Hotbed (19 page)

‘“A plant”? How d'you mean, “a plant”? Planted by whom and for what?' Naomi said.

‘Oh, hark at her with her “whom”,' Maidment-Fane said. ‘We've been to school, have we?'

‘You started it,' Naomi said.

‘What?' Maidment-Fane said.

‘“Whom”,' Naomi said.

‘How?' Maidment-Fane replied.

‘“For
whom
the bell tolls.”'

Maidment-Fane bent suddenly forward, both hands raised as though to grab Naomi by the throat to silence her. Maybe, after all, it might have been better if he were carrying a drink because then he'd have only one hand available. ‘So, who is this skinny slag, anyway, with her snotty niggles and questions?' he said. She stepped back fast, but he reached her. Uselessly she beat at his fingers with her fist. ‘Whom do you think you can insult and attack?' he yelled. ‘Fucking whom?'

Invariably, when Unhinged was about, regardless of the time of day, Ralph kept himself ready for an extravagance of this sort and intelligently had the three-quarters-full Kressmann still in his hand, as if hospitably ready to pour for guests, but really to do Humphrey if he turned vigorous. Unhinged had several excellent aspects, such as the dignified tone he and his clothes could bring to a funeral, but it was always wisest to keep something ready to floor him with. Ralph swung the bottle nicely across and back, hitting Maidment-Fane each time on the side of the head in the temple region, good, measured, very well-earned blows, enough to fell him, though without breaking the bottle. Naturally, from previous scuffles at the club, Ember knew what the Kressmann could take, and temples. Effectiveness varied according to how much was in the bottle to add poundage. As Maidment-Fane slumped, eyes half open, still not quite completely out, Shale crouched quickly and managed to get him with one knuckledustered left on the eye and nose top, just before Unhinged reached the ground. Manse clearly knew that, for this thump to be honourable, it must get to Unhinged in good time. Although Manse would be disgusted by Humph's attitude to Naomi in a social setting post funeral, he would hate to be noted striking with irons someone already blottoed by a blow from, say, a bottle. Manse believed in gentlemanliness to quite a degree, and he achieved it now by iron-belting Humphrey when, technically, he was still on his feet and able to defend himself.

Shale would have realized, like Ralph, that Unhinged could go badly temperamental, especially p.m. Manse probably slipped the finger armour on in his pocket during that dodgy, roundabout, bar-side conversation. Possibly he always took metal aids to funerals, especially as it seemed obvious to Ralph from the fine fit of Mansel's jacket that he had no handgun aboard. Like Ralph himself, Manse would most probably regard it as off-colour to bring a loaded piece in chest trappings to someone's obsequies, even Turret's. In these circumstances, Shale's knuckle-duster compromise seemed inspired. Ralph considered that to shun guns helped with the Monty image. Almost certainly, no Athenaeum member carried a pistol in the club, post funeral or not, unless the head of MI5 belonged. Naturally, Ralph had to recognize that, most likely, no Athenaeum member wore a knuckleduster to clobber other members with, either. But Ralph knew the Monty could not hope to resemble the Athenaeum totally, yet. Since the Joachim death, Ralph's doubts about Shale, and what he might be up to strategically, had of course grown, but Ralph could still accept they had many outlook similarities, despite Shale's grammar. These had helped bind them together in the past. And now?

The singing continued and had spread. The new number was ‘Land of Hope and Glory'. Normally, Ralph loved this anthem for its methodical, confident rhythm and forthright words, but today he became resentful. For a minute he wondered whether they picked the song to make a sarcastic comment on the recent degraded incident.
Look what our grand and noble land of hope and glory adds up to these days at the charming Monty club, prop. R. Ember: attempted throttling of the soon-to-be-bride, a vicious brawl, head blood drenching a stiff white collar and dark lapels.
‘How shall we extol thee?' the song asked, meaning Britain. Like this – with a brutal floor show? But, no, no, he decided they'd have got to ‘Land of Hope and Glory', anyway. Patriotism could be strong in the Monty. Many members felt especially fond of the line, ‘mother of the free', as description of GB. The fact that they were here, in the Monty, singing it, showed, didn't it, that they
were
free for now and not locked up? They could exult.

