The Canal House

by Mark Lee

  Miss Hedges raised her hand like an officer leading a charge and the guests followed her out of the tent. Billy emerged from the crowd wearing a headset and carrying a cell phone. He walked up to us and smiled as if he had just won the lottery. “The home secretary is coming here in a helicopter.”

  “Nice way to beat the traffic,” I said.

  “They told us he had an important meeting, but now he’s on his way. I guess this party is important enough for him to change his plans.”

  Miss Hedges had placed Daniel and me next to each other in the dining tent. Each of the round tables had a centerpiece of flowers and ferns. Two electric cables fed up from the center of the table and they were attached to a pair of small robots. There was no fake skin—you could see the wires and little electric motors—but one robot was definitely a dog and the other was a cat. I thought they were just for decoration until the dog walked across the table and stopped in front of Daniel’s soup bowl.

  “Hey, boyo,” the dog said with a Irish accent. “You going to eat that soup?”

  The robot cat sauntered over, making little buzzing and clicking sounds. “Ahhh, leave him alone. Can’t you see the man wants a pint?”

  I could see a video camera hidden in each centerpiece and figured that the two comedians I had met that afternoon were controlling the robots and providing their voices. The robot cat wagged its mechanical tail while the young Mormons served sea bass, Chateaubriand, or a vegetarian casserole. They weren’t very good waiters, but people felt better about drinking too much and stuffing themselves with food if they were sponsoring such a clear-eyed group of volunteers.

  I glanced around the room as people talked and forks clattered against dishes. Julia sat up on the dais between Richard and Digran Petrosyan. The poet was swallowed up by his rented tuxedo, and his shirt collar made a stiff white circle around his neck. I noticed Daniel glancing at Julia as he ate, but she didn’t look at him at all.

  After the coffee and cognac had been served, a spotlight was pointed at Richard and he stood up with a microphone. “Good evening to my friends and tennis opponents,” he said. A few people laughed and the room quieted down.

  “I was told by a gentleman who works for the humane society that the best time to ask for money is after the dinner but before the indigestion. Actually, most of you have already contributed to Hand-to-Hand and I expect some spirited bidding during our auction. Although this evening is a fund-raiser, it’s also a celebration of Hand-to-Hand’s first year of operation. In business, I’ve never been afraid of trying something new, and I hope that Hand-to-Hand reflects my own philosophy. We have formed an organization without a cumbersome bureaucracy. When an international crisis occurs, Hand-to-Hand will be there on the front line, saving lives.”

  There was an appreciative murmur from the audience. I heard the Indian woman next to me whispering to her husband. “He’s going to run for Parliament. They just have to pick his constituency.”

  Richard continued. “Some of you might have read an article in the Times about our refugee camp in northern Uganda. The success of this effort is entirely due to the dedication and hard work of Dr. Julia Cadell.”

  Richard turned slightly to Julia and touched her shoulder. The audience applauded, and she nodded slightly. “Julia exemplifies the spirit of our organization. She’s knowledgeable and courageous, ethical and innovative. It is for this reason that I am proud to announce that she has decided to serve as Hand-to-Hand’s first executive director.”

  The audience applauded. I watched Julia’s face when Richard made his announcement. For just a moment she looked surprised. Then she recovered and smiled graciously. After years of relief work her immediate impulse was to save the food, save the trucks, save the organization. Richard knew that she wasn’t going stand up in front of all those contributors and walk out. The most vulnerable people in the world, I thought, are those who feel responsible.

  “Dr. Cadell will start work immediately to organize a team that can respond to any international crisis. To do this, we need money, your money. As a businessman, I know that nothing is free, so tonight I’m going to auction off some wonderful gifts in exchange for your contribution.”

  He pulled a half-dozen index cards out of his pocket and began to auction off a trip to India in his corporate jet with a moonlight dinner at the Taj Mahal. The bidding was loud and spirited. Billy maneuvered around the room with a portable microphone, and several wealthy types made jokes about Richard’s TV ads and tennis skills before they pushed up the bid another five thousand pounds.

