The Green Drift Read online

  ‘No, madam. You get that kind of idle gawping sometimes when you have a story in the papers” said Porch.

  ‘What story in the papers?’ said Richard.

  ‘I don’t know, sir. It just happens when there is one. A lot of those people have papers, so I suppose it’s something to do with that.’

  ‘Why have you come here?’ snapped Jennifer.

  It’s about Mrs Baynes,’ said Porch, switching his glance to Richard.

  ‘Barbara Baynes?’ said Jennifer, tingling all over. ‘What about her?’

  ‘She’s—disappeared,’ said Porch.

  ‘What do you mean, disappeared?’ said Richard inanely.

  ‘Can’t find her anywhere,’ said Porch.

  ‘Well, why come here?’Jennifer asked in a fury.

  ‘It seems, madam, that after the pub shut last night, Mrs Baynes was seen walking down the street with Mr Chance.’

  ‘What?’

  Husband and wife exclaimed together, but in different tones.

  ‘Me?’ said Richard, as Jennifer looked at him. Her china blue eyes had the look of being re-fired in a ceramic oven of enormous burning power.

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Porch wiped his face with a folded handkerchief. ‘You walked down the street with Mrs Baynes.’

  ‘Which way?’

  ‘This way, sir.’

  Richard hissed between his teeth. Jennifer started to march up and down, her arms folded, her skirt swinging with the angry length of stride and spinning out on the turns. Porch looked through Richard to the middle distance.

  ‘I don’t remember it,’ said Richard.

  ‘Last night, sir,’ said Porch, as if to help.

  ‘And she’s disappeared?’ Richard said.

  ‘Not been seen since, sir. Not been back all night.’

  ‘How do they know that?’ Richard said.

  ‘The bar light was on all night. She’s fussy about electric, Mrs Baynes. Always switches on and off, as needed. She’s there alone since her husband went. Holds the licence temporarily, seeing what’s to happen.’

  Richard turned to his wife, pretty in motion and emotion.

  ‘Why can’t you stand still?’ he shouted.

  She turned, went in at the study door and slammed it behind her.

  “Porch, I think I ought to tell you” Richard began.

  The study door opened again and Jennifer strode out. arms folded, very flushed and pretty.

  ‘I can’t remember a thing about last night! ’ Richard cried.

  ‘He is most conveniently amneesed,’ said Jennifer, and gave a short, contemptuous laugh.

  ‘Well, you don’t remember anything, either!’ he shouted.

  ‘I didn’t have anything naughty to remember!’ she shouted back.

  Porch started whirling his handkerchief round and round his helmet band, the sweat on his brown face beginning to sparkle like frost.

  ‘I do not remember Mrs Baynes or anything else about last night,’ said Richard. ‘I found myself on the sofa this morning, and I don’t know how I got there or why I didn’t go to bed. My wife woke me, and then we looked out of the window and we saw a crowd of peabrains gawping at us. I don’t know why, but I think it’s time you found out.’

  ‘Have you any idea at all where Mrs Baynes might have gone?’ asked Porch.-‘You see, her sister called on her this morning as arranged to spend the day, and the place was locked up and the bar light on. She hasn’t been seen since she walked away with you last night.’

  ‘Why did she walk away with me?’ Richard asked.

  ‘I don’t know, sir. I thought you might.’

  ‘But I don’t remember even seeing her last night! ’

  Jennifer laughed again and restarted striding up and down in an angry waltz.

  ‘What docs the sister say?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, she’s reported Mrs Baynes as missing, and upon making enquiries, I found that your husband—’

  ‘Who saw me?’ said Richard. ‘With Mrs Baynes, I mean.’

  ‘Mrs Torrocks,’ said Porch.

  What, that old rattlebag?’ said Richard. She’s the worst gossip in the village. She imagines things.

  ‘Well, the Inspector is down at my house, sir, and he’s satisfied with what she said.’

  ‘He’s down there because of Mrs Baynes disappearing?’

  ‘No, sir, lie’s down there because of this crowd. We don’t know what to make of it—that is, he probably does by now. He handed Mrs Baynes over to me, you see, sir.’

