DOC: What is it about the sea that scares you?
ME: Drowning.
DOC: Do you have scary days and non-scary days with these colours too?
ME: Yeah.
DOC: Different days for different colours?
ME: No. A scary-colour day is the same for all colours, and so is a non-scary day.
DOC: What kind of day is it today?
ME: Not too bad. Not completely non-scary, but not totally scary either. Somewhere in between.
DOC: And what about all this, Elliot? All your books, the television, your laptop . . .
ME: What about it?
DOC: Well, a few minutes ago you were telling me about your fear of cars, but if the television was on now, you’d almost certainly come across a car on one of the channels. It might be in a film, an advert, a documentary . . . cars are everywhere on the television. So how can you watch it?
ME: It’s not real. A car on the television isn’t a ton of speeding metal, it’s just a digital image made up of millions of pixels. Pixels can’t kill you.
DOC: Doesn’t it remind you of cars though, like red reminds you of blood?
ME: No.
DOC: Why not?
ME: I don’t know. That’s just how it is. I don’t have any control over what scares me and what doesn’t.
DOC: Does anything on the television frighten you?
ME: No.
DOC: Not even horrific things on the news?
ME: It’s not real.
DOC: It’s a representation of reality though, isn’t it?
ME: It’s still not real.
DOC: And that’s the same with all your books and the things you see on the internet, is it? It’s not real, so it’s not frightening?
ME: I can’t explain it. I don’t even bother trying to understand it myself any more. I just . . . I don’t know. I just do my best to live with it.
DOC: Do you ever get used to being scared all the time?
ME: No, but I’ve kind of got used to not getting used to it.
‘Are you sure you can trust her?’ Dake asked Jenner.
They’d left the moors behind now and were driving along a single-track lane that would eventually bring them out at the top of the village. The snow had eased off a little, and although the icy wind was still blowing hard, the Land Rover was shielded from the worst of it by the high banks and dry-stone walls either side of the lane.
‘I don’t trust anyone,’ Jenner said matter-of-factly.
‘So how do you know she’s not lying?’
‘Because she knows what I’ll do to her if she is.’
Dake didn’t doubt there was a veiled threat to him in Jenner’s answer – and you’d better not mess me around either – and he also knew that Jenner didn’t make idle threats. He made promises, and he kept them.
‘It just seems a bit odd, that’s all,’ Dake said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘The timing, you know . . . Christmas and everything. I still don’t get it. I mean, you would have thought they’d empty the place over Christmas, not keep it all there.’
Jenner sighed. ‘How many more times do I have to tell you? The whole point of this, the reason it won’t be expected – and why we’re going to get away with it – is precisely because of the timing. They usually would keep all the branches empty over Christmas, but when their internal computer system crashed last week it messed up the program they use to schedule and track the collections . . .’ Jenner paused, glancing sideways at Dake. ‘Do I really have to go over all this again? Don’t you remember anything, for God’s sake?’
‘Yeah, of course I remember,’ Dake said defensively. ‘It’s just . . . well, you know . . . I can’t be expected to remember everything, can I?’
Jenner shook his head in disbelief. He’d always known that Dake wasn’t particularly intelligent – he could barely read or write, for a start – but Jenner was beginning to wonder now if there was something seriously wrong with him. How could he not remember what he’d already been told at least three or four times?
Jenner slowed the Land Rover and pulled into a passing space to let a tractor go by. Once it had passed, he lit a cigarette and turned to Dake.
‘The money’s there, okay?’ he said, as patiently as possible. ‘It’s in the vault. That’s all you need to know.’
‘How much?’
‘I’ve already told you that.’
‘I know.’ Dake grinned. ‘I just want to hear it again.’
‘At least a million, according to the girl. Probably more.’
‘At least a million . . .’ Dake echoed dreamily.
‘Yeah, and the best thing about it is they won’t even know it’s gone until the day after Boxing Day.’
‘He’ll know though, won’t he?’
‘Who?’
‘The manager guy, you know . . . the one who’s going to open the safe for us. He’ll know the money’s gone.’
‘He won’t tell anyone.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because he’ll know what I’ll do to his mother if he does.’
ME: Do you think I’m mad?
DOC: Do you?
ME: I don’t know . . . sometimes, maybe. I’m definitely not normal, am I?
DOC: None of us are normal. We all have things wrong with us. It’s just that some of those things have a much bigger effect on our lives than others.
ME: Do you think something could have gone wrong in my head when I was a baby?
DOC: Do you mean when your heart stopped?
ME: Yeah. Maybe my brain stopped too, or it got damaged or something.
DOC: Well, that can happen, yes. If you’re starved of oxygen at birth it can lead to irreversible brain damage. But in all the instances I’ve ever come across, the oxygen supply has been stopped for at least two or three minutes, usually quite a bit longer. But that wasn’t the case with you, Elliot. Your heart stopped beating for less than a minute.
ME: Yeah, but what if –?
DOC: There’s absolutely nothing wrong with your mind, Elliot. Trust me. If you’d suffered any brain damage I’d know.
ME: So are you saying it’s perfectly all right for me to be terrified of everything?
DOC: No, of course not.
ME: So there is