Of course it couldn't be anything like that or so she hoped.
Teresa had often tried to put herself in the minds of the people in this small town, the sharers of collective grief She knew too well how it felt to suffer an individual loss, but had no idea of how different it would feel to be one of many who survived a massacre. Did it provide more comfort or less, to know you weren't alone? The upheaval, the shock, the sense of betrayal, the guilty feelings of the survivors, the intrusion of the press ... all these were elements of crisis aftermath that were known about and studied by psychologists, but none of their research could explain how it actually felt to be amongst those involved. Before she came to Bulverton, Teresa had thought she might identify with the People here, because of Andy, but the truth was that the
boutiques and craft studios. We want people to bring their kids, so we're going to build an indoor adventure playground, with a gallery where the parents can watch their children and have a few drinks. We're even thinking of putting in a gym, so people can work out before they come in for a drink or a meal. You know the old barn *at the back that Nick and Amy used for storage? We'll convert that. And we're probably going to have an extreme experience facility here as well. 1 was talking to those friends of yours from America. Their company will be franchising ExEx in this country soon, and if 1 move fast we'll be the first private facility on the south coast.'
~ 'You certainly do move fast,' Teresa said, impressed by the man's ambition.
'I've spent all my life in the town, watching this place run slowly into the ground. You know what it's like upstairs: the whole place needs clearing out and starting from scratch. Well, jean and 1 know how to make the place profitable, and we aren't getting any younger, so we're putting everything we've got into this.'
'I guess so.'
Teresa couldn't imagine how much it would cost to undertake a fullscale conversion along the lines he had described, but it must run into millions. Hadn't she seen him running a market stall in the Old Town? That was hardly the sort of enterprise which would develop enough spare capital for an expansion along these lines.
She waited a few minutes longer, but it was clear he couldn't find the hotel records on the computer. It made her impatient, watching him fumble around with simple software, and she knew she wasn't helping by standing over him. She suggested again they could sort out the account later. He seemed relieved to agree.
CHAPTER 32
Thinking about crossover and how to avoid it, Teresa came into a clearing in the trees, where three long wooden tables had been set up. A young woman was sitting at one of the tables, with plastic cups and plates, scraps of food, and several toys spread all about. She was laughing, and her child was running around on the grass, wrapped up in his game.
Teresa retreated as far as she was able, back and back into the recesses of Grove's mind. How could she use his eyes, yet look away?
Grove brought out his handgun from the concealment of his Jacket with a deliberate, wide swinging motion of his hand. He cocked the gun, working the mechanism three or four more times, relishing the sound.
The noise made the woman turn towards him. She saw the gun levelled at her, and panicked.
She shouted in terror to her child, trying to twist round on the heavy log, to get across to the little boy, but she seemed paralysed by her fear. The boy, thinking it was still a game, dashed away from her. The woman's voice became a hoarse roar, then, after she had sucked in her breath, she was incapable of further sound.
Teresa thought, Grove has never handled this gun before!
He was holding it onehanded, like an untrained beginner. She corrected him instinctively.
She steadied his gunhand by gripping his wrist with his free hand, she forced him to alm a little low, to allow for the recoil, and
she made him relax his trigger finger, made him squeeze the trigger, not jerk it.
As the woman at last scrambled away from the log, Grove shot her in the head, then turned his gun on the child.
She was back in the stolen car, with the gun hot on the seat beside her. Teresa's mind was racing defensively: It's only a scenario! lt was real but it's not real now, it happened before, the woman knew nothing, there was nothing I could do to stop it, 1 must not interfere, Grove must continue, that woman and her child were not hurt, it's all imaginary. They were dead months before 1 came to England; Grove killed them without my assistance.
Yet she knew Grove would almost certainly not have killed them without her intervention.
'Shut that fucking noise!'
In her distress she allowed herself to spread forward in Grove's mind, so she could ride in the forefront of his thoughts, to witness his actions without interference. If she went too far forward she became as one with him, Jointly responsible; too far back and she became detached from his raw motives, and so became capable of influencing him. How to strike a balance between the two?
As Grove drove towards Bulverton, Teresa repeatedly shifted mental position, trying to find the place where she could observe most closely without feeling the pressure against her of that hot breath of banal cruelty.
When she was forward, what appalled her most was his lack of reaction to what he had just done. She was still squirming in horror at what she had witnessed, but Grove was complaining to himself. he'd stolen the wrong car, a pile of shit, fucking exhaust making a lot of fucking noise, the only money he had was the forty quid he'd nicked but he didn't want to spend that because he was going to celebrate
later. Where's that bitch Debra? Bet that Mark shafted her last night, the bastard, need more money, should have looked through that woman's bag ...
ill trying to settle somewhere in his mind
Teresa was st' when he slowed the car and swung lt on to the forecourt of a Texaco filling station. Another car was leaving, waiting with its nose out in the main road, indicating left.
The driver
glanced up at Grove as he passed.
Grove stopped the Montego at an angle across the pumps, making lt difficult for any other car to drive in from that direction, then picked up the handgun and walked across to the shop.
A young woman with dark hair Margaret Lee, who had refused to be interviewed by Teresa was sitting alone at the tin, skimming through a magazine spread on the counter in front of her. She looked up as Grove strode towards her between the racks of magazines and bars of chocolate, and saw the gun at once.
After a moment of uncertainty, she leapt back from the counter, one arm flailing in the air. In the same instant, a grey metal security barrier came rattling noisily down from the ceiling and crashed on to the surface of the counter. Several small items stacked there display cards with special offers, airmile vouchers, a box of ballpoints scattered across the floor as they were dislodged.
Teresa felt Grove's anger rising, and he fired the gun several times at the barrier. The bullets made visible dents, lodging in the mesh surface without penetrating. Grove raced across to the barrier and bashed it with his elbow. lt hardly budged.
There was a large notice printed in the centre of the barrier, which Grove scarcely glanced at, but which Teresa could read.
This security barrier is bulletproof, fireproof and
soundproof
IT CANNOT BE REOPENED BY THE STAFF
Do not attempt to force it
An automatic alarm message has been sent to emergency