Chapter Eight

A Return

I looked up from the computer screen to find the workings of the world exposed. The cogs of the windmills were operating a diorama, advancing a procession of puffy pristine clouds along the horizon beneath an otherwise clear blue sky. For a moment the spectacle felt like an insight, and then like even less than one. While the clouds were progressing at a measured pace, the windmills weren’t moving in unison, let alone at that speed. Any resemblance to my own task was emptily contrived. I was taking narratives apart to discuss them with my students next month. I had all day to myself, since my son was out with his girlfriend.

I was examining the presence of magic in contemporary mainstream fiction, an investigation prompted by my aunt’s work. Here was a magus playing games with the narrator on a Greek island. Here was a headmaster’s teenage daughter performing a rite designed to resolve her father’s situation in an Iris Murdoch novel. I made notes on these and then set about interpreting Peter Ackroyd, not least the significance of the homunculus John Dee creates in a tale where the past seems eager for revival. My edition used one of Thelma’s paintings for its cover, a mansion where all the windows showed an identical resident. The figures were increasingly remote, unless they were progressively approaching, and their faces were obscured by leafy shadows, though not a tree was to be seen. I was trying to put the image out of my mind – I couldn’t even see why it had been chosen for the book – when my phone emitted its silvery trill. “Mother,” it said.

I felt instantly guilty. When had I last seen my parents? Not since the beginning of the summer break, as if I’d wanted to get a duty done. However often I visited them, I had a sense that they were keeping quiet about the frequency of our encounters and wanted me to appreciate their discretion on the subject – very possibly about my remissness too. “Mother,” I said rather more enthusiastically than the phone had, I hoped. “How are you both?”

“Still keeping them on their toes at the office. There’s always something to improve.”

Yet again I was glad I’d resisted their notion of following them into their accountancy firm. “Aren’t you two ever going to retire? The world’s out there. You should take the chance to explore it while you have the chance.”

“My sister would have agreed with you, Patrick. You know we don’t spend for the sake of spending. Money’s for investment, not for squandering. I’m sure you’ll be glad of it once we’re gone.”

“I don’t need it, honestly, and I really think you and dad should have a break.”

“We have those all the time. We only go in when we feel we’re needed.”

I was thinking that their staff might welcome a break or several from them when my mother said “I expect Roy will be grateful for what’s coming to him.”

I knew she would interpret any demurral as ingratitude on his behalf, and so I said only “He’s staying with me at the moment. If you two want to come and see him I’ll make dinner.”

“He won’t be with you just now.”

I took this for a question. “He’s with a lady friend in Liverpool.”

“Perhaps you should keep an eye on them, Patrick.”

“I don’t know why you’d say that. She’s rather more desirable than some of the friends he’s been hanging round with. Desirable as in good for him, I mean.”

“I’ve reason to believe they aren’t in Liverpool.”

“What reason could—” I interrupted myself with a wry laugh. “They’ve come to visit you, have they? You’ve been teasing all the time.”

“I wish I were. I haven’t seen Roy and I’ve never seen her.”

“Then why would you say what you said?”

“I’ve just had a lady on the phone about them.”

“You have. She phoned you.” When my incredulity failed to change the situation I demanded “Which lady about what?”

“She lives opposite where Thelma fell.”

“The woman in the cottage. I met her when Roy and I had a look at the place.” Of the several questions clamouring for answers, the first to emerge was “Why on earth would she contact you?”

“She looked for Turnbill and found Turnbill and Semple, and the switchboard put her through to me. Would you rather we had no idea what Roy was up to?”

“Since you have, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know.”

“You should speak to Miss Derrison yourself. I didn’t give her your number, but I said I’d do my best to put you in touch.”

“Let me have hers and I will right now.”

My mother enunciated the digits at a speed with which she might have favoured a trainee secretary, and then she said “I hope Roy isn’t getting obsessed with Thelma. It can’t be healthy at his age.”

“It didn’t harm me when I was.”

“I wish we’d known you were obsessed. We’d have intervened sooner.”

“Not obsessed, just intrigued, and I’m sure that’s all Roy is.”

In fact I was by no means certain. Why had he returned to Stonefield? I promised to see my parents soon and keyed the Stonefield number. It hesitated for some seconds before ringing and then found a rhythm that put me in mind of somebody plodding to retrieve the phone, unless it was measuring their search for it. I’d begun to expect a recorded message by the time a wearily impatient voice I seemed to recognise said “Who’s that?”

“Miss Derrison?”

“No.”

“I do apologise. I’m afraid my mother misheard the number.”

“Who’s she when she’s at home?”

Rather than retort that she was at the office I said “Astrid Turnbill.”

“Yes,” the woman said like a challenge, “I rang her.”

“Then I’m sorry, I don’t understand why you said—”

“I hope she’s not in charge of people’s finances if that’s how accurate she is. The name’s not Derrison, it’s Dennison.”

“Then I expect I misheard. Apologies again.” Feeling that I’d mollified the woman quite as much as she deserved, I said “My mother told you I’d give you a call, and here I am.”

