‘Was Professor Kaupff involved? Was there any evidence?’
Davis shrugged. ‘The inquest concluded it was an accidental drowning and no one else was involved – I’ve looked through all the files. But when you’ve got a known pervert in the Town, and a child dies like that – well, you only need to put two and two together. Nobody wanted to dig too deep – better to let him get away with it, as long as he’s useful.’ Still Davis drummed the book on the table, anger simmering in his voice. ‘And that’s the key to it all – how useful is he? Nobody questions what he did in the past, but he’s an old man now, and this so-called space mission is his last chance. If he delivers results he’ll get another medal and perhaps be allowed to retire. But if he fails then it’s time for him to get what he’s long been owed. All I need is a little more evidence, which is where you come in.’
Robert mentally replayed the scene in Kaupff’s bedroom and saw the tears in the professor’s eyes. ‘Even if he makes a pass at me, it won’t prove anything about what he might have done to the children.’
Davis nodded. ‘For queers it’s only prison – the Penal Code is pretty lenient in that regard. But proof that he’s a nancy would bolster the case regarding the boys.’
‘And is that why you’re here at the Installation?’ Robert asked. ‘To investigate Professor Kaupff?’
Davis’s face hardened instantly and his voice became a quietly sneering hiss. ‘Don’t take it upon yourself to ask about my operation, you fucking squaddie piece of shit.’ He let his words sink in, then adopted a conciliatory tone. ‘There are people in high places who think Kaupff’s latest scheme might demonstrate he’s finally lost it. Kaupff’s a national asset gone rusty – he’s an old battleship you either leave to rust or break up for scrap. And while my superiors try and work out which to do, I get on with gathering evidence. He’s taken a fancy to you – anyone can see that. Might be nothing more than an old man’s fondness for a young protégé – I’m quite prepared to see the innocent side of it. Or he might want to wave his cock in your face. Whatever he does, you tell me – got it?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Has he kissed you?’
‘No, sir.’
‘In his flat, did he touch you?’
‘No, sir.’
Davis sat back, apparently satisfied. ‘I billeted you with the Franks for a reason – you understand that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘The woman made a full statement at the time, but she might have come up with her own ideas since then about what really happened. She might even have withheld information – it’s not easy for a parent to admit they’ve been negligent. If you learn anything new, you tell me.’
‘I shall do my patriotic duty, sir.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Davis rose from his chair and lifted the book from the table. ‘Let’s go.’
Robert stood up, and when Davis opened the door it was like being released into life again, though it was only the office with its clattering typewriter that they emerged into. Davis led Robert out along the corridor and back to the incongruously cosy surroundings of the lobby. The red light no longer shone above the telephone booth – Kaupff’s call had ended and he was nowhere to be seen. Jason, however, was still at his desk. ‘Your car is here,’ he said.
Davis gave Robert a pat on the back which almost felt like an ejecting push. ‘Do your duty, Coyle.’ Then Robert took the coat that Jason handed him, and went out to the waiting vehicle.
11
When Robert arrived back at his lodgings the hall was dark, the living-room door was closed, and from behind it he could hear raised voices. Miriam and her father were arguing.
‘What do you mean, Dad?’
‘Don’t fly off the handle, Miriam. I’m only saying that whenever your mother and I try to tell you something you act as though we’re attacking you.’
‘But you are! You seem to think that just because we get this soldier dumped on us we have to treat him like the district governor. You could make him sleep in the bath and he’d probably be grateful, but no, you have to throw me out of my own room.’
‘There’s no need to be so hostile, either to him or to me. Robert’s a good lad and we’re lucky to have him here. A fine-looking man.’
‘Don’t give me any more about the son you never had, please!’
‘You be quiet and don’t talk like that in front of your mother. You’re a grown woman now, Miriam, and we need to be realistic.’
‘Meaning what?’
‘Meaning sooner or later you’re going to have to think about settling down.’
