I pushed the off switch and called up at the window for Dora. After a couple of minutes it opened and there she was, popping out like some malignant cuckoo.
‘Dora, please tell George that there’s no one in any position of authority at the council offices.’
After another brief wait she reappeared. ‘George says then you’d better get that Stuart Lloyd. He started it, he can put a stop to’t.’
‘Is Linus all right?’
Dora’s face softened. ‘Don’t you fret about him, Esther. He’s having a cup of tea with George.’
‘Is George still pointing that gun at him?’
Dora’s head disappeared. Then she was back again. ‘Yes. But you’re not to fret. Just call that Stuart Lloyd, George says.’ She leant out a little further, stretching her heavy neck. ‘It’ll soon be over, you’ll see.’ I think she meant to comfort me.
Had I made an appointment? the receptionist at Terra Nova asked. I explained that I simply had to speak to Mr Lloyd. I just wanted a quick word on the phone, but it was extremely urgent.
The receptionist was sorry but without an appointment I couldn’t speak to Mr Lloyd.
‘Oh, but didn’t I say, I’ve got an appointment,’ I said quickly.
The receptionist told me she was sorry but that Mr Lloyd was unavailable right now.
‘But you said I couldn’t speak to him without an appointment,’ I yelled.
The receptionist told me, with infinite patience, that this was indeed so. Without an appointment I could not speak to Stuart Lloyd.
‘But I’ve got an appointment!’
‘I’m afraid Mr Lloyd is unavailable right now,’ the receptionist said, but would I like to speak to his secretary?
I screamed that I would.
‘No,’ the new voice on the other end of the line informed me, this wasn’t actually Stuart Lloyd’s secretary. She was unavailable right now, this was Lindsey, the assistant. I started to cry.
Lindsey asked if she could help.
I stopped crying and asked, very slowly, if she could get me on to Stuart Lloyd as it was a matter of life and death.
There was a pause and my heartbeat quickened. ‘No.’ Lindsey was ever so sorry but Mr Lloyd was unavailable right now.
‘Dora!’ I yelled. ‘Dora, I can’t get hold of Stuart Lloyd either.’ Dora looked displeased. ‘It’s not a trick. You don’t understand, it’s impossible to get hold of anyone. Please could you just let Linus Stendal go and we can try to sort this out sensibly.’
Dora returned to the window. ‘George says that trying to sort things out sensibly got us nowhere, so if it’s all the same to you he’ll try it this way.’
‘It’s not all the same to me,’ I shouted. ‘Please, Dora, don’t do this. I’m your friend, for heaven’s sake. I got them to stop once, I might be able to do it again. You just have to give me time.’
Dora pondered for a moment. ‘I don’t suppose there’s that much of a hurry.’ The window slammed shut.
What now? I searched for a tissue in my fashionable ‘go anywhere’ J. P. Todd bag, which I had paid over four hundred pounds for in the belief that it would add to my sum of happiness. Well, what good was it to me now (and the tissue turned out to be in my jacket pocket anyway), when the man I loved more than life itself was held hostage by a crazy old man with a shotgun? How had George and Dora changed from being poor put-upon old Dora and George into some kind of geriatric Bonnie and Clyde? It was more shocking by far than Ulla’s bit of witchery and that had seemed bad enough at the time. There was a lot of talk about the evil influence of television on the behaviour of children. But what about its effect on pensioners?
I looked up at the perfect blue sky. Maybe it was all bluster; a last-minute gesture that was a little too dramatic for comfort. ‘Dora,’ I called. ‘Dora, can I speak to Linus?’
‘He’s in the bathroom,’ she said. ‘Seems he’s got trouble with his stomach.’
The second she disappeared from the window I dashed round to the side of the house where I knew the WC was. I ran up to the small window. ‘Linus,’ I whispered. I could see a shadow moving inside. A pair of hands appeared behind the frosted pane and the window was eased open. I glimpsed Linus’s face, pale in the gloom of the tiny room, and I put my hand out towards him. A voice, George’s, called out, ‘What are you up to in there?’ Linus turned round and shouted, ‘Just the usual. I’ll be out in a minute.’
