The Bellwether Revivals

by Benjamin Wood

  Oscar let go of her hand, leaning away. ‘You just thought of all this today?’

  ‘Not exactly. I’ve sort of been sitting on it for a while. I know, I know—don’t start. I wanted to tell Herbert about it when he asked me at the hotel, but—oh, I’m so stupid. I felt so differently about things then. I thought everything would be okay.’

  ‘Well, you have to tell him now,’ he said.

  ‘You don’t think it’s too late?’

  ‘No. He needs to hear it.’

  ‘Then I’ll tell him.’ She tapped the telephone on the Pay-TV that hung over her bed on a mechanical arm. ‘Get him to call me. I won’t be holding back any more.’ She folded back the bedsheet, making a crease around her waist. ‘You know I don’t think he healed it, right? The blackbird, I mean.’

  ‘Good. I don’t either.’

  ‘It was probably stunned or something. Just happened to wake up at exactly the right time.’

  ‘That would make sense.’

  ‘But I don’t think my brother sees it that way. I think somehow he got the idea in his mind that he could do anything if he just willed it. God, if my mother had just said something to him …’ She levered herself upright, slowly, holding her hand against her breastbone. ‘You know, when I was little, I used to get this feeling all the time, right here, a kind of burn. I’d feel sick with it sometimes. The doctor said I was just swallowing my food too fast. It went away over time. But with everything that’s been going on with Eden lately, it’s started again. And I think I finally understand what it is.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s my heart trying to overrule my brain. It’s my heart saying forget what’s reasonable and listen to me. That’s how Eden always manages to get to me. He knows which voice I listen to most. Well, it can shout as loud as it wants from now on—I’m not going to let it win.’ She went quiet again and Oscar held her hand, soothing her. After a while, she pushed her tongue out as if there were a bad taste on it, and tried to douse it with water, but this didn’t sate her. She asked him to get her some juice.

  He went down and bought her a few things from the gift shop: cartons of Ribena, a romance novel called Sorrento Lust he knew she’d find amusing, a pack of playing cards in case she got bored of studying and watching TV. All the time he was in there, he couldn’t get the image of Eden and the bird from his mind. He didn’t quite know if he believed the story or not. The only thing he knew for sure was that he’d never seen Iris like this before—so weary with regret, so unhappy with the world.

  When he got back to her room, Marcus and Yin were there, setting up the ghetto blaster on the windowsill, and she was going through a stack of CDs they’d brought along. ‘We thought we’d rescue you from the hell of hospital radio,’ Yin was saying. ‘I was gonna make a mix tape, but I ran out of time. Oh hey, Oscar, how’s it going?’

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘We’re having a party in here. Grab a seat.’

  They spent the rest of visiting hours listening to Yo-Yo Ma playing Bach, while Marcus told them all about the intricacies of his exam timetable, and about some girl on the Trinity College hockey team whom Yin had kissed at the formal last week.

  ‘So what’s the deal with the leg?’ Yin said, changing the subject. ‘When are they letting you out of here?’

  ‘I’m not sure. A few weeks maybe.’

  ‘Yikes. That sucks. I thought you were a fast healer.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Iris said, ‘so did I.’

  ‘And they’re gonna let you take your exams if you’re not recovered?’

  ‘Might have to do them in a room by myself, but yeah, my father’s arranged it.’

  ‘Damn,’ Yin said, adding his usual guffaw. ‘There’s no escaping old Theo, is there?’

  ‘Never mind that,’ Iris said. ‘Tell me about this girl.’ Yin’s face and neck blotched red. ‘Do I know her?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘That’s why he likes her,’ Marcus said. ‘She’s an outsider, like Oscar.’

  ‘There’s a lot to be said for outsiders.’

  ‘Sure.’ Yin nodded. ‘If she fits in half as well as Oscar, I’ll be happy.’

  Oscar had to admit he felt a certain pride welling in his chest, and he was going to say something about feeling honoured or even touched, but Marcus gave him a friendly slap between the shoulder blades before he could: ‘Oscar Lowe. We do hereby induct thee into the circle. Please accept this Ribena as a memento.’ Marcus reached for the carton on Iris’s table and pushed it into his hand. ‘Do you have a few words for the assembled media?’