  I looked over at Julia. She looked startled and tense. Finally Richard sold the last item and smiled at his audience. “And now!” he said. “There’s only one last thing to do! Let’s dance!”

  The swing band in the reception tent began to play “Jump, Jive, and Wail.” The music blared from speakers hanging from the tent posts. Everyone applauded and a sizable part of the crowd streamed toward the dais to congratulate Richard and try to shake his hand.

  Only Daniel and I remained at our table. The robot dog was suffering from a computer glitch. He raised his foot and nodded, over and over again.

  “Julia didn’t want that job,” Daniel said.

  “Yes. I saw her face.”

  “Think she’ll do it?”

  “Maybe. People like Richard usually get their way.”

  “He wants to run for Parliament and she’s just part of the plan.”

  “Stay out of it, Daniel. She can make up her own mind.”

  “I’m just sitting here. I should be doing something, but I’m not.”

  “Nothing wrong with that. Sitting is an undervalued activity.”

  We stayed together until I felt like he’d calmed down; then I went to find Miss Hedges. A crowd blocked the entrance to the reception tent, but I wiggled my way inside. Wearing zoot suits and two-tone shoes, the swing band wailed on the platform. Julia and Richard were out on the floor, dancing like a bride and groom while everyone watched them. As the band finished playing, Billy hustled over to Richard and whispered something. I figured the home secretary was just about to arrive because Richard introduced Julia to a group of donors, then left with Billy.

  I found Miss Hedges at the opposite end of the tent, still holding on to her binder. Some of her hair had broken loose from her barrette, but other than that she looked as perfect as ever. The band started playing again and I had to shout to be heard.

  “Where do you live, Miss Hedges?”

  “In London.”

  “Perhaps I could call you up next week. We could go out and have a drink or something.”

  Miss Hedges looked as if she’d been presented with a new problem. She glanced down at her binder as if it might provide the appropriate response. “I’m dreadfully sorry, Mr. Bettencourt, but I don’t have a great deal of free time these days. I’m getting married in six months and I have to organize the wedding. I still haven’t found a caterer that meets my standards.”

  “Right. Of course. I understand.”

  I backed away from Miss Hedges and lost myself in the crowd. The rejection didn’t bother me as much as the five or ten seconds that she had looked at me and evaluated the entire package. If I had been holding one of my cameras, I could have deflected her attention and taken a picture.

  I wandered over to the next tent. A steel floor had been installed on the ground and an electrified wire mesh was overhead. People sat in little cars big enough for two and drove around smashing into each other. It was designed for teenagers at a carnival, but Richard’s millionaire guests were clamoring for a ride. Band music blared out of the speakers. Each car had a steel rod touching the mesh and the electricity crackled and sparked whenever someone stepped on the accelerator and raced across the steel floor. It was every man for himself. Whenever they hit another person especially hard, they’d laugh and keep driving.

  I went back into the dining tent to find Daniel, but he had disappeared. Only Digran Petrosyan was there, still sitting
at his place on the dais. He had a pen out and was scribbling in a little notebook. He could have been writing a laundry list or a new poem.

  “Everything all right?” I asked.

  “Yes. I’m healthy. But thank you for your concern. I was worried that I’d have to give a speech, but Dr. Cadell told Mr. Seaton that I preferred to remain silent.” The poet shook his head. “I’m tired of saying thank-you to everyone I meet.”

  “Did the crowd make you nervous?”

  “Not at all.” Digran gestured with his pen at the tables and the flowers and the waiters picking up the plates. “All this is only …” He paused for a moment, searching for the right English word. “Decoration.”

  I grabbed a bottle of champagne from one of the tables and went in search of Daniel. In the courtyard, I stood beside the service tent where the staff had prepared dinner. I could hear the cooks shouting at the waiters, the band playing “Take the ‘A’ Train,” the electric crackle and smash of the bumper cars, someone shouting for a woman named Vanessa, and a power hoist groaning as it lifted a stove back into a delivery truck. The portable sodium lights burned with a cold white power and moths fluttered and bounced against the Plexiglas covering. Suddenly, a helicopter roared over the courtyard with red and green lights flashing. The home secretary had arrived.

