Graven Image (9 page)

‘Of course, it’s preferable in a controlled, safe environment, but not essential. This is your destiny, Leon. Go to Graven.’

‘What?’

‘Go to him. Face him. Confront him. Accept him.’

‘Graven?’

‘Of course. Who else?’

‘What, you mean... You know Graven?’

The doc realised he was leaning in too close to me and sat back, trying to relax a bit. Any second now he’d cross his legs. All part of the show, trying to make it look like he was calm and in control.

He crossed his legs.

‘I have met Graven, yes,’ he said.

‘He’s a bastard! Did you tell him he’s a fucking bastard?’

‘That is not for me to say, Leon. If you feel that way, you should tell him yourself.’

‘Did... Did you bring him here? Did you tell him to prance around over there like he owns the fucking place?’

‘Graven is always here. This is where he lives. Remember?’

‘But...’

‘You need to make peace with him, Leon. Find a way to accept what he is and what he has done. Only then can you move on.’

I looked at Graven. Didn’t look like he’d seen me yet. He’d stopped strolling and was crouched down in front of a headstone, reading it. His back was turned to me.

I looked at the doc. He smiled and nodded. I think he might have spoken but I couldn’t hear it any more. My head was full of sound, howling voices and clattering metal. I was confused and excited, elated even. It was like I’d been set up on one of those TV prank shows, but the host had revealed himself beforehand and wanted me to go ahead and walk on, knowing full well it was a trap.

Alright, I said. I’ll do it.

Because I was one step ahead, wasn’t I?

I went to Graven.

The doc meant well, I knew that. I’d tried going along with his synthesis thing but it didn’t work. I knew it could never work as soon as he’d said it involved coming to terms with things. Some things you can never come to terms with. Some things you just have to fight. To the death.

As I walked I could see figures in the trees, darting around a lot faster than people normally do in cemeteries. I was sure some of them were watching me, but I didn’t care. I was up for it now. Graven was right there, only yards away. I’d found him. He was going to tell me where Kelly was. I was going to beat it out of him.

Only feet away now. I opened my mouth to shout his name but it didn’t seem right. He’d gone beyond that. I’d kick him. I’d run right up and aim a boot up his arse. I started positioning myself to do that when he got up and stepped to one side, facing me.

He’d been waiting.

I knew it from his eyes.

All of this, everything was planned.

He waved one hand at the headstone, compelling me to read it.

I tried not to. Why should I do what that bastard tells me? But I couldn’t fight it. He always got his own way. I looked at the headstone.

KELLY ROSE GRAVEN

BELOVED DAUGHTER OF

CARLA JANE GRAVEN

“SAPPHIRES IN THE DESERT”

‘They left my name off,’ he said after a while. ‘I can’t accept that. She was my daughter too, not just hers.’

He looked at me.

‘Fix it, will you?’

I stared at him, trying to burn holes in his brown skin, praying for that mole on his left cheekbone to burst open, all of his lifeblood pouring out and quenching this sacred ground. But I couldn’t seem to make that happen.

I couldn’t do anything.

‘Put it on,’ he said again. ‘Write our name.’

I got out the bag of stuff from the corner shop. I rummaged in it for the marker pen and knelt in front of the headstone, ready to write. I couldn’t stop myself.

He was stronger than me.

‘Synthesis, Leon!’ the doc was shouting far behind me. I could barely hear him. At least two helicopters were hovering above me. ‘Synthesis!’

Still banging on about it, even now. He thought he knew the truth, that this brothel bouncer stuff was all a fantasy based on that film I’d seen on telly in the rec room, that I’d split myself into two: the knight and the dragon. Yeah, that was all true, but it was only half of it. The other half was that I knew it. I was fully aware of the game I was playing in my head. But there was no other way. This was the only way to slay my dragon. As long as I went through with it.

I dropped the pen and sprayed lighter fluid all over Graven.

The men were coming out of hiding now, running towards me. Some were holding walkie-talkies to their faces, others pointing guns at me. All of them were coppers.

The only thing left in the bag was a box of matches. I lit the whole lot and dropped it on Graven.

I crumpled alone onto Kelly’s grave, paying for what I’d done like that man in the stained glass. The last thing I saw before the flames took me was the name I’d just added to the headstone, before the epitaph:

AND LEON GRAVEN

This picture is from a stained glass in Worcester Cathedral, and shows some luckless bishop burning for his beliefs, dying with a quiet dignity that both impresses and appals. I was looking at it when I had the idea for this book. Suddenly it wasn't me looking up at this grim scene, but a new character. And straight away I knew everything about him - his name was Leon, he was involved in the seedy side of commerce, he thought he went about his life the right way, he was black, he had a daughter. Also the premise - he was in trouble for some act that he felt was fully justified. And like the man in the stained glass, Leon knew he would have to pay.
Sometimes this can happen - a fully fleshed character and situation falls into your lap. It's not often that I get the opportunity to start writing an idea straight away, but this time I did. I wanted to find out what was going to happen to him, and what had happened already. Maybe that sounds strange, if we take it that the author is in control and can manipulate each character like a puppet master. But sometimes it's better to just see what happens, to keep digging and unpeeling those layers. I also knew from the start that Leon was going to end up like this stained glass bishop, paying the ultimate price, but I needed to know why. And would he bear it with this same quiet dignity?
Charlie Williams was born in Worcester, England. He wrote the books Deadfolk, Booze and Burn, King of the Road and One Dead Hen - all featuring off-the-rails nightclub doorman Royston Blake - and Stairway to Hell, about a pub singer who finds out that his soul was switched at birth with that of David Bowie... by Jimmy Page. Many of his short stories have appeared in magazines and anthologies. In 2008 the short film Ark, written by Charlie, screened at festivals globally including Cannes. He lives near Worcester with his wife, children, cats, dogs and a giant African land snail called Ryan.
Deadfolk
"The more politically correct among you can read this as social comment, the rest can just enjoy the ride"
- The Guardian
Deadfolk at Amazon UK
Deadfolk at Amazon US
Booze and Burn
"Anyone who's ever grown up and put up with the rude boys, growlers and thugs of a crappy, rain-soaked market town in the middle of nowhere, will no doubt fall in love with this all-too-fictional nonfiction"
- FRONT magazine
Booze and Burn at Amazon UK
Booze and Burn at Amazon US
King of the Road
"Royston Blake is a boastful, aggressive, foul-mouthed, psychopathic hard-man of the utmost political incorrectness, a failure at everything he does but an indomitable believer in his own cleverness and sex appeal. Why, then — this is a great mystery — is it so enjoyable to read about him?"
- The Times
King of the Road at Amazon UK
King of the Road at Amazon US
One Dead Hen
"An excellent book... one of the most challenging social commentaries you are likely to read this year"
- The Guardian
One Dead Hen at Amazon UK
One Dead Hen at Amazon US
Stairway to Hell
"Brilliant... at once pathetic, tragic and wonderfully entertaining"
-The Guardian
Stairway to Hell at Amazon UK
Stairway to Hell at Amazon US