‘You look different.’
‘In a good way, I hope.’
She hugged him again, kissed his cheek.
‘It’ll take some getting used to.’
He caught the synthetic fragrance of her hairspray—she didn’t even smell the same any more. Her skin seemed chalkier when she kissed him, as if she was wearing more foundation than usual, and though he’d seen the clothes she was wearing many times before, there seemed to be something different about the way she was wearing them; a few more buttons undone, her skirt a little lower on her hips.
‘Well, I had to get your attention somehow,’ she said, looking hurt by his flippancy. ‘You don’t pick up your phone, you don’t answer your messages.’
‘I’ve been working a lot.’
‘Every hour of the day?’
‘More or less.’
‘You’re avoiding me, aren’t you? Admit it—you’ve been avoiding me for weeks.’
The agency nurse was pretending to organise the files and papers on the desk. ‘Let’s talk about this outside,’ he said, shepherding Iris out of the lobby by the taut cellist’s muscles of her arm. They breezed through the porchway, into the clement March night, where everything felt so alive, full of scents. Instinctively, she moved to light a cigarette and he stopped her. ‘You can’t smoke here.’
‘What?’
‘If you want to smoke you have to go off the grounds.’
‘Jesus, alright, fine.’ She let her pack of cloves fall back into her handbag. This tiny disappointment seemed to upset her greatly.
Tears began to show in her eyes. ‘Oscar, are we drifting apart? It feels like we are. I mean, it feels like you are.’
‘I don’t know,’ he told her. ‘Maybe.’
Her eyes moved slowly to the ground. She pushed her shoe into the gaps between the flagstones, digging out the moss. ‘I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong?’
‘Ask your brother.’
‘What’s he got to do with it? This is about you and me.’
‘No, Iris, that’s the point. It’s never just about you and me.’
‘But I thought we were together on this. Now that he’s treating Crest, I thought—’
‘Treating Crest? It’s the other way round.’
‘Yes, alright, however you want to see it.’
‘That’s how it is, Iris.’ He was getting exasperated. ‘This is exactly what I mean.’
‘You don’t have to shout at me,’ she said, though he was sure he’d barely raised his voice. ‘God, everything feels so different between us lately. You’ve changed so much.’
Now ‘angry’ was the right word. ‘Oh, you’ve got to be joking.’ He tried hard to contain the feelings that were building inside him. ‘I know you tell him things, Iris.’
‘He’s my brother,’ she said, emphasising the word as if he was not aware of their relation. ‘Aren’t I allowed to talk to my own brother about my boyfriend?’
‘Not about private things. Not about stuff I told you in confidence.’
‘I’ve never told him anything important.’
‘There’s no point lying about it. I know it. I’ve seen the proof.’
‘Why are you being like this?’
‘I’m not being like anything. I’m being real.’ It was all coming out a little too quickly, in words that seemed unfair when he spoke them aloud, but he was too wounded by the sight of her to stop himself. ‘I just wish I could have you without having him. You’re not the same person when he’s around you.’
She looked back at him with wide, wet eyes. Her mouth quivered with a pent-up sadness that fractured her voice when she spoke: ‘Why are you being so cruel?’
‘Because I’m hurt, that’s why. You got me involved in all of this mess with Eden. I didn’t even want to be a part of it. But you asked me to help you help him, so I did. Because I loved you—and I still love you—but this situation between us, it’s just getting too much for me.’ He took a breath, considering his next words. ‘For you to go and tell him private things behind my back—I just don’t know if I can forgive you for that.’
This seemed to get through to her. A kind of humiliation registered on her face, in the slackening of her brow, in the way she drew her eyes away from him in shame. All she said to defend herself was: ‘Oscar, I—’
She began to cry. Tears rolled along her cheeks and streaked the foundation, revealing the truer skin beneath. He didn’t move to comfort her at first, but the longer she stood there sobbing, the more she seemed like a frightened child who didn’t understand what she was being scolded for. He took her by the shoulders, pulled her head towards his chest until he could feel the wetness of her tears through the cotton of his uniform. ‘Look, I don’t want to break up with you,’ he told her. ‘I just want you to be with me completely. I want what we have to be ours and nobody else’s.’
