Warhol's Prophecy

by Shaun Hutson

  There was a good ratio of staff to residents, and they did their best to make day-to-day life enjoyable for their charges. There was a doctor on the premises twenty-four hours a day.

  Walker swung himself out of his car, and headed up the short path towards the double doors that led into the main reception.

  He pulled up the collar of his jacket, then muttered something to himself, spun round and headed back to the Scorpio.

  He reached onto the back seat and grabbed the cellophane-wrapped bunch of flowers. He’d bought them at a garage on the way.

  Every time he visited here, he brought flowers.

  That was what you were supposed to do, wasn’t it?

  Adam trudged back up the path and pressed the security buzzer next to the front door. The closed-circuit TV camera peered down at him as he looked up into its single eye.

  A moment later there came a whirring sound, and the doors opened to allow him access.

  The main reception area was empty.

  There was a large, low table surrounded by leather-upholstered chairs in the centre. Corridors led off from the reception area like spokes from a wheel hub.

  Walker made his way slowly along the central corridor, glancing into open rooms along the way. They, too, all seemed to be empty.

  For one bizarre moment it appeared that the entire nursing home had been evacuated. As if its residents had merely disappeared. He wondered if he might come across a steaming cup of tea left unattended. This place was like an earth-bound Marie Celeste.

  Then he heard voices coming from the day-room up ahead.

  Through a pair of glass double-doors he could see several of the elderly residents seated in high-backed chairs in front of a television. As he walked in, he also noticed two nurses in attendance.

  First one, then the other smiled at him, and he reciprocated, crossing over to the younger of the two.

  She was wearing a light blue uniform, her long hair tied in a ponytail pulled back so severely from her hairline that it looked as if someone was trying to tug her scalp off.

  The small badge pinned to her left lapel announced that her name was ANNA COLEMAN.

  ‘How are you, Anna?’ He grinned.

  ‘Are those for me?’ She nodded towards the flowers.

  ‘If they were for you, this bunch would be twice as big,’ Walker told her.

  ‘You smoothie,’ interrupted the other nurse. ‘She loves all that stuff.’

  ‘Haven’t you got some work to do, Nurse Stinson?’ replied Anna with mock irritation. Her cheeks had coloured slightly.

  ‘Yes I have, Nurse Coleman.’ The other woman smiled.

  Two or three of the residents gazed blankly at Walker. The others seemed more intent on the TV screen, although Walker wasn’t sure they even understood what they were watching.

  ‘I’m looking for my father,’ he said.

  ‘He’s in his room.’ Anna’s smile faded.

  Walker nodded, turned, and headed back down the corridor, back into the reception area and off to the right.

  There were more bedrooms in that direction. He knew that at the far end of the corridor there was even a small chapel.

  Beyond it, outside, was a beautifully kept garden, even an orchard where apple trees blossomed in spring. The setting was idyllic.

  Strange therefore, he thought, that he hated this place so much.

  He passed two rooms with their doors wide open.

  In the first a man in his seventies lay on the bed, reading a newspaper.

  In the second another man sat staring out of his window, tapping out a Morse-like tattoo on the sill with one arthritis-twisted forefinger.

  The door of the third room along was firmly closed.

  Walker paused outside, holding the bunch of flowers before him like some aromatic, cellophaned cosh.

  He swallowed hard, then – without knocking – walked in.

  The man sitting up in the bed, propped there like a puppet with its strings cut, turned to look at him. But the eyes were blank, no recognition registered there.

  The patient was in his early seventies, white hair combed back from a heavily lined forehead, wisps of hair also curling from each nostril and ear.

  Closing the door behind him, Walker stood at the end of the bed.

  ‘Hello, Dad,’ he began flatly.

  27

  IF THERE WAS any recognition in the eyes of Philip Walker it didn’t show.

  He watched silently as his son moved around to the side of the bed and brandished the flowers at him.

  ‘I brought you these,’ said Adam.