And this was exactly the filthy, depressing point, wasn't it? An utterly roughhouse episode such as the one with Unhinged – somebody half strangled, and somebody else clobbered by a black-labelled foreign shorts bottle, and then by finger-fittings – that sort of violence seemed regarded by people here as mere par for the course at the Monty: no funeral aftermath satisfactory without. The singing and everything else around went on uninterrupted and jolly. Yet to see someone in full, proper mourning uniform laid out on the floor concussed, thunder-snoring, two wounds obvious, appeared to Ralph an undoubtedly worrying come-down. Unseemly. So often his hopes for the club suffered a harsh knock. He tried to conceal his disappointment at these times, but it was there. Occasionally, he felt the fight had begun to slip away from him: not the
actual
fight or fights – he could deal with those – but the overall fight, the grail mission, to transform the club into a prestige, sedate haven. That suspicion pummelled Ralph's soul and brought long moments of despair.

Now, he noticed Harpur and Iles and the man in spectacles coming this way. Oh, God. Iles accurately stepped over Unhinged without breaking his stride and said: ‘I bring a really grand surprise for you, Ralph.'

‘Humphrey had a little turn, blacked out and seems to have struck his head,' Ember said.

‘On both sides,' Iles said.

‘The grief of the day burdened him rather,' Ember explained. ‘He's known to be acutely susceptible to stress, yet continues to attend funerals, possibly because he's invested in the regalia. Of course, Humphrey wasn't really close to anyone, and nobody was close to him, but Humph liked to think he
was
close to some, and Joachim and other deads would be those he'd behave as if close to, knowing the deads, being dead, can't deny it.'

‘Did you ever get up to London's theatreland and see
The Duchess of Malfi
, Ralph?' Iles replied.

‘Not of late to my recollection,' Ember said.

‘This is quite a play, Ralph,' Harpur said. ‘I know you're sorry you missed it.'

‘My God, it's Bosola,' Naomi said.

A couple of barmen put a pad on Unhinged Humphrey's head and fixed it in place with two bandage strips knotted under his chin, like a bonnet. Then they dragged him away by the legs. Although his head bumped about on the floor, the pad stayed in place. It was blood-soaked. Near the entrance to the club kitchen the barmen stood Humph up and took one of his arms each around their shoulders. They walked him through the door, his proper black shoes trailing and bobbing like a drunken tap-dancer's. They went out of sight.

‘Ralph, you'll ask, “So what's your surprise, Mr Iles?”' Iles said. ‘Well,
voilà
. Here's Clement Porter Brown in person. Clement Porter Brown, Ralph. And he's present and actual, in your club. Actor. Bosola
inter alia
. Naturally, he wanted to meet you, as My Lord Monty and general source of light and wisdom, and I told him he was fortunate because I have access.'

‘Delighted,' Ralph said.

‘I'm Joachim's brother, Mr Ember,' Brown said.

‘Joachim's such a loss,' Shale said. ‘We've just been saying what a loss, Mr Brown. This is a word we've agreed on, like spontaneous.'

One of the barmen came back with a bucket of water and mop and swabbed the floor around their feet. The paper and comb was attempting solo – no singers – ‘The Flight of the Bumblebee', in that notorious, soaring Harry James arrangement, but for trumpet.

‘You see, we've no indication, Mr Ember, of what exactly Joachim's life had become here,' Brown said. ‘We feel a need to find out, my parents and I. This is natural, I think. It would give us a kind of contact with him again. When we last spoke he was thinking of Holy Orders.'

‘He could have done that very nicely,' Shale said. ‘He had the voice for it. I can imagine him in a cassock.'

‘What
was
Joachim's career?' Brown said.

‘Very various,' Ember said. ‘He had aptitudes in so many directions.'

‘Versatile,' Naomi said.

‘An all-rounder outstanding among all-rounders,' Shale said.

‘Why “Turret”, for instance?' Brown said.

‘I wondered about that,' Naomi said.

Now, Ember did top up her and Shale from the armagnac bottle. The other barman had come back from disposing of Unhinged and Ember asked him for a glass for Brown and new drinks for Harpur and Iles. When these arrived, Ember gave Brown some Kressmann's.

‘And the terrible manner of his death,' Brown said. ‘This is such a mystery to us.'

‘To us, also,' Shale commented at once, ‘all of us, believe me. Oh, yes, believe me. I may have already mentioned a certain thought: but you can't tell me there's no foxes or stoats up there behaving in their wild, busy way. They can't help this, the nuzzling. Nature made them like it. All the same . . . A death is bad, but there ought to be a dignity to it. I've always said this.'

