The Bellwether Revivals

by Benjamin Wood

  ‘Herbert would’ve been touched by your speech,’ Oscar told her.

  She smiled wanly, and lit up a cigarette. ‘So where are your friends, hm? The kids from the big house.’

  ‘They didn’t think it was right to come. Most of them hardly knew him. I hardly knew him.’

  ‘Nah, you knew him alright. He liked you a lot.’

  ‘I wish I could’ve got to know him better.’

  ‘Yeah. But you saw the best of him. I think you reminded him a little of how he used to be.’

  The way she said it—so breathy, so earnest—made him uncomfortable for lying to her about where the others were. ‘The kids from the big house’—that was how he used to think about them, too, but now he saw them only as his friends, people he had to cover for when called upon. They’d all had good excuses for not coming: Iris couldn’t make it all the way to London with her leg as bad as it was; Marcus and Yin both had exams on Friday and couldn’t afford to give up the study time; and Jane was so worried about Eden that she couldn’t handle the solemnity of a funeral service. But they were all just excuses, not reasons.

  ‘Sorry there’s no wake—he didn’t want one,’ Andrea said. She told him she was shipping Crest’s ashes to America by Fed-Ex. ‘His cousin’s going to scatter them in the family plot, next to where they buried his sister. It’s how he wanted it.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ Oscar said, and the words seemed stupid the moment they came out of his mouth.

  They said their goodbyes and he started to wheel Dr Paulsen back towards the car park, but Andrea grabbed his arm. ‘Hey, hold on,’ she said, then gestured at the old man with her head, lowering her voice. ‘He ever talk about what happened?—between him and Herbert, I mean?’

  Oscar looked down at Paulsen, at his veiny hands drooping over the armrests. ‘I heard it was something about a boat. That’s all I know.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Andrea said, grinning at the sky. ‘I never found out either.’

  There hadn’t been so much as a whisper from Eden in twelve days—not even a simple text message to say he was okay—and on 10th May, when her parents called again from the Auvergne to check up on her, Iris finally decided to tell them he was missing.

  Lying beside her on the bed in the too-big guestroom, Oscar listened as she explained to them why this wasn’t just one of her brother’s usual jaunts to Prague or Heidelberg or Florence, the kind of impromptu trip they were all used to him taking. For a long while, she struggled to get across the gravity of the situation, arguing first with her mother, then with her father, about the importance of cutting their trip short. ‘No, no—it’s different this time,’ she kept saying. ‘I wouldn’t have bothered you with it if I thought—no, okay, but listen—’ It was only when she reminded them that Eden’s first exam was on the 26th and that she didn’t think he was likely to come back for it that the conversation took a sudden, serious turn. Her father’s voice grew thicker in the earpiece, and Oscar could hear his every sputtering word.

  ‘Alright, good, so you’ll come home?’ she said. ‘Okay. Monday then. Good.’ It was finally decided. She hung up, flushed and exhausted.

  It was late on Tuesday evening when Oscar noticed the sound of a car engine outside his flat. He peered down from the window to see Theo Bellwether emerging from the driver’s side of his Alfa Romeo. There was something about the shape of his body in the dusk; he liked to wear a camelhair overcoat at night, even on warm summer evenings, and its padded shoulders made him look thin and tapered, just like his son. The buzzer went off, and the voice on the intercom was thin and ghostly. ‘Hello? Can you hear me? It’s Theo Bellwether. Can we talk?’

  Oscar let him inside. ‘I’m sorry, it’s a bit messy in here. I’ve been at work all day and haven’t had time to—’

  ‘Relax, Oscar. I’m not your landlady. I couldn’t care less about a few unwashed dishes.’ Theo removed his coat. He was not an especially tall man, close up, but he held himself in an upright way: two arms held behind his back, shoulder blades pulled tightly together, as if by strings hidden underneath his clothes. ‘You mind?’ He motioned towards the couch, and sat down before Oscar could answer. With a weary twist of his fingers, he loosened his tie, crossing his legs. ‘Don’t bother putting the kettle on, I’ve had three cups of tea already—you’re my last stop of the evening.’