  ‘Save it for the press conference,’ Yin said.

  It brought a smile back to Iris’s face. When they left her bedside that evening, she seemed brighter, warning Yin not to get that poor young lady of his in trouble, and telling Marcus to shine his shoes next time he came to visit.

  Oscar kissed her goodbye and she held onto his fingers. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For being so good to me.’

  ‘Any time.’

  ‘Get a room, you two,’ said Marcus from the doorway.

  ‘This is her room, idiot,’ Yin said.

  They gave Oscar a lift back home. With the calm lights of Madigan Hall growing distant in the wing mirror, he began to realise just how exhausted he was. His neck felt tense, his mind was leaden. He listened to Yin and Marcus bickering about the best route to take to Cambridge, and shut his eyes, resting his head upon the shuddering window. He thought about his parents arguing: his father flailing the map around, his mother saying, Slow down, slow down. It was getting on for five months now since he’d spoken to them.

  He had the strangest, most conflicted feelings going home that night. It was hard to reconcile where he was now with where he’d come from. Was it really so wrong that he preferred the leather upholstery of Yin’s BMW to the scratchy seats in his father’s van? Did it matter that he liked the peaceful aria that was on the stereo more than the David Bowie song he’d heard on the cab ride over? And what if he didn’t want to be a care assistant his whole life—did that really make him so high and mighty?

  He would call his parents when he got home—that’s what he would do. He would ask his father how everything was going with the business: was he picking up enough work lately? How was his back these days? Was the van still holding out? And, yes, he would tell his mother about Iris, and say he was in love with her. It was not such a daunting thing any more, to let them know he’d found someone.

  ‘Oscar, hey, Oscar—you hear me back there?’ Yin was calling now from the driver’s seat.

  He hadn’t been listening to their conversation; it had been nothing but a dull burr in the background. ‘Huh?’

  ‘I was just saying, don’t you think there’s something wrong about putting him through it again?’

  ‘I’m not sure what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Herbert Crest,’ Marcus said. ‘We thought you knew about it.’

  ‘He’s coming back,’ Yin said, making a turn.

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Eden did. Just this morning.’ Yin sniffed. ‘Sorry, man, I really thought you knew. I gotta say, I don’t feel so great about it. I told him I’d think it over, but the way I’m feeling, he’ll have to find someone else. Are you gonna go?’

  There was no reason for Yin to lie to him. It had been a few days since he’d heard from Crest, after all, and he didn’t want to start refuting things that might have been true. So he said, ‘I didn’t think Herbert had spoken to anyone about it. When did you see Eden, anyway?’

  ‘We had a study date today,’ Marcus said. ‘At the UL.’

  ‘Did he mention when he might be visiting his sister?’

  Yin and Marcus looked at each other.

  ‘No,’ Marcus said. ‘He’s been in a bad mood lately.’

  Yin puffed out a raft of air. If he could have held his hands up in surrender, he probably would have, but he kept them both planted on the st
eering wheel, turning right. ‘I did talk to him about it, but hey, I can’t force the guy. He hates hospitals. They creep him out or something. I think it’s like a phobia.’

  ‘Nosocomephobia,’ Marcus said. ‘It’s a real condition. My grandmother had it.’

  ‘Well, whatever,’ Yin went on, ‘you know the old guy better than we do, Oscar. I’m not sure I want to get involved with it. Not after last time.’

  ‘You’re just being a sissy,’ Marcus said.

  ‘It’s about graduating, dickhead. I don’t have the time to spend another week out at that house.’

  ‘Admit it. You’re scared,’ Marcus said.

  ‘Hey, the guy had a seizure last time. I’m not putting myself through that again, and I don’t think he should put himself through it either. You know what I’m saying, don’t you, Oscar?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘completely.’ He could feel his heart quickening. All he wanted was to get home and dial Crest’s number.

  Yin turned his eyes to Marcus. ‘See. I told you he’d be on my side.’

  ‘Well, I think it’s unfair to Crest if we don’t go back,’ Marcus said. ‘It’s obviously helping his pain.’