Robert stood in darkness, hearing Miriam’s intake of breath as she tried to find her words. ‘Settle down? Pardon me, Dad, but exactly what are you talking about?’
‘You need to have plans, Miriam, you’re not a wee girl anymore.’
‘The only plan I have is to get myself out of this shite hole at the earliest opportunity.’
‘You mind your language! You’re not too old to feel the palm of my hand. And how dare you call this house what you did.’
‘Not the house, Dad, the whole place – the Installation. Do you really expect me to spend the rest of my life here?’
‘There’s only one way you’ll ever get out, Miriam, and that’s if you marry up a category, and I see no developments on that score.’
‘Oh, and you’ve got me lined up with soldier boy, have you?’
‘Don’t be so daft, Miriam, I wish you could at least try to look at things logically. I’m not lining you up with anybody. But you know what happens with a lot of these young recruits that come here – they do their training, meet a lassie and end up settling down in the Installation. Young Shona and John, for example. Or Karen and Tommy.’
‘Karen had a black eye last time I saw her that she got off Tommy after he came home drunk from the Levellers. Tried to hit the baby too.’
‘Is that relevant, Miriam? Is that the best you can do?’
‘I don’t need to listen to this.’
Robert moved away from the door, ready at any moment to proceed up the stairs as though he had only just entered, but the conversation wasn’t over yet because now it was Mrs Frank’s quieter voice he heard.
‘Robert hasn’t done anything wrong, Miriam, so let’s not take it out on him. And there’s no need to rush – whenever you meet the right man you’ll know it. The one thing you shouldn’t do is latch on to a technical just because he can take you out of the Installation – we’d never see you again, and what if he turned out bad like Tommy? Who would you go to? Your father’s right: unless there’s an Installation boy you’ve always had your heart set on, an incomer’s your best bet; a recruit like Robert or one of the other boys with him in town today. There’ll be girls snapping them up while they’re here.’
‘Whose side are you on, Mum?’
‘I’m not on anybody’s side. Life isn’t a contest.’
Robert waited to hear Miriam’s response, but he waited too long. Finally realizing she was about to leave the room, he barely had time to make it to the bottom of the stairs before she opened the living-room door, flooding the hall with light and her own accusing stare. ‘Well, well, look who it is,’ she said sourly, evidently aware of what he had been doing.
‘I just got back,’ he said guiltily. Mr and Mrs Frank were on their feet and coming to see.
‘Hello there, Robert,’ Arthur exclaimed with forced cheerfulness. ‘Welcome home. Come in and put your feet up.’
‘Will you be wanting your supper?’ Mrs Frank asked him, while Miriam slipped away from the three of them and up to her room.
‘Yes, if you don’t mind,’ Robert said sheepishly, following Dorothy into the kitchen where, having switched on the light, she began inspecting the contents of a large saucepan that sat idly on the cooker, its rim smeared with tomato-coloured sauce.
‘Spaghetti all right?’ she said, igniting the gas.
‘Perfect.’
He sa
t down at the table where Arthur came and stood beside him, casting him an apologetic look. ‘We didn’t know if you’d be dining with us, so we ate earlier. We can make you something fresh if you like.’
‘Please,’ said Robert, ‘I don’t want to cause you any trouble. The last thing I’d want is to disrupt your household. I can even eat out every night if it makes things easier for you.’
Mr Frank smiled. ‘You’re a good lad, Robert – and no trouble at all. Fancy a beer?’ He went to the pantry and fetched a litre bottle of Victory Ale, pouring its brown, foaming contents into two glasses. ‘Cheers, Robert.’
‘Cheers.’
‘Is Robert what you prefer? Or are you Rab to your pals?’
‘At home I was always Robbie.’
‘Then you’re Robbie to us too,’ Arthur declared, sitting down at the table as a steaming plate of spaghetti was placed before Robert.
‘This looks great. You’re very kind.’ The relief of escaping from Davis had only added to his hunger; Robert ate voraciously under Arthur’s attentive gaze.
