The Wasp Factory Page 0,6

to him breathing, then his voice changed. ‘Yeah, I’m coming back home. Just for a short while, to see how you both are. I suppose it’s just you and the old man?’

‘Yes, just the two of us. I’m looking forward to seeing you.’

‘Oh, good.’ There was a pause. ‘Why don’t you ever come to visit me?’

‘I . . . I thought Father was down to see you at Christmas.’

‘Was he? Well . . . but why don’t you ever come?’ He sounded plaintive. I shifted my weight on to my other foot, looked around the landing and up the stairs, half-expecting to see my father leaning over the banister rail, or to see his shadow on the wall of the landing above, where he thought he could hide and listen to my phone calls without me knowing.

‘I don’t like leaving the island for that long, Eric. I’m sorry, but I get this horrible feeling in my stomach, as though there’s a great big knot in it. I just can’t go that far away, not overnight or . . . I just can’t. I want to see you, but you’re so far away.’

‘I’m getting closer.’ He sounded confident again.

‘Good. How far away are you?’

‘Not telling you.’

‘I told you my lucky number.’

‘I lied. I’m still not going to tell you where I am.’

‘That’s not—’

‘Well, I’ll hang up now.’

‘You don’t want to talk to Dad?’

‘Not yet. I’ll talk to him later, when I’m a lot closer. I’m going now. See you. Take care.’

‘You take care.’

‘What’s to worry about? I’ll be all right. What can happen to me?’

‘Just don’t do anything to annoy people. You know; I mean, they get angry. About pets especially. I mean, I’m not—’

‘What? What? What was that about pets?’ he shouted.

‘Nothing! I was just saying—’

‘You little shit!’ he screamed. ‘You’re accusing me of burning dogs again, aren’t you? And I suppose I stick worms and maggots into kids’ mouths and piss on them, too, eh?’ he shrieked.

‘Well,’ I said carefully, toying with the flex, ‘now you mention it—’

‘Bastard! Bastard! You little shit! I’ll kill you! You—’ His voice disappeared, and I had to put the phone away from my ear again as he started to hammer the handset against the walls of the call-box. The succession of loud clunks sounded over the calm pips as his money ran out. I put the phone back in the cradle.

I looked up, but there was still no sign of Father. I crept up the stairs and stuck my head between the banisters, but the landing was empty. I sighed and sat down on the stairs. I got the feeling I hadn’t handled Eric very well over the phone. I’m not very good with people and, even though Eric is my brother, I haven’t seen him for over two years, since he went crazy.

I got up and went back down to the kitchen to lock up and get my gear, then I went to the bathroom. I decided to watch the television in my room, or listen to the radio, and get to sleep early so I could be up just after dawn to catch a wasp for the Factory.

I lay on my bed listening to John Peel on the radio and the noise of the wind round the house and the surf on the beach. Beneath my bed my home-brew gave off a yeasty smell.

I thought again of the Sacrifice Poles; more deliberately this time, picturing each one in turn, remembering their positions and their components, seeing in my mind what those sightless eyes looked out to, and flicking through each view like a security guard changing cameras on a monitor screen. I felt nothing amiss; all seemed well. My dead sentries, those extensions of me which came under my power through the simple but ultimate surrender of death, sensed nothing to harm me or the island.

I opened my eyes and put the bedside light back on. I looked at myself in the mirror on the dressing-table over on the other side of the room. I was lying on top of the bed-covers, naked apart from my underpants.

I’m too fat. It isn’t that bad, and it isn’t my fault - but, all the same, I don’t look the way I’d like to look. Chubby, that’s me. Strong and fit, but still too plump. I want to look dark and menacing; the way I ought to look, the way I should look, the way I might have looked if I hadn’t had my