‘I’m so sorry, Oscar. I just don’t know what’s the matter with me lately. I feel so different. I just feel so different and I can’t explain it. I’ve been thinking maybe I’ve got post-traumatic stress or something.’
‘Maybe you do.’
‘I’ve been having such awful dreams, you know—about the accident.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me that before?’
‘I wanted to but—’
‘But you told Eden instead.’
This set her off crying even harder. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know why I always go to him. He never helps me.’ She pulled her head from his shoulder, blinking up at his face. ‘I even quit my chamber group. It seemed like the right thing at the time, but, oh, I don’t know why I do anything any more. I can’t seem to get my head straight.’ He held her tightly, smoothing his hand along the line of her neck, where a wave of blonde hair once fell. ‘I wish you would’ve called me, Oscar. I missed you so much. Just the sound of your voice. I’ve been so low this last couple of weeks.’ She leaned into his chest, her arms around him. ‘You’re so important to me—I mean that. I probably don’t say it enough. But you’re the only man I’ve been with who’s ever made me feel this way.’
‘It’s alright,’ he said, kissing her. ‘I’m here now. It’s alright.’
‘I love you,’ she said, and that was all it took. In the quickness of one moment, as she wept in the glow of passing headlights, he realised he’d forgiven her. Something had released inside him and he could feel a warmth returning to his blood. This was the closest they’d been in months.
On Sunday morning, he woke early to make her breakfast. She was still sleeping with the bedsheets twisted between her knees and a dusty bar of sunlight upon her back. He turned his computer on while he waited for the kettle to boil and found an email from Eden amid a bank of spam messages for hair tonics and hotel breaks. The subject line read: ‘On the Treatment of Our Mutual Friend’.
Oscar
I’m ready to receive our mutual friend. Tell him to come out to my parents’ house tomorrow evening. Let’s say 8pm. He might want to bring an overnight bag, just in case. And he has to stop taking his tablets now—be sure to tell him that. Your own attendance isn’t mandatory, but I should think you’ll want to come along anyway. I’ll explain more tomorrow.
Yours
Eden B
PS – Tell Iris, and I’ll tell the flock.
Crest seemed surprised at this development when they spoke on the phone. ‘Alright, but I’m going to have to bring Andrea along for the ride. She can stay in the car, go for a walk or something. I’ve got to say, I didn’t think he’d follow through with this. It’s been two weeks—we should give the guy some credit. He’s a man of his word.’ Crest coughed dryly and it took a moment for him to settle again. ‘It’s a little unusual—this flock thing.’
‘Why?’ Oscar said.
‘Phoneys don’t get their friends involved usually. It’s more exposure than they can control. Widens the zone of scrutiny.’ Crest coughed up the last of whatever was troubling his throat. ‘My bet is he hasn�
��t told those guys the whole story. They probably don’t know what they’re getting themselves into. We’ll just have to see how things play out. Whatever happens, we have to let things take their own course. No getouts. You hear me?’
‘I hear you.’
They decided it was best for them all to meet up at the Bellwether house. Oscar handed the phone to Iris so she could give the old man directions. When she hung up, her face was ridged with concern. ‘Did he sound worse to you?’ she said.
‘About the same, I’d say.’
‘Hope he’s strong enough to make it through all this.’
‘From what I’ve seen of that old man, he’s got willpower coming out of his ears. He’ll make it.’
They spent the afternoon in bed. It had been so long since they’d been able to do that, to relax in each other’s company, idling away the hours. Oscar lay at the foot of the mattress, and studied the tiny scars on Iris’s thigh. She had four short streaks upon her skin like chicken-pox marks, just above the knee—from a yard or so away, they were hardly visible, but up close they were clear, fleshy as bacon. When he traced over them with the back of his hand, she smiled and sighed. He moved to kiss them, but she pulled her leg away. ‘I was thinking,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure if I want to live at Harvey Road next year. I think I’d like to live in halls.’
