‘You must have raised my temperature.’ He smiled and pulled the sheet, but I held on.
‘Is this what happened with Naomi?’
‘Spontaneously and physically, yes. Emotionally and morally, no. I love you, Louise. I thought we were sorted now.’
‘I think we might be. And I’m glad, Chas.’
‘You want some more, then?’
‘I could probably handle a second helping later.’
I called the +44 number. His name was Arun. He hadn’t heard from Drew since June when Drew got in touch to ask for his guitar to be sent out to Montreux.
‘I was there,’ I said. ‘I saw Drew playing it. If he gets in touch with you, could you let me know? He isn’t well, and I’m worried about him to tell you the truth.’
‘That’s Drew. He comes and goes. He’ll turn up when he’s ready.’
‘Are you a sessions man too?’
‘No. I play the violin. I was in a string quartet.’
29
Nicky was six on the tenth of December, which coincided with the Escalade in Geneva. The school arranged a surprise for him – a party with cake and candles in the afternoon. It was just winding up when I went to collect him. He came away with several more dinosaur models, a Schtroumphs DVD, and a copy of Heidi in French. It seemed as though every child in the class had given him a chocolate bar, and we had to ask for some carrier bags to take it all home. On the way, the children who walked our route through the park called out to him in French and English, their escorts – parents or nannies, saluting me. We were part of the community now. We were here to stay.
When it got dark, we walked to the old city to watch the torch-lit procession and the smashing of the chocolate marmites. It was a very cold night but there were so many people about, it seemed almost balmy. I had never seen the Swiss out in force like this, making merry and enjoying themselves. I was really warming to Geneva, the lake, the mountains, the haven-like spirit that had so appealed to Buz, who had been the spirit of this place for me. Perhaps he was still here, in spirit. He had loved it for its independence and neutrality, its commitment to peace and humanity, the promise it sent out to refugees, even those like him and Drew: refugees from life.
The police came round on the thirteenth, St Lucie’s day. Dog-walkers had found the body of a man in the woods above Montreux. The woods had been searched, and a rucksack and stick were found at the top of the viaduct. The rucksack contained a British passport in the name of Andrew Arthur Joffey and an opened envelope addressed to Mme Moon, 1/Villa da Saronno, Geneva. They handed it to me silently. It was my telephone bill. The note enclosed with it was longer than the previous note. The pencilled capitals were still unsteady, but made the intention clear.
IVE ARRIVED IM OK NOW D
‘Where is he now?’ I asked the officer who spoke some English.
‘In the hospital in Montreux.’
‘Dans la morgue,’ the other added helpfully.
‘Can I see him?’
‘Veuillez nous accompagner, madame.’
‘I can’t leave my son.’
‘He can wait in the car.’
‘Nicky?’ I called. ‘Would you like to go for a ride in a police car?’
‘Cooooool!’ He ran into the hall, shrinking back a little when he saw the tall policemen.
‘Can I take my Game-Boy?’
‘Yes, if you want. Would you wait a moment while I let my husband know?’ I asked them. ‘He works in London during the week.’
Nicky followed me into the salon while I made the call.
‘Can’t you leave him with Rodolfo?’ Chas said. ‘It won’t take more than a couple of hours.’
‘Rodolfo has gone to Naples to stay with his family. It’s Santa Lucia.’
‘Masha?’
‘No, she’s interviewing.’
‘Then you’ll just have to take him with you.’
We got in the back of the police car. The officers talked to each other, cracking a joke now and then. Nicky sat quietly, looking through the window. We passed through the outskirts of Geneva, scruffy-looking edge-lands redeemed a little by the snow. He turned to his Game-Boy. The journey wasn’t long by road, and the driver kept a steady speed. We were soon in Montreux and climbing the hill towards the hospital. The officer in the passenger seat looked round.
‘It is cold in the car, madame. I will take the boy to the salle d’attente. There are children’s things there. You go with me, bonhomme,’ he said. Nicky looked alarmed.
‘Restez-là, madame. C’est là-bas.’
Nicky got out of the car, but when he saw I wasn’t following, he scrambled back in again. The officer put his head through the door and spoke to him: ‘Come with me and get chocolate. You like hot chocolate?’
‘You can’t come with me, Nicky. Children aren’t allowed in there. I won’t be more than ten minutes.’
‘I want to stay with you.’
‘Can you watch him over there for me?’ I asked the officer.
‘As you wish, madame.’
He got back into the passenger seat and we drove over to a white, low-lying building with double doors. A technician in green scrubs came to answer the driver’s ring. I knew the drill. I had worn those scrubs and answered that bell. It was déjà-vu.
‘Nicky,’ I said. ‘I’ll be just inside. Stay in the car and show the officer your Game-Boy.’
I could tell he was used to children. He got out to open the door for me then slid into the back seat with Nicky.
‘My boy has one like this,’ he said ‘But now he plays all the time with his Wii. Do you know Super Mario?’
‘I’m getting a Wii for Christmas. My Dad is getting it in London.’
The driver was standing by, waiting to accompany me. We followed the young technician, a blonde Swiss-German. He might have been a medical student. He unlocked the door of a small room, empty apart from a couple of chairs, a table with a white cloth on it and a simple wooden cross.
‘Please wait here, madame. I will get him ready. ‘
‘There’s no need. I worked for the coroner in London. I want to see him as he is.’
‘Je vous en prie.’
The mortuary was empty, though the lights were up full, as though expecting company. I breathed that unmistakable aroma of human remains and formaldehyde. The technician opened a door in the bottom row of fridges and slid out a body. Drew lay on the shelf, twisted and black. The frost had stalled the decomposition and his features were still distinct. There was a gash on his cheek, he had lost an eye, and there were chunks taken out of his arms and legs as though some animal had been eating him. The rest of the desecration was surgical: the Y-shaped autopsy cut was roughly stitched from his neck to his lower abdomen. But they had not touched his brain: his skull was intact, except, I supposed for his craniotomy scar which would be hidden by his hair. I leant over him and touched his ravaged face.
‘Bless you,’ I whispered. ‘Bless you.’ The technician offered me a tissue to wipe my eyes.
‘Would you like some water, madame?’
‘Thank you. No water, but could I have a copy of the post-mortem report?’
‘You would have to request it by fax from our medical director.’
‘He was unsteady on his feet. He was very ill the last time I saw him.’
The technician gazed at me, as though debating whether to tell me more. At last, his desire to share his medical knowledge got the better of him.
‘There was evidence of surgery to the brain. We x-rayed the head but did not open the skull because there was no tumour. However, we found secondary brain cancer in the liver, lungs, and spine.’
‘Was it very advanced?’
‘Yes, it was advanced. He would not have lived beyond three months. You know, I shouldn’t speculate.’
No, you shouldn’t, I thought, thinking about the protocol. What would Chas have said, or Janice Impawala? The watchword to their technicians was Stum.
I stared at the broken body. ‘He cam
e to me for help. He wanted to use a suicide clinic. He asked me to pay Charon.’
He slid back the shelf and escorted me back to the double doors. The driver pressed the button to let us out and lock Drew in. Nicky was looking anxiously for me through the car window. The friendly officer got out to let me into the back.
‘What’s the matter, Mummy?’
I pulled Nicky very close to me. “You remember Drew who came to stay with us a while ago? I told you he wasn’t very well. That’s who I’ve been to see.’
‘Can I go and see him?’
‘No, I told you, children aren’t allowed.’
The driver got in and started the engine.
‘C’etait bien celui du passeport?’
‘Oui, c’est lui.’
I addressed them both in French as we were driving back to Geneva, so Nicky wouldn’t pester and ask questions. I wanted to know what would happen now and was told it was the Coroner’s jurisdiction. If there was no next of kin, Monsieur Joffey’s remains would be disposed of by the Canton, unless somebody claimed him and showed they had the wherewithal to make the necessary arrangements. I said would be willing to take that on. The English-speaking officer said he would give my details to the Coroner’s office and they would notify me when the body was ready for collection. When we arrived back at the villa, he got out to open the door for us, and ruffled Nicky’s hair.
