The Terrible Privacy Of Maxwell Sim (32 page)

‘OK, I need to think about this. Leave me alone for a while, will you, Emma? Just give me a little space?’

*

‘Now then.’

–
Proceed for about one mile on the current road.

‘I think the time is fast approaching. The time when … the time when …’

–
In a quarter of a mile, heading straight on at the roundabout, take second exit.

‘The time when I have to give up on this pretence …’

–
Heading straight on at the roundabout, take second exit.

‘… and accept what is happening to me. Which means that right now, at 12.09 p.m. exactly, on Thursday, March the fifth, 2009, forty miles south of Aberdeen, proceeding north on the A90 at forty-seven miles per hour, I am going to leave this road, and abandon this journey … So I shall
not
go straight on at this roundabout, Emma, I shall go
left
at this roundabout, following the signs to Edzell. Now, what do you think of that?’

–
In two hundred yards, make a U-turn
.

‘Ha! Is that the best you can do? Oh no, Emma, there won’t be any U-turns, not from now on. I’m not going to follow your directions any more, and I’ll tell you why not. Because I don’t want to go to Aberdeen and get on the ferry. And in fact the logic of this situation dictates that I
can’t
go to Aberdeen and get on the ferry. Do you know why?
BECAUSE I AM NOT MAXWELL SIM ANY MORE. I AM DONALD CROWHURST
and I have to follow in his path and repeat his mistakes. He did not sail around the world at all and I won’t be sailing to the Shetland Isles either. He decided to fake his voyage and I am going to fake mine, and I don’t care how many satellites there are in the sky trained on me right now, from this moment onwards nobody knows where I am, I have disappeared, disappeared into the darkness of this approaching snowstorm and I will hide out here, drifting in the mid-Atlantic, for as long as it takes, until the time is right, until the time is right for me to emerge again, in triumph, and present myself to the world.’

–
In two hundred yards, make a U-turn
.

‘Nope. No can do. This is it, baby. The parting of the ways.’

–
In three-quarters of a mile, slight right turn
.

‘Something occurs to me, by the way.’

–
Slight right turn coming up.

‘It might have been a good idea to put some petrol in the car back in Brechin. So far we’ve done … 527 miles since we left Reading, and I haven’t filled up once. There can’t be much more left.’

–
Next right
.

‘Still trying to get me back to Aberdeen, then? I thought I told you, we’ve abandoned that idea. Left turn here, I think.’

–
In two hundred yards, make a U-turn
.

‘You don’t give up, do you? Give into it, Emma. Surrender. There’s something fantastic about just giving up. The sense of … release is incredible. I can remember when I first discovered that, actually. It was on that holiday to Coniston, with Chris and his family. One day we decided that we were going to climb up the Old Man of Coniston, all of us, and then about halfway up Chris and I got ahead of the others and it turned into a kind of race, between Chris and me. And before we knew what was happening, we were
running
up this bloody great hill, or mountain or whatever it is. And then pretty soon Chris got ahead and it became obvious that he was much fitter than me – well, that should have been obvious before, really – and then he was more or less out of sight but I kept sort of plodding on, out of breath, tripping over all these rocks, with this terrible stitch in my side and thinking that I was going to have a heart attack any minute. And after a few more minutes of this, I thought, What is the
point
, what is the bloody
point
of carrying on like this, so I just flopped down by the side of the path and let him get on with it. I knew what I was capable of, you see. I knew that I couldn’t compete with Chris. Never could, never would. And to accept that – to accept
myself
for what I was – was such a relief. Soon I was caught up by the others who were walking along behind – Mr and Mrs Byrne, and Mum and Dad, and Alison – and they stopped and I remember Mr Byrne saying, Are you just going to sit there? Aren’t you even going to try? And I told him, No, I was perfectly happy sitting there while Chris ran on to the summit, and everyone else followed him. I’d given up and I was happy about it and for the next hour or more I just sat there, enjoying the view. Knowing that I’d found my level and I’d never rise above it.’

–
Proceed on the current road.

‘I think that might have been a deer we just passed. Did you see it? In the woods.’

–
We need to talk about Chris.

‘Yes, you’re right. We do need to talk about Chris. We need to talk about a lot of things, Chris being one of them. But before we do that, I’m going to pull over into this lay-by here, and have another little drop of whisky, and then a little snooze, if that’s all right by you. Because suddenly, Emma, I feel tired. Incredibly tired. And I would hate us to have an accident. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.’

–
We need to talk about Chris.

‘Mmm?’

–
I said, We need to talk about Chris.

‘Shit! What time is it? Three o’clock! Bloody hell.

‘Where did all this snow come from?

‘And what happened to all the whisky? I didn’t drink all that, did I? I’m going to have to open the other bottle …

‘Oh God, my head …

‘Right. Let’s get started. Not much visibility this afternoon, I must say. And so dark! Feels like it’s night time already.’

–
Proceed on the current road
.

‘
OK. Will do.

‘Now. What was it you wanted to talk about?’

–
Chris
.

‘OK. We can do that. Was there anything in particular you wanted to discuss?’

–
Yes. The photograph.