‘There’ll always be a meal here if you need it,’ Mr Frank told him, swigging his beer, while Dorothy silently assented to the domestic generosity her husband offered, which it would be her task to provide. ‘We know you can’t tell us what your daily schedule’s like, or even why you’re here. But there’s three of you, isn’t there?’
Robert paused, fork in hand, and looked at his host.
‘You were in the Levellers today,’ Mr Frank explained.
‘Is that what the pub’s called?’
‘Jessie’s lovely, isn’t she?’ Robert guessed he meant the bar lady, whose loveliness had been elusive. ‘Don’t be shy about bringing your two pals here if you like. This is your home, after all, as long as you’re here.’
Robert carried on eating, aware that the invitation was part of Mr Frank’s ambitions regarding Miriam, whose life the paterfamilias could plan with the same casual ease he applied to Dorothy’s catering duties.
‘I’ll leave you men in peace,’ Dorothy said, going back to the living room.
In two thirsty gulps, Arthur drained most of what was in his glass. ‘I can open another if you like.’
‘No, thanks.’
Arthur leaned towards him. ‘We get lads like you coming to the Installation fairly often,’ he said, as if sharing a secret. ‘There’s always some new project needs recruits. Some men do their bit and go, others find a reason to stay.’ Clearly he had never doubted that disappearance from the Installation meant a return to life outside. ‘Have you got a girlfriend, Robbie?’
‘No.’
Arthur smiled. ‘Footloose and fancy free – I almost envy you.’ Then he lowered his voice still further. ‘You lads, you’ll probably find out where the special workers can go for, you know, women.’
‘I’ve heard about it.’
‘It’s not for Category A’s and I wouldn’t go near a place like that if you paid me,’ Mr Frank said, in what was little more than a whisper. ‘But take my advice, Robbie, and don’t get involved. I’ve heard all sorts of unpleasant stories. Men robbed and beaten up. Disease. Blackmail. It’s a bad business.’
‘I’ll bear it in mind.’ Robert scraped the remaining strands of spaghetti from his plate.
‘Like another beer? More food?’ Robert shook his head and said he ought to go upstairs and rest. It was only nine o’clock, but already he felt ready for sleep. ‘That’s fine,’ said Mr Frank, a little crestfallen. ‘Me and Dorothy’ll be turning in before too long. Sure you don’t want to look at the telly with us for a bit?’
None of Mr Frank’s suggestions could compete with the one thing Robert wanted now. ‘Good night, Arthur.’
On the landing, Robert saw that Miriam’s door was ajar. Perhaps she had wanted to overhear what her father had been saying. Robert could see part of the room, but not Miriam herself. He knocked gently.
‘Go away, Mum,’ she said through what sounded like a sob.
‘I’m not your mother.’
There was a pause. ‘Go anyway.’
He waited, wondering if he should leave her, but decided he had to say something. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve caused problems for you.’
‘Good.’
‘I want you to remember that I never asked to stay here, it wasn’t my idea which room I should sleep in, and I have absolutely no interest in you, or what you do with your life. The war you’ve got with your father is none of my business.’
Miriam came to the open doorway and stared at him with eyes that were swollen and hostile. ‘I know why they put you here.’
‘You do?’
‘I expect you’ve told them about last night,’ she hissed, ‘and no doubt Tim will be questioned, if he hasn’t been already. Just remember that fornication isn’t a crime. Neither of us is married and we can do what we like.’
From the living room downstairs, the jaunty theme music of Variety Tonight struck up. ‘I’ve told no one,’ said Robert. ‘You think I’m here to spy on you and your boyfriend? Why should I do that?’
She snorted. ‘Don’t play the little innocent. I had sex here with Tim last night – all perfectly legal. He bumped against the radio in the dark, accidentally switched it on, and must have shifted the tuning too. We’ve had that radio for years, the authorities know about it, and there’s never been any trouble. Suddenly you appear and there’s a problem.’
