Sebastian

He lay back on the bed trying to have a rest. Gradually cutting down on his medication had alleviated the worst of his migraines, so it made sense to try and reduce it further. Despite the stress he’d been under since the altercation with Montegriffo, and then the bizarre disappearance of the body, the phase-down of his medication seemed to have had no adverse effects whatsoever. It was a clear sign that he no longer needed it.

The mystery of Montegriffo wouldn’t leave him alone, however. Since there’d been no visit from the police, no interview conducted or arrest made, it probably meant that the body had been discovered by a cleaner, or a colleague, or a fellow Catholic, and removed from the premises, then deemed to have died from natural causes. But surely everyone in town – Stagnetto and PC Garcia included – would have known about his death and informed him? Yet what possible other explanation could there be? Part of him felt high on the fact that he might not end up in prison, removed from the women he loved and his career ruined for all time, but he now understood just what that ridiculous word ‘closure’ meant. He wanted closure, he needed closure.

He closed his eyes and tried the visualisation exercise he’d been taught in hospital, imagining himself on a beach, lying in the sand, listening to the waves wash over small round pebbles. Palm trees shaded him, a breeze wafted the air and he was supposed to become suffused with bliss. The problem with that was that he disliked sand, couldn’t stand bright sun light and hated being idle. Lying on a beach was a form of torture. That psychologist had read him all wrong. What made him feel good was power and control. He was a creator and initiator, proactive and in charge. Getting joy and relaxation out of a passive stance to life was for the weak and timid.

His thoughts went back to the small world within the apartment. He was so happy that Eva seemed to have forgiven him his bizarre behaviour, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. At the same time he was painfully aware of how this display must make Mimi feel, believing she had been dumped by her boyfriend without so much as a word of explanation. In some perverse way, he was happy to have been the instrument of her deliverance. Poor Mimi. From her very beginning she’d been denied the love she deserved. Jane gave birth to her, but as with him, there was not a morsel of love for her to chew on. Only Dad had been crazy about her, but the insidious spectre of Alzheimer’s had soon begun to show and he’d found it hard to cope with a lively and precocious daughter.

Sebastian thought back to the first time he’d laid eyes on his little sister. He had just been released from a year-long spell in hospital, age nineteen. He’d come out of there a grown man, a new man, full of energy, enthusiasm and focus.

Dad signed him out. During the drive home Sebastian had a lot to say, and talked nonstop about his new vision. He’d had a dream only a few weeks earlier where he’d become the world’s leading structural engineer. He knew the dream was prophetic, and from this day onwards he was going to focus on its realisation.

Dad glanced at him. ‘Prophetic?’

‘Don’t worry Dad. I said vision, not illusion.’

After a short silence, Dad said, ‘We have a surprise for you when we get home.’

‘Oh, no,’ Sebastian said, laughing. ‘What is it? A dog?’

Dad laughed too. ‘No, not exactly.’

‘A gerbil, then? A parrot? Last time it was the tarantula, very appropriate!’

‘Getting hot,’ Dad said, still with a laugh, but one that sounded more like Santa’s hollow ‘Ho Ho Ho’.

Sebastian looked him over. Dad had aged. He wasn’t a big man but had always had a presence, with his bushy grey hair and the moustache he liked waxing into bizarre styles. He seemed to have lost pride in his appearance somewhat. The moustache looked like a small lifeless creature draped over his mouth and his belly obscured his belt with the shirt half hanging out.

‘I’m mighty glad you’ve decided to focus on engineering. Papito would have been so proud and happy you’re following his footsteps,’ Dad said, ‘But son, you’ve got to look after yourself. Dr. Matthews has moved mountains for you. You must go and see him to thank him.’

‘Yeah, yeah…’ He felt like a ten-year-old. He’d had enough of being emotionally frail and treated like an invalid. He didn’t need Dr. Matthews to move mountains. He was going to fucking move them himself.

Despite his protestations, Dad helped him with his bag. Jane waited for him in the living room, though she didn’t get up to greet him.

‘Hello, Mother.’

‘Welcome home, Sebastian.’

She’d not come once to see him in hospital, but then he’d not expected her. She looked good, as usual, but tired. Suddenly he noticed that beside her on the sofa was a baby. He stared at the little thing, sleeping soundly on a blanket, its long eyelashes casting shadows over the rosy cheeks.

‘Whose baby is that?’ he asked, mystified.

‘Ours,’ said Jane.

‘Yours? Are you serious? Yours and Dad’s?’

She looked affronted. ‘I said so.’

‘I thought you’d be too old to have kids.’

‘I’m forty-three, Sebastian. You call that old?’

‘No, of course not, but…why did you want to?’ he said, turning to Dad who had come in behind him. He couldn’t believe that the old man had it in him. Jane had never allowed him to touch her – as far as anyone could remember – but who knew what went on behind closed bedroom doors? ‘You’re a bit past childrearing, both of you, aren’t you? Dad, you’re over sixty.’

‘Who cares?’ said Dad, bounding up to the sofa, arms already outstretched.

‘Don’t touch her,’ Jane hissed. ‘For Christ’s sake, don’t wake her up.’

‘What’s her name?’

‘Imogen,’ said Dad, sitting there gazing down at the little one, a picture of a besotted father.

‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.’

Dad didn’t even look up when he spoke. ‘We felt it would be too stressful for you. You were quite unwell, remember?’

‘A sister! Bloody hell!’ Sebastian groaned. ‘Don’t ask me to babysit, okay? I’ve got to get my head down if I’m ever going to be an engineer.’ He sat down on the sofa and looked at the baby. You couldn’t deny that she was cute. Imogen…it was too grownup a name for such a little thing. Mimi, he thought. Hi, Mimi.

‘We’ll manage,’ said Dad, throwing Jane a warning glance.

‘I wouldn’t have had her, but your wonderful father insisted we keep her,’ said Jane sarcastically. ‘She wasn’t planned, that’s for certain. All of us have to pull our weight. You too, Sebastian. You must help. I’m not doing this alone.’

Sebastian looked at his parents, an incongruous pair from the start, Jane marrying for money and status, Dad for youth and beauty. There had been no love between them then (she’d said so herself), and even less now. It was astonishing that they were still together, especially her with him. The whole thing felt wrong. Dad shouldn’t have exerted his own will, not on something as colossal as this. He saw suddenly how the future might look. He was the one with the youth and the energy.