by Tim Parks
Daniel found a light jacket and stumbled out of the house. If it’s okay with you, I’m going to take a stroll, he told the policeman. Doesn’t look like there’s anyone to bother you, the young man said. He was listening to the test match. In fact if no one else bothers you today, I think they’ll be telling us to leave you to it, sir, as of Monday. They’ve overestimated the problem, I suspect. Fine by me, Daniel told him. How’s the match going? How do you expect it to go, the policeman grinned. It was Pakistan. You teach people a game and they beat you at it. With respect, he suddenly said. Daniel laughed.
The mobile in his pocket, he set off along a track that cut directly down to the estate and the main road. There might be cabs on the move, or he could call again from the roundabout. The track was rutted. Or from the pub that they had drunk in the day they decided to buy the place. A cat brushed his legs. He looked down in pleasure, but already the creature was gone. This is a lovely place to live, he thought.
For about three hundred yards he walked steeply down beside a field. The air was soft and full of scents. Something moved rapidly in the hedgerow. He turned. A twinge in his right side only reminded him how fit he was after all. These were just muscle pains. He was stiff. A month in bed was a month in bed. He had got better. I feel okay, he realised. Rested. Bar the eye. It was strange his attackers hadn’t actually broken a bone. The attack was to keep him away from Minnie. Just a warning. Perhaps they’d hurt him more than they meant to. I’ve earned my keep, Frank had said. Frank had found Minnie’s whereabouts. He was going to see Frank again.
Judge Savage quickened his step. Did I actually do anything wrong, he wondered, in the business of Frank’s disgrace? He kicked a stone. He had never told on his brother. But Martin had seen what was happening. Mother’s accusation was that had he told her first, she could have nipped the situation in the bud. She could have saved Frank. He doesn’t need saving, Father shouted, he needs whipping! How different would it be, Daniel felt, to know that a father really was your father when you called him that? Perhaps not at all. He had definitely felt more attached to Colonel Savage afterwards. Whereas Mother had been less and less his mother, more and more the woman who had made a mistake adopting him. That was really the moment when a bud might have been nipped. Six thousand miles away, in 1955, or perhaps ’54, a woman’s womb had expelled him into the world. No certain birthday. No star sign, he would joke with earnest women at parties. With me anything can happen. It was a good line. The women liked to guess. The preponderance was for Aquarius. And fifteen years later, he reflected, Frank Savage had been expelled from Rugby. The most unexpected things connect.
They look like claw scars, Hilary said in wonderment the first time she saw. She kissed them. Did she love him partly because of those? Some sort of stigmata. Daniel swore to the headmaster it was just a dare. I agreed to it. But it wasn’t true. The pain was excruciating. You were always looking for some way of pleasing Frank, he told himself. Pleasing and appeasing Frank. At least we’ll be blood brothers, he gasped. Frank was grim. On the adoption certificate, they had fixed his birthday on the same day as Frank’s, So that you can celebrate together, Mother said. It was a mistake. And suddenly Frank was blown away, expelled, gone. The Savages were irrevocably split. Martin Shields had lifted the back of his younger friend’s jacket – why? – to find his shirt soaked in blood. You’re my real son, the colonel told Daniel. And years later, after Frank’s dishonourable discharge, the colonel said, You are my only son.
At the bottom of the hill, the older housing estate was mainly Indian with a few white winos where the roundabout met the dual carriageway into town. A big black girl was cleaning dog-shit from her rollerblades. The afternoon was warm. Wondering if a taxi might materialise, it occurred to Daniel that he might even walk it. It was only a mile or so to the address he’d been given. He need spend no more than five minutes with the man. They had nothing to talk about. Perhaps I can walk it, I seem to be okay, then call a cab from there and be home more or less at the same time as Hilary. She would never know he’d been out.
He called the Shields again. It was the first time he had spoken on a mobile while walking along the street. He had always resisted the things. There was the gypsy camp to his left, kids burning rubbish, to the right some industrial buildings in disuse. Edwardian. His mother perhaps, his natural mother, was herself the product of some weird cosmopolitan mix, some nameless place where country and city met in a clutter of wasteland and fast roads. Thank God we managed to buy, he congratulated himself, just that stone’s throw beyond the urban mess. This is where the town stops, the estate agent had promised. That side chaos, this side peace.
