Dominion

Chapter Nineteen

DAVID TOOK THE BACK SEAT AGAIN; he could think better there.

They told Natalia about what had happened at the hospital: Frank’s quiet desperation, his unwillingness to talk about his brother, the visit from the police. She thought for a moment, then said, ‘So you think he may have some secret.’

‘Maybe. Or perhaps it was just something personal.’

‘My sense was it was more than that,’ Geoff said quietly.

‘And the police,’ Natalia said. ‘It is worrying they are still interested.’

‘That chap Ben said he didn’t tell them any more than he had already.’

‘They may come back,’ Natalia replied.

David looked at her face in the mirror. ‘So what happens now?’

‘It will be for Mr Jackson and the people above him to decide.’

‘If Frank were to be got out of England,’ Geoff asked, ‘how would that be done? It would have to be by sea.’

‘I don’t know.’

David saw Natalia give Geoff a quick, sharp look. He thought, is that what the people at the top are planning? He wondered, too, if Frank had some big military secret, the Resistance might want it for themselves. He realized suddenly that although he had been active among them for more than two years he still thought of the Resistance as an entity separate from him. He said, ‘How could you get Frank to the coast? It’s well over seventy miles in any direction.’

‘And he’d probably try to get away,’ Geoff added.

Natalia looked at David in the mirror. ‘Unless he was travelling with someone he trusted.’

‘You mean me?’ David frowned. ‘I doubt he’d trust me that far. Especially if I’ve said I’ll help him, and then I kidnap him.’

‘And what will happen to him if he knows something important and lets it slip in that place?’ It was more or less what Ben had said. Natalia went on, ‘I am not being unfeeling. I am sorry for your friend. But nothing good can happen to him in that asylum.’

‘I know,’ David said. Natalia was still studying him, the slightly angled Tartar eyes hard again, calculating.

As they approached the southern outskirts of the city the weather was still foggy, a wet mist through which light rain fell. They came onto a main road, driving past a complex of low factory buildings from which they heard a continual mechanical crashing. They passed a vast space where hundreds of identical cars stood, end to end. A sign by the gates was marked Longbridge Works.

‘That must be the big Austin Morris factory,’ Geoff said. David saw there had been a fire in a tall building beside the road; it was a black skeleton. Geoff continued: ‘I heard an office block got burned down last month. The workers rioted over not being allowed to join a union. It’s not just happening in the North any more.’

Natalia said, ‘Remember that lorryload of soldiers we saw on the way up? Things are getting rough in Yorkshire.’

‘There’ll be a lot of bloodshed,’ David said.

‘What else are people to do?’ she demanded.

‘What are you hoping for?’ David asked her. ‘The workers’ revolution? I think that’s what that nurse Ben’s after. I doubt Churchill would agree.’

‘The Resistance is an alliance of anti-Fascist forces, like every resistance movement in Europe. When we win, there will be elections and people can choose their own government. And, no, I am not looking for the revolution.’

Geoff said, ‘I wish we could go back to where we were before the war.’

‘That is a dream,’ Natalia answered flatly. ‘Things will get worse before they get better. Whatever comes in the end, it won’t be like the world before 1939. We must get used to that.’

Following directions Natalia had memorized, they passed the university and drove into a district of terraced houses, shabby front doors giving straight out onto the streets. As they continued east, though, the houses became bigger, with little gardens in the front. They neared a park, then found themselves among streets of big, detached Victorian villas, three or four storeys high. Lights were already on in the murky afternoon, the windows yellow squares in the mist. In one house David glimpsed a high-ceilinged lounge, mirrors and pictures on the walls, a man with a little girl on his knee. In the top flat of the next house he saw a middle-aged woman stirring a pan on a cooker. They drove slowly along, peering at the houses to try to make out their numbers. Then Geoff said, ‘Stop here. See, a first-floor window’s been boarded up.’

They got out and approached the house. Compared to its neighbours the building was shabby, streaks of moss on the red bricks. Mizzly rain dampened their faces. The ground and first floors were in darkness, though a light was visible at a second-floor window. They walked up the little path. David looked at the boarded-up window, then at the paved area below, where weeds sprouted between stone flags. ‘Frank’s brother was lucky he didn’t break his back.’

‘It would have been a murder charge then,’ Geoff agreed.

The front door was big and solid, three doorbells beside it. David took out the two keys Ben had given him, tied together with string. He inserted the larger one in the lock and the door opened smoothly. A damp, cold smell came from inside. Natalia was looking up and down the street, checking. Nobody was about on this unpleasant Sunday; it was getting dark, streetlights would be coming on soon. David stepped inside, pressed a light switch. A bare bulb revealed a dusty tiled floor, walls with blistered paint.

‘What a dump,’ Geoff said.

‘Keep your voice low,’ Natalia cautioned.

