Page 68 of A Face in the Crowd
‘Of course it’s not the lizard thing,’ he replies – as ifI’mthe one spouting conspiracy theories. He digs into an inside pocket and pulls out a card that he thrusts towards me. I take it, largely through politeness. ‘Contact me if you want to talk like a rational human being,’ he says. ‘My phone and email is on there – but don’t use those. They can watch that. Use Signal.’
I start to ask what Signal is and then stop myself, not wanting to know. I definitely won’t be contacting him.
‘My website’s on there, too,’ he says. ‘If your mind isn’t completely closed, have a look.’
‘I will,’ I say, not meaning it.
It seems to take him by surprise because he stops flapping and straightens his jacket instead.
‘Oh,’ he says.
‘Is that it?’ I ask.
‘Check the website,’ he replies. ‘There’s so much more.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
Curiosity got the better of me. If there was one thing about which Steven was correct, it is that there is definitely ‘so much more’ on his website. It’s a wacky mess of bright colours and flashing slogans. It’s hard not to wonder if I’m going to end up on some government watch list simply for browsing it. There are theories about everything from the existence of the Loch Ness Monster (an alien) to whyCoronation Streetis on so often (brainwashing through subliminal messages).
The section on the train crash is largely what Steven told me. Something to do with a Russian spy, MI5, Venezuela… and plenty more. There are grainy freeze-frames of overseas news broadcasts that are thrown up as ‘proof’, even though it’s impossible to make out what anything is. I scan for my name but, thankfully, there’s no sign. None of the victims are named and it’s hard to tell why Steven thinks now is the best time to bring everything up. I can only imagine it’s because of the anniversary.
There are articles about the ‘big ones’ – the moon landings, 9/11, JFK, and so on. The general conclusion seems to be that it was all faked by the government illuminati. I was aware of this corner of the internet – but had never done much exploring. I wish I’d maintained that record.
I’m distracted by a knock at the door. It’s Nick with Judge at his side. He offers a knowing smile.
‘Sorry about earlier,’ he says. ‘I don’t know what came over me. I think it was the thought of someone wanting to hurt Judge.’
The dog has scampered past me and is egging on Billy to get up to no good. There doesn’t seem to be a lot wrong with either of them now as they twist in circles, sniffing one another’s backsides.
‘Do you want to sit in together?’ he adds, nodding towards the window. ‘I think it’s going to be a noisy one tonight.’
It seems like a far more appealing thing to do than continue to browse conspiracy theories, so it’s an easy choice. The hall is silent as I follow Nick back to his apartment; the two dogs in pursuit. His flat is the same size as mine but filled with an array of throws, quilts and carpets. It’s like a market stall of Marrakesh – or at least the photos. I’ve never seen the curtains open and the entire space seems to live in permanent murk. Not that the dogs mind. As soon as Nick opens the door, they shoot past us and start playing with the squeaky toys in the corner. Content and occupied, neither seems to notice the booming firework that explodes into the evening sky outside. Bonfire Night is still twenty-four hours away – but the fizzes and bangs tonight won’t be far off tomorrow’s total.
Nick offers me a drink, either flavoured water, kombucha or some sort of fruity wine. I go for the wine and then, after I’ve shifted a dozen cushions, we settle on the sofa.
‘I still think it was Mark who tried to poison the dogs,’ Nick says.
‘There’s not a lot anyone can do without proof.’
‘Who else would it be? I don’t have any other enemies in the building. Do you?’
I say that I don’t and fail to bring up the new occupant of the flat opposite mine – whoever that may be.
Nick wants to gossip about Jade – and so that’s what we do. I’m not sure if he knew her any better than me, but he does bring up a night the pair of them went drinking together. ‘She was completely ratted,’ he says – but there’s not a lot more information than that. Nobody seems to have a bad word to say about her. That’s always the way, I suppose. Whenever something unexpected happens in a community, it’s either, ‘We never guessed it could have been him’ or ‘Yeah, we all knew he was a lunatic’. There’s never a middle ground.
The dogs start begging to be let into the hallway and it’s clear they’re a bad influence on one another. Nick is staring at his phone but glances up to tell Judge there will be no more excursions around the corridors and it doesn’t seem as if we have any other choice. Someone in the building left meat that was probably poisoned and there’s nothing to stop whoever it was doing the same again.
Nick asks about Karen’s party and seems far more excited than I am. Neither of us are sure if it’s fancy dress, but he says he’s going as a sexy zombie anyway. I don’t ask what that entails.
We chat and laugh as Nick gets gradually tipsier. The dogs need regular assurance that the bangs outside aren’t going to get them and it’s not long before I have Judge and Billy resting themselves across me on the sofa.
We’ve been chatting for a while when Nick’s phone rings. He’s been checking it intermittently and his features darken when he says ‘I’ve got to take this’, before nipping into the corridor. I suddenly get the sense he’s been expecting whoever this is to call through the evening. Part of the reason he’s invited me over is for moral support after whatever happens.
The dogs are both asleep and I’m somewhat trapped, so take out my phone. It’s as I’m reading Harry’s texts that I realise I’m a little tipsy, too. Rather than being a concern, it suddenly feels hilarious that he might be stalking me.
I have a strange sense of self-awareness in that I know it’s a bad idea to contact him and yet the booze on an empty stomach makes me wonder if it is, in fact, a terrific idea. They say there’s a fine line between genius and lunacy and I feel like walking it.
My first message is as direct as can be:
