by Sean O'Brien
‘I have already tried to do that.’
‘You might try harder,’ he said, with unexpected coldness, though his tone remained even.
‘It would do no good, I’m afraid.’
‘What are you afraid of, man?’ He stood up and began to pace about. ‘Supposing you are a man.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I think we understand each other, Stephen.’
‘I have no authority in the matter.’
‘Then you must find some. With Captain Carson gone, my son is your protégé now.’
People were always finding me responsibilities I would fail to fulfil. Samuel Feldberg was thirty years older than me and a great deal brighter. What need had he of me? ‘David is not the only pupil,’ I said. ‘I am responsible for quite a number of them.’ He looked at me as if I were a stranger who had suddenly sat down uninvited. I reminded myself that, despite the continual traffic it saw, the room was mine.
‘He is my only son,’ Feldberg said, with heavy patience. ‘And he has a gift. It must not be denied or frustrated or allowed to go to waste. Have I to turn to a lawyer for assistance?’
‘This is only a suspension, Samuel. His gift will survive.’
‘He has been disgraced. It would affect his university reference. And this, this suspension, is a pretext for more. This is malice. I know it. You know it.’
I thought of Hamer’s matter-of-fact disposal of David’s future. ‘It is a temporary suspension,’ I said. ‘He will be readmitted after an appropriate interval.’
‘You’re sure of this?’
I was not sure at all but I saw no way of describing my uncertainty that would not darken Mr Feldberg’s mood further. I nodded.
Mr Feldberg continued: ‘I might add that your Mr Gammon refuses to see me. He is too busy. Must I go to the school and confront him?’
‘I’ll look into it,’ I said.
Feldberg sighed heavily and turned over a book that lay on the table. ‘I am curious to know – why were you at that fascist meeting?’ he asked.
‘I was sent to keep an eye on any boys who might be there.’
Feldberg laughed.
‘In my capacity as organizer of the mock election,’ I added, as if it might help.
‘Well, your role was an enormous success. First you allow fascists to stand. And then a public meeting ends in fisticuffs. What will be the third thing, do you think?’
‘But what was David doing there?’
‘He was there to do what you saw him do. He wanted to ask a question.’
‘Could you not have prevented him from going? You’re his father.’
‘I told him not to. I did not lock him in his room. I wish I had, but he should be able to attend a meeting if he chooses. He is a young man, a citizen, and one day soon he will have the vote. It is good that he is not apathetic, no? Yes, it was foolish of him to attend. And where was his friend Dent?’ Where indeed, I wondered. ‘But David does not lack courage. Should I to lock him in a cupboard and hide him away?’
‘It’s a complicated matter.’
‘Complicated, you think. Sometimes it is foolish to be a Jew at all, Stephen, whatever we do. David was unwise, but he was not wrong. And he was attacked.’
‘He put himself in danger.’
‘The danger is always there. You find it, or sooner or later it finds you.’
‘Surely it doesn’t help to exaggerate.’
Feldberg laughed again. It was a bark of rage. ‘Why do you defend these people? He was attacked for asking a question based on the historical record.’
‘I don’t defend them. I just have to think about the consequences.’
‘Consequences? What do you know, Stephen? What have you ever been through, outside of a library? I took David to the police station to complain about the assault he suffered. I was told that there were no witnesses.’
‘I was a witness.’
‘Then it would seem you don’t exist.’ He shook his head. ‘I have to say I’m not surprised. So? Are you going to go to the police now, when David is suspended, when your involvement in the occasion is obscure, when your superiors are – it is obvious – putting pressure on you? Of course not.’
I could think of no reply.
‘For his mother’s sake and the sake of David’s future I am asking you to intervene on his behalf at school. I had not thought you were such a coward.’
‘Then I’m afraid that perhaps you don’t know me. But as I have said, I will try.’ I no more believed this than he did.
‘This Rackham, this Jew-hater, what is his part in this?’
‘I’m not sure. He didn’t seem to be at the meeting.’