They climbed the stairs. There was a landing with a door, marked Flat 2. David unlocked the door. He switched on the light and they entered a little hall with a threadbare carpet. He noticed a musty, unwashed smell. There were several closed doors; they opened each tentatively. There was a small, rather dirty bathroom, mildew on the tiles, and a kitchen with a blackened old cooker. All the kitchen cupboards were open, cans and broken crockery strewn over the floor. The large bedroom with its single bed and ancient wardrobe seemed to have escaped destruction. The last room was a cavernous lounge, the big window boarded up. The room had been wrecked; pictures hung askew; chairs lay on their sides. Books and magazines, science fiction from what David could see, had been pulled from the big bookcase and left on the carpet. The television had a crack in the screen. The only undamaged piece of furniture was a large rolltop desk. A couple of photographs lay face down on the floor beside it.

Geoff said, ‘Good God, did Frank do this?’

‘He must have.’ David looked at the blocked-up window, heavy chipboard nailed to the frame. ‘I wonder who organized this; the landlord perhaps.’ He turned to the photographs. Like everything else they were dusty. One was their college photograph, from 1936. He picked it up; his younger self looked out at him, along with Geoff and Frank, with his strange grin. The other, smaller photograph was of a man in uniform, looking out with an apprehensive stare.

Geoff whistled. ‘It’s Frank’s spitting image. It must be his father.’

Natalia studied it. ‘I have a photograph of my brother, just before he was sent to fight in Russia.’ Her voice softened. ‘His expression was like that.’

‘Frank’s father was a doctor,’ David said. ‘What did your brother do?’

She smiled sadly. ‘He painted, much better than me. He had an exhibition in Prague once.’ She turned away and opened the desk, rolling up the wooden slats with a clatter. ‘We must search this flat. You two, please search the other rooms. Look for letters, any papers or notebooks.’ She began removing papers from the dockets inside the desk, riffling through them expertly. ‘Please, we should work quickly. Pull the curtains before switching on any lights.’

Geoff said bleakly, ‘She’s right. If there’s anything here the authorities shouldn’t see, Frank would thank us for taking it.’

David went into the kitchen. His feet crunched on broken plates; there were dents in the plasterboard wall where cans had been thrown. It was hard to reconcile the pale, shrunken figure in the hospital with this manic destruction. All the cupboards were empty, bar some battered cutlery in the drawers. Geoff appeared at his elbow. ‘Nothing in the bathroom,’ he said. ‘I thought I’d leave the bedroom to you.’

‘Okay.’

David went into the bedroom. He searched the bed – the sheets needed washing – riffled through the socks and underwear in the chest of drawers, then the pockets of the few jackets and trousers hanging in the wardrobe. He found nothing apart from a farthing and screwed-up bus tickets. He bent to look under the bed and saw a big brown suitcase there. He pulled it out and slipped the clasps. Inside was a packet of some sort, wrapped in brown paper. He lifted it. Papers. His heart quickened as he undid the parcel, but it was just a collection of pornographic magazines, naked women lying on beds or sitting astride chairs. There was a collection of film magazines from the early thirties too: Jean Harlow and Katherine Hepburn and Fay Wray in soulful romantic poses. He made himself look through the magazines in case anything was hidden inside them but there was nothing. He rewrapped the packet and shoved the suitcase back under the bed, stirring up a cloud of dust.

In the lounge Geoff had righted an armchair and was sitting riffling through the books and periodicals. Natalia was still poring over the papers at Frank’s desk. She looked up.

‘Anything in the bedroom?’

‘Nothing.’

‘I’m seeing if there are any papers hidden in these,’ Geoff said. ‘Nothing so far.’ He held up a copy of an American magazine, Amazing Science Fiction. ‘Just Frank’s cup of tea.’

David took up a magazine. ‘Better than the stuff my nephews read, war comics about the fighting in Russia.’

‘Nothing in the desk,’ Natalia said. ‘Just bills and some letters from a lawyer about his mother’s estate. Oh, and these.’ She handed David a bundle of envelopes, neatly tied in a rubber band. David was surprised to see his own handwriting. It was the letters he had sent Frank over the years. He opened one.

21 August 1940

Dear Frank,

Sorry I haven’t written earlier in reply to your last, but it’s all been a bit hectic. They discharged me from the nursing home last week (so no more pretty nurses, sad to say) and the old feet seem to be okay now. It’s felt so silly, recovering from frostbite in summer! I’m staying with my dad for the moment, starting back at the Office next week.

Well, what d’you think of the Berlin Treaty? I must say we’ve come off pretty lightly, given the way Adolf trounced our army. Pity we’ve got to give up the air force…

Natalia was looking at him curiously. ‘He kept your letters,’ she said. ‘Almost like a lover.’

‘There was never anything pansy about Frank,’ David answered sharply. He thought of the pornography, but he wasn’t going to tell her about that.

‘Did you keep his letters to you?’

‘No. But then I had other friends.’ David looked round the dismal room. ‘Exactly what happened here? What was it all about? Edgar came to visit. He was drunk; he said something that pushed Frank over the edge. After all these years of holding everything in.’

‘It could have been something personal,’ Geoff suggested. ‘Some family thing.’