‘Au revoir bonhomme. Sois sage.’
I unlocked the door to our apartment. It seemed very empty and silent, as though someone had died there, which in a way they had. I sat on one of those wretched gilt-topped chairs and sunk my head in my hands.
‘Mummy, Mummy, what’s the matter?’ Nicky was on his knees, pulling at my skirt. ‘Mummy!’
‘I feel very sad about Drew.’
‘Will he have to stay in hospital?’
‘He was so very ill.’
‘Why can’t I see him?’
‘I’m afraid he died, Nicky.’ I raised my head and took him on my knee. ‘We won’t see Drew anymore.’
He looked puzzled, on the verge of tears. ‘Where have they gone, Mummy, Drew and Wanda and Uncle Buz ?’
‘Your daddy would say they’d reached another stage in the life-cycle. People die, plants and animals die, then they change into something else, a different form of life. Nobody really dies if you think of it like that.’
‘Like frogs laying eggs that go into tadpoles and the tadpoles change into frogs again?’
‘Sort of.’ I smiled. He had remembered what I told him by the pond in Wellington.
‘Will they turn into ghosts like Caspar?’
‘No, not like that. Caspar’s just a character in a story.’
‘Like Father Christmas and Baby Jesus?’
That story-time with Mrs Kingsley had a lot to answer for. To Nicky, the Nativity was just another fairytale with a cast of cut-out characters – shepherds, kings, the angel, Baby Jesus and the wicked Herod.
‘Jesus was a real person,’ I told him. ‘The Baby Jesuses in the shops aren’t real, but there was a real Baby Jesus who lived on earth a long time ago. He grew up to be the Saviour of all people.’
‘Like Superman?’
‘Not quite. Jesus said that if people believed in Him and let him into their hearts and trusted Him, they would never die – well, their bodies would die, like Buz and Drew, but their souls wouldn’t die. And, of course, their cells evolve as part of something else – unless they were cremated.’ I was weak on the science, and it was a long way from here to the raising of Lazarus and the Resurrection. I could not begin to explain that to him.
‘Does everybody have a soul? Do they grow on you?’
‘They grow in you, I think. They are the best part of yourself – the part that leads you to do good things, to act properly. There are things we can’t see, Nicky – big things called the macrocosm, too big to understand, and tiny, tiny things called the microcosm. We are in the middle, and that’s why we can’t always see, but just because we can’t see things, it doesn’t mean they’re not there. Daddy works with a very special thing called an electron microscope. It’s got a screen like a computer and he can see all sort of things with it which help to explain how life works and what happens when people have diseases that cause them to die, and even what happens to their bodies after they die.’
‘What does he do that for?’
‘So he can try to understand why people get ill, because if we understand how they get ill, and what their illness looks like, we can look for ways of getting rid of it.’
‘Can I have an electric microscope for Christmas?’
‘You asked for a Wii.’
‘Shall we go in the garden, mummy and light a candle for Drew? Like we did for Wanda and Uncle Buz?’ We’ll put it somewhere Drew can see it, but not Rodolfo. He doesn’t like Drew.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘He told Daddy.’
‘When was that?’
‘When we were in the garden. He had my ball. He said I mustn’t throw it in the rose bed.’
‘Let’s look for a candle,’ I said. ‘I think that’s a lovely idea.’
30
I called Chas later to give him my report.
‘Shall I come tomorrow?’
‘No, you’ve got things to do. I’ve got the funeral to arrange.’
‘Do you really think you should take that on, Louise? You didn’t know him.’
‘Not really, no, but I feel responsible. I may be able to find some friends of his who want to say goodbye.’
‘You’re on a hide into nothing there. If he had friends, why didn’t they help him? What conclusions do you draw from that?’
‘Buz had friends. He didn’t ask us. But Drew asked me. Would you have helped him?’
‘Helped him how?’