“It’s a pity you weren’t here.”

“I was the other day. I didn’t see any need to return.” This only delayed what I had to ask. “Could you tell me what’s happened now?”

“Your son went up the tower block with a girl. I’ve seen too many people going in there to buy drugs.”

“I’m sure that can’t have been why my son and his girlfriend were there.”

“Perhaps you can explain what they were grubbing about for.”

“I don’t even know what you mean by that.”

“After they came down they started crawling around outside. Tell me what anybody would expect to find there if you can.”

“I’d say you should have asked them.”

“I’m keeping my head down at my time of life. It’s not advisable round here to get a reputation as a snitch.”

“I don’t think my son would have taken you for one.”

“I’m talking about the people the rest of us have to live near. If I were you I’d make certain he isn’t seen here again.”

“I can’t imagine you’ll be seeing either of them.”

I left it at that, feeling no need to apologise further if even so much as I had. I was ending the call when she spoke. “Aw,” she said, or a word that sounded like it, unless it was just the first syllable. I didn’t think she could tell me anything I’d want to hear or needed to, and in any case she would have my number now. Just the same, I was anxious to learn more about Roy’s visit. I did my best to elucidate the Ackroyd and others of his novels that touched on the occult, until my ponderings grew too ponderous to bear. I was slouched like my teenage self against the kitchen sink, impatiently observing the birth of the first bubble in the percolator, when I heard Roy’s key in the lock. “Where did you get to?” I said.

“You haven’t been waiting for me, have you? It’s not that late.”

“I didn’t say it was. I’m just asking where you went,” I said, only to feel unreasonable. “No, I know that. I’m asking why you did.”

“You know,” Roy said from the kitchen doorway, and turned his stare along the hall. “He knows.”

“What on earth do you think you’re—” My protest faltered as Bella appeared beside him, and I didn’t know whether I was apologising or complaining as I said “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry, Patrick. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You’re doing nothing of the kind. You’re involved.”

As Bella risked a smile smaller than her mouth, Roy said “How do you know where we were? Have you been tracking my phone?”

“I wouldn’t know how. The lady from the cottage was in touch.”

“Who, that old bitch who didn’t try and save your aunt?”

“Roy, even if that’s fair I don’t think you should—”

“She lives in one of those cottages you liked,” Roy was already telling Bella. “The ones you said show you can’t kill the past.”

“Maybe that’s why Thelma went there.”

“Could have been,” Roy said and turned on me. “So why was the old, why was she telling tales on us?”

“She didn’t seem too pleased we were there, if you remember. She mustn’t have liked you going back.”

“Nothing to do with her. She doesn’t own the place.”

“Are you going to tell me why you were there? We’d already seen there was nothing worth the trip.”

“It was my idea, Patrick.”

“To do what, Bella?”

“To try and see what Thelma saw. She was always trying to see further.”

“There’s a lot that doesn’t explain. She took some items from her studio with her.”

“She must have meant to start work on something.”

“Not that kind of item. Jars of nothing much.” As Bella gave me an oddly remonstrative look I said “The lady from the cottage says Thelma dropped them off the roof and then went after them.”

“I can’t tell you anything about that, Patrick.”

“I wouldn’t expect it.” I felt unhappy for catching them out as I said “The lady also says you and Roy were searching for something outside.”

“Shit, was she spying on us the whole time?” As I let Roy’s first word pass unrebuked, not that Julia would have, he said “Bell dropped it while we were looking over.”

“Is it a secret?”

“I wouldn’t keep that kind,” Bella said. “It was my earring.”

Though her hair was concealing her ears, I knew how small the lobes were. “I didn’t know you wore them.”

“I just can.” She swept a blond lock back from her left ear. “It was one of these,” she said. “Roy bought them for me.”

I gazed at the tiny verdant metal flower, feeling grotesquely unreasonable if not irrational. “Did you find the other one?”

“This was it. It took a while to find.” Bella gave her head a gentle shake, uncovering her other ear. “And here’s its twin,” she said.

I felt compelled to move us away from my gaffe. “I hope your trek was worth it,” I said. “How did you get there?”

“There was a bus and Roy was on it. That was worth it by itself.”

I tried not to be as embarrassed by her openness as I fancied Roy might feel. “Who’s for coffee?” I said.

“I’ll have one, dad.”

“I’ve lived without it. I won’t start now,” Bella said in her curiously old-fashioned way. “I’ll have water if it isn’t from the tap.”

I passed her a bottle of spring water from the refrigerator, and seemed to see her fingers grow pale on the far side of the chilly plastic, as if I were viewing them underwater. Roy was pouring coffee with his back to us, and I didn’t think he heard her murmur “I hope you don’t think I’m a bad influence.”

“Not remotely.” I patted her hand, which was as cold as the contents of the bottle. For a moment mine was too, and I restrained a shiver. “I’d say you were the opposite,” I said under my breath, and she smiled as broadly as she could.