  Oscar kept quiet. When they reached the traffic lights on East Road, just fifty or so yards from his flat, he told Yin to stop and let him out. ‘No problem, man. Are you sure I can’t drop you at the door?’

  ‘Here’s fine. Thanks for the lift.’

  It was only a short walk to his building, and he took deep breaths to settle his stomach. The air was warm and fragrant with freshly trimmed hedges, the pavements dry and cool. He crossed the road without having to check for oncoming traffic. Everywhere was so still that, when he reached the walk-up to his flat and saw a movement of shadows under the porchlight, it startled him. Somebody was waiting by the doorway, leaning a bony shoulder against the bricks. And with every step he took towards the flat, it became clearer and clearer who it was: the rangy build of him, the way the flaps of his cardigan hung down like badly measured curtains, the pearly glimmer of his eyes. He was holding a carrier bag, bulky and sagging with the weight of its contents. ‘Hello, Oscar. I was just about to give up on you.’

  He was not exactly surprised to see Eden standing there—he had such a knack for the unexpected that it felt somehow inevitable—but the shock of Eden’s voice was enough to make him check his stride a little. He brushed past him, into the narrow porch, and put his key in the lock. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Oh, I thought I’d come and see how you’re getting on. It’s been ages since I saw you.’ Eden must have realised how implausible this sounded; his expression caved in. ‘Just trying to be cordial,’ he said, grinning. ‘I have something I need to talk to you about. Can we go inside?’

  Reluctantly, Oscar opened the door and turned on the landing light. The heel-worn carpet of the stairway felt soft under his feet as he scaled the two flights to his flat, Eden following behind him, fingers squeaking on the balustrade. He felt uneasy walking ahead, sensing Eden’s presence behind his back like ominous weather.

  The lights were still on in the flat; he must have forgotten to switch them off.

  ‘Have a seat,’ Oscar said. He gestured to the armchair, but Eden went right over and perched on the edge of the bed, placing his carrier bag on the rumpled duvet beside him. Saying nothing, he removed his cardigan, balled it up and clutched it between his knees, then spent a long moment studying the flat: his eyes flitted from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, object to object. ‘Don’t you know it’s polite to ask your guests if they’d like a drink?’ he said finally.

  Oscar hung up his jacket. ‘I don’t have much to offer you.’

  ‘Water is fine.’

  He rinsed a glass and filled it from the tap. Eden took it, taking a small sip, and set the glass down on the floor beside his dirty canvas shoes. ‘This isn’t about my sister. Not directly, anyway. I’m sure you think I’ve been avoiding her.’

  ‘You shouldn’t presume to know what I think, Eden.’

  ‘Right. But you do think it—you both do—I can tell by the way you’re looking at me right now. All righteousness and consternation.’

  ‘Well, I think it’s fair to say your absence hasn’t gone unnoticed. And not just by me.’

  ‘Has she been upset?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that.’

  ‘Well then—’ Eden pinched at the creases of his trousers. ‘I don’t see what the problem is. She’ll see plenty of me once she gets out of that place. Have I ever told you about my condition?’

  ‘Your condition?’

  ‘Nosocomephobia. Fear of hospitals.’

  ‘I thought you meant your other condition.’

  ‘And what condition would that be?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet. I’m waiting for a professional opinion.’

  ‘You know, you needn’t behave this way towards me, Oscar. I’m not your enemy. We both want the same thing.’ Eden began to straighten out the wrinkled plastic of the carrier bag attentively; Oscar could only see the loosest outline of whatever was inside. ‘It’s true, I haven’t been to see Iris, and I do feel a certain pressure about that. But, it’s not for the reason you think.’

  ‘There you go again. Presuming to know what I think.’

  Eden smiled. ‘You want to hear me say it?’ He picked up his water and took two small sips. ‘You want me to say I haven’t been to see her because now she’s back in hospital it proves that I’m—that I’m some kind of fraud. At the worst, a kind of failure.’

  ‘Well? Aren’t you?’ It came out exactly as Oscar intended: dry, nonchalant.

  Eden didn’t blink. ‘No.’

  ‘Right. It must be a coincidence.’

  ‘Look, I can’t explain it, I’ll admit that. But if you want my honest opinion on the matter—’

  ‘You really think you’re still entitled to an opinion?’