‘Possibly,’ Natalia agreed. She replaced the papers in the desk.

David picked up the letters. ‘I think we should take these with us.’

She nodded. ‘Yes. That might be best.’ David stuffed the packet into his overcoat pocket. Natalia wiped her dusty fingers on a handkerchief. She smiled at David, her wry smile. ‘You English hold your feelings inside yourselves; it is not surprising sometimes you crack up.’

‘Sometimes there’s a lot to hold in.’

They all jumped and turned quickly at the sound of a key in the door. Natalia’s hand went to the pocket of her coat; now David knew she had a gun in there. She stood in front of the desk as the hall door opened, and a little old man with white hair, in an old cardigan and carpet slippers, came in and stared at them. He shuffled into the lounge.

‘Thought I ’eard someone in ’ere.’ He had a high-pitched voice with a Birmingham accent. He peered at them short-sightedly, quite unafraid. ‘Who are you?’

David said, ‘We’re friends of Dr Muncaster, we’ve been to visit him in hospital.’

‘Do you live in one of the other flats?’ Geoff asked.

‘The one above. I’m Bill Brown.’ The old man looked around the room. ‘It were me called the coppers, last month. You’ll know all about it, if you’re friends of Dr Muncaster.’

‘Yes.’

The old man shook his head. ‘I’ve never heard anything like it, screaming and shouting then that window going. I looked out and there was that poor man lying on the ground, I thought he were a goner.’ He stared at them, bright-eyed. ‘And Dr Muncaster yelling and raving, smashing things up. Thank God me daughter got me to have the phone put in, I dialled 999 straight off. I can do without things like that at my age. I’m eighty, y’know,’ he added proudly.

‘Who boarded the window up?’ David asked.

‘I got the freeholder to do it. He’s a spare key to all the flats. He left one with me.’ Bill stared at him with watery eyes that still had a sharpness to them. ‘A house with a broken window’s a magnet for burglars. How is Dr Muncaster? Is he coming back?’

‘Not in the near future.’

The old man nodded. ‘Are you family?’ He looked round at them.

‘My friend and I were at school with him.’ David didn’t give their names. ‘We’ve come up from London to see him. We heard what happened through someone at the university. We came over to check everything was all right here.’

‘’Ow’s Dr Muncaster’s brother?’

‘He’s safely back in America,’ Natalia said,

‘Broken arm, the police said.’ Bill looked round the chaos again. ‘’E were always very quiet, Dr Muncaster. Polite. Never thought he’d go off his head like that.’

‘No,’ David said. He added conversationally, ‘Apparently he was shouting about the end of the world.’

‘He were that. Never ’eard anything like it. This has always been a quiet house, I’ve lived here since my wife died. Fifteen years. Gor, the way he was raving, yelling. How the world was ending.’ Bill looked at Natalia. ‘Are you German, miss?’ he asked suddenly.

‘No.’

He held her gaze for a moment, then asked, ‘What are they saying at the hospital?’

David answered. ‘They don’t seem to know much. When we saw Frank he was very quiet.’

‘Bartley Green loony-bin, isn’t it? A man I worked with had a sister in there once. Said it was a miserable place. Of course once you’re in somewhere like that often you’re there till they bring you out in a box.’ Nobody replied. ‘Like I said, I’d nothing against him. Though that funny grin of his used to give me the willies.’ Bill looked at the photograph of Frank’s father. ‘That his dad?’

‘Yes.’

‘Doesn’t half look like him. I lost me son at Passchendaele.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Geoff said.

Bill turned to him. ‘We were fighting the wrong enemy then.’ His eyes brightened. ‘Have you ’eard about the Jews?’

‘What about them?’ David asked.

The old man smiled. ‘They’re being rounded up, all over the country. It was on the news: Mosley’s to broadcast on TV about it later. They were all taken away this morning.’

‘Where to?’ David asked.

‘No idea. Isle of Man, Isle of Wight? I think it’s best to turn ’em over to the Germans.’

‘Are you sure about this?’ Geoff asked.

‘’Course I am. I told you, it was on the news. Surprise, innit? I never realized how many Jews there were in Brum till they made ’em wear those yellow badges. Good riddance. Glad I won’t be seeing them badges any more, they gave me the creeps.’ Bill looked between the three of them, then said sarcastically, ‘Still, you sound like educated people, mebbe you don’t see it that way. Well, I’ll leave you to it.’ He glanced around the flat again. ‘If ’e’s not coming back, maybe this place should go on the market.’ He nodded at them, smiled maliciously, then shuffled out, shutting the door behind him.

David turned to Natalia. He said, trying to keep the shock from his voice, ‘Looks like you were right. About the Jews having no future.’

She didn’t answer. Geoff said, ‘It’ll be part of some deal with the Germans, Beaverbrook will have got something in return.’

Natalia said, ‘I think we should leave. There’s nothing here.’ She frowned. ‘The end of the world. What did he mean by that?’ She looked around the room again, took a deep breath. ‘Come on, we should find a telephone box, ring Mr Jackson.’