‘Think what Captain Carson would have done, Stephen. And do that.’
I had already tried to divine a course of action by this means, but nothing had presented itself. Feldberg could not know that Carson was still more deeply compromised than his feeble deputy and successor had yet managed to become. Once again I considered telling Mr Feldberg about the account he had left for me.
The bedroom door opened and Maggie appeared. She was wearing one of my shirts.
‘Can anyone join the party?’ she asked.
Feldberg rose and buttoned his overcoat. ‘Mrs Rowan. You must excuse me. I would not normally intrude like this.’
‘No need to apologize on my behalf. Mr Feldberg, isn’t it?’ Feldberg nodded and looked at her impassively. ‘And you’ve come to sue for terms? For young David? After his recent exploits? Very commendable.’
‘Exploits. I beg your pardon?’
If Feldberg had not been in the room I might have struck Maggie, but in that case there would have been no provocation to do so.
‘And you think Stephen here is your best way of insinuating your wishes into the thinking of the senior staff? Do bear in mind that he is new in the post and it would be underhand to try to manipulate him.’
‘I am asking for fair treatment. That is all.’
‘I’m afraid you may be barking up the wrong tree. Perhaps you haven’t really understood the society of Blake’s. I can assure you that slandering my brother won’t help. Blake’s is really quite close-knit, isn’t it, Stephen?’ She sat down on the settee, crossed her legs and lit a cigarette. ‘But I’m afraid I’m keeping you.’
‘Please remember me to your husband,’ said Feldberg. ‘I have a book that he asked me find for him. Perhaps he will collect it if at some point he is able.’ With this he left the room.
I followed him down the stairs. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know what to say.’
‘Then be silent, Stephen. I see that your situation is complicated and that others have prior claims on you. I hope this lady of yours is worth it.’
‘I’ll telephone or visit soon,’ I said.
‘What purpose will that serve? You have made what I assume is your apology. You understand that I cannot say that you will be welcome in my house now.’
He opened the front door and went away up the street.
When I came back Maggie had found the whisky.
‘For God’s sake, get dressed,’ I said.
‘You’ve changed your tune.’ She looked haggard in the sour light.
‘Do you realize what you’ve just done?’
‘Did you know they’ve stopped performing lobotomies?’
‘What?’
‘I didn’t know that. I’d been hoping – I mean, I’d been thinking –’
‘What the hell are you talking about, Maggie?’
‘Stop shouting. It makes you ridiculous. I thought you might understand.’
I took the bottle from her, poured myself a glass and put the remainder out of reach on the sideboard. She began to cry.
‘What is it I’m supposed to understand?’
‘Robert isn’t going to get well. Not permanently. His condition seems to be worsening.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that, though I’d guessed it might be the case.’
‘Yes. I knew this would be the o
utcome. Sometimes you just know, and I did.’ She dabbed at her face with the shirtsleeve.
‘It’s very sad.’
‘What? Well, yes. I suppose it is. But you see, I’d hoped that when we got to this stage there would be that option.’
‘Option.’
‘A procedure. Surgery, for God’s sake.’
‘You mean a lobotomy?’
She nodded.
‘But that would be irreversible.’
‘Not now, it won’t. It turns out they don’t do them any more.’
‘Well, it’s probably for the best,’ I said. I was incredulous.
‘Let’s not get too fucking Panglossian about it. I mean, what now?’
‘Well, I suppose Robert will continue receiving drug treatment and other therapy.’
‘No, no. I mean, what now for me?’
‘Well, now the facts are clear. That must be something, in a way.’
‘Must it? Must it?’ She got up and poured more whisky. ‘What it means is that he knows.’
‘Do you mean about us?’
‘Possibly, but that’s not the point. But I mean, he knows, some of the time, what’s happening to him, and, some of the time, why, and he knows I’m there, and while he knows all this on and off there’s no chance of my getting away. That’s what I mean, Stephen. If they cut a bit of his brain out there might be a chance, but my punishment is that he knows.’