  ‘I had a feeling you’d be coming to see me.’ Oscar wasn’t sure what to expect from Theo now that he was here. He felt under-prepared. It didn’t seem as if Theo was especially upset: he seemed neither angry nor melancholy, only composed, like a man who knew the cards he’d been dealt and exactly how he was going to play them.

  ‘Funny. The others told me the same thing.’ Theo recrossed his legs. ‘Suppose I’ll give the same speech I gave to them.’ Standing over him now, Oscar could see Theo’s white hair was thinning, and the skin beneath it was dry and spotted. ‘Look, sit down, would you?’ Theo said. ‘I don’t like talking at different eye-levels.’

  Oscar sat on the edge of his bed, leaning forwards. ‘I suppose Iris told you everything, or you wouldn’t be here.’

  Theo peered at the floor and twisted his beard. Then he gave a little dry cough. ‘She showed me the videos.’

  ‘You’re not as upset as I thought you’d be.’

  ‘Well—’ Theo looked at him blankly. ‘The way you’ve all been keeping me in the dark about this, quite frankly I’m furious about the whole bloody fiasco, but my being furious isn’t going to solve anything, is it? So that will have to wait for another time. Right now I’d appreciate it if you’d just sit still and listen to me and not interrupt me until I’m finished. I have a lot to say to you.’ He gave another cough. ‘It’s important that you know I’m not coming here as a sort of defence counsel, but as a father—that’s first and foremost. I saw the videos, and I’ll be honest, they frightened the life out of me. To see my own son behaving that way, well, you don’t need me to tell you how I feel about that. The thing is, though, I’ve always been frightened by Eden. Not by his behaviour—that’s only just become a cause for concern—I mean frightened by how much he knows. He’s always been such an intelligent boy, far more talented than I was at his age. I could master a lancet, but I couldn’t pluck a decent note on the violin if the fate of the nations rested on it, and I certainly didn’t have as many friends as he seems to have, not close friends, people who genuinely liked my company, you know?’ Theo blinked at last. ‘But we’re alike in so many other ways. All of his brashness and exuberance—he gets that from me. All that arrogant self-assurance and stubbornness he has, how he likes to make you think he’s so complex and interesting, like everybody’s either too stupid or too insignificant to understand him—that’s exactly what I was like at his age. I’ve made a lot of enemies that way.’ Pausing, Theo glanced towards the ceiling, at the wiry strands of cobwebs stretching from the cornices to the lampshade, as if he wanted to reach out and sweep them all away. ‘So you see, I understand Eden more than he thinks. And yes, okay, I go easy on him sometimes, I admit it; maybe I let him get away with too much, but it’s only because I understand that side of him. My father couldn’t empathise with that side of me, and I always promised myself I’d be lenient with my own kids. Once you have children of your own, your whole perspective on life changes. You try to right the wrongs your own parents made but you only end up doing new wrongs, making new problems. That’s just how life is … But the important thing I want you to grasp here—and I hope the others grasp this now too—is how long it took for me to understand myself. Do you follow? It took me a very long time to get any kind of self-awareness. Just seemed to click itself on one day like a light switch. Really, it took meeting Ruth and having children of my own for me to lose that arrogance, that sense of self-importance. I’m sure they’d diagnose me with all kinds of things these days, disorders and whatnot. Do you see what I’m getting at here? I don’t want you to think I’m being arrogant when I say this to you now, but I know my son better than anyone, Oscar.
More than some two-bit psychologist who spent—what?—a few hours with him. No, please, don’t interrupt me, okay? You’ll have your turn to speak. I’m telling you something now, so, please just listen … I know exactly how my boy’s mind works because it works the same way mine used to work. Just like I told Iris yesterday, and just like I just told Marcus and Jane and Yin tonight: I’m not worried about Eden. Not in the long-term, because I know that one day he’s going to reach that level of self-awareness I’ve been telling you about. The only thing that concerns me is the here and now, do you understand? I am his father, and it’s my responsibility to look after his best interests. Until Eden reaches that point where he truly understands himself, I have to protect him from himself. Are you listening to what I’m telling you?’

  Oscar stayed quiet.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Theo said, ‘you can talk now.’