He turned back to me and pushed the window wide open. I was face to face with him for the first time since it had all begun and just seeing him made the chaos melt away. I found myself grinning idiotically.
‘I’ve got the car keys,’ I mouthed as he heaved himself up on the window-sill. He was halfway out of the window when the door burst open, sending the metal eye which had held the hook in place flying across the room. I ducked out of sight. If George realised that I was helping Linus escape I would be even less use than I was now. There was a thud as Linus jumped back down on to the floor.
‘Now why would you want to be doing something silly like that?’ George scolded. But he sounded disappointed rather than angry.
I sank to the ground and hid my face in my hands. I sat like that for a minute or two, then I walked back to the front of the house and picked up the mobile. I dialled the number of Terra Nova Enterprises again and this time I managed to get through to Simon Fuller. He did sound just a little bit alarmed at what I had to tell him and he promised me he’d get a message to Stuart Lloyd. ‘Give me your number and I’ll call you the moment I’ve spoken to Stuart.’
Ten minutes later my phone rang. ‘Esther, it’s Audrey here.’ There was a pause while I gathered up my screams. ‘Your mother,’ she went on.
‘Not now!’ I yelled and pushed the off switch so hard I thought that stupid little black button would break right off.
A few seconds later the phone went again. ‘It’s your mother, Esther. You seem upset.’ This time I didn’t even bother to yell at her.
While I waited for the right call I kept myself busy thinking of how I would cut the legs off Audrey’s bed when I got back to London. The phone rang again. ‘It’s Simon Fuller here. I got hold of Stuart, but I’m afraid that he feels, as do I, that this is really a matter for the police. It would be most unwise for Terra Nova to get involved.’
‘But the guy is threatening to shoot your architect.’
‘That’s why we believe it to be a matter for the police. Anyway, it’s bad policy to give in to hostage-taking. Sets a dangerous precedent.’
‘Your architect being threatened with a shotgun is a very dangerous precedent,’ I argued. ‘Let me talk to Stuart Lloyd, will you?’
‘I’m afraid he’s unavailable.’
I took a deep breath so as to calm myself. ‘But you said that you’d just spoken to him.’
‘That was then. Now he’s unavailable.’
‘So you’re washing your hands of this whole thing?’
‘Certainly not. We’ve called the police.’
‘You’ve done what! No, no, don’t bother to repeat it, I heard you the first time. And just remember, if things go really wrong it’ll be Linus’s blood on your hands.’ I didn’t wait for him to finish telling me not to get hysterical.
‘Dora,’ I yelled. The first-floor window opened and she appeared. ‘I’m sorry, really I am, but those idiots at Terra Nova have called the police. I told them not to, I really did.’ Dora didn’t answer, her head just vanished.
After a few minutes George took her place. ‘I said no police.’
‘I know, George. It really isn’t my doing. But no one listens.’
‘So you know how Dora and me feels then,’ George said. ‘I told you…’ He was interrupted by the sound of a gunshot. He yelled, ‘What the heck!’
I screamed, ‘Oh my God!’ I rushed to the door and banged it, screaming for them to let me in.
‘Don’t fret, Esther.’ I heard Dora’s voice from above. ‘I was making us a cup of tea and the gu
n went off like, but there’s no harm done. Shots went into the pantry door and George can soon fix that.’
‘Is Linus all right?’
‘Of course he’s all right. Why shouldn’t he be?’
‘Dora, for heaven’s sake, you’re holding him hostage with a gun to his head.’
Dora’s face took on a disgruntled air. ‘Well, if you put it like that.’ And then we heard the sirens. Two police cars and an ambulance screeched up the muddy track to the gate.
‘Tell George not to panic,’ I called. ‘And, please God, not to shoot. I’m here. I’ll negotiate on your behalf, just don’t shoot!’
Thirty-six
I was alone no more. Rookery Cottage was surrounded by armed police. A female negotiator, looking pretty in a long flowery skirt and soft white blouse – ‘It’s about looking normal,’ she had explained. ‘Non-threatening’ – stood poised below the closed first-floor window. The ambulance and its crew were ready and waiting by the open gate. Dora had appeared once, to say that George was not best pleased. She had lowered her voice, leaning out further towards us. ‘This wasn’t how it was in that programme.’