‘I’m sure he doesn’t want you to be punished, Maggie.’
‘You’re right. He doesn’t. That makes it even worse. He’s so unbearably bloody good.’ The combination of rage and distress was alarming. ‘Why couldn’t they just cut a bit out of him? He’s no use to anyone, is he?’
‘It’s too late at night for this,’ I said. ‘Don’t have any more to drink. You need a clear head. Then you’ll be able to see what needs to be done.’ But she wasn’t listening.
‘I mean, I don’t ask for much, do I? Do I?’
‘If all of us were judged on our usefulness there’d be rather fewer people about.’
‘Hitler understood about it.’
‘Oh, no. That’s enough, Maggie. You’re drunk.’
‘And you’re just fucking feeble! Like the rest of them. People make such a fuss. They’re like a lot of sheep.’
‘Don’t say any more.’
‘What? My husband, what is he? A parasite, like that Feldberg creature and his little fucking arselicker of a son.’ She was weeping now, ugly with grief, the mascara running down her cheeks.
‘Get dressed, Maggie. I’ll take you home.’
‘Fucking Jews. Always fucking complaining. Never enough. Never let a thing rest.’
‘That’s it,’ I said. ‘This is impossible. We have to stop seeing each other now. Do you understand?’
She was violently sick.
THIRTY-TWO
I took Maggie’s car keys and drove her back to Percival Street. She was incoherent by then. I had to half-carry her up the stairs. When we reached the top floor I struggled to keep her upright while I got the key into the latch. Then the door seemed to open by itself.
‘I wasn’t expecting you back tonight, Maggie – Oh, hello there.’ It was Rackham, bare-chested and wearing pyjama trousers. ‘Well, well. What have you done to her? You’d better bring the old girl in. One too many, it appears. So who’s to blame this time?’ His tolerant amusement woke thoughts of homicide. ‘Let’s get her through to the bedroom.’
There was a half-glass of wine on the bedside table, next to an ashtray in which a cigarette was burning. Rackham moved a book from the rumpled bedcover and I laid the unconscious Maggie down and moved her on to her side. I turned to Rackham, who now leaned in the doorway.
‘What a to-do!’ he said, and whistled as though in admiration.
We went back into the living room and he offered me a drink, which I declined. He poured himself a glass and stood at the mantelpiece, where the ‘Olympia’ imitation had now been placed. He was, in a sense, beside himself. I found myself waiting, as though I needed him to dismiss me.
‘Since we’re here, perhaps we should talk,’ he said.
‘Why? What is there for us to talk about? You seem to have it all under control.’
‘I think we both know what’s happening,’ Rackham said. I shrugged. Let him tell me if he would. ‘It seems to me very likely that you have something of interest to me. Carson has made you his executor, so it seems a reasonable inference. You are the sort of person that James Carson would entrust something to. He was all alone. You’re fairly bright and wholly feckless and he thought you were in need of paternal guidance. He thought the same about me – and it blew up in his face, as it were. Come on, have a drink, Maxwell.’
I shook my head.
‘Please yourself.’ He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. I found the gesture exercised a repellent fascination. He moved to sit on the arm of the settee. I remained standing by the door.
‘So far, all this business has just been a bit unpleasant. It could be much worse, believe me. I’d never want to hurt Maggie, of course, given the way she’s burdened with a husband as mad as a hatter, not to mention her inexplicable involvement with you. But the scandal might have to come out at some point anyway, mightn’t it? So there’s that to consider. And then there’s our little tart Shirley. Olympia.’ He turned to look at the picture. ‘You’ve seen her quite recently, I think. With one thing and another I haven’t had the time myself. But apparently she’s in a bad way, poor love. Selling herself to feed the needle. I mean, where’s the future in that? And there’s young Feldberg with his bright future ahead of him, or possibly not, and his pretty little friend. All of it comes back to you somehow, and think of the damage that could befall Blake’s, which Blake’s couldn’t possibly tolerate. It’s a lot to consider, Maxwell, but we can’t go on like this forever. Give me what I need and I’ll be out of your hair. Consider the risks.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rackham.’