‘Oh?’
‘With it being my final year and everything, I think it would be better being closer to things. Don’t you think so? I mean, we’re not supposed to be off campus during term time anyway.’
He doubted whether her parents would allow it. Too often he’d seen her try to sell an idea to her father and fail. Like the prospect of doing a residency in a hospital overseas, or the possibility of going into dentistry instead of paediatrics, only for Theo to give his final, unanswerable verdict: ‘No, darling, I don’t think so.’ Her mother would chime in with a few words of reinforcement—’You heard your father; it’s a bad idea’—and that would be the end of the matter. Iris would flop back in her chair, red-cheeked, huffing out her frustrations. This was surely how the conversation would go if she asked to move out of Harvey Road, but Oscar knew better than to point this out to her. It would only upset the balance that had been restored between them.
Later that day, he called Cedarbrook to rearrange his shifts for the week ahead, and Iris helped him pack some things into a holdall. They agreed that if Crest was going to stay over at the house, they should both stay over too. ‘How’s Eden going to get this past your parents?’ he asked. ‘All of us turning up unannounced tomorrow—they’re bound to wonder.’
She folded up a round-collared shirt he never wore and packed it into the bag. ‘You should wear more green things,’ she said. ‘Green suits you.’ She moved back into his wardrobe, skittling through his hangers. ‘They’re away. Barcelona. Some conference of Dad’s. He invited me to go with him—can you believe that? Said it would be good for me to show myself amongst my peers. My peers! He thinks I’m a surgeon already. It’s kind of sweet, when you think about it.’ And she gave him a little peck on the lips, breezing past him on the way to the window, where she slid the pane upwards and leaned out, lighting a cigarette. This was more like her, Oscar thought—the girl he’d fallen in love with.
‘Oh, did I tell you?’ she said. ‘I found the perfect cello. A friend of Jane’s was selling it. It’s not a Guadagnini or anything, but it has such a lovely tone. And, between you and me, I think I robbed the poor girl blind. It’s worth triple what I paid for it.’ She drew contentedly on her clove, blowing the smoke out into the pleasantness of the afternoon. ‘I’ll play it for you sometime.’
It was around eight o’clock, one quiet Monday evening in March, when Herbert Crest’s black Mercedes came rolling along the tree-lined driveway towards the Bellwether house. Standing with Iris under the cold blue of the garden floodlights, Oscar watched it reach the end of the road and take a hesitant turn into the forecourt, make a slow circle around the fountain, and come to a stop behind Jane’s mud-splattered Land Rover. He could see Andrea’s indignant face through the windscreen. She got out of the driver’s side, slamming the door behind her, and helped Crest out of the back seat, walking beside him, step for step.
Oscar moved to greet them, and Andrea handed the old man over to him without a word, as if she was returning a rented tuxedo. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘You found the place okay.’ She didn’t reply, just gave him a hard stare and walked back to the car.
‘Don’t mind her,’ Crest said. ‘She thinks she owns me.’ There was the sound of another slamming door, and Crest turned to look in its direction, shaking his head. Andrea was sitting back behind the wheel, arms folded. ‘Oh, the kindness of women, huh? They just care too damn much about everybody. Even stubborn old assholes like me.’ He smiled at Iris. ‘You changed your hair. It suits you.’
She blushed. ‘Thanks, Herbert. I’m not sure if I like it yet.’
‘It’ll grow on you,’ he said, laughing at the cheap pun, and lifted his baseball cap, ‘not like mine.’ He eyed the vastness of the grounds, absorbing the white house, the pristine front garden, the fields and blossoms that surrounded them. ‘Helluva place you’ve got here. Reminds me a little of home. Where’s your brother?’ he said. ‘Not part of the welcoming committee?’
‘We don’t know,’ Oscar said. ‘Only just got here ourselves.’ They’d come directly from Cedarbrook. He was still wearing his uniform, and his overnight bag was still in the boot of Iris’s car.
‘He’s probably in the organ house,’ Iris said. ‘He’s always in the organ house.’