  ‘Well, he’s wasting your time, and he doesn’t seem to be doing much about the crowd, either.’

  Richard turned his head. He could see through the open study door to the window, and through the window to the lane, and between the hedges to the blobheads standing in ragged formation, moving here and there.

  He remembered the strange feeling of nightmare when he had gone to approach them and a chill swept through him.

  ‘They are normal people, those out there?’ he said suddenly.

  Porch stared.

  ‘Why, yes, sir,’ he said.

  Heat of shame followed the chill, and Richard felt foolish.

  ‘Will the Inspector come up here?’ he asked.

  ‘I dare say he will. sir. The trouble was your phone. It’s temporarily out of service.’ His expression was stony, but he wiped his hatband quicker to show that he knew what it meant.

  ‘I forgot the bill,’ said Richard and felt momentarily relieved over contact with a normal subject. ‘I wonder what it feels like when you really lose the grip of your mind and just think and imagine everything?’

  Porch’s eyes became rather sad, like a bloodhound’s.

  ‘Terrible thing, sir,’ he said.

  ‘What do you think about those people out there?’ said Richard sharply.

  ‘Me? What can I think, sir? There’s no knowing what people will do when they get an idea, but you don’t have to know what the idea is. I£ you guess, you can be wrong—a lot wrong. 1 asked them, one or two. naturally, but they just look at you and grin. People do that. There’s nothing worse than trying to move on a crowd that’s just standing there for nothing you can see. They mutter to each other and grin at each other but they won’t talk to you. It gives you a feeling that you’re just useless, that you can’t do anything, and the more you try the more ol a fool you’re going to look.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s a bad feeling.’

  He’s shaken, Richard thought. He isn’t himself. He’s lost. He’s as lost as we are. There’s something more than funny in the air.

  ‘Where did you leave Mrs Baynes, sir?’ said Porch, striving to keep his line of enquiry.

  ‘I don’t remember ever being with her! ’ said Richard. ‘Perhaps he’ll remember if I go,’ said Jennifer briskly and went away up the stairs. Porch watched her go and momentarily wondered why Richard would want another one, even though Mrs Baynes was a fetcher enough.

  ‘I don’t remember anything,’ Richard said. ‘Nor does my wife. Something happened last night, but we don’t know what it was. I thought it might have been something we had for supper, but we can’t think what.’

  ‘What do you remember, sir?’ said Porch rather hopelessly.

  ‘Walking down to the pub,’ said Richard. ‘I don’t even remember getting there. Certainly not getting back.’

  Porch wiped his face.

  ‘Did you see anybody else?’

  ‘No idea.’ Richard shook his head. There was nothing in it about the previous night that he could fish out of the shadows. Nothing threw even a small glow across the blackness of that night. It was locked off, yet lie knew it must be there.

  Upstairs Jennifer stood in the main bedroom with Ellen. It was bright and sweet smelling. You had to look out of the windows to get the nightmare effect of the people scattered about the fields, staring.

  ‘It’s not so bad up here,’ Ellen said, sweeping briskly, you don’t get the feeling they’re leaning on the sill, sort >f, breathing down your nec
k. What I’ve been thinking , how’m I going to get home if they’re still there dinnertime?’

  ‘My husband will see you back.’

  Jennifer looked towards the open door, an almost unbearable wish to go and hear what Richard was telling Porch making her want to scream. Suddenly she put her fingers in her ears and shut her eyes.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Ellen said.

  Jennifer opened her eyes again and dropped her hands. ‘I felt dizzy,’ she said. ‘As if I was going to scream.’

  ‘Well, it’s enough to make yer,’ said Ellen. ‘Why doesn’t Porch do something? He’s a great lump, he is. What good is he? Supposing we get lynched or something? lot of good he’d be then, lounging about. Probbly tell ’em how to make the knot.’

  Jennifer found herself listening for the voices down in the hall.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Ellen!’ she said sharply. ‘It isn’t that kind of thing! ’

  ‘What kind of thing is it, then?’ said Ellen, posing with the broom like Britannia.

  ‘There must be a reason,’ said Jennifer crossly.

  ’They keep looking at the sky, some of ’em,’ said Ellen. “But there’s nothing up there. Only sky, I mean.’