‘For God’s sake, man. Honestly.’
‘Why are you victimizing Feldberg?’
‘Who says I am? Can you prove it? Funnily enough, you can’t.’
‘You must be mad.’
He grinned at this. ‘Must I? Maybe you’re right. I don’t care, though. I’ve been ever so good for years and years. I did the teaching and I wrote the poems that nobody wanted to read. Much good it did me. I can see you know what I’m talking about. I kept my head down and my nose clean, more or less, but now I’m bored with it. I thought: this can’t be all there is. I needed excitement, a project . . . So give me what I want and I may just go away.’
‘You need other people to suffer,’ I said. ‘I don’t understand that.’
‘Well, I should say it has its points. But the thing is, Maxwell, I really don’t care. I might do anything at all at any time if it occurs to me, supposing you don’t give me what I need. I can’t be touched.’
‘How would I recognize what you’re looking for?’
‘You already know. It’s written all over you.’
‘I’m at a loss.’
‘Well, don’t be. Bring me what I want. Give it to me. Or you’ll have to take responsibility for what happens, since clearly I won’t. And you haven’t got the guts for that, have you?’
‘What are you going to do, Rackham?’
‘Eeny meeny – I’m spoilt for choice. Would you rather wait and see? But best not wait too long. Shall we call it a night, Maxwell?’
‘I think it was you who killed Carson,’ I said.
‘Would you like me to break down and confess under the weight of a lifetime’s accumulated guilt and self-loathing, you having tipped the balance? What makes you think I did kill Carson?’
‘Who else would want to?’
He smiled and shrugged. ‘According to you, I have no motive.’
‘Look after Maggie.’
‘I’ll see to her. I always have done so far, one way or another. She’s my
sister, after all. And as for what we’ve been discussing, be quick.’
I could have taken Maggie’s car to get home, but instead I crossed the railway line into the grounds of Blake’s. The grass glittered with cold. I made my way down through the birch wood to the edge of the lake. ‘Lake’ was too grand a word for the body of water in question. But it seemed demeaning for someone like Carson to drown in a pond. Whereas in my case it would be a wholly suitable location. I stood on the wooden jetty. It was salted with frost. The raft was firmly moored now. The water was full of stars.
I walked on and tried to derive some conclusions by measuring my situation against the setting, but there seemed to be no proper match. I could leave, simply up and go – the ‘elemental purifying act’ admired by the poet. I would have to break off relations with Maggie when she was sober anyway, though tonight might leave no need for such formal niceties and adult recognition and acceptances. I wanted to lie down and go to sleep there and then. There was David Feldberg and his father. There was Shirley. There was whatever in God’s name Rackham was hoping to achieve, and there was Hamer always in the offing under his black flag. And Claes, and Carson’s papers, and the accursed mock election, and my own complete unreadiness to cope with any of it.
Answer came there none.
As I made my way alongside the groundsmen’s barn-like corrugated hut I heard a mechanical rattle nearby. I realized the sound was familiar. When we were in the cadets there was weapons training – load, strip and reassemble a Lee Enfield .303. I could probably still perform the procedure myself. This reverie was combined with the conviction that I was about to die. I would not even hear the shot that killed me.
But nothing happened. I tried to work out the source of the noise. One window of the shed was faintly lit. When I peered in I saw Lurch, sitting on a metal chair and cleaning a rifle, contentedly absorbed in his task, while Claes watched with a connoisseurial air, drinking what looked like a Snowball.
THIRTY-THREE
The day of the election was cold and dry. I had set off for the polling station at the nearby primary school before I realized that I was not registered to vote. I passed Smallbone escorting his mother to the ballot. She gave me a smile that managed to be a glare, while Smallbone offered a philosophical shrug. There were, of course, a lot of older people about. The future would have to depend on them.