‘The photograph? You’ll have to be more specific. I’m not with you.’

–
Proceed on the current road.

‘Which photograph did you have in mind?’

–
The folded photograph.

‘Ah, you mean the one of Alison? In her bikini?’

–
Why did he fold it?

‘Pardon?’

–
Why did your father fold the photograph?

‘I thought we’d established that. Because he was turned on by the picture of Alison, and that was the only half he wanted to look at.’

–
Are you sure?

‘Of course. What other explanation is there?’

–
In one mile, right turn.

‘Come on, Emma, what are you getting at?’

–
In half a mile, right turn.

‘No, that takes us back on the road to Aberdeen, and I’ve already told you, I’m not going to Aberdeen. Today or any other day.’

–
You know.

‘I know? I know what? Do you mind not being so cryptic?’

–
You know why your father folded the photograph.

‘Can we change the subject?’

–
Right turn coming up.

‘Left turn, I think you’ll find.’

–
You know.

‘Will you SHUT UP about that, Emma! Will you stop talking about it?’

–
Say it, Max. Say it.

‘Fuck off.’

–
Don’t cry. Don’t cry, Max. Just tell the truth.

‘I’m not crying.’

–
You can say it.

‘Why are you DOING this to me? Why are you putting me through this?’

–
Was it really Alison’s picture he wanted?

‘Of course it wasn’t. Oh, God. Oh, Dad! You miserable …You miserable man. Why didn’t I see? Why didn’t any of us see? It was Chris, wasn’t it? You had a thing for Chris. All those years. Your best friend’s son. Couldn’t take your eyes off him. Even now – even
now
you still think about him. Even in Australia you were asking after him all the time. And not just Chris, probably. Probably other people as well. Friends of mine? Friends of Mum’s? Who knows? You bottled it up, Dad. You bottled it up, all that time, for years and years. In fact I think you’re still bottling it up now. Your sad little secret. The thing you could never admit, to Mum or to me or to anybody else.’

–
In two hundred yards, make a U-turn.

‘So sad. So very, very sad.’

–
Make a U-turn
.
Then, proceed for about three miles on the current road.

‘Video diary, Day Four.

‘Well, doubtless you’ll want to know how I’ve been getting on.

‘I’m pleased to report that I’m well on my way to Shetland. Well on my way. Of course, it’s a bit too dark outside for you to see exactly where I am, but my guess would be … my guess would be somewhere off the West Coast of Africa. Yesterday we certainly passed by Madeira, on the starboard side, and today I can see, over on the port side, a looming mass of glowering rock and earth which I think must be one of the Canary Islands. Either that or, quite possibly, the Cairngorms, because, unless I’m very much mistaken, we are now on the B976, heading in a westerly direction, away from Aberdeen, and into the mountains. Let me just check that with my trusty navigator.’

–
In three hundred yards, make a U-turn.

‘Ha, ha! Yes, she’s been saying that for some time. That’s Emma, there, my trusty – as I said – my trusty navigator, who has been disagreeing with me, today, over the route we should take. She seems to think that at this rate we have no possibility of rounding the Cape of Good Hope before Christmas, which means bad weather in the Roaring Forties, although I have to say the weather here is pretty bad already. Thick, spiralling snowflakes, as you can see outside the car, a howling wind – can you hear the wind? – all making it pretty difficult to steer a straight course at the moment, not helped by the fact that the driver – that is to say, the captain – has been drinking pretty steadily for the last … for the last fifteen hours or so. Nothing like a bit of ship’s rum, I always say, to cheer you up in stormy weather! Anyway, the road is getting pretty – pretty winding and treacherous around here, I’m sticking to a steady twenty miles an hour or so and supplies – petrol supplies that is – are pretty low, and – whoops, here comes a big bend, didn’t see that one coming, and if you’re wondering what that sound was, it was the sound of the camera sliding off the dashboard and on to the floor, which is why you currently have a good view of my left foot.

‘OK. Cut.’

‘Emma?

‘Emma, are you still there?’

–
Yes, I’m still here.

‘You haven’t said anything for a while.’

–
I’m still here. What is it?

‘Shall we stop soon? I’m getting tired again.’

–
Proceed on the current road.

‘OK. Whatever you say. Is this a good time to talk, though?’

–
In three hundred yards, make a U-turn.

‘Don’t you ever give up? I wanted to talk to you about my dad, and Roger.’

–
Proceed on the current road.

‘I’ve been thinking about it, and maybe it’s not such a sad story. You know, in a way they loved each other. I mean, Roger sounds a bit of a bully, and a bit of a prick, but I think he really cared for my father. And that means that at least
somebody
really cared for him, once. I’m not sure that Mum ever did, you see. If you think about it, Roger and my dad were just unlucky. And it was Crispin Lambert who screwed things up for them, most of all. If it wasn’t for
him
and his stupid schemes, things might have turned out all right. Although, I don’t know whether my father would ever really have had the nerve to come out, to admit to himself that he was …the person he was. But the path he chose for himself was much harder, in a way. Deceiving himself, deceiving everybody close to him – for a whole lifetime. That’s what Crowhurst was considering, too, isn’t it? Must be why he reminded me of Dad …