‘Right. The place from the videos. Intrigued to see it.’ Crest looked up towards a light blinking off in an upstairs window. ‘Maybe I could pop in to say hello to your parents while I’m here?’
‘They’re away,’ she told him. ‘On business.’
‘Spain,’ Oscar said, as if to endorse her honesty.
‘Busy people, I imagine.’
‘We hardly get to see them at this time of year. Always going off somewhere.’ She gestured towards the back of the house. ‘Shall we go through?’
It was pitch-dark in the atrium. Iris flicked the switch to turn on the chandelier and its crystals sparkled warmly. The house seemed empty, though it bristled with some invisible energy, like the excitement of guests hiding at a surprise party. All at once, there was a stir of voices from the floor above and, in a charge of activity, three sets of feet came vaulting down the staircase: Jane, Marcus and Yin, their faces pink with laughter.
‘What were you doing up there?’ Iris said.
Jane was giddy. ‘Nothing. Just messing about.’
‘We all got talking about your father’s wine cellar,’ said Yin. ‘Spent the last hour trying to find the key. Do you know where he keeps it?’
‘No,’ Iris said. ‘Ask Eden.’
‘We did, but he’s holding out on us.’ Yin jumped the last stair. ‘He says your dad’s got a Screaming Eagle Cabernet in there. We don’t believe him.’
‘I wouldn’t have the faintest idea,’ Iris said.
Crest was still standing patiently in the atrium. ‘Always been more of a cold beer man myself,’ he said. ‘Nobody pays more than ten bucks for a drink where I grew up.’
Yin pushed his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘I guess it’s all Sam Adams where you’re from, huh?’
‘And I guess you’re one of those Napa Valley kids—wine on the inside,’ Crest replied. ‘We’re both a long way from home.’
Yin smiled broadly. ‘Yeah. We are.’
‘So where’s Eden?’ Oscar asked.
Marcus piped up then. ‘He’s out in the O. H. We’re not allowed in yet. He said to find a way of entertaining ourselves until you showed up, so we did. Nothing more entertaining than a good old root in people’s drawers.’ He was holding a cut-glass decanter in one hand and its shiny little stopper in the other. ‘There are so many rooms in this house, it probably has its own micro-climate.’
Ir
is didn’t seem discomfited by the idea of her friends scavenging in her parents’ empty house. She just turned to Crest and said, by way of introducing him, ‘I presume you all know who this is.’
‘Sure,’ Yin said, shaking Crest’s hand. ‘You’re the guy we’re here to help.’
Crest nodded politely.
‘We’re sorry to hear about your, you know—your condition,’ Jane said. ‘When Eden was trying to explain to me what music therapy was last night, I’m afraid it all went over my head. But I’ll do my bit. I just hope we can help you with the pain.’
‘I hope so too,’ the old man said. He cornered his eyes at Oscar. ‘You all seem very comfortable with the idea.’
Yin shrugged. ‘Frankly, I don’t see how a bit of music’s gonna make you feel any better. But whatever—if you think it’ll help, I don’t see the harm.’
Marcus was the last to shake the old man’s hand. ‘Well, I think you’ve made a good decision coming here tonight. If there’s even the slightest chance this can help you with the pain, it’s got to be worth it. Eden knows what he’s doing. Trust me. Nobody understands more about music than he does. If he says there’s something to this music therapy stuff, there probably is.’
‘Yeah, that’s me alright,’ Crest said. ‘I’ll take whatever’s free.’ He looked at Oscar, then at Iris, one eyebrow cocked. ‘I know you probably think it’s a crazy way for a man to get his medicine, but I’ll try anything once.’
‘I don’t think it’s so crazy. The five of us put Oscar under with hardly an effort—just a little madrigal Eden knocked up overnight,’ Marcus said. ‘Once he gets that organ firing, who knows what can happen? If he can put you to sleep for a while, at least that’s a few minutes you’re not in pain. Don’t you think?’
Crest nodded, smiled. ‘I do.’ He turned to Oscar, winking. ‘See, I told you they’d understand. Pain relief. That’s all this is.’
The Bellwether Revivals Page 22