Weaveworld

VII

THE AFTERMATH

1

nce the dust had begun to settle, it was possible to assess the extent of the devastation. The garden had been turned upside down, of course, as had all the other gardens along the row; there were dozens of slates missing from the roof, and the chimney stack looked less than secure. The wind had been equally lethal at the front of the house. All along the street havoc had been wreaked: lamps toppled, walls demolished, car windows smashed by flying trash. Mercifully there seemed to be no serious casualties; just cuts, bruises and shock. Lilia – of whom no sign remained – was the only fatality.

‘That was Immacolata’s creature,’ Nimrod said. ‘I’ll kill her for that. I swear I will.’

The threat sounded doubly hollow coming from his diminutive body.

‘What’s the use?’ said Cal despondently. He was watching through the front window as the occupants of Chariot Street wandered around in a daze, some staring at the wreckage, others squinting up at the sky as if expecting some explanation to be written there.

‘We won a substantial victory this afternoon, Mr Mooney –’ said Frederick. ‘Don’t you understand that? And it was your doing.’

‘Some victory,’ said Cal, bitterly. ‘My Dad sitting next door not saying a word; Lilia dead, half the street torn apart –’

‘We’ll light again.’ said Freddy, ‘until the Fugue’s safe.’

‘Fight, will we?’ said Nimrod. ‘And where were you when the shit was flying?’

Cammell was about to protest, then thought better of it, letting silence confess his cowardice.

Two ambulances and several police cars had arrived at the far end of Chariot Street. Hearing the sirens, Nimrod joined Cal at the window.

‘Uniforms,’ he muttered. ‘They always mean trouble.’

As he spoke the door of the lead police car swung open, and a sober-suited man stepped out, smoothing his thinning hair back with the palm of his hand. Cal knew the fellow’s face – his eyes so ringed with shadow he seemed not to have slept in years – but, as ever, he could put no name to it.

‘We should get gone,’ said Nimrod. ‘They’ll want to talk with us –’

Already a dozen uniformed police were fanning out amongst the houses to begin their enquiries. What would his fellow Charioteers have to report, Cal wondered. Had they glimpsed anything of the creature that had killed Lilia, and if so, would they admit to it?

‘I can’t go,’ said Cal. ‘I can’t leave Dad.’

‘You think they won’t sniff a rat if they speak to you?’ said Nimrod. ‘Don’t be an imbecile. Let your father tell them all he has to tell. They won’t believe it.’

Cal saw the sense in this, but he was still reluctant to leave Brendan alone.

‘What happened to Suzanna and the others?’ asked Cammell, as Cal turned the problem over.

‘They went back to the warehouse to see if they could trace Shadwell from there,’ said Freddy.

‘Isn’t likely, is it?’ said Cal.

‘It worked for Lilia,’ said Freddy.

‘You mean you know where the carpet is?’

‘Almost. She and I went back to the Laschenski house, you see, to take bearings from there. She said the echoes were very strong.’

‘Echoes?’

‘Back from where the carpet now is, to where it had been.’

Freddy fished in his pocket and brought out three shiny new paperbacks, one of which was a Liverpool and District Alias. The others were murder mysteries. ‘I borrowed these from a confectioner’s,’ he said, ‘to trace the carpet.’

‘But you didn’t succeed,’ said Cal.

‘As I said, almost. We were interrupted when she felt the presence of that thing that killed her.’

‘She was always acute,’ said Nimrod.

‘That she was,’ Freddy replied. ‘As soon as she sniffed the beast on the wind she forgot about the carpet. Demanded we came to warn you. That was our error. We should have stayed put.’

‘Then it would have picked us off one by one,’ said Nimrod.

‘I hope to God it didn’t go after the others first,’ said Cal.

‘No. They’re alive,’ said Freddy. ‘We’d feel it if they weren’t.’

‘He’s right,’ said Nimrod. ‘We can pick up their trail easily. But we have to go now. Once the uniforms get here we’re trapped.’

‘All right, I heard you first time,’ said Cal. ‘Let me just say goodbye to Dad.’

He went next door. Brendan hadn’t moved since Cal had settled him in the chair.

‘Dad … can you hear me?’

Brendan looked up from his sorrows.

‘Haven’t seen a wind like that since the war,’ he said. ‘Out in Malaya. Saw whole houses blown down. Didn’t think to see it here.’

He spoke distractedly, his gaze on the empty wall.

‘The police are in the street,’ said Cal.

‘At least the loft’s still standing, eh,’ Brendan said. ‘A wind like that …’ his voice faded. Then he said: ‘Will they come here? The police?’

‘I would think so, Dad. Are you all right to speak to them? I have to go.’

‘Of course you do,’ Brendan murmured. ‘You go on.’

‘Do you mind if I take the car?’

‘Take it. I can tell them –’ Again, he halted, before picking up his thoughts. ‘Haven’t seen a wind like that since … oh, since the war.’