  Oscar took a steadying breath. ‘I don’t really know what you’re trying to tell me. But if you’re saying that Eden’s perfectly fine—that he doesn’t need help—well, I’m sorry, but I just can’t agree with that.’

  ‘No, I didn’t expect you to.’

  ‘Dr Crest wasn’t just a two-bit psychologist. He was an expert in his field. He practically defined the whole subject.’

  ‘And he said my son had a narcissistic personality?’

  ‘Yeah. He was sure of it.’

  ‘Oh, come on.’ Theo gave a dismissive laugh. ‘We’re human beings—we’re all narcissists. We’re all selfish. Just because somebody is extraordinary, or ambitious, or self-motivated, that doesn’t mean they have a disorder. It’s just human nature. Survival of the fittest.’

  ‘How can you say that?’

  ‘Because it’s true. I’ve read the diagnostic criteria for NPD, and yes, there are a few things you might level at Eden—need for admiration, a certain lack of empathy, okay, okay—but I just don’t recognise my son in most of them, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Mr Bellwether, I—’

  ‘Oh, call me Theo, will you?’

  Oscar sighed. ‘I can’t believe you’re saying that—you’re a doctor.’

  ‘I’m a surgeon,’ Theo said, ‘but that’s beside the point. What I’m saying is, I know my son, and he’ll be fine. He’s just going through a bad phase right now, and the last thing he needs is for some idiot shrink to go advertising his troubles to the world—worse, to go tarnishing my son’s reputation, and my own for that matter, with some glib diagnosis.’

  ‘Theo, with the greatest respect, I think you’re lying to yourself.’

  ‘Please don’t psychoanalyse me, Oscar.’

  ‘I’m not. I’m just saying maybe you can’t accept Eden’s ill because you think it’ll reflect badly on you somehow. And it doesn’t.’

  ‘Oh, so now I’m a narcissist. I see.’ Theo let out a whipcrack of a laugh. ‘I know my son, and I don’t believe he’s ill. Misguided? Yes, perhaps. A bit too big for his boots sometimes? Clearly. But he doesn’t need any kind of intervention from the psychiatric profession, I want us to be very clear on that. He just needs some stern words and a little tolerance.’

  There was resoluteness in Theo’s eyes now, and Oscar knew that it wasn’t coming from a place of reason, but from somewhere deeper, more emotional. It was the kind of look his own father had never shown in public, or anywhere for that matter: sheer blind love for his son. ‘If you could just see him, Theo,’ he said. ‘If you could see the way he’s been behaving—’

  ‘I’ve seen the videos. I’ve been through all of this with Iris, I’m not going through it with you, too. I haven’t come here to argue with you.’

  ‘Did she tell you about Harvey Road?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We had to sweep up the clavichord into cardboard boxes.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘It took us all night to clean up Iris’s room. The birds might’ve gone but you can still smell them.’

  ‘Yes. Look, I know all that.’

  ‘It doesn’t bother you?’

  Theo took a long breath in and a long breath out. ‘I don’t have time to get upset.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d seen the state of the place. If you’d seen the look on Iris’s face when she opened the door.’

  ‘Don’t start telling me what I would and wouldn’t think. I won’t be lectured to. Eden’s clearly been acting very oddly, and he’s handled things badly. Nobody’s arguing with that. But my concern isn’t for the state of Harvey Road right now. It’s for my son’s future. He’s going to achieve big things in his life, we all know that, and he doesn’t need any setbacks. That’s why I’m here: to protect him from himself. And I think you know what I’m referring to.’ Theo leaned forwards, making a steeple with his fingers. ‘I need the tapes he gave you, Oscar.’

  ‘I don’t have them.’

  ‘Come on now. Marcus and Jane already gave me their copies. They were only too happy to help me. Why are you being so obtuse?’

  ‘I don’t have them.’

  ‘Oscar, I’m asking you nicely. Don’t make things difficult. It’s very important that you give me those tapes.’

  ‘They’re not here. I put them somewhere safe, like he told me to.’

  ‘Then we’ll drive there, wherever it is.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Yes, now.’

  ‘That might be difficult.’

  ‘Just put your coat on and let’s go.’