  Julia passed though the barbican gate and entered into the shadowy light on the edge of the party. She was holding the hem of her dress with one hand but moved with the same confident stride that I had first seen at the refugee camp. Miss Hedges hurried across the courtyard and the two women met beneath one of the lights. Julia nodded and followed Miss Hedges past the reception tent to the castle.

  The sounds of the party began to fade as I walked through the narrow tunnel of the barbican gate. I came out onto the bridge, crossed the moat, and followed the driveway down the hill. Daniel was standing by a stone wall and looking up at the sky.

  “Daniel. What are you doing out here?”

  “I wanted to get away from the noise.” A match flared up as he lit a cigarette. For a second I saw him looking excited and happy, then the match went out and his face was absorbed by the darkness. “You okay, Nicky? Having a good time?”

  “I guess so. It’s not the usual kind of situation for me. Most of the time I’m on the outside, holding a camera. Now I’m on the inside, with just myself.”

  “What do you think of Billy?”

  “A thug in a nice suit.”

  “But you’re not scared of him?”

  “No. I can handle someone like that.”

  I sat on the wall and watched Daniel pace back and forth in the middle of the driveway. From a distance the party tents glowed with a soft white light, like luminous jellyfish floating through a dark sea.

  “The Washington Post sent me to Brussels to interview a physicist who said that the universe was composed of twenty-three dimensions. One of his graduate students helped me write the article because I didn’t really understand the theory. But I figured it out tonight. You can be lost or misguided, then you step off the path, make a certain choice, and you’re in a completely different place where all things are possible.”

  “Sounds good to me. When do I make the choice?”

  “It’ll happen to you, Nicky. Just keep looking.”

  Daniel touched my shoulder and headed back to the castle. As I remained on the wall, I heard the faint rustle of something moving through the grass. I thought it was an intruder, someone who had overheard our conversation, but it was only a ram with a broken horn that emerged from the darkness and blinked at me.

  12 THE LONDON TRAIN

  Half asleep, I heard a soft rapping sound that got louder and more insistent. A key rattled. The door swung open and someone switched on the lights. I sat up in bed, groggy, trying to focus.

  Billy and Richard entered the room like two detectives raiding a drug house. Richard darted over to the bathroom and glanced inside, as if someone could be hiding there. “Where are they?” he asked.

  “What are you talking about?” I exaggerated my confusion, but I knew right away what had happened. Although Billy wasn’t pointing a gun or holding a club, the expression on his face made me breathe a little faster. It was the look of malevolent seriousness that soldiers and cops showed right before they started to hurt you.

  “Julia and Daniel are gone. They’ve left the house.”

  “Maybe they went for a walk or something.”

  “A six o’clock in the bloody morning?” Billy took a step toward the bed. “Don’t lie, you fat bastard.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on.”

  Richard glanced at the armoire, paused a moment, then controlled the impulse to yank open the doors and peer inside. “Last night, Julia told me she was tired. She left the party and went up to her room. I woke up early, slipped in to see her, and she was gone. All the jewelry I gave her was left on the dresser, along with this note.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a sheet of white stationery. “Did Daniel talk to you? Did he tell you where they were going?”

  “No.”

  He unfolded the letter and read it aloud. Dear Richard. I’m going away with Daniel McFarland. I know this seems crazy and I don’t expect you to understand. Perhaps we can talk after some time has passed. I’m very sorry. Richard stared at the piece of paper as if he doubted its reality. “She’s very sorry. What kind of explanation is that?”

  “I don’t know anything. Swear to God.”

  Richard raised his forefinger and jabbed it in my direction. “Julia was very important to me.”

