Black Chalk

‘Come on, Jack,’ said Dee. ‘You’re right, but come on. Look,’ she pointed to the admission sign, ‘it costs less to go into the grounds only, we don’t have to do the whole house tour thing. Chad can pay for your ticket and you can buy him a pint later on.’

Jolyon lay his arm across Jack’s shoulder and led him slowly toward the gate. ‘It’s a good compromise, Jack,’ he said. ‘And we can piss in their lake when we’re done.’

As they walked toward the entrance, Emilia in front and Chad nearby, the peloton formed again. The brooding young turks, their smoke around them like dust.

Chad handed over his money, two for grounds only, and waited for Jack. He would have liked to have gone into the house. Chad had never been inside a palace before.

XLVI(ii)

Emilia and Chad crossed an arched stone bridge over a lake that Jack had chosen as his line in the sand. He and Jolyon and Dee lay on the picnic blanket by the water’s edge, into the wine already.

Emilia told Chad some of the history of the place as they walked, the rush of her voice outpacing any awkwardness there might have been. A rapid history repeating. Dukes and scandals and heroes, scandals and heroes and dukes.

Atop a gentle rise sat the vast palace, an ornamented pile unsure if it was castle or palace or Roman temple. Gilded and pillared and with towers and balustrades.

Emilia’s tale was hovering on the brink of the twentieth century, a loveless marriage, the fortune returned to the bankrupt family. And it was then that she began to cry. Chad turned and she snuffled back tears, wiped her cheeks and apologised.

‘There’s nothing to be sorry about,’ said Chad.

‘I just wanted us to do something fun together,’ said Emilia. ‘We used to have fun, didn’t we?’

‘We still do.’

‘You might be in love with this game, Chad, but I’m not. I hate it.’

‘Then why don’t you just leave?’

‘And when would I see everyone? We’ve lost Mark already. You’d all be off in secret, no visitors allowed.’

‘You mean when would you see Jolyon,’ said Chad.

‘No, Chad, I don’t mean just Jolyon. I mean all of you. Even Jack. Though I could quite happily punch him in the bloody face today.’

They could see Middle now, he was sitting on a bench staring vaguely toward them. Emilia waved but Middle didn’t respond.

‘Don’t tell the others I cried,’ said Emilia. ‘Specially not Jack.’

‘Of course not,’ said Chad.

They continued in silence. Middle seemed not to notice them until they were close enough to startle him and his stare dissolved upon them with a twitch. ‘Right then,’ he said, ‘well, I only came along because there’s something very important I need to say to you.’ Middle stood up and straightened his jacket, as if Emilia and Chad were a large crowd and he had to give a speech. ‘Here’s the thing then,’ he said. ‘I’m quitting, so, yes, I’m leaving right now.’ Middle closed his eyes as if he might be imagining palm trees and the purest blue skies. ‘I’ll let them know myself, Tallest and Shortest, don’t worry. Long-distance phone call,’ he smiled. ‘They can try to do whatever they like with me. But that’s it as far as I’m concerned.’

‘Right,’ said Chad, looking at Emilia uncertainly.

‘I wanted to tell you in person,’ said Middle, and then he snorted. ‘Well, actually, I always wanted to take a tour of the house,’ he said. ‘It has quite the history, you know.’

‘Emilia was just telling me the same thing,’ said Chad.

Middle beamed generously at Emilia. ‘Well, this is goodbye then,’ he said. He started to head toward the house but then, hesitating, turned back to face them. ‘Actually, there was something else I came here to say.’ He looked around suspiciously. ‘I know you wonder who we are – Game Soc, I mean. But that’s really missing the point. The point, the thing that actually matters, is what we represent. And I don’t have an answer for that.’

‘Very enlightening,’ said Chad, ‘thanks for the riddle.’

Middle’s head twitched like a bird of prey. ‘All right then,’ he said, ‘so it’s possible that you might be told certain things. And I don’t mean things about Game Soc but something larger than that. Much larger. But I don’t know if it’s all just ghost stories. So what am I supposed to do? Perhaps it’s just meant to scare me into carrying on.’