  They drove silently along Queen’s Road, heading for Cedarbrook. The sky was dark and starless and streetlights flashed across the windscreen in a steady ticker-roll of blue. Operatic music played quietly on the stereo. Back in the flat, Oscar had felt certain about the idea, but now, as Theo steered the car through the gates and pulled up in the driveway, he didn’t feel so sure. And as he walked inside, flashing his ID badge at the duty nurse, his stomach felt loose and he was trembling a little. He went upstairs and strode by the snoring patients in their closed-off rooms. Slowly turning the handle on Dr Paulsen’s door, he went inside and saw the old man sleeping on his back with his mouth half-open. He retrieved a carrier bag from the back of Paulsen’s wardrobe and found the tapes still inside, plus the original videos he’d shown Crest all those months ago in London.

  Treading gently, he left Dr Paulsen sleeping, went back downstairs, waving at the duty nurse, and got back into Theo’s car. The engine was still running. He handed the carrier bag over.

  ‘Good,’ Theo said, eyeing the contents of the bag under the dashboard light as if there were used banknotes inside. ‘Thanks for making this easy. I might get some sleep tonight, after all.’ Theo put them on the back seat and reversed out of the gates.

  It was only then that Oscar felt sure he’d done the right thing. He thought of the copies he’d posted to Herbert Crest, seeing a Jiffy envelope somewhere in his apartment, amid a pile of unopened condolence cards and health insurance policies. He knew he wasn’t betraying anyone.

  EIGHTEEN

  The Ordering of Material Affairs

  Oscar couldn’t remember time ever passing as slowly as it did that fortnight in May. In the lead-up to their exams, Marcus, Yin, and Jane were just like all the other Cambridge students, sandbagging themselves inside their colleges to study, stopping only for sleep and food, coming out into the fresh air only to make it to the University Library before it closed. At night, the city felt empty and eerily quiet, but there was a strange kind of energy inside the boundaries of the colleges whenever he passed by, like secret meetings were taking place behind closed doors, operations being plotted by candlelight. He saw little of his friends in those two weeks, though he thought about them often as he worked his shifts at Cedarbrook, wondering how they were getting on and hoping they were thinking about him, too. His days at work were even more drawn out than usual: he would try not to count the hours, because measuring out his shifts only made the time pass more slowly. Tasks he thought would kill several minutes, like helping Mr Foy into his varicose vein stockings or segmenti
ng grapefruits for the residents at breakfast, hardly seemed to take any time at all. He couldn’t even talk to Dr Paulsen any more. And when he got home, there was nothing to do but sit around, watch TV, listen to the radio. He was too bored to clean the flat, too heavy-hearted to read a book, and this only made things worse, adding guilt to loneliness. For those two excruciating weeks, he felt alone again.

  It seemed like forever since he’d last seen Iris. She spent her days studying at her parents’ house and, apart from an awkward telephone call every night (in which she was not quite herself, always making him feel like he’d phoned at the least convenient moment) they hardly spoke at all. Her leg was growing stronger and she was getting regular physio now, but she was still on her crutches and couldn’t drive herself to Cambridge even if she wanted to. ‘I can’t be putting myself in a cab just to give you something to do,’ was how she put it, ‘it’s going to be hard enough making it out there to sit my exams. With all the painkillers I’m taking, God knows what kind of gibberish I’ll end up writing. I need to use this time properly.’

  With Eden still missing, she seemed more focused on her studies, and more determined than ever to prove herself to her parents. She talked about them a lot in their nightly conversations. ‘I think this is the longest stretch they’ve spent at home all year. My mother keeps bringing me cups of Darjeeling and telling me to eat, and Dad seems to be on the phone a lot, so if you can’t get through to me, that’s why.’

  She said that her father had been talking to his credit card company to check if and where Eden had been spending his money. The account was in her father’s name, so they’d given him the information he asked for, but it wasn’t showing any activity. ‘He’s making a lot of calls to France, too. He thinks I can’t hear him down there in the study, using his French phrasebook from the seventies; it’s embarrassing. They’re about to exchange on that gîte of theirs by the sounds of it, so obviously nothing’s going to get in the way of the big retirement plans—massive shock. And yesterday, they were arguing about Eden. I don’t think I’ve ever heard them argue like that before.’