Hello? It was Christine’s voice again. Doesn’t Martin ever answer? he asked. A black plastic bag caught at his foot. Sorry I exist, she laughed. He kicked it off. No, I told you, he won’t speak at all now. He has to think apparently. He says he has to think. A heavy truck passed. Greek plates, Daniel noticed. Listen, he said, about the flat. He told her about Sarah. Hadn’t Martin been defending a foreign truck driver when he had his terrible revelation? The signal faltered. We are all carbon. It’s embarrassing, I know, he said. But look, don’t worry, she will get out I’m sure, I just wondered if maybe you would talk to her. It might make it easier if she realises she’s bothering someone outside the family, her godmother no less. Probably she’s quite reasonable with everyone but us. Christine said yes. She didn’t seem perturbed by this new problem. Rather the opposite. Pleased to be distracted, perhaps. I’ll do that right now, she said brightly. What did Christine do all day, on her own with Martin? You didn’t get the police contacting you at all, he enquired, after what happened to me? No. Should we have? she asked.
Then Daniel panicked. He had just entered a street of sixties maisonettes; FREE HONDURAS someone had sprayed over a road sign. It wasn’t that he was lost. The cooling tower was his landmark. I’ve always had an excellent sense of direction. But suddenly he felt a violent urge to run, and at the same time the impossibility of doing so. His breath wouldn’t come. I’m sinking. He had to press his back to a wall. If the half of it was true I would tell you to fuck off at once. Hilary had never spoken like that. She didn’t use the word ‘fuck’. He looked at the phone. That’s my word. I’m ill, he thought. Could he call the police? His hand was shaking. He called the cab company again. Two girls were in a tiny garden with tennis rackets. Not ten feet away. What’s the name of this street, please? His voice wavered. Balaclava, they spoke with Scottish accents. Everybody has sports equipment, he thought. Balaclava? They’re all battles, she explained. The one on the right’s Ypres. Don’t know how you pronounce it, the other giggled. Amazingly a polished voice came on the line. Someone called him sir. Corner of Balaclava and Ypres, Daniel said.
Waiting, he was afraid the girls would think he was ogling them. He forced himself to walk back and forth. They weren’t attractive. The sudden thought that the situation was comic increased his anxiety. You all right? the taller girl called. Fine. He had his back against the wall again, eye closed. Are you sure? The panic welled when he heard her laughter.
As soon as he was in the cab, he felt better. He breathed. This is to be expected after all, he realised, when a man’s been beaten within an inch of his life. A life event of this nature, the consultant had said, can have traumatising consequences. He had read out such reports in court. A life event. Apparently things sprung up on you when you least expected. The loss of peripheral vision consequent on using an eye patch – he had listened to doctors giving evidence – can generate a sense of insecurity. How reassuring everything was when explained in court. I can’t make it, Frank, he said on the phone. I’m not up to it. Not well. Chambers Hall Sports Centre, he told the driver. Feeling awful actually. I’m not supposed to drive for at least a week or two and Hilary’s busy with Tom. Why don’t you come to court tomorrow morning? I’m going to get her to take me to the court to look through a few papers. Frank snorted. You can bloody well come here, Danny boy, if yo
u want to find out about your little Korean wench. Daniel closed his eyes.
Summer meant six-aside. They played on a special pitch of synthetic turf. Max was there! Daniel stopped. But then so too was Crosby’s mother, Rosalind, and a tall older man he recognised, parent of some school friend. They were all together on the low stand that rose to one side of the pitch. In the open field beyond, a cricket game was in full swing. How desirable it all is! How good to see such a mixed group of kids. A thin cloud moved across the sun. There must have been half a dozen teams shouting among themselves. The scores were chalked on a blackboard. The light was beautifully diffuse. But how was it that his wife had this companion, this young man who sat in an office all day and played the piano so wonderfully and may or may not have been interested in their daughter. Dad! Tom ran across to him. What are you doing here? He pushed through a knot of boys and parents. Dad, we’re playing next, come on! He was dragging his father past a tea stall.
But it’s Daniel Savage! My good man! A group of people were around him. Marvellous to see you. Feared the worst. I took a cab, he told Hilary, felt better, wanted to be with you. She gripped his arm, delighted. Have they caught the bastards? someone was asking. Oh watch the game, Daniel told them. Don’t remind me. But people needed to congratulate him, to shake hands. It made them part of a larger world. He’d met them before at parents’ evenings, church concerts, other sports events, or perhaps he hadn’t met them at all. An honour sir, one younger man said. A real honour. For heaven’s sake, Daniel protested, watch the game. Are you all right? Hilary whispered. You should have stayed in. Fine, he smiled, what a lovely afternoon!
