The Dwarves of Death

Fade

If you leave the main road as it curves around The Fox House pub, and head downhill, through the woods, you soon come to a wide, fast-moving stream. It can be crossed at various points. There are stepping stones, for the agile, and there are two wooden footbridges; pausing here, you can watch the bubbling water through gaps between the planks. As you walk further down, the terrain becomes wilder. Huge rocks and felled trees lie at the borders of the stream, and just before the path begins to shelve steeply into dense woodland you can turn, and above you is a magnificent ridge; your eye lingers on this bare, sweeping landscape, fixing on the point where the earth gives way to sky and the palest of blues lights up the horizon. There are other walkers about, but it is quiet: you might almost say silent.

‘I love it here,’ said Stacey.

‘It’s beautiful,’ I agreed.

‘Beats London, doesn’t it?’ said Derek.

I squatted down by the edge of the stream, running my fingers through the water. Dew was still thick on the ground and the breeze was heady with the scent of spring.

‘Anything beats London.’

Coming home had been the easiest thing in the world, after all. The first day I felt able to go out again — about a week or two after my return — I had climbed one of Sheffield’s highest hills, watched the whole city as its lights began to spread with the onset of dusk, and it had seemed incredible that I could have lived without the place for so long. It seemed warm and gentle and clean. And I had come to cherish the nearness of the countryside, to spend days retracing all my old walks, finding a new companionship in the dales whose friendship I had once been foolish enough to snub. More often than not, I would take these walks alone; but today I had asked Stacey and Derek to come with me. It was Sunday morning, the first really good Sunday of spring.

I heard her whisper: ‘You don’t have to keep reminding him.’

‘You don’t seem to realize,’ I said, ‘that I’m getting over it.’

‘He’s a tough kid, our William,’ said Derek. He started to climb a tree but got stuck half-way up.

‘Are you going to go down and see Tina soon?’ Stacey asked, taking advantage of his absence.

‘I don’t even have her new address.’

All I knew was that she had moved into a flat somewhere near Wimbledon, sharing with two other women. When Judith had given me this and no other information, I took it to be her way of hinting that I should keep my distance for a while.

‘Don’t feel guilty, William.’

I turned, and she was smiling at me. We stood like that for a while, on opposite sides of the path. Then there was a violent rustle of leaves and Derek jumped down from the tree, landing between us with a strangled cry. Stacey screamed and started laughing.

‘You scared me.’

‘Do you still have nightmares, William?’ Derek asked, as we walked on. He ignored her reproving glances.

‘Now and then.’

‘What would you do,’ he said, ‘if I told you that your worst nightmare was about to come true?’

‘Derek! Shut up!’

I considered: ‘Like what?’

‘They never found them, did they? Either of them.’

‘No.’

‘So Vincent could be… hiding behind that rock. And Karla could be waiting for us at the bottom of the hill.’

‘In theory. What of it?’

He clutched my shoulder with a claw-like hand, and said in a hoarse theatrical whisper: ‘Let me tell you; something worse, something infinitely worse is about to happen.’

I looked blank.

‘Didn’t you read about it in the paper?’

‘What?’

‘There’s a new Andrew Lloyd Webber musical opening in London this month.’

I groaned happily and pushed him away.

‘London’s miles off. I can cope with that.’

Derek took Stacey in his arms. He lifted her into the air and, twirling around, they enjoyed a long and energetic kiss while I studied the lichen formations on a nearby boulder. I suppose in my heart I still hadn’t quite come to terms with it.

‘Derek, will you stop giving William a hard time,’ she said, as he dropped her none too carefully on to the ground.

‘Well, I haven’t forgiven him for losing my bloody record yet.’

‘I told you, I don’t mind,’ I said. For a moment the phrase reminded me of Madeline, but I hastily brushed the memory aside. ‘Anyway, I’m beginning to look on the whole thing as a… learning experience.’

‘You’ve grown up, I can tell you that,’ said Derek. ‘Not your body, unfortunately, but the rest of you has.’

I couldn’t find anything to throw at him so I said: ‘Do you really think so?’

‘Definitely I reckon another fifteen years and you’ll be reaching puberty.’

Even then, all I did was smile. It’s a funny thing, actually, but these days I can’t seem to get enough of being teased.