  ‘Well, I’m still her brother. That counts for something.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure.’

  Eden gave a tiny noise from his throat, like a valve being released on a tyre. ‘I haven’t been to visit her because I want her to get better, that’s all. And I’m very aware that seeing me right now wouldn’t be the best thing for her rehabilitation. And anyway, where do you get off lecturing me on this? We’re talking about my sister here. I’ve known her a lot longer than you have.’

  ‘Oh. You’re keeping away for her sake.’

  ‘Yes. Exactly. It’s for her own good.’

  ‘And here I was thinking you were ashamed to face her.’

  Eden stayed quiet for a second, gazing at his shoes. He lifted his head gradually. ‘Why should I be ashamed? It’s not my fault the surgeon was inept. If he’d done his job properly, she’d be fine by now. And if I’d got to her first then all of this would be—’

  ‘You’re really something, aren’t you, Eden?’

  ‘Yes. Actually, I am.’

  ‘You still think you healed her. I mean, you really think it.’

  ‘I don’t just think it. I know it.’

  There was nothing Oscar could do but shake his head and stare back with disbelief and pity, and hope somewhere in Eden’s mind all of this might register. ‘I’ve never met anyone so arrogant or deluded in my whole life. I’d like you to know that. For the record.’

  ‘Noted.’ Eden smirked. ‘But given the calibre of people you associated with before you met my sister, I’m hardly surprised.’ He stood up, dredged the water from his glass, and set it down on the bedside table, noticing the picture tacked to the wall above the alarm clock: a snapshot of Iris posing outside the rectory in a T-shirt and denim shorts and big Sophia Loren sunglasses. Jane had taken it weeks ago and given it to him; he’d put it up there on the wall so he could wake up to it every morning. ‘Anyway,’ Eden said. ‘I didn’t come here to get into a debate with you about this.’

  ‘Then why did you come?’

  ‘Because you owe me a favour.’

  ‘I do
n’t think so.’

  ‘Yes, you do, Oscar—you owe me big time. If it weren’t for me, you’d never have met my sister in the first place.’ Eden went back to the bed and picked up the carrier bag. He turned with a kind of pirouette; the bag spun with him. He held it out by the handles. ‘I need you to keep hold of these for me. That’s the favour.’

  When Oscar opened the bag, he saw a collection of black rectangular cartridges in clear plastic jewel cases. He recognised them. They were the miniDV cassettes he’d used to film Crest’s sessions in the organ house. There were fourteen in total, each of them labelled with Eden’s slanting cursive:

  Dr Herbert Crest, Revival, Session 1, March 2003 (Some Footage Obscured)

  Dr Herbert Crest, Revival, Session 2, March 2003 (Complete Footage)

  Dr Herbert Crest, Revival, Session 3, March 2003 (Complete Footage)

  Dr Herbert Crest, Revival, Session 4, March 2003 (Complete Footage)

  Dr Herbert Crest, Revival, Session 5, March 2003 (Complete Footage)

  Dr Herbert Crest, Revival, Session 6, March 2003 (Complete Footage)

  Dr Herbert Crest, Revival, Session 7, March 2003 (Partial Footage Only)

  ‘What am I supposed to do with these?’

  ‘Put them somewhere safe. A deposit box at the bank would be best, but they’re expensive. Perhaps you have a safe at that nursing home of yours? I’m trusting you to think of somewhere suitable.’ Eden crouched to retrieve his cardigan from the floor. He dusted it down and put it on. ‘Don’t worry. Jane and Marcus have copies too. Didn’t give any to Yin because, well—that’s another matter. We’ve had a little falling-out. But it’s not like I’m trusting you to look after the master copies or anything.’

  ‘So why are you giving them to me?’

  ‘Just a way of fireproofing. Spread the valuables out. That’s what they used to tell us in fire safety at prep … Anyway, there are two sets in there. One’s for you, the other’s for Dr Crest. I need you to send them off to him tomorrow, first thing.’

  ‘Send them yourself.’

  ‘I would, but he doesn’t give out his address so willingly. I find him very peculiar on the telephone. He’s rather suspicious. The man is really quite difficult to understand.’