Dominion (31 page)

Ben nodded. ‘Aye, it’s what he’s like. A whipped dog, looking for a good master.’

‘He’s very clever, in his way,’ David answered, a note of reproof in his voice.

Ben nodded again. ‘He keeps that hidden. Disnae talk much. He may say more to you. Drop in the idea ye might be able to take him away if you can.’ He opened another door, with thick
glass panels, and they entered a large room where a couple of dozen men, all in the same grey suits, stood around or sat watching television. Some were seated at a big table making Christmas paper
chains, supervised by an older man in a brown uniform like Ben’s. There was a smell of tobacco smoke and disinfectant. A young man sat in a corner talking to a middle-aged couple, who looked
anxious and afraid. Parents, perhaps, visiting their son. People in the ward looked at the two well-dressed men with interest.

‘Visitors for Muncaster,’ Ben said to an older nurse.

‘He’s popular today.’

Ben answered lightly, ‘Aye. Where is he?’

The other nurse nodded to one of the inner doors leading from the main room. ‘Skulking in the quiet room as usual.’ There was bored contempt in his voice.

‘I’ll just have a word with these guys in the office first.’ Ben led David and Geoff into a small room with a desk, a couple of battered easy chairs and a big locked cupboard
on the wall. He closed the door.

‘What’s this about the police?’ David asked at once.

Ben’s friendly expression was gone; he looked alert and serious. ‘Two o’ them came to see Frank late this morning. I wasn’t on the ward, but I spoke to Frank later. From
what he said it was some new inspect or in charge of his brother’s case, wanted to have a general word with him. That wis what he said. The police haven’t made up their mind whether to
prosecute. I think it’s all right. I hope so. But it scared Frank rigid.’

David asked sharply, ‘Did he tell the police we were coming?’

‘He says not. I’d asked him no’ to tell anyone, I said it wis in case the bureaucrats wanted to get you involved.’

‘Would they?’

Ben shrugged. ‘Possibly. Frank’s a bit of a problem for them, no’ having any relatives or friends to act for him. Anyway, I said I wanted to keep this meeting quiet.’

Geoff asked, ‘How much do you know? About why we’re here?’

Ben gave him a direct look. ‘Only that our people are very interested in Frank.’ He smiled sardonically. ‘Not that they’re goin’ to provide any details to the likes
of me. I know you report to the high-ups in London. Posh fellas like yourselves, I’ve nae doot. Now,’ he added briskly, looking at David, ‘I’m told the high-ups want you to
talk to Frank on his own to begin with.’

‘That’s what was suggested.’ David thought how wide the Resistance network reached, yet how little the members knew of each other. From the little dig at his class David
guessed the Scottish nurse was left-wing, maybe even a Communist. He probably resented people like him.

‘Frank does want to get out of here, doesn’t he?’ David asked abruptly.

‘Aye.’ Ben met his gaze. ‘I’ve been warning him about some of the things they do to people here. Electric shocks and these lobotomies, brain surgery.’

David frowned. ‘To frighten him?’

‘To warn him,’ Ben answered evenly. ‘Listen, pal, the superintendent’s already talking about shock therapy for him.’ He looked David in the eye. ‘But yes,
Frank’s needed a load of pushing to make the effort to get himself out o’ here. He’s kept quiet on drugs but he’s still feart of his own shadow. Just sits in the quiet room
all day, staring out of the window. It wasn’t easy persuading him to contact you.’

‘Just don’t forget I’m his friend.’

‘We’re all his friends, pal.’

Geoff asked, ‘What’s the superintendent like?’

‘Bampot,’ Ben answered contemptuously. ‘Frank doesn’t trust him, he hasn’t told him anything about what happened wi’ his brother.’ He looked keenly
between them. ‘And I’ve been told by our people not to press on that one. I just know what everyone knows, there was a bad quarrel and the brother ended up goin’ out a window. And
that’s when the police were called to Frank’s place. A passer-by said he’d been ranting on about the end of the world. That’s why they sent him here. I’ve been
wondering what he meant by that.’

‘Who knows?’ Geoff answered, shaking his head.

Ben said briskly to David, ‘Okay, fella. Let’s go and see him.’ He looked at Geoff. ‘You wait here for now, please.’

They walked back into the day room. David looked at the men watching
Children’s Hour
on television; there was something sad and lost in the way they slouched. The middle-aged couple
were still sitting with the young man. He sat turned away from them, his face red with anger. The woman was crying.

Ben led them into another, smaller room, furnished with heavy old leather armchairs, an enormous Victorian painting of a stag at bay on one wall. A grey-haired man stood in a corner, trembling
from head to foot. Ben went up to him and said, very quietly, ‘Could you go back to the day room, Harris, we need a wee word with Muncaster.’ The man nodded and went out. David stared
after him. Ben said, ‘Shell-shock from the Great War, poor auld fucker.’

At first David thought there was no-one else in the room, but then a thin, grey-suited figure rose from a high-backed armchair facing the window. Frank Muncaster stared at him and then smiled,
not the embarrassing rictus David remembered but a shy, sad, almost wondering smile. ‘David?’ he said quietly, as though he wasn’t sure that he was real.

‘Hello, Frank.’ Awkwardly, David went over and extended a hand. ‘Sorry we’re a bit late.’

Frank walked towards him, with an old man’s slow shuffle. His face had a white pallor and his thick brown hair had been badly cut into a short untidy fuzz that made his prominent ears
stick out; his uniform was shapeless and too short for him. He extended his hand and David shook it, gently as always because of the damaged fingers; it felt limp and damp. The look in
Frank’s eyes was unutterably weary.

‘How little you’ve changed,’ Frank said. ‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ he added, his voice shaking.

There was a moment’s awkward silence, then Frank pulled himself together. ‘Take off your coat. Sit down. Thank you for coming.’

‘That’s all right.’

They sat opposite each other. Ben went and stood by the door, just in earshot. Frank looked over at him, a little uneasily, David thought. ‘Can I talk to him alone?’ he asked.

Ben said, the Glasgow accent prominent, ‘I wis telt tae stay.’

David offered Frank a cigarette.

‘No thanks. I don’t.’

‘Of course. I forgot. Mind if I do?’

‘No.’ David lit up. Frank glanced out of the window. ‘I’ve been sitting looking at the mist,’ he said quietly. ‘It was snowing earlier. I’m sorry to
drag you away at the weekend.’

David leaned forward. ‘I wanted to see if I could help, old chap.’

‘How’s your wife, by the way?’ Frank puckered his brows. ‘Lizzie, isn’t it?’

‘Sarah. She’s fine.’

‘Of course.’ Frank shook his head. ‘Lizzie was our daily, when I was a boy.’ He frowned. ‘I get things a bit mixed up these days. The drugs make me tired. I was
sorry to hear about your little boy,’ he added, looking at the floor.

‘Thanks.’ David smiled. ‘Thanks for the letter you sent.’

‘How long is it now?’

‘Over two years.’

Frank nodded sadly.

‘How are they treating you?’ David asked after a pause.

‘Not too bad.’

‘Ben said you spend a lot of time in here alone.’

‘Yes. It’s quiet.’ Frank looked over at Ben. ‘It was Ben persuaded me to phone you. He’s taken a bit of interest in – in my case. I’m not sure
why,’ he added quietly.

There was another short silence. Then Frank said, laughing awkwardly, ‘The other nurses try to get me to sit in the lounge, socialize with the other patients. Not that they say much, and
they can be a bit – scary.’ He looked away. ‘Though maybe they think I’m scary too, after what I did.’

‘Ben told us a little about that,’ David said.

Frank’s eyes were suddenly alert, suspicious. ‘Us? I thought you came alone. Who else—’

David raised his hands in a soothing gesture. ‘Geoff’s with me. He works in the Colonial Office now. I told him you’d phoned. My car’s in dock and his – his
girlfriend offered to drive me. He’s outside, but I thought I’d see you on my own first.’ The lies were coming smoothly; but David had had so much practice.

Frank looked relieved. He gave another sigh that shook his thin body. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Only the police came today. It – upset me a bit.’

‘Aye,’ Ben called from the door, his voice artificially casual now. ‘About whether there’s to be a prosecution. Frank thought it was youse arriving early.’

‘What did they want, Frank?’

‘The inspector said they may drop the case. I don’t know. There was a sergeant, a big, quiet man. I didn’t like him.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know. There was something about him.’ Frank frowned, then said softly, ‘You never met my brother, did you?’

‘No. He’d gone to America just before we went up to Oxford.’

‘He came over for the funeral after Mother died. Only a few weeks ago, but it feels like years. That’s when it all started.’ He shook his head.

‘I’m sorry,’ David said.

‘She had a stroke. My mother. She didn’t suffer.’ Frank spoke almost indifferently. David remembered his terrible sense of loss and inadequacy when his own mother had died. But
he knew Frank and his mother had never been close.

‘Edgar’s divorced,’ Frank went on. ‘He wanted Mother’s house sold quickly. He drinks, and he could always get nasty. Anyway, one day he was at my flat and I lost my
temper and I pushed him and he fell out of the window. It was an accident, the frame was rotten. And it was all about nothing really,’ he added, giving that old rictus of a smile. He had told
the story quickly, but carefully, as if it were rehearsed or memorized.

‘Not like you, to lose your rag, Frank,’ David said gently.

‘No. And if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be in here.’ He gave a sad little laugh. ‘Actually I’ve always been frightened I might end up somewhere like this one day. I
know they always thought I was pretty odd at work.’ He hesitated again. ‘Maybe you thought so too.’

‘No. You were shy, that’s all.’

Frank looked at him. ‘It was just an accident. What happened.’

David thought, but didn’t say,
and the shouting about the end of the world
?

‘The trouble is,’ Frank went on, ‘the hospital’s been trying to get in touch with Edgar but he won’t return their calls. I can’t blame him, I suppose, but
he’s the only relative I’ve got now and that leaves me in a bit of a hole.’ He rubbed his hands nervously down his thighs, the two wasted fingers on the right one pale as chalk,
then started picking at the fabric of the chair arm with his good hand. ‘I’ve got the money to go somewhere private, and the sale of Mother’s house will bring in more though
it’s all held up for now. But I can’t touch it, you see, I’ve been certified as a – a lunatic, and a trustee has to be appointed to deal with my money. Maybe you know,
David, do I have to have a trustee? With your father being a lawyer, maybe you could ask?’

‘I’m sorry, my dad’s in New Zealand. He emigrated years ago—’

‘Yes. Of course, you told me in a letter.’ Frank hesitated, then said in a rush, ‘They’re bringing in a law to sterilize some lunatics, did you know that? And they give
people electric shocks here, and there are worse things, brain operations. I want to get out of here. If I could get to some private institution somewhere, it might be better. I might be
safer.’

‘Safer?’

‘I mean, somewhere they’d leave me to be quiet. Give me a room on my own and just leave me. I wouldn’t do anything like – what I did – again.’

‘I’ll see what can be done.’

‘I’m so tired, David,’ Frank said suddenly.

‘I can see that, old chap.’ David smiled kindly while Frank collected himself.

‘University seems like a hundred years ago now. I was grateful to you, you know, the way you used to take me out with your friends. I know I was strange, it must’ve been embarrassing
sometimes.’

The brutal honesty was unexpected. David didn’t know what to say. Frank shook his head. ‘I used to enjoy our talks, about politics and things. It’s a different world now,
everything seems to be getting worse, all the violence everywhere. Here, in Europe, the war in Russia. We never thought it would get as bad as this, did we?’

‘No. I often wonder how we’ve let it happen.’

‘You must see things up close, in the Civil Service.’

David looked away. ‘Not really.’

‘I used to try not to think about it, just live quietly. Most people do that, don’t they?’

David looked over at Ben, then back at Frank. ‘Ben said that when you were admitted you were shouting about the end of the world. Is that what you meant, the world situation?’

‘Yes. Yes, that’s what I meant.’ Frank spoke quickly and David sensed he was lying. ‘David, I’m so sorry about your son,’ he said again. ‘That must have
been dreadful.’

‘We miss him.’ There was silence again. ‘Look here,’ David said, ‘would you like to say hello to Geoff? He’s just outside.’

Frank thought for a moment, then sighed. ‘Yes, why not?’ David realized Frank didn’t want anyone else to see him in this state, understood how much it had cost to appeal even
to him, the shame he must feel. But the Resistance people had wanted to get Geoff’s views, too, if possible.

‘Let’s go get him,’ Ben said. He inclined his head for David to follow him. David had hoped Ben might go and fetch Geoff, leave him alone with Frank for a minute, but he
wasn’t going to. David got up and went to the door, pressing Frank’s shoulder as he passed. He and Ben went through the day room, aware of more curious glances. Geoff was sitting in the
office, looking out at the mist.

‘He’ll see you,’ Ben told Geoff.

The three of them went back to the quiet room. Geoff went over to Frank and shook his hand firmly. ‘Hello, Frank,’ he said.

‘Thanks for coming. Sorry to drag you here.’