  Suddenly Jennifer went to the open window and twisted her head upwards to make sure. It was a lovely day. The sky was quite empty. She came in again.

  ‘If they’re waiting for something, what are they waiting for?’ Jennifer said.

  ’Waiting for something?’ said Ellen, staring. ‘What? What’s there to wait for here?’

  “Oh, it’s just something my husband said, Jennifer explained.

  Ellen looked at her and the sharp light of fear shone in her eyes.

  “Do you think they will go?’ she asked.

  ‘They’ve got to, haven’t they?’ The two women looked at each other, but the question was uncomfortably unanswerable.

  Porch grew gradually more uncomfortable.

  ‘It’s no good.’ Richard said, gesturing with his hands. ‘I just don’t remember anything about it.’

  Porch wiped his face.

  ‘Surely there were other people at the pub last night?’ Richard asked.

  ‘It was a very quiet night,’ said Porch. ‘There was Bill Gower and Ted Fillis. They both saw you come in and sit out on the garden verandah. Then they both say you went before closing time.’

  ‘But Mrs Baynes must have closed up.’

  ‘Yes, she did. They both said so.’

  ‘Then how did I walk away with her when I’d already gone?’

  Porch said nothing. Richard looked through the study doorway.

  ‘They don’t seem to be thinning out much,’ said. ‘Something’s got into ’em,’ Porch said gloomily. ‘I can’t make it out. You know, I expect the Inspector will have a suggestion to make if this goes on.’

  ‘It’s overdue now,’ said Richard ironically.

  ‘I mean, it must be something to do with you,’ said Porch, his eyes once more steadfast and doglike. ‘The house is all right. Nothing unusual anywhere.’

  “Except us.’ said Richard.

  ‘Well—is there?’ said Porch.

  ‘Well, what’s funny about us, then?’

  “I mean” said Porch “everything else is the same as usual.”

  Richard laughed briefly. ‘Within limits. But I see your point. The focal point must be us. What a pity the phone’s out. I’m sure we could solve this quickly then…. But what do you think the Inspector might suggest?’

  “I think he’ll suggest you go away and see what happens then.’

  ‘But surely it would be easier to ask these people what they’re after now? You notice they keep a good distance away-—as if there might be an explosion any moment.’

  Porch wiped his brow.

  ‘I don’t think there’s any danger of that, sir.’

  Richard suddenly waved his fists and shouted.

  ‘I’ve had enough!’ he bawled and rushed past Porch and out of the door. Vaguely he heard Porch shouting behind him, but he put on all possible speed and ran out of the gate and into the lane. He was determined to let no fear or nightmare vision stop him a second time.

  He ran down the lane towards the staring crowd. As he went, heads turned, bodies began to swing, then push and shove and break through and suddenly Richard heard shouting—even screaming—on the summer air.

  The crowd broke and began to run back dropping papers, cameras, sunglasses, hats, handkerchiefs and cigarettes as they went. It became a weird panorama of twisting backs and boot soles flashing amongst the rising dust.

  Richard stopped, aghast for a second time. Now and again faces, distorted with fear and apprehension, appeared over the rolling shoulders of the retreating mob, but vanished again to put on more steam to the flight.

  ‘Great crummy fish!’ Richard gasped as he bestrode the lane, breathing hard from the running. ‘This gets madder! ’

  On the hedges either side of him he could see scattered figures in the fields withdrawing cautiously and fanning out towards the road. Ahead of him the crowd scattered in the dust, slowing as they saw he had stopped.

  Porch came running up behind Richard.

  ‘Do you see that?’ Richard said. ‘The nightmare reversed, but still a nightmare.’

  The heat in the lane was trapped between the hedges and made his head feel thick and hot. Porch looked at the debris dropped in the panic flight.

  ‘Do they think I’m contagious?’ Richard said. ‘Did you see them run?’

  ‘It’s the queerest lot I’ve ever had,’ said Porch. ‘It don’t seem to make any sense any way up!”

  Richard went forward and picked up one of the folded newspapers. He ran through it quickly, scanning the heads, but there was nothing remotely connecting to the place, let alone himself.