I am granting myself a reprieve, he observed, smiling, shaking hands. He’d earned it, he thought. Panic earns reprieve, he noted. Perhaps he should see a shrink, not Frank at all, never mind Mattheson. Tom’s team went back on. Semi-final. The synthetic surface was marked in white for tennis, in yellow for football, in blue for volleyball. It didn’t appear to be a problem. Hilary had urged him to see a shrink when he went to the Cambridge Hotel. You may not realise it, she said, but you actually force me to be bossy, do you know that? You force me to be unpleasant, then say you have to leave me to be free. Where’s the sense in that? The whistle blew. The boys rushed and yelled. Tom was the team’s Brazilian, their genius playmaker. Being black can confer that status. The boy ran rings round the others on the fake turf. Sarah had never been good at sport. Pass! Hilary screamed, pass! He never passes! she complained. I hope you don’t mind my coming along, Max asked politely. Tom’s been begging me. He begs everybody, Daniel laughed, the little beggar. Then hogs the ball.
They stood together at the rail. When Judge Savage cheered, his sightless eye throbbed. If he closed the good eye he found himself in a bright light, but as it were beset by darkness. A bright darkness. They all cheered. From time to time someone leaving or arriving would offer a hand or tip an imaginary hat. Great to have you here, your honour. There was a roar from the cricket field, suddenly a breeze. They were pleased, Daniel knew, to be generous to a man from an ethnic minority. A little girl bounced up and down screaming, Go on, Matthew, go on, go on! Hilary pointed out the propeller spinning on her cap. They laughed. Daniel imagined Minnie walking by. She would have a short skirt, pink sneakers and a tennis racket. Squeezing his wife’s hand, he leaned the other way and said: Max, why don’t you go and see Sarah, find out what she’s up to. If you think that will help, the young man said, I’ll go willingly. Someone scored. Oh dear, Hilary groaned.
Actually, it’s getting a bit embarrassing, she acknowledged in the car going back, but he’s so well behaved and obviously lonely. I rather took advantage of him with the move and everything, so I suppose now I’ll have to put up with it. Ref. was biased, Tom grumbled. Rubbish, Daniel said firmly. You wouldn’t believe how much he arranged for me, how much to-ing and fro-ing he did. In a low voice Daniel asked, If the idiot’s lonely, why doesn’t he go and see Sarah, not us? He was only the father of one of the guys in their team! Tom objected. Didn’t you see when . . . A bad loser loses twice over, Daniel told him abruptly. That was Colonel Savage’s voice. Oh but he’s tried to see her, Hilary moaned, poor chap he has, but the stupid girl chases him away.
Towards eight they drove into town again for the organ recital at the church. No I really don’t want to stay at home, Daniel insisted. Again people flocked around him. I feel fine, he repeated. Hilary had invited a professor of music from a nearby university, an expert on William Byrd. Max should have been here, she said, looking round. The boy hadn’t come. We are so relieved you are well, a reassuring voice said. It was the vicar padding down the aisle. A good crowd, Hilary said, neck craning. Not just churchgoers either. It was important for her, he knew, that it be a distinct community that came to these recitals. She didn’t want it to be considered a Christian function. Let’s hope the man’s good. The problem was that only churches had organs. But Daniel didn’t so much as look at the typed programme on their seats. He sat holding his wife’s hand and let his mind wander. Organ music, he knew, was good for that, complicated and rambling. Various possible tunes seemed to be sizing each other up. Presumably there were rules governing the different themes. I won’t try to understand, he thought.
When there was a concert they brought the organ console down to the chancel steps so that you could get a better view of the organist. There were three keyboards, four if you counted the one beneath the feet, then an umbilical bundle of cables snaking back behind the Lord’s table to the bellows and pipes above. On his polished bench just yards away from them, bald scalp and broad back to the public, the visiting professor displayed a frenetic, elderly man’s agility, left hand racing on one keyboard, right springing up and down between the other two, flicking switches, setting stops, feet all the while clomping at the pedals with the mad vigour of a marionette.
