Oh Adam I'm so tired. Let me sleep till we get to London. I'll talk to you then, ok?" "Ok," say I. Ok. She sleeps. As we pass the junction with the M25, her eyes flicker open and she yawns. "Good morning," I say. "Hello," she says. "God Brighton's a headfuck. I'd forgotten." "Innit," I say. "Was it good to see, um, wotsit. Jason and Thingy? Annie." She makes a noise like a firework and says nothing. "I'll take that as a no, shall I?" say I. "I'm starving," she says. "Let's get something to eat." VI -- We are in a twee coffee bar somewhere in suburban South London, with steaming capuccinos and baguettes brimming with cheese and salad. Both ravenous, we devour the baguettes in silence. "Mmm," says Beth, eventually, wiping bits of cheese and salad from her mouth. "I needed that." She lights a cigarette and blows the smoke theatrically into the air. I finish my baguette. "So what happened," I say, lighting up also. She sighs and takes a long sip of coffee. "You have cheese on your nose," she says, wiping it off. "Thankyou." "So yeah. Weird shit," she says. "There's a reason why I don't live in Brighton any more." "A reason?" "A reason." "Jas..." She cuts me off. "Don't even say their names," she hisses. "Jesus," I say. "Them. That bad." She nods. "We shouldn't have gone at all," she says. "I only wanted to see the sea." "So, er..." I mumble. "It's a long story," she says. "But what it comes down to is that there are a few people in Brighton who are a bit jealous of me and haven't grown up yet. That's all." "Jealous?" "Yeah." She sips her coffee and blows smoke at me. I formulate the sentence 'jealous of what?' in my mind, but decide it would be better not to ask it. "Jealous of what?" I say, entirely by accident. Shit. She snorts with laughter. "I don't know, Adam. My music? My looks? My energy?" My heart sinks. "All of those things. And more. Obviously," I say, brightly, but she doesn't buy it. VII --- "Oh, Beth, I didn't mean that," I say. "You know I didn't mean that." She doesn't buy this either. I'm not even sure she has heard me, in fact. She seems lost in reflection. I sit and smoke, and thirty seconds go by in silence. "Hello?" I say. "Earth calling Beth?" Nothing. Eventually she looks up, focusses on me, and says, "Oh Adam, I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I owe you some kind of explanation." "You do?" I say, suddenly feeling I have lost the thread. She sighs, deeply. "Yes. Because of my childhood, there's already weird stuff to do with my mother's disciples. But there are people in Brighton who I grew up with that have always been jealous of me. And there's nothing I can do about it." "Sheesh," I say. "Anyway. I thought Jason and Annie were friends, but it turns out they've got involved with this group run by a guy I've known all my life and... well. They tried something last night but it didn't work." "They what?" "Tried something." "Tried what?" "I don't know. But it didn't work." "How do you know?" "Because I know." "Well I was completely out of it, last night. I've got no idea what happened." VIII ---- "I know," she says. "Had a weird dream, though." "I bet you did," she says. "What did you dream?" "I can't really remember," I say. "I was riding through space in some kind of chariot. Then something happened, and I felt like I'd fucked up. That's all." "Ok," she says. "Oh, it took a badge off me. That's right," I say. "I was wearing a badge, and this thing came and took it." "Right," she says. "What? Oh dear." "Is that bad?" I say. She laughs. "No," she says. "I mean, probably not. I don't know. Depends what was on the badge." "I can't remember," I tell her. "Bet you can," she says, encouragingly. Damn it if she isn't right. "Oh yeah," I say. "It was a wheel. A red wheel on a white background. With an axle through it." "You're joking," she says. "Shit." "Huh? Is that bad?" She frowns. "Well it's not great," she says. "Then again, it makes sense to me." She takes another sip of coffee and smokes for a while. "I think we both came under psychic attack last night, Adam. I'm really sorry. It's my fault. I shouldn't have allowed it to happen." I am staring at her, incredulous. "Adam, I don't talk about this kind of thing to just anyone, you know. You do understand me, don't you?" "Well," I say, "I mean yes, but... what do you mean psychic attack?" IX -- "Well," she says, "you know how some people can go around spreading healing energy?" "Yeah," I say. "Er, ok." "So, there are other people that learn how to spread less pleasant kinds of energy too. Some of that got pointed at us last night." "So how come you didn't feel it straight away?" She is silent a while. "It was a trap," she says. "I don't know. I really didn't think that was going to happen." "Sheesh," I say. "So what actually happened?" "Oh nothing visible," she says. "After the club, you'd practically passed out, and a bunch of us carried you back to the warehouse and then sat up smoking for a while. But the atmosphere was nasty. It took me a lot of energy just to stay calm. I'd have left only you wouldn't wake up." "Oh man," I say. "Shit." "It's not your fault," she continues. "That was part of their plan. Get you out of it so I'd be trapped there for them to snipe at me." "So what did you do?" "What could I do? I sat there and took it, then I went to sleep myself, woke up before anyone else, still couldn't get you to wake up, and took a long walk around Brighton instead." "I nearly went back to London," I say, thinking 'whoops'. "I know," she says. X - When we finally get back to her place, she turns and kisses me, then explains that she is tired and not going to invite me in. Fair enough. "You must be tired too, Adam," she says. "Get some rest." "Ok," I say, trying not to look too disappointed. She looks at me quizzically for a while, then says, "Do you know any strength-building exercises? Or banishings?" I nod, dumbly. "Maybe you should start doing some." I stare at her. She laughs. "That sounded bad, didn't it. I don't mean to criticise. But for safety's sake." "Thanks," I say, stiffly. "I mean it quite seriously," she says. "We're both probably a bit drained. Don't know about you but I can't afford to be ill right now." I nod again, twice as dumbly. "Ok," she says, closing the door. "Bye." I watch her disappear through her front door and close it behind her, feeling thoroughly empty and miserable. Fair enough, I think, starting the car, and lighting another cigarette. I get home and put the kettle on, more out of instinct than anything else. I am completely exhausted. I lie down on the bed, waiting for the kettle to boil, but fall into a dreamless sleep before it does so. I am gone.