‘I took a risk warning you,’ Robert whispered. ‘I only wanted to help you, but you seem determined to take out all your anger on me, when it’s your father who’s the problem.’ He decided on a change of tack. ‘It must be hard for all of you, after what happened to your little brother.’
She rolled her reddened eyes. ‘So now the little innocent’s become a psychologist. Do you think any of us would really be happier if Jamie hadn’t run away from that stupid park and drowned?’
‘I heard he was abducted. Is that true?’
She sneered derisively. ‘What the hell are you talking about? You’d better not tell any of these lies to my mother – she’s suffered enough.’ Then she closed the door on him and Robert turned to go to his room, satisfied that he’d fulfilled his obligation towards Davis, and relieved that he had learned nothing worth reporting.
He switched on the light, kicked off his boots and lay down to read Rocket to the Stars, but his mind soon wandered from the page. Today he had learned he was telepathic; yet apart from mild recurring headaches and a persistent sense of unreality, he felt nothing. The playing cards had provoked a response over which he had no conscious control, and when he tried to think what Miriam and her boyfriend must have done in this room last night he saw only her alarmed expression on being challenged by him at the College. The bed had been so carefully re-made by them afterwards; why not do it in the other room? There was something about the whole incident that didn’t make sense.
He got up, pulled back the top blankets and looked at the unsoiled sheet beneath. He went further, lifting the sheet to see the mattress, convinced that no one had ever made love on it. Then he began to tuck the sheet back in place with the military neatness that was the one useful skill he had learned in his regiment; but as he reached beneath the far side of the mattress against the wall, his hand encountered something. He drew out a thin gold chain and straightened himself to view what hung from it: a simple cross. A religious symbol; not the sort of thing Miriam would be allowed to wear at work, and a type of jewellery considered so old fashioned that only the most eccentric or ideologically suspect would ever wear it in public at all. Was Miriam secretly a Christian? Robert remembered what Mrs Frank had said about the dead brother being with the angels: the proverbial formula of a grieving woman. Now he asked himself if there was more to it. But if the Franks were crypto-Christians, what was the daughter doing, having sex with her boyfriend?
Robert trickled the thin chain onto his palm and decided the best place to put it would be back where he found it. He hid it under the mattress with the
same furtive care he might have given to a pornographic magazine, wondered if he should mention it to Davis, and found himself bearing yet another secret on Miriam’s behalf.
A vehicle braked outside, soon afterwards the doorbell rang and he felt a tremor of anxiety, thinking it must be Davis’s men. ‘Robbie!’ Mr Frank was calling up to him. He pulled on his boots, smoothed his shirt and prepared himself for further interrogation. He owed the Franks no favours – he would tell Davis all about Miriam’s visitor in the night, and the radio, and the necklace, and if the Franks were thrown into prison it was not his concern. Reaching the top of the stairs he saw who was standing at the open door. It was Colin Forsyth.
‘All set?’ Forsyth beamed as Robert came down.
‘Enjoy yourselves,’ Mr Frank said to both of them.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Have you forgotten?’ said Forsyth. ‘Lads’ night out. Harvey’s in the car – we’re all set to spend some vouchers.’
‘I’d rather not.’
Forsyth frowned. ‘Don’t give us any more of that poncey talk like you did at the Lodge.’ He gave Mr Frank a knowing wink. ‘These college boys, eh?’
Arthur raised his eyebrows. ‘College? You’ve been hiding your light under a bushel, Robbie. Now on you go, and remember your key.’
‘Really, it’s been a long day …’
The driver had come out of the waiting vehicle and was walking up the path behind Forsyth; the same man whom Robert had seen several times already but who never showed any recognition of his passengers. Reaching the doorstep, he said, ‘You are instructed to come with us, Volunteer Coyle.’
There was an embarrassed pause, broken by Mr Frank. ‘Hurry up, Robert. Here’s your coat.’ Arthur lifted it from the hook, eager to send his guest away without further fuss or influx of cold air.
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