Page 55 of The Cut
‘I warned you about overstepping the line with my kids.’ Ben’s voice tightened to a whisper. ‘I’m going to pull them from your damned film.’
Karine breathed in the cool morning air. ‘And I will sue you … It’s all there in the contract you so diligently pressed for, Ben. Plus,211of course, you would need to repay all their fees, plus bond and damages for shutting down a studio feature. Do you have any idea—’
‘Why are you doing this?’ Ben cut her off.
‘Oh, come on, Ben, you’re getting all caught up in the drama.’ Karine turned her body towards the house. ‘Which is maybe not such a bad thing.’ She moved past him and began to walk back.
‘Wait, I haven’t finished. I was there, I saw what you did. The dodgems … the fairground set-up.’
Karine stopped and turned back.
‘I followed you.’ He hadn’t intended to tell her that. Now he was the one who was being subversive. Neither of them spoke for a second.
‘Hmm … so you’re curious?’
‘I know what you’re doing. You’re not the first person who has come sniffing around these parts, trying to rake up the past. Books have been written, documentaries … you have no shame, do you? Anything for a quick buck. People just want to be left alone.’
Karine shook her head. ‘It’s always like this, Ben. Everyone always thinks the story is about them …’ She winced sympathetically. ‘But that’s what I do, I get under the skin.’
It was as if he were reliving the moment; it was as if she had been there, in every recurring nightmare that had haunted him over the years. A sharp pain jolted in Ben’s chest, tighter than ever. He flinched.
Karine turned and smiled at him. She could see the effect she was having on him.
‘Filmmakers are the truth tellers … you’ll see.’212
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38
MAY 1994
Annie stands outside the Knots’ house under the newly planted oak tree on the grass verge. The bare patches of earth where they’d dug small holes to play marbles in the spring are starting to grow new green shoots. She’s perched on the faded road sign, bolted to two low concrete posts, that indicates the way to the council estate of Barton Rise. This is where they’d had their first kiss. She’d never done open mouths before; it had felt like two goldfish gasping for air. Their lives will never be like this again. After the summer holidays, they’ll all be going their separate ways. Sixth-form college, or work experience stacking shelves in a shop somewhere. Ben will most likely sign up for an apprenticeship; there is a local mechanic that will take him on. Annie wants to spend the summer in London; she’s been accepted on a summer course at Central Saint Martins school of fashion and design, the beginning of a dream. The dream of getting out of her small town and making something of herself is very much alive. But what about the two of them? Where do they go from here? She inhales deeply, strides across the green and rings the doorbell. There’s no answer at the front door so she crouches down and calls through the letter box.
‘Ben … it’s me. It’s Annie.’ The kitchen door is closed but she can see movement through the fluted glass door. He’s definitely in there. ‘I’m sorry we haven’t spoken since the Wakes. Can I come in?’
Annie drops the letter box and sits on the doorstep with her head on her knees. She should probably go home, it’s getting late and she has revision to do. Exams start next week.214
‘Annie?’ She turns to see Ben in the open door, bare feet and tracksuit bottoms. His shirt is filthy and his hair is a mess. ‘You better come in.’
The house stinks, like someone died in here. They don’t have any pets, but the aroma of urine is pungent. Newspapers are piled up on the hall carpet and letters are spilling over the telephone table. Annie closes the front door behind her as Ben heads into the kitchen at the back. As she passes the living room, she notices the stale stench has been masked with the smell of pine disinfectant. An empty hospital bed is parked in the centre of the room, with yellow sheets and plastic buckets of God knows what underneath. A commode and a small table loaded with pill bottles and a jug of stagnant water stand next to the bed. The couch in the corner has a rumpled-up sleeping bag and a pillow in a case that clearly needs a wash.
‘You want a tea?’ Ben calls from the kitchen, his voice flat with exhaustion. Annie places her bag in the corner of the hall and braces herself, trying to muster some courage.
‘Come on, he won’t bite, he’s out for the count anyway.’ The kettle in the kitchen begins to whistle as Annie tentatively steps into the room. The kitchen hasn’t been updated since the fifties; lurid yellow and green flower-patterned wallpaper and aquablue cabinets, a Belfast sink in the corner and a stove that has seen better days. An electric fire is plugged in with a few bars on, despite the fact May has been pretty warm this year, but it’s more for visual comfort than any withering heat it might emit. A wing chair with an old brown stretch cover has its back to the door. As she moves into the room, Annie can see a pale-blue, bony hand on the arm of the chair. Ben dunks two tea bags into hot water.
‘It’s OK, he’s asleep, I gave him the morphine.’215
As Annie rounds the chair, she can see what remains of Ben’s father. It’s hard not to show a reaction when faced with such a shocking transformation. Anthony Knot is hanging on to life by a thread. His sunken cheeks and hollowed-out eyes, open mouth and head tipped back give the impression of a man in a scream of ecstasy. His breathing is terrifyingly shallow; yellow fingernails hold on tight to the wooden arm of the chair with the only strength he has left. For a second, a rheumy eye splits open and he expels the faintest croak of breath that smells like yeast from the black interior of his mouth.
‘It’s Annie, Dad. She’s come to see you.’ Ben pops the tea on the table, along with a plate of biscuits.
She can hardly speak. What can she possibly say? Without thinking, she kisses Mr Knot’s head. His fingers grasp hers lightly for a second, like a baby finding its first grip.
She picks up her tea and takes a sip, staring into Ben’s eyes. ‘Are you getting any help?’
‘District nurse comes in in the morning after I go to school, but that’s just to make sure I’m not stealing his drugs.’ Ben stuffs a biscuit into his mouth.
Annie lowers her voice. ‘He needs to go to the hospice, Ben. You can’t do all this alone.’
