Signal Box – Bentley 27

 

[For back story go here: Story so far at 17 Sept 2020 and more recent episodes including this one.]

[Relevant back story also in embedded links.]

Before even daring to plan his next adventure, Bentley needed to confirm he wasn’t about to bark up the wrong tree. While Lawrence’s promise that he’d be in touch had not materialised, Bentley thought he might test the other promise made by his son – namely that the flat would be watched. Rewardingly he discovered that his house was indeed being watched when his action brought his son to his door within two hours.

“So, you finally decided to say hello,” observed Bentley.

“I couldn't exactly not,” said Lawrence. “You made it rather obvious you want to talk. Feel free to take the sign down whenever.”

“You still in the police?” asked Bentley.

“Yep,” said Lawrence.

“Whatever,” said Bentley, not believing him for a second.

“So here’s the thing,” he said. “I’ve been told if I can find the ring I gave to Shiela, Aston and Jaggers will let me off.”

“Jaggers?” said Lawrence. 

"He has been called," said Bentley. "Apparently."

“Why does they want the ring?”

Bentley shrugged. “Sentimental reasons.”

“But you don’t have it, do you?” 

“Absolutely not, what about you?”

“Nope. Never touched it.”

“I don't think that’s true,” said Bentley. “I have a hunch you know where it might have headed at least.”

Lawrence shifted slightly on his feet. His eyes flicked a little. Bentley knew when to put the pressure on.

“Yeah, you do. Of course you do. North. York to be precise, right?”

“Honestly dad…”

“Yes or no?” asked Bentley.

“I never took the ring.”

“You never called me dad until just now.”

Lawrence shifted again. A crackle of static came from inside his jacket.

“And you’re wired,” observed Bentley.

“It’s the radio – standard issue radio,” said Lawrence. “We all have them…. Dad. Honestly, I thought you’d be proud of me becoming something like this and instead you’re just still suspicious of me. It’s like you can’t conceive of me ever doing anything good or right or…”

“I can conceive of you doing the right thing,” said Bentley. “But the issue is, the right thing for who? You doing the right thing for you might mean doing the right thing for someone else. Not me. Definitely not me. Right? Son?”

Lawrence was clearly weighing up his options. His mind seemed to be going over a number of possible scenarios, playing out a few ideas and approaches. Certainly there was no way this was a straight-forward decision. It was as if he was expecting a different kind of script and was now floundering, unable to find the right words to say that would get him back on track.

“It’s OK,” said Bentley gently, and from the hall table he lifted an A4 note pad. He flicked open the first page and held it up for Lawrence to see.

Written across the first page was: ‘Just nod your head for yes.’ And Bentley turned to the next page.

‘Are they listening?’ – Lawrence hesitated, and then nodded.

“Honestly, Lawrence, why did I even bother calling you up here? If you’re not going to tell me anything?”

“I am being as honest as I can be,” said Lawrence, finding his voice. “Really. I’m being straight with you.”

Bentley flipped to the next page: 'Did you take the ring north?’ – Lawrence hesitated and then nodded.

“Next page: ‘York?’ – Lawrence nodded.

“Maybe in the future I’ll be able to trust you,” said Bentley putting an edge to his voice. “But not now. Am I clear? I need evidence that you’re on my side.”

“I am on your side,” protested Lawrence.

Next page: 'Are you working for Aston?' – Lawrence hesitated. But this time he shrugged his shoulders. Bentley put the note pad down.

“That remains to be seen,” said Bentley. “You go and do what you need to do, and I’m sure we’ll be in touch before too long.”

“OK, dad,” said Lawrence. “Thanks.”

Bentley closed the door and looked out his living room window as Lawrence retreated along the walkway. Whoever Lawrence was with, police, Aston or someone else, he was in deep.

Despite this Bentley was satisfied. Lawrence had taken the ring and it had gone North. York was beckoning him, but it was debatable as to whether he could travel there before it became illegal.

Even so there was a sense of achievement for him as he took down the improvised ‘Call Me’ sign painted on one of his bed sheets, from off the balcony.