  He tried another, still without result.

  ‘Which leaves only the News we haven’t seen,’ he said. He looked to where the strangers stood staring back at him. He looked at the scattered cameras, hats, cigarettes and other impedimenta.

  ‘Why don’t you go and ask them now?’ Richard said. ‘Obviously I won’t get near.’

  ‘I must get my helmet,’ said Porch. He looked surprised.

  ‘What’s the matter—more than we know already?’ Richard asked.

  ‘About Mrs Baynes,’ said Porch.

  ‘Boy, are you a one-tracker I’ Richard said, with some admiration.

  ‘The light she left on,’ said Porch. ‘There was a failure in the night all over this area. It could have been she went back, found the lights off and they came on again some time when she didn’t notice it.’

  ‘Which would leave me out as the abductor, or whatever I am,’ said Richard and then the nightmare angle of the hot, dusty lane switched suddenly to another. For a moment the shock of it was shattering, real, terrifying, because in the strange atmosphere of that day, anything was credible. ‘You don’t think I murdered her?’

  Porch looked at him and shook his head slowly.

  ‘What on earth would you do that for?’ said Porch.

  ‘Not even a No,’ said Richard, staring. ‘So you have thought of it!’ He turned and began to walk back towards the house. ‘It’s a dream. It must be. Thing after Thing! The hell with it! ’ A cold fear swept through him and his feet dragged to a halt.

  He could remember nothing at all of the previous night. Was it possible that something awful had happened? Had the period of blankness been a brief madness? What had he done? Why had he walked away with Barbara? Good God! Surely—

  Full horror was seeping through the dream sequence. He looked back. Some of the watchers had started to come down the lane again to pick up their belongings, but stopped as they saw him look round.

  ‘I know you haven’t done anything, sir,’ Porch said.

  Richard heard the voice only as a disembodied sound at the back of the dream.

  It went on: ‘There isn’t any reason. She probably went away. You know she’s been very
, sort of, tetchy since that husband of hers ran off like he did. That sort of don’t- care-a-damn-act—and it’s worrying to watch. You know something’s going to happen. I’d sooner somebody kicked tip hell and then settled down again. Them suffering in silence often bust out, and you don’t know what to expect next. She might just have walked down the street with you for a breath of air. Sort of felt things closing in on her. Women get like that. My wife goes off all of a sudden and says nothing to nobody. I got worried to start with, but one of our chaps spotted her. Do you know where she went? She just went and sat in the Museum. Hours just sitting there. Said she was unwinding. Tried it myself after, but I found myself watching the people all the time. I couldn’t separate.’

  Richard was staring at the dusty ground as he trudged on by the policeman’s side. Then he stopped.

  ‘Look at all those dead spiders,’ he said. ‘On the edge there. Like ants, of course. Ask Ellen. When you see one you suddenly see one thousand.’

  ‘It’s all them sprays they’re using,’ said Porch. ‘Just kills everything. Birds, animals, people soon, I suppose. They have to make it stronger every time because the insects get used to the one before. Well, what’s going to happen in the end? Birds, dogs, cats, horses, sheep—what’s left but people? They’re the next on, aren’t they?’ He was grumbling along on a pet grouse, hiding what he was thinking about Richard.

  Richard looked up from the phenomenon of the dead spiders, a faint idea moving in his head that he knew why they were there. It was driven out by the realisation of Porch’s fixed track mind.

  Porch thought he might have killed Barbara Baynes.

  And where was Barbara Baynes?

  Could her disappearence have brought this crowd? Was it the link between himself and the watchers? Was Jennifer’s cross joke right? Was he Bluebeard? Had something frightful happened?

  No. The people couldn’t know more than Porch, and Porch didn’t seem to know anything but that she had disappeared.

  He looked at Porch. The man’s brown face and grey eyes began to change, the colour growing paler, the flesh sagging, shadows growing in the cheeks, roundness thinning into hollows. Richard could see the bones through the transparent skin and the eyeballs, lidless now, sank back into their sockets, that grew big as he watched. Suddenly the lips were gone and there was a skull, grinning, with lead stoppings in the teeth, balancing on a spine like a hose-pipe.