Squawk Box – Bentley 39

 

[For back story go here: Story so far at 30 Nov 2020 and definitely this one.]

[Relevant back story also in embedded links.]

Lucky the cat was nudging around Bentley’s slippers on the floor. Bentley himself was sat at the dining table, laptop open, pouring over a set of train timetables. His new mobile phone – gifted to him by Sheila – lay on the table beside him, periodically emitting a low buzz and a squawk as either Norman or Sheila herself dropped a message to the other two. Bentley wasn’t entirely sure why they were having to use this particular method of communication, he had thought talking on a three-way call would be fine, but Sheila had muttered something about security and making sure no one over-heard them, either directly or across the ether. This three-way chat app enabled them to see what everyone was saying and then in sixty seconds the text disappeared entirely. For good. It certainly made the content of what was being shared seem important, even if the content did not look like it on the surface.

And Bentley didn’t think anyone would understand what the hell they were doing anyway. He didn’t really understand it himself. Currently it was his job to find the fastest train journeys that would link Brighton to London and then onwards to York. This would have been easy to do except that Shiela had thrown other spanners in the works, demanding that on no account should these journeys be ‘conventional’ or direct. Whoever was going to make these journeys was to do so in a roundabout way, possibly giving the impression of not actually making those journeys at all, but just sight-seeing or enjoying train travel for the sake of it. Bentley understood that impulse all too well, but he also understood that on this occasion this had nothing to do with enjoying travel, it had something to do with the ring. He continued to search for strange connections while popping the occasional chocolate in his mouth (also gifted to him by Shiela).

– Reginald Smith’s Jewellers, Birmingham 6th June, 2019.

Squawked Norman.

– Evidence?

Squawked Sheila.

– Looking for images.

Squawked Norman.

– Do you want to go via Basingstoke?

Squawked Bentley.

– You tell me.

Squawked Sheila.

– It would help if I understood why you wanted to make this journey.

Squawked Bentley.

– It would not. Trust me.

Squawked Shiela.

– It would. Trust me.

Squawked Bentley.

Always the same Shiela, he thought. Had to be in charge, even if it was something he’d arranged she would assume charge of everything. There had been times when he’d arranged family trips out and Shiela, positive about the idea in principle, would gradually work away at it, gradually shaving off the odd corner here and there, putting it into a different context, creating new reasons for the trip until it really wasn’t the voyage he’d intended. They’d still go somewhere, sure, and it was good but it wasn’t what he’d had in mind. This bothered him. If he didn’t even know what he was doing now…

– Philip Threadfalls, Wood Green, London 19th July, 2019. Positive sighting.

Squawked Norman.

– OK.

Squawked Shiela.

– Does Norman understand this?

Squawked Bentley.

– Not entirely.

Squawked Norman.

Beneath his feet the cat miaowed. Bentley ignored it at first but then the mewling became persistent. Sighing he pushed back and looked down to find the cat had her head stuck in one of his slippers. She was reversing as best she could but the footwear had clipped over her ears and was stuck fast.

The app squawked away on the table as Bentley gently freed the creature and put his own foot in the slipper, only to find something there. Taking out his foot a half melted chocolate was now stuck to his sock. He cursed quietly but reflected that at least the cat hadn’t eaten it, with dire consequences.

He took the offending chocolate and put it in the bin in the kitchen. He could still hear the other two squawking merrily so headed back as soon as possible. Naturally when he returned the screen was entirely blank.

– Can you recap?

He squawked.

– Don’t need to.

Squawked Shiela.

– I missed it. I needed to check on the cat.

Squawked Bentley.

But no answer came. Bentley tried to readdress himself to the train timetables, wondering exactly when this journey might take place and whether there would be any trains running at that time anyway. It was a different experience to this time of year, he thought, usually he’d be joining in with everyone else being outraged by the annual hike in train fares, now they were questioning whether trains were a feasible mode of transport or ever would be again.

– Is Lawrence or Natalie involved in this?

Squawked Bentley.

– No.

Squawked Shiela, surprisingly.

There was a pause. And then Bentley cast a different shaped stone across the waters of the ether.

– Is she really our granddaughter?

He squawked.

There was a notable radio silence. And then:

– That’s for me to know and for you to find out.

Shiela squawked back.