A Trip Out – Bentley 5

[For back story see lower numbers in archive]

The air was cleaner today. The light brighter. The clouds that drifted over the blue were not in the least bit threatening and for Bentley it filled him with a sense of life, a sense of the world still being there outside his front door. Of course, this all came with the thrill of knowing that a man of his age and health (nasty cough but had it for ages so couldn’t be anything) might not actually be allowed out, but he wasn’t altogether certain of that. No one had stopped him or commented. They’d all given him a wide berth as they scampered off in their own directions.

And when he met Darren they kept the statutory two metres apart. They were in an open space. Darren wasn’t from his household so they both thought that the right boxes had been ticked and all was well.

“So why do you want me to do this?” asked Darren.

“I’m… concerned.”

“He’s old enough to lead him own life. Be his own person. From what you’ve said he very much wants to be his own person too.”

“I know that but… I’ve had phone calls,” said Bentley. “Concerning ones and…”

“It can cost a bit of money to do this kind of thing, you know?” 

“I have money. Don’t worry about that.”

“You might want to set a limit. Time, money, whatever. You don’t want me to just go off from here with a blank cheque so to speak.”

Bentley sighed. Deep down he still wasn’t that sure what he wanted. More phone calls had come in over the past week. Repeated phone calls. Sheila increasingly concerned, not because she’d heard anything else from Lawrence, but because she hadn’t. 

“What if something’s happened to him?” she said.

“Oh, I’m sure something has happened to him,” said Bentley, in a way that on reflection wasn’t terribly reassuring. “The question is what exactly that something is and whether it’s good or bad.”

Yes, on reflection he’d deserved the earful he got from his ex-wife for that. Sheila didn’t want to live in this uncertainty. Times were uncertain enough without having a loose canon of a son dodging around the south of England with the potential of suddenly blowing up and dragging her and her new partner into God knows what.

Bentley agreed that there would be some positives to be gained from understanding exactly what was going on. And at a time like this if he ended up in prison or hospital it would at least be good to know which it was. And at a time like this maybe it was an opportunity to try and bring people together, to knit back together the fabric of their family and make it anew. Or if they knew he was safe and secure somewhere they could get on with their own lives without worrying that he was about to disrupt theirs. They were two sides of the same coin – one charitable, one less so, and Bentley didn’t know which side he’d come down on.

“It will also cost more if you want me to use certain, tactics,” said Darren in a measured way.

“Tactics?”

“Techniques,” Darren qualified, but it didn’t make any difference. Bentley knew what he was suggesting and it made him nervous. He got up from the bench and moved away slightly.

“I’m a good man,” he said. “I thought you were above board, it’s not like I’m trying to do anything wrong.”

“I know, I know,” said Darren calmly back peddling. “I just want to be certain of our understanding. It will all be above board. If your son is – difficult to get a hold of – I will let you know and we’ll leave it at that. I won’t take things any further than you want me to.”

They reached an agreement, both in terms of the job and the payment. There was no handshake of course, but while they stood at the correct distance Bentley used his smart phone to sign Darren’s binding consent form.

The air was cleaner today. The light brighter. The clouds that drifted over the blue were not in the least bit threatening for Bentley even though he was watching them as he lay on his back, hoping the pain would go away. 

He didn’t know how he had tripped, or seen what he had tripped over. Oh, if he’d seen it he wouldn’t have tripped of course, he scolded himself. As well as the clouds, if he tilted his head he could see the occasional person scampering off in their own direction. He couldn’t speak yet, but that would come soon. And perhaps the woman standing over two metres away from him with her mobile phone to her ear, sounding concerned, was phoning an ambulance.