Apartment 16 (19 page)

‘I still wonder.’

‘I did too.’

‘And I’d still like to show you my great-aunt’s journals. Just to see what you think. You’d have more idea what to make of them than me.’

Miles smiled. ‘Apryl, I’d love to. I’m sorry, I suspect I’ve been an awful bore.’

‘Not at all. I’m kinda reaching saturation point with Hessen though. It was never supposed to be about him, but about my Lillian. I wondered if I could learn anything about her by finding out about him. I’ll go to that Friends of Felix Hessen meeting. And there’s a couple of people I’d like to talk to in the building, but then I’m done with him. For good. In case I end up like Lillian.’

He frowned at her, then raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, I know what you’re saying, but . . .’

‘What?’

‘But I have a little suspicion about you. Despite your physical charms and the doors they must sweep aside, Apryl, I suspect you’re an outsider like Hessen, and are secretly drawn to his mystique.’

She blushed. The thought of him making a pass suddenly made her afraid but also thrilled. ‘Maybe I am an outsider, but I’m no fan of Felix Hessen. And I’m not a mystical kinda girl. Anyone connected to him is crazy.’

‘Me included?’

‘Particularly you.’

They both laughed at exactly the same time.

‘I wonder what happened to him,’ Apryl mused. ‘He’s supposed to have disappeared, but Lillian’s journals give the impression that he never left. It’s weird.’

‘Well, everyone loves a good mystery. And to vanish without trace is a trite legacy, but a legacy all the same, and one that might amplify a limited reputation and not just keep it alive, but give it the potential to grow into something it never was in the first place. Especially irresistible to those of a mystical bent – vanishing along with his so-called masterpieces.’

‘The Friends of Felix Hessen disagree with you.’

‘I never expected too much from them. They’re enthusiastic enough for amateurs, but not an academic organization. More of an occult outfit. It’s the ritualistic side of Hessen they’re obsessed with. Though they do make claims of being rigorously scholarly, I seem to remember. In their publications and so forth. Bit of a weird bunch. You’ll probably meet a few oddballs if you go to the lecture. I know I did. We used to get petitions from them to view our archive at the Tate. They sent them to all the galleries. They were after the secret cache of his forbidden illustrations. Stuff we’ve apparently suppressed for being sympathetic to the Nazis or some such nonsense. But despite it all, I do have a soft spot for the gifted amateur.’ He laughed. ‘And who knows, old Felix may have been pleased to have been the inspiration for a cult convinced of his importance who periodically harass the major art galleries. And maybe, after all is said and done, it’s the likes of the Friends of Felix Hessen who have the right idea. Perhaps the occult route and the interpretation of dreams is the only true method available to understand him.’

‘You don’t believe that?’

‘No, you’re right, I don’t. But I did stop looking. And not only because I drew such an almighty blank.’ He sat back in his chair, dropped his napkin on the table and sighed. ‘And I don’t have much interest in him any more either. Lost my appetite a bit.’

‘Why?’

Miles shrugged. ‘He got under my skin.’

Apryl laughed.

‘No, I mean it. You look at his work for too long and you might feel the same way. It even gave me nightmares. It’s very strange. I felt he was getting closer to me, but I was getting nowhere near him. What he was all about, I didn’t like it. And I feel much better since I finished the book. To be honest, I shan’t be upset when it’s out of print. I don’t like being reminded of it. The period in which it was written . . . it was a difficult time for me, personally. There were other things on my mind, but his art didn’t help. It started to change the way I thought. I became something of a nihilist. Because that’s what Hessen was. He couldn’t see anything but the end of life. Misery. The essential loneliness of death. And his predictions of what came after were equally grim. I’m not actually a masochist, Apryl.’

Apryl thought about what Miles had said. It made sense. After looking at Hessen’s sketches and reading about him for any length of time, she’d also felt a need to reintegrate herself into normal life. To go to a movie, to eat in a restaurant, to walk amongst other people. His vision was so oppressive. So consuming. So crazy. It managed to suck her inside herself and make her morbidly introspective.

‘It’s a shame you don’t live in London,’ Miles said, after a final gulp of wine. The bottle was empty. They both had purple mouths.

‘Why?’ she asked softly, deliberately lowering her eyelids. It had been so long since she’d had an opportunity to be provocative. It felt good.

‘Because I’d like to see more of you. We could join the Friends of Felix Hessen together. Go on dates to their meetings. It would be so romantic.’

Apryl giggled. She wouldn’t mind staying on in London for longer if hanging out with Miles was on the cards. At last she’d met someone sane and gregarious, and sexy in that British way. And someone who could help her understand the maniac who’d had such an impact on her distant family. She couldn’t help feeling seduced by his quiet confidence, his dry humour, that deep voice and the wicked smile in his eyes. All of these things were ganging up on her now. Making her feel wanton. She’d never lacked attention or been accustomed to rejection from men, but some guys made more of an impact. Or did she just have a crush on him?

‘What is it?’ asked Miles. ‘You have a very strange look in your eyes.’

‘I’m just wondering whether I have a crush on you.’

Miles swallowed and used his napkin to dab at his forehead. ‘Better ask the waiter for some smelling salts.’

‘Is there a Mrs Butler?’

‘Not any more. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a father. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a lot of things she wanted me to be.’

‘Girlfriend?’

‘Nothing serious.’

‘Lying bastard.’

Miles raised his hands. ‘It’s early days. That’s the truth of the matter. But if she knew we were having this conversation, she’d be furious. And hurt. And I’d feel like a shit. Which I’m not fond of. My head’s complicated enough.’

‘But I’m sure you could get over it.’

‘With you as an incentive, I’d say I could get over most things.’ Just for a moment, as he spoke, the smile slipped from his face and Apryl detected a brief look of longing. It stopped her breath. And she felt its impact between her legs.

So he did like her. And maybe more than she suspected. But why did everything have to be so complicated? That’s the way it was once you were approaching thirty and still a single girl. Particularly as the older, charismatic men like Miles were invariably married. She’d read about women who had affairs with them. These guys were always married to someone they underestimated and took for granted, but for whom they rediscovered an unbreakable attachment when it was time to make a big decision. Handle with care.

‘That’s sweet of you to say,’ she said, a little too bitterly for her own taste.

‘It’s the truth. You are lovely, Apryl. Why wouldn’t I be interested? You’re a beautiful young woman. A bright one too. And a little crazy in a nice way. Irresistible, in fact.’ The smiling eyes were back.

Her composure regained,Apryl detected a reticence in him about taking a chance with his emotions. Something else they had in common. If they never saw each other again, they’d think about each other.

‘It must be the wine. Or I’m a slut. But I came very close to asking if you wanted to come see my great-aunt’s apartment.’

‘Not exactly conducive to passion.’

‘You’re not wrong on that account. Unless it was something really kinky, like S and M.’

‘Get your coat. You’ve pulled.’

Apryl giggled, but couldn’t stop feeling churlish with disappointment. ‘Your girlfriend wouldn’t thank me for keeping you out late.’

‘Stop it. Now you’re misbehaving.’ But even being told off by him was not without its appeal. ‘Seriously, though, I’d love to see inside Barrington House. I wonder if it’s changed much since Hessen lived there.’

‘I don’t think so. It’s like totally retro. And Lillian’s apartment hasn’t had a lick of paint since the forties.’

‘This diary, too, I’d love to see it.’

‘Her journals? Sure, you can borrow them. The ones that are legible. The later ones are just unreadable. But you have to be careful with them – I want to take them back home with me. We’re not going to have much else of Lillian left when the place is sold. Just some photos and her journals.’

‘How many of them are there?’

‘There’s a stack of them. Twenty.’

‘Really?’

‘They’re all about your beloved Felix.’

He looked at her with such intensity, his face was almost stern. ‘All joking aside, are they really about Hessen?’

She nodded. ‘If you’d been listening earlier you’d have realized just how much. But you have to read them yourself. I couldn’t even begin to describe what they’re like. They’re frightening. And they’re the main reason I’m staying in a hotel from now on.’

‘Well, you weren’t exaggerating,’ Miles said, looking around the hallway. ‘This is incredible.’

‘Isn’t it? But you should have seen it before. I’ve cleared most of the junk away. Lillian never threw anything out. There were London telephone directories here from the fifties.’

‘Some of it could have been valuable.’

‘I’m not an idiot, Miles. The dealers bought anything of value.’

‘Ouch.’

‘And luckily for me, she also kept her clothes. This belonged to her.’ She twirled around to show off her suit, which she felt he hadn’t paid enough attention to.

‘I thought it had the look of authenticity about it,’ he said, studying the thin seams on the back of her calves.

‘And the smell too, unfortunately. I’ll have to mask them with perfume until I get them all dry-cleaned.’

‘It really suits you.’

‘Thanks.’

‘I mean, it
really
suits you.’

She pulled a Betty Boop pose and blew him a kiss. His eyes darkened. With desire, if she wasn’t mistaken. She turned and teetered deeper into the apartment, and Miles followed.

‘Your great-aunt had problems?’ he said, as if to clear the air of the erotic awkwardness that seemed to keep surfacing.

‘She wasn’t very well. But she was . . . haunted. By the past I think. I don’t think she ever got over her husband’s death. She didn’t have any friends. Just rattled around here on her own, planning to escape from the city. She thought Hessen had trapped her inside here.’ Apryl wanted to mention Lillian’s suggestions about ‘the burning’ of something – possibly Hessen’s work – and the torments Lillian imagined the artist had inflicted on her and Reginald, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. She wanted Miles to like her and not think her flaky with any talk of evil spirits or ghosts or anything kooky like that. She’d let him read the journals and make up his own mind.

In the living room he looked through the packing crate filled with the photographs she had taken down from the wall. ‘Sad, isn’t it?’ he said quietly, while holding a picture of Lillian and Reginald standing in a sunny garden somewhere. And she knew exactly what he meant. For this to be the end of you; a box full of photographs in the hands of people who never even knew you.

Already the place was destroying her mood. Tonight with Miles was the best she’d felt since she’d arrived. ‘Come on, I’ll show you the rooms and then you can see me into a cab. I want to get out of here. I’ve spent way too much time here already. I want to have a bit of fun now before I go back to the States.’

Miles looked around the stained walls. ‘It’s no place for a wee young thing. So damn gloomy, but affecting in a way, too.’

‘You should try spending a night here.’

‘Is that an invitation?’

‘You’re welcome to on your own. I’m not sleeping here again before it’s sold. I told you, it gives me the creeps.’

‘But your great-aunt lived here. You’re wearing her clothes and you seem to think the world of her.’

‘I know. And I do. But it’s the place itself. The whole building, if I’m honest. It’s just not right.’

Miles frowned over a smile. ‘Really, what makes you say that? It’s just old. I thought you liked old.’

She shook her head. ‘No. It’s not even the age of the place or that the apartment’s never been looked after. It’s not that at all. It’s the actual place. The building. I know this sounds crazy, but it changed everything for Lillian. And I think it played a part in whatever happened to Reginald. The place is all wrong. It’s bad. You spend enough time here and you’d feel it too.’

Miles frowned at her.

‘You think I’m being silly. But read a few of the journals and you might see what I’m talking about. This place is all about madness and nightmares. It’s a sick building, Miles. Very sick, like Hessen.’

In the bedroom, while she rummaged in the dresser for the journals, Miles said, ‘Why is the mirror turned around? And is that a painting? May I see?’

‘Oh yes, that’s my great-aunt and uncle. I found it in the basement. I brought the mirror up so I could try on her clothes, but . . .’

‘What? It’s a beauty.’

‘It is. But I don’t know. It just made me feel a bit freaked out.’

Miles began to laugh but then stopped when he saw her face. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not making fun of you. This place
is
kind of creepy. It could do with some new lighting.’

‘This is as good as it gets. The walls and floor just seem to swallow it up.’ The room wasn’t at all cold, but she shivered as she spoke.

He wrapped an arm round her and looked down into her eyes. ‘You want to get out of here.’ She nodded. ‘Thank you for these.’ He held up one of the journals she had given him. ‘I can’t believe I’m about to read something on Hessen from someone who actually knew him after the war. This is quite a find.’

‘She was obsessed with him. And I warn you, they are really weird. Don’t read them before you go to bed.’

‘I promise. And maybe I can help you find out what was going on here.’

She nodded. ‘I’d like that.’ Impulsively, she raised herself to her tiptoes and kissed him. When she drew away he looked surprised. She was about to apologize, but Miles leant down and drew her into a longer and deeper kiss.