I explained to the negotiator – her name was Wendy – about George and his TV show. I had been allowed to stay on site because of my knowledge of the suspect, as Wendy put it.
‘So will you tell the council, then?’ Dora asked. ‘You’ll tell them we’re staying on.’
‘I’m afraid we can’t do that,’ Wendy said. ‘But if you could persuade your brother to put away the gun we can all sit down and have a sensible chat.’
Dora disappeared. She left the window open and was back within minutes. ‘George says he’ll shoot if he doesn’t see that eviction notice torn up. He says you should all go home and send someone from the council instead.’
Wendy asked to speak to Linus. My heart raced as his face appeared in Dora’s place. ‘I love you,’ I mouthed silently. I don’t think he saw.
‘Are you all right?’ Wendy asked him.
He nodded. ‘Just don’t give in to him.’
‘Linus, for heaven’s sake!’ I pleaded with him. He ignored me. ‘I’m absolutely fine. Now remember, no giving in.’ He was gone.
An hour dragged by. ‘Now what?’ Wendy exclaimed as a white van followed by a dark-blue Jaguar drove up to the gate.
An officer hurried towards us. ‘It’s the bloody TV people,’ he called. ‘Local news station. And that guy Barry Jones. Claims he’s a friend of the Wilsons.’
‘Send him up,’ Wendy said. ‘Keep the TV crew away, but tell them to stay in their van.’ She turned to me. ‘You think George would respond in a positive manner to the TV crew?’
I nodded. ‘He might well.’
‘We’ll let Barry Jones, that is the Barry Jones by the way?’ I nodded again. ‘OK, so we’ll let him try to talk to George first.’ Wendy signalled to one of the officers, a tall dark man in his thirties, his cap pressed down low on his forehead. ‘Get Barry Jones up here, will you?’
‘George, Dora,’ Barry Jones called up at the open window. ‘It’s Barry Jones here. Hello, friends!’
Dora appeared. ‘It’s nice to see you again, Mr Jones,’ she said. ‘George says to tell you he’ll shoot if they don’t tear up that eviction order.’
‘Now now, Dora, tell him not to be hasty. I’m sure we can sort this out without resorting to violence. Violence never solved anything.’
Dora seemed to think about it. ‘It did in that film George saw,’ she said.
‘I’ve got the boys from the station with me. You remember Tom? He did you last time. Why don’t you tell George to come out and speak to Tom? It’ll be on the news tonight.’ Barry Jones’s voice was coaxing, as if he was trying to lure a dog with a stolen slipper from its hiding place under the bed. ‘Go on, Dora, you tell him.’
Dora disappeared and came back. ‘George says he wants the telly people right up front with you lot. Says you won’t try any hanky-panky with them there.’
‘Get them over here,’ Wendy ordered.
Within seconds of the TV crew being in place, the door of the cottage opened and Linus stepped out followed closely by George. George had the gun pointing at Linus’s back.
‘Let him go, George,’ Wendy coaxed. ‘Put the gun down and let’s talk.’
‘Why should I listen to you? You don’t care.’ George spat the words out. ‘None of you do. Me and Dora are just two old nuisances. We’re in the way. I fought in the war, do you know that? And Dora lost her young man on the railway, that’s the Burma railway to you. We’ve worked hard, been a burden to no one, but now we’re in the way so that’s it. No one cares.’
‘People do care,’ Wendy tried. ‘But sometimes…’
But George wasn’t listening. ‘But you should care.’ He looked straight at the camera. ‘To you we’re just two useless old people, but you look properly, why don’t you? We’ve got eyes, same as you. Hands, not soft lily-white ones like this here architect, but hands all the same that have worked this land for near seventy years. Do you think we can’t feel things same as you, because we’re old and poorly educated? Well, we had no time for such things, for all that reading and learning. We were too busy working for a living. This is what we’ve got.’ He waved his free arm at the cottage walls. ‘This is where we’ve lived our lives. It’s been a good place, cosy enough in winter, cool in the summer. We know about your opera. It’s nice music if you’ve got the time and the money to go and listen to it. Makes you laugh too, the way they carry on.’ He paused. ‘We don’t matter, Dora and me, but we bleed same as you.’