  It’s all in the details, I thought. That’s what Billy had said. I was glad that Richard hadn’t predicted this particular detail, but I knew enough to keep my mouth shut. In a situation like this, it was best to play the role of the plump and bumbling photographer.

  “They were talking to each other last night at the party,” I said. “But I also saw them talking to everybody else. Daniel just survived this horrible plane crash, Richard. He’s different, these days. He’s not himself.”

  “He really won’t be himself when I find him,” Billy said.

  “Where does Daniel stay when he’s in London?”

  “I don’t know. Doesn’t Julia have an apartment there?”

  Richard began pacing again. “She stays with her friend Laura.”

  The question of where they might be staying deflected the anger away from me; Richard was a businessman and people like that focus on solutions. He had lost Julia. Instead of asking why, he’d decided to find her.

  “If you hear from Daniel, I want you to call me at the Riverside Bank in London. There will be an appropriate reward for doing so.”

  Richard headed toward the door and Billy followed him. I heard their voices moving down the hallway. “Contact all the village taxi drivers.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is there a car-hire office in Gloucester? Find out right away.”

  “I’ll do that, sir.”

  I splashed water on my face, then pulled on some clothes. I remembered my last conversation with Daniel near the gate. He and Julia had already decided to run away. That’s why he had asked if I could handle Billy. I had dodged and shuffled through the initial confrontation, but now I realized I should get away from Westgate Castle before Billy came back to ask more questions.

  I slipped out of the room with my luggage and crept down the staircase to the kitchen. Wearing a stained T-shirt and looking very unbutlerlike, Wallace stood near the sink. He filled up a kettle with water and placed it on the burner.

  “Good morning, Mr. Bettencourt.”

  “Morning, Wallace. Look, I need to get out of here as soon as possible. Could you call a taxi?”

  “That’s easily done, sir.”

  Wallace went over to a wall phone and dialed a number. It was obvious that he had just woken someone up, but he didn’t apologize. “We need a car at Westgate Castle. Right away.” He turned and looked straight at me. “Drive round
to the back.”

  Wallace picked up a tin of Yorkshire tea and spooned some into a pot. The kettle began to whistle and he poured the boiling water. “Tea will be ready in a few minutes, Mr. Bettencourt. Would you like a cup before the taxi arrives?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  “Milk? Sugar?”

  “Everything.” I watched him open up the refrigerator and take out a milk carton. “You know, don’t you?”

  “Know what, sir?”

  “That Julia and Daniel ran away.”

  Although I’d spent an entire weekend with Wallace drifting around, I had never really seen him, as a person. Now, he was standing in the middle of the kitchen, studying me with his watery blue eyes. Not a bad man. But not a strong one. Drinking problem, maybe. He needed this job.

  “I heard some sounds around four o’clock so I looked out my window at the courtyard. Dr. Cadell and Mr. McFarland came out carrying their luggage and the motion-detector lights went on. They walked through the gate and went away.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Mr. Seaton they were leaving?”

  Wallace hesitated, then spoke with a firm, proud voice, heavy on the northern accent. “Because I’m not some bloody fetch dog like Billy Monroe.”

  A sleepy taxi driver showed up twenty minutes later. As we drove toward the main road, I saw Charlie Drayton climb out of his Ford Fiesta and walk toward his flock of sheep.

  I had to wait an hour at the village railroad station, and I kept thinking that Billy was going to show up. I didn’t completely relax until I got on the London train and it glided out of the station. In the dining car, I bought a scone wrapped in plastic and a Styrofoam cup of water with a tea bag drowning at the bottom.

  For most of my life I had watched other people’s affairs like a scientist observing different specimens, but this time it felt different. I realized suddenly how much I wanted Daniel and Julia to get away and create their own version of happiness. They were both solitary, difficult people who seemed to be more comfortable in a war zone than in a living room. Yet if they could come together, then perhaps there was a chance for someone like me. Obviously I wasn’t going to end up with Miss Hedges, but there could be somebody else and we could pack our suitcases and walk out the gate and escape from the fear and the failures of the past.