‘Would you have given him the money for the clinic?’
‘No, I wouldn’t. I’d have looked at him and seen about the options for palliative care.’
‘He had no money. He was non-domiciled.’
‘That’s not your fault, Louise. You’d have felt just as bad if you’d given him the money and he’d gone back to the clinic.’
‘Can you get me a copy of the PM report? They said it would have to go through the medical director.’
‘What would I be requesting it for?’
‘You can say you’re researching the brains of suicides, or something.’
‘I don’t have to make up stories. I’ll just request it.’
‘I mean I’d know if the disease was killing him, like he said, and he had only days.’
‘The PM report won’t tell you that, unless they did extensive tests on the organs. Even then it would be very hard to tell, once you factor in decomposition and other factors, such as injuries to the body. You said he’d been savaged by something – post mortem, I take it?’
‘He wasn’t in as awful a state as some I’ve seen. You’ll have seen much worse. But I met him and he asked for help. I was persuaded he was after me for money, Rodolfo said I shouldn’t let him in, but I could have helped him avoid those injuries, those animals mauling and eating him. He didn’t have to go that way. It was awful, awful.’
‘You’re sure you don’t want me to come early?’
‘No, Nicky will think there’s something wrong. I tried to explain to him about death and dying, but you know, I haven’t a clue. I spent all that time as a morgue technician and coroner’s officer and I haven’t got a clue. Could you bring a microscope for him?’
‘Sure. There’s an old one up for grabs at the hospital. They’re refurbishing the path lab.’
‘I’m not sure if he should have a microscope from there.’
‘Why not? It’s sterile. Should I buy him a new one instead of the Wii?’
‘No, I wouldn’t do that. You know what he’s like. It might be a one-day wonder.’
‘I’m thinking of you, Louise.’
‘That’s good to know. I’m thinking of y
ou, too.’
We had each other. We had Nicky. Drew had no one, no one but me, and I failed him.
The Coroner’s office agreed to expedite the release of the body, and gave me an undertaker’s contacts. They sent Drew’s belongings to me by courier – you wouldn’t get that kind of service in London. We were just going out when the bike arrived so I signed for the packet and left it in the hall. We were off to buy Chas’s Christmas present. I thought I’d get him an iPad. He liked all things Apple, and he like to read on the plane, so I was killing two birds with one stone.
‘What does that mean, Mummy?’
‘It means two things for one effort.’
‘Like two for the price of one?’
‘Sort of. It’s not a very nice expression, is it? We don’t stone birds.’
‘Alois has got a catapult.’
‘Who’s Alois?’
‘He’s in my class.’
We went into the store and found the iPad. Then we went for cake in the restaurant. I was dreading going home and opening Drew’s packet. I didn’t know if I should let Nicky help me or not, but he solved the dilemma.
‘Can I wrap Daddy’s present?’
‘Yes, you can, but be very careful with it.’
‘Can I choose the wrapping paper?’
‘Yes. And after that, you can decorate the tree.’ It was a bay-tree from our terrace clipped into a cone shape by Rodolfo’s gardener. It looked like a Christmas tree and Nicky was satisfied with it, which was just as well because we had no car now to go and fetch one.
I let the packet lie while I went to check my messages. There was an e-mail from Chas with an attachment and the usual short message: Early Christmas present, C x
The attachment was a scanned copy of the hospital fax. Medical scribble across the cover sheet had marked it for the attention of Professor CN Androssoff, Neuropathology, Hospital of St Rochewithoutthewalls, London. I took a deep breath:
Caucasian male. Age: 63. Initial Observation: condition poor consistent with environmental contamination; injuries to body caused by fall; some evidence of animal involvement –saliva samples–. Cause of death: a broken neck sustained in fall of approx. 500metres. Time of death: undetermined due to drop in exterior temperature affecting decomposition: –?late September– Comment: advanced disease –Ca in liver, lung and spine metastases– possibly contributing to subject’s unsteadiness. Craniotomy observed in right cerebellum, brain not examined.
Fatal Choices Page 15