It happened so fast. George swung the shotgun round, pressed it into his mouth and pulled the trigger. The shot rang out. Dora’s scream turned mute as blood and brain matter and splinters of bone splattered her face and neck, and the top of her yellow jumper. Linus caught George in his arms as he slumped backwards. The gun fell to the ground. Wendy screamed for the ambulance crew. The front doorstep of Rookery Cottage coloured red.
Thirty-seven
The world stopped as the mind and matter of George Wilson flowed out on to the steps of his home.
Then it turned again. Linus was covered with George’s blood. I wanted to take him in my arms, but I couldn’t. Dora sat on the ground, rocking back and forth, a medic trying to get her to her feet. When finally she stood up she stumbled and fell back against him. He steadied her and helped her with the short walk down the drive to the waiting ambulance. She didn’t look back once.
Wendy was discussing what she should maybe have done with two other officers. Barry Jones was sick in a shrub. The television crew had been cleared.
Linus stood a few feet away, looking at me. His eyes were huge and splashes of red stained his white face. Never had I seen a face that colour, plaster-white. I put out my hand towards him. He took it and fell into my arms, sobbing. A doctor, just arrived, offered to help, but I waved him away. I don’t know how long we stood there, Linus and I, but my arms were numb by the time we moved, walking slowly back to my car.
Linus spent the night with me. He lay on his front, one arm thrown above his head, one leg curled up, the foot of the other sticking out from under the duvet. He had fallen asleep in my arms and then, when I was sure I wouldn’t wake him, I had wriggled free and got out of bed. I stood there watching him, my perfect love, with me at last. And I felt nothing.
I walked out of the room and downstairs to the kitchen where I had left my laptop. Then I wrote my piece. By midnight I had faxed it to the paper; it would be in time for the later editions.
Charlie was on the phone again at seven the following morning. He wanted me to do a feature. ‘Recap on the events of the last year. Reintroduce the main players, that kind of thing.’
I told him no.
‘What was that you said?’
‘I said no, I won’t do it. And once the inquest is over I’m going away for a couple of weeks.’
‘You can’t. We need you here.’
‘Yes I can. A
sk the union.’
A week later Linus and I were at the airport, waiting for our flight to Gothenburg. I bought the paper from the news-stand. On page four was printed the result of the inquest on George Wilson’s death. Suicide while the balance of his mind was disturbed.
Linus didn’t make any comment. He had barely spoken since the day George died. Actually, it was OK with me, him being silent. After all, what was there to say? I played out an imaginary conversation in my mind:
LINUS: I drove that man to his death.
ESTHER: Well, don’t you worry about that, Linus dear, these things happen. Anyway, who am I to speak? I betrayed them by my incompetence just as I betrayed you with my misguided ideals.
No, better to say nothing.
After that first night he had moved his few things across from the hotel – Posy didn’t mind – and had stayed with me. We had slept every night in each other’s arms but we hadn’t made love. In the morning we had risen, two strangers, to another silent day.
‘What’s going on with you and this guy?’ Posy had asked me one afternoon when we were alone in the kitchen. ‘I thought you were meant to be in the throes of this great love.’
‘We are,’ I had said tiredly.
In Gothenburg Olivia met us at the airport. This time the place was almost empty. The few people waiting were dressed in anoraks and large coats; it was already winter there. Olivia hugged us both. ‘My poor children,’ she said. ‘My poor, poor children.’
She drove us all the way out to the island. She asked after Audrey, and I said that she was well and not unduly put out by what had happened. Olivia, in turn, told us that Ulla was making excellent progress and that she was expected to be discharged any time. ‘We’ve arranged for her to go away to a retreat up north. It’s run by a marvellous woman, a nun. We’re taking her up there. We felt it would be a good thing. Show her we had put it all behind us. It was a wicked, irresponsible thing she did, but we’re convinced she’s speaking the truth when she says she never meant any real harm. As long as she takes her medication she should be absolutely fine.’
Frozen Music Page 41