  On the bedside table there was a vase filled with dead flowers, its water beginning to smell rancid.

  Adam took out the dead blooms and dumped them in the waste-bin beneath the sink, then he swilled out the vase and set about replacing the old flowers with the new.

  The room was about fifteen feet square: carpeted and tastefully decorated, but otherwise fairly spartan. There were a couple of pictures on the wall. Copies of El Greco’s The Agony in the Garden and Antonio Allegri da Correg-gio’s The Mystic Marriage of St Catherine hung on either side of a large crucifix.

  Reminders?

  Adam put down the replenished vase, aware that his father was peering up at him. He was frowning slightly, as if trying to remember who this newcomer was, and what he wanted here.

  Adam sat down beside the bed and looked at him.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

  No answer. Only blank eyes staring back.

  ‘When you weren’t in the day-room, I thought there was something wrong.’

  Philip Walker was plucking gently at the flesh on the back of one liverspot-dappled hand.

  ‘Has the doctor been in today?’ Adam asked.

  ‘Doctor?’

  His father spoke the word whilst looking directly at Adam.

  ‘Doctor,’ he repeated.

  Adam shook his head.

  ‘No,’ he said softly, ‘I’m not a doctor. Do you know who I am?’

  Silence again.

  Still plucking at the flesh.

  ‘Do you fancy going for a walk?’ asked Adam. ‘The fresh air might do you good. Better than being stuck in here all day.’

  He looked again into those blank eyes, then across at the wheelchair in the corner.

  His father turned to look at the flowers.

  ‘“Man cometh up and is cut down like a flower”,’ he said slowly, as if considering each word before he spoke it.

  It was Adam’s turn to stare silently at the old man.

  ‘At how many funerals did you say those words?’ he said finally. ‘How many did you see off? How many good men and women did you bury?’

  The old man was plucking at the back of his hand again.

  ‘How many children?’ Adam persisted.

  ‘“Suffer the children to come unto me”,’ his father intoned.

  ‘So, is there still something in there?’ Adam said, tapping his own temple. ‘Still a light in the forest?’

  ‘“I am the light”,’ said his father.

  Outside, the wind seemed to be growing stronger. It swirled around the building angrily.

  Inside Philip Walker’s room there was only silence.

  His son sat motionless for long moments, then leant forward and flipped open the bottom section of the bedside cabinet.

  The smooth white band of stiff material was where it always lay.

  The dog-collar.

  He smiled ruefully to himself and held it up before him.

  ‘It’s like a badge, isn’t it?’ he said, without looking at his father. ‘A badge for a club that you never leave.’

  The old man continued pulling at his hand.

  ‘You’ll never leave it, will you?’ said Adam. ‘You’ll never tear up your membership card.’

  He continued to gently stroke the white dog-collar.

  ‘Do you think He still cares?’ Adam asked flatly, turning his eyes skyward briefly. ‘Do you
think He cares about any of the things you did?’

  Fingers plucking at mottled flesh.

  ‘He would have seen everything, wouldn’t He – over the years?’ Adam continued. ‘All the good and the bad. I wonder what He thinks about you now.’

  They sat in silence, only the ticking of the clock interrupting their solitude.

  When Adam finally got up to leave, the hour hand of the clock had shifted more than once.

  ‘I’ll see you again soon,’ he said, one hand on the door handle.

  His father stared blankly at him.

  ‘When those flowers are dead,’ Adam murmured.

  And he was gone.

  28

  HAILEY HEARD THE key in the front door and sat up.

  The magazine she’d been reading slipped from her lap as she got to her feet. She padded across to the sitting-room door.

  It opened a moment or two before she could reach it.

  Rob stood and smiled at her.

  She took a step towards him and they embraced.

  ‘I thought you might have been here earlier,’ she said, kissing him lightly on the lips.

  ‘Traffic was bad on the M6,’ he told her. ‘I spoke to Frank on the way back and he said there’d been some problems at work, so I nipped in there before I came home. Otherwise I’d have been earlier.’