You look glum, Daniel whispered to Tom. The boy was biting the skin round his nails; it was one of Hilary’s habits. I’m missing the Test highlights, he said. Organ stuff is always the same. It was a rule Hilary had invented that if she took Tom to his football games he must come to her concerts. He mustn’t grow up musically illiterate. Daniel whispered: Not that test matches are all that different. The boy smiled. His father almost burst out laughing. How wonderful Hilary was with her endless rules. I broke them all, he thought.
At home, the dog had to be walked. Here was a new routine. They sidled to the end of the close and back. Two of the other houses looked inhabited now. You don’t know how lovely this air tastes, he said. After the hospital. Later, very carefully, they made love. I thought it was the end of my love-making days, she whispered. You would have married Max, he teased. Holding her husband tightly, Hilary didn’t reply.
THIRTEEN
THERE WERE FORTY photographs. A good dozen of them of Koreans. Could you look at these? Mattheson had scribbled. Already I’m in a state, Daniel thought, but calmly. On the floor were three boxes of letters, presumably from well-wishers. Leave them there, he told the clerk. I’ll go through them myself. One might be from her. Get well, love, Minnie. It might. Get well, love, Jane. From married bliss. Or perhaps Sarah had started her comminations again. Oh the clutter, he laughed, he rubbed his hands, before one can get down to anything! Telling me! It was Laura’s voice. They’ll have to burn me out, his daughter had told Christine. So it seemed. She had phoned first thing. Adrian popped his head in. All well are we? Perhaps a little smoke will be enough, Daniel had joked. One jokes. Fit as a fiddle, he lied. But he had sensed that Christine was concerned now. The woman is at a turning point, he thought. She is moving out on her husband. Anything could happen. She needed a place to stay, a place of her own. Could he simply drag his daughter out of the flat? Should he physically force the girl to come and live with them? What power does one have? As far as scheduling was concerned, he agreed that he would start next Monday. Another week. Meantime, I’ll test my one eye on the stone-heaving papers. Am I going to be able to work, he wondered? He was wo
rried. But when he sat at the bench again these other problems would dissolve. There are various other small matters, judge. Bail applications. Sentencing recommendations. Of course, Judge Savage said. As soon as I’m ready.
Putting the phone down, he went back to the photos. None were of the Kwans. My hands are remarkably steady, he thought. Every minute or two he had to close his good eye for a few seconds. He opened it again. Mattheson seems to think I was assaulted by a Korean, he said to Laura. The young clerk held a mug of tea. She stood over him. I thought you must have been to a Chinese restaurant, she remarked. She bent over him. How can you tell they’re Korean? Good point, Daniel said. He looked more closely. She set down the cup on his desk. For a moment he was vaguely jealous of the Shields and their imminent separation. How civilised! The man simply lies in bed until his wife finally goes for the door. Call me a cab, he told the girl.
Having asked Hilary to drive him in early, Judge Savage now had from ten-thirty till after four in the afternoon on his own. Before four-thirty I resolve everything, he decided. Then the exchange of contracts. Life right back on the rails. It can be done. In the bathroom mirror he found a tall handsome man with close cut grey hair, tinted glasses. Tall, dark but handsome somebody had once said. The patch is fairly discreet, he thought. It was reassuring. I look good. Danny boy! Crawford came to knock on his door as he came out. He was holding a copy of Archbold. You’re back! Are you okay? That’s just what I was trying to decide, Daniel laughed. Why this automatic laugh when I speak to people? Look, Crawford asked, he was a prematurely portly, affable man, apart from saying hello of course, I wondered if you could you jog my awful memory a moment. I’ve got a rather curious application to have a charge dropped because the police failed to carry out an identification parade. Forbes, Daniel said at once. Yes, yes, I know, but the circumstances are rather odd. I’ve . . . From the corridor they heard Laura calling, Your taxi, Mr Savage. Tell me, Daniel said. Well, the problem in this one, Crawford began, is that the defendants are on record as having asked for a parade, and now the delay’s been six months. What’s the charge? Daniel interrupted. Rape. Your honour! Laura called. No but rather unusually, you see, there’s an independent witness and since the victim is supposed to have some long-standing grudge against the suspects – two brothers – they claim it’s a set up and that witness should have been called to identify. Tangled web, Daniel pursed his lips. Let’em put it to a jury, is what I say. Crawford is mediocre, he thought, hurrying down the passage. Having to ask him a question like that. Defence counsel was trying it on. Bear brain, Jane had called him. Yet it was Martin they had passed over. Why do I keep thinking of Martin?