‘You're in the
Oxford Book of Quotations
with that one, Manse,' Harpur said.

‘As if a punishment killing,' Brown said. ‘Or a foretaste of others.'

‘We hope neither,' Ember said.

‘Indeed, yes,' Shale said.

‘Why do you see the death of your brother like that, Mr Brown?' Naomi said.

‘Can you suggest how else I should see it?' Brown said. ‘To me, it seems more than a single, isolated act of violence, terrible though the act of violence might be. I feel the death of my brother signals the start of a war here. If it were so, the war itself would be of no concern to me, but I would like to know how Joachim became involved. This is not the Joachim my parents and I knew.'

‘War?' Ember said. ‘Oh, no. But I expect you're used to putting things in a very dramatic way.'

‘Who would be the leaders in such a war?' Naomi said.

‘Do you belong to a club in London, Mr Brown?' Ember replied. ‘I like to hear how they're run up there. At the Monty we feel a sort of . . . well, a sort of companionship with them, a parallelism, fellow feeling.'

‘The Garrick,' Brown said.

‘Ah, for media people, actors, artists,' Ember said. ‘Our emphasis here is not altogether in that direction quite yet but I don't see why we shouldn't admit some from such backgrounds in due course. Acting can be regarded as a profession.'

‘And I wonder whether there's anyone who was especially dear to Joachim and vice versa and is dragged down by grief now,' Brown said.

‘We're all dragged down by grief,' Ember said.

‘Right down,' Shale said. ‘The Flight of the Bumblebee' had finished and the singing was on to ‘Mares Eat Oats and Does Eat Oats and Little Lambs Eat Ivy'.

‘Anyone can see Manse is profoundly stricken,' Iles said. ‘Such a change from his usual sunniness and poise.'

‘You mean a girlfriend, or boyfriend, Mr Brown?' Naomi said. The jacket of her dark suit had a thin sprayed line of Maidment-Fane's blood across the bust.

‘Of course, the Garrick club is named after a famous actor, David Garrick, in the eighteenth century,' Ember said, ‘so would be bound to attract theatre men and that sort. The Monty's name doesn't go so far back, I believe. Probably after Field Marshal Montgomery in World War II, often known as Monty. But this doesn't mean the Monty is noticeably military, as is, say, the Cavalry and Guards club.'

‘Yes,' Iles said, ‘perhaps indications of approaching war. Your instincts might be right on that, Clement – if I may. One's own instincts say the same. I've come to rely on them.'

‘But a war between . . . well,
whom
?' Naomi said.

‘Mr Iles has read a lot of Marx,' Harpur replied. ‘And many another work. As a child his head was often in a book.'

‘And the awful defacement of my brother,' Brown said, ‘– perhaps meant to terrorize enemies, so they're demoralized, frightened, well before the war starts. Possibly, it's even an attempt to force them to surrender, sue for peace, without the war needing to begin. But this would make Joachim's death seem so cruel, so cold, not really to do with him at all: he was needed to send a signal, merely that.' Ralph detected a sort of rhythm in the way Brown spoke. Probably he'd been trained at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art. Ember felt pleased to hear such management of the language by someone in his club. This could almost compensate for Manse. Brown went on: ‘As far as I can make out, no real attempt to hide his body. It was meant to be found eventually. It carried a threat and therefore needed to be known of. My brother Joachim was only a token. Then, the manner of discovery – a rabbit hunter's dog. Who was this hunter? Could he have been part of things?'

Humphrey Maidment-Fane returned to the bar through the kitchen door walking unsupported. He didn't look too bad. The pad and bandages had been removed and his collar and jacket. Someone had lent him an old blue sweat shirt with ‘Phi Beta Kappa, University of Life' printed in white capitals across it. His hair seemed to have been rinsed. The cuts had stopped gushing and Ember saw no blood anywhere on him, but his cheekbone under one eye was blue-bruised, though maybe not broken. Ralph called for another brandy glass and poured Unhinged a good measure from the Kressmann bottle. Ralph considered this gave a pleasant circular nature to things. Unhinged had been hammered by the Kressmann armagnac bottle and now, to help him recover from that hammering, accepted a drink from the same Kressman armagnac bottle. Ralph loved to find patterns in life. They helped him believe in a divine scheme, and in a divinity who schemed that scheme. As the hymn said, ‘God moves in a mysterious way', and this could include via the Kressmann.