  ‘Well, work has to come first, doesn’t it?’ she said, trying to control the irritation in her voice.

  Rob exhaled but said nothing.

  ‘Becky in bed?’ he wanted to know.

  ‘She’s looking forward to seeing you in the morning. As we didn’t know what time you were getting in, I didn’t want her sitting up until all hours.’

  ‘You’ve made your point, Hailey,’ he said, slumping into an armchair.

  ‘I’m just telling you, Rob. I’m not looking for a fight.’

  He ran appraising eyes over her. Freshly washed hair, baggy sweater, tight black leggings tucked into a pair of floppy white socks. She looked great, but he noticed there were dark smudges beneath her eyes.

  ‘You look tired,’ he told her.

  ‘I haven’t been sleeping too well,’ she confessed.

  ‘Worried about me?’ He smiled.

  She nodded, and sat down beside him on the arm of the chair.

  He snaked an arm around her slender waist.

  ‘So, how did the show go?’ she asked.

  ‘It went well. It was a worthwhile trip.’

  And I got to fuck Sandy again.

  ‘Did you see anyone you know there?’

  ‘Like who?’

  Take it easy. Don’t be too defensive.

  ‘Other reps. You’ve been to quite a few of these shows now, so I just wondered if you knew anybody else there.’

  ‘You usually do see the same faces. I can’t always remember their names, though. That’s one good thing about everyone wearing a name badge. You just read their badge, call them by their name, and they all think you’re a long-lost mate.’

  ‘Just part of the bullshit, eh?’

  ‘You know me, babe: king of the bullshit.’

  ‘And everyone falls for it, don’t they?’

  ‘Everyone except you.’

  ‘Did you fuck anyone while you were there?’

  ‘Hailey, please . . .’

  ‘Did you?’ she insisted.

  ‘I told you before I was going on my own, and I’m sure you checked up on me, didn’t you?’

  ‘I only asked you a simple question, Rob. You could have met someone in the hotel bar or something. I know what you’re like.’

  ‘I didn’t fuck anyone,’ he lied. ‘Jesus, I’ve been back home for five minutes and you’ve started already.’

  Take it easy.

  ‘Listen, Rob. I’ve been thinking while you were away, and I’ve decided to go back to work for Jim Marsh.’

  He opened his mouth to say something.

  ‘Just part-time,’ she assured him. ‘I start tomorrow.’

  ‘So that’s it. You’ve decided. We don’t discuss things any more?’

  ‘I’ve been talking about doing it for ages now – you know that. It would only be for three or four hours a day, when he needs me.’

  ‘And what about Becky – how does she fit into your plans?’

  ‘Caroline said she’ll pick her up and drop her off at school, if it comes to that.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear you’ve got it all sorted out. It’s a good job I did go away for a couple of days, isn’t it? I mean, you might not have been able to arrange all this with me here in the way.’

  ‘What is the big deal?’

  ‘You could at least have had the decency to tell me before you made up your mind you were going back to work.’

  ‘Sorry, Rob, did I betray your trust? Is that what this is? Because if it is, you’re the last one to start handing out lectures about honesty, aren’t you?’

  ‘Fuck it. Go back to work. I don’t care.’

  ‘I’m trying to help,’ she snarled. ‘Why can’t you see that? You never used to object to the money I brought in working for Jim before. I know you didn’t like me being away from home, but you never complained about the money, did you?’

  ‘I told you, if you want to do it, then do it.’

  ‘I intend to, Rob. We’ll all benefit: especially Becky. That’s what you usually say, isn’t it – if you have to work late or work seven days a week? It’s for Becky’s sake in the long run, isn’t it?’

  ‘I suppose Caroline thinks it’s a great idea, doesn’t she?’ he rasped.

  ‘What the hell’s Caroline got to do with this?’

  ‘She gets to look after Becky even more. I bet she was over the fucking moon.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘She treats Becky as if she were her child.’

  ‘At least she cares about her. I’d have thought you’d be pleased about that.’

  ‘She uses her because she can’t have kids of her own.’

  ‘That’s not her fault, Rob.’

  ‘Three abortions before she was nineteen, that’s why she can’t have kids of her own. If she hadn’t been such a fucking slag when she was younger, she wouldn’t be paying for it now, would she?’

  ‘You bastard,’ said Hailey quietly, her eyes boring into Rob. He could see the anger there. ‘Perhaps you should have stayed in Manchester. At least until you were back in a better frame of mind.’

  He nodded. ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he snapped. ‘I wish I had.’

  Hailey was about to say something else when she heard the doorbell.

  29

  FOR INTERMINABLE SECONDS, neither of them moved, although both had heard the two-tone chime.

  They continued to glare at one another until it sounded again.

  ‘Who the hell is that?’ said Rob wearily.

  ‘I can’t see through walls,’ Hailey hissed. ‘But I’ll go and see before they wake Becky.’

  She headed for the hall, running a hand through her hair.

  Her mind was spinning. The argument with Rob. Wondering who was at the door. She looked at her watch and saw that it was 8.15 p.m. Who would be calling now?

  She slipped the bolt at the top of the door, but left the security chain attached.

  The hinges squealed as she opened it.

  ‘Twice in one day,’ said Adam Walker, smiling at her.

  She smiled thinly, almost asked him sharply what he wanted.

  ‘I was driving back this way,’ he said, answering her unspoken question, ‘and I saw your husband’s car outside. You said that he might want to speak to me, so I thought I’d call in.’

  Oh, not now. Please!

  She hesitated for a second, her fingers on the chain.

  ‘If it’s not convenient . . .’ he said quickly. ‘I know it’s a bit late. I nearly didn’t call. I was worried about waking Becky. She is in bed, isn’t she?’

  Hailey nodded and slid the chain free, opening the front d
oor to allow him access.

  ‘Come in, please,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. You took me by surprise, that’s all.’ She managed to smile again, ushering him towards the sitting-room door.

  Rob was still slumped in the armchair when she walked in, urging Walker to join them.

  He hesitated, but she put one hand tenderly on his shoulder: a gesture for him to follow.

  ‘Rob, I’d like you to meet Adam Walker,’ Hailey said.

  She watched as her husband stared in bewilderment at the newcomer – then at her.

  ‘He’s the one who found Becky when she got lost in the shopping centre,’ Hailey continued.

  Rob stood up and extended his right hand, which Walker shook warmly.

  ‘It’s good to meet you,’ Rob said.

  ‘You, too,’ Walker replied.

  Rob felt the strength in his handshake.

  He had always felt you could tell a lot about a man by his handshake. If he encountered a feeble grip, that usually tainted his opinion of the man. It was surely a sign of weakness. Not so with Walker: there was power in that grip.

  ‘We’ve got a lot to thank you for, Mr Walker,’ Rob said.

  ‘Adam,’ the other man insisted.

  Rob nodded. ‘It’s a good job you were around that day,’ he said. ‘Christ knows what would have happened to Becky otherwise.’ He shot an almost accusatory glance at Hailey, who was not slow to notice the underlying vehemence of it.

  ‘Would you like a drink?’ Hailey asked, smiling at Walker.

  ‘No, I’m fine. I won’t disturb you any longer,’ he said. Then, looking at Rob: ‘Hailey asked me to call in, so I did. But I’m sure you’ve got other things to do.’

  ‘Hailey forgot to tell me you might call in,’ Rob said, his eyes narrowing slightly. ‘I much appreciate what you did for Becky. Thank you.’

  ‘Anyone else would have done the same,’ Walker insisted.

  ‘Not everyone,’ Rob interjected.

  There was an awkward silence.

  ‘Are you sure you won’t have a drink?’ Hailey said, becoming aware of the wordless interlude.

  ‘No, honestly,’